I indulge in a love affair every year at this time. That’s right – I love Christmas. Everything about it – the sounds of Christmas carols, the smells of cookies and cinnamon, the sight of decorated trees and wrapped presents and the faces of those I love.
Many of the Christmas traditions we hold dear became a part of the American fabric during the nineteenth century, particularly during the years of the Civil War. Santa Claus became a fixture in America’s consciousness during this time. Cartoonist Thomas Nast’s portrayal of Santa on the cover of the January 3, 1863 edition of Harper’s Weekly depicted Santa seated on his sleigh, complete with hat and beard, presenting gifts to Union soldiers on the battlefield. Three decades later, an eight-year-old girl, Virginia O’Hanlon, wrote a letter to the New York Sun that spawned one of the most famous editorials in history, Francis Church’s response. Church, a former Civil War correspondent who’d seen man’s inhumanity to man in vivid terms, responded with the immortal line, Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. His touching, philosophical response viewed the existence of Santa in terms of love and goodness and giving, those qualities I love about the Christmas season.
My Wild Rose Press release, Angel in My Arms, is set during the winter months of 1864 and 1865. The Civil War is drawing to a close, but Union spy Amanda Emerson and the man she loves, Captain Steve Dunham, another Union operative, remain undercover in Richmond. Their love blossoms despite the ever-present danger and conflicts that threaten to tear them apart. In the following excerpt, it’s Christmas Eve – Amanda is separated from the man she loves, worried for his safety and wondering if she’ll ever see him again.
An excerpt, from Angel in My Arms:
Amanda sank into a chair and gazed into the crackling flames. Her heart ached. And there was only one cure for it.
A cure that would not come tonight. She’d outgrown childish Christmas wishes many years ago. She knew better than to hope for a miracle that would not come.
Kate padded across the floor, her footsteps soundless against the braided rug. “Joshua will be here to take me home shortly. I’ll return in the morning.”
“You belong with your family,” Amanda said. “Betsy and I will be fine. We’ve—”
A rap against the door cut through her words.
“Don’t tell me Captain Reed has returned,” Betsy muttered, eyeing Kate with a critical glare as she marched to the door with impatient strides.
She mumbled a few words to the unseen visitor and closed the door almost as quickly as she’d opened it.
“It seems I was wrong.” Betsy placed a wrapped package in Amanda’s hand. “You have an admirer.”
“Prescott?”
“I don’t know,” Betsy said with a reluctant smile. “The messenger didn’t say who’d sent him. Only that this was for Mandy.”
Mandy.
Amanda was sure her heart skipped a beat.
She unwrapped the package with slow, careful motions, intending to savor this moment, the pleasure of discovery.
Her lower lip quivered as she removed her gift. Ivory hair combs, exquisitely carved. Amanda examined her treasure with the wonder of a child on Christmas morning. She slid the combs into her hair.
A folded slip of paper lay within the box.
Amanda read the boldly scrawled message.
She’d been so very wrong.
Her wish had been granted.
Someday I’ll hold you again.
****
Steve shoved his hands in his coat pockets and braced himself against the cold. The warmth of his room at Lily’s Place beckoned him, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave. Not just yet.
The boy he’d paid to deliver Amanda’s gift ran to him, reported the deed had been done, and rushed home, a silver coin clutched in his grimy hand.
Home. How many years had it been since he’d even had a home? Ten…no, eleven. He’d never been in one place long enough to put down roots, not since he left Boston.
With his collar turned up and his hat slung low to obscure his face, Steve skulked through the streets of a city where he didn’t belong. The truth broadsided him with the merciless force of a cannon ball. One week past his twenty-ninth birthday, he had no wife, no child, and a rented room in a brothel in which to lay his head.
A few weeks ago, he wouldn’t have given a damn. He’d never needed anything beyond a warm bed and a willing woman.
But nothing had been the same since he’d first laid eyes on Amanda.
Even in her prim and proper gray dress, she’d robbed him of breath. She hadn’t known that. Until he kissed her.
Longing speared his heart. He was in love with a woman he had no right to want. His partner’s sister. A beauty who could have her choice of men…men who would give her every comfort she deserved. Amanda deserved so much more than he could ever give.
But that didn’t change a damned thing.
He couldn’t stop himself from loving her.
I hope you enjoyed this excerpt. To learn more about Angel in My Arms, please visit my website at www.victoriagrayromance.com or my blog, www.victoriagrayromance.blogspot.com .
Angel in My Arms is available from The Wild Rose Press and Amazon.com
Here’s hoping Santa visits all of us on Christmas Eve…don’t forget the cookies…I hear oatmeal raisin cookies are his favorite!
Hope you'll leave a comment… one commenter will win a pdf of Angel in My Arms.
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