By Liz Curtis Higgs
“A fantastic tale of redemption and recovery that would hot your center in the course of the Christmas season—or any time of year!”
—Francine Rivers, best-selling writer of Redeeming Love
Wrapped in a cloud of steam, the engine rolled to a cease, the screech of steel opposed to steel filling the frosty air. Snow blew around the railway platform and round Meg’s calfskin jogging boots. the elements certainly was once now not enhancing.
She ordered tea with milk and sugar, eying the currant buns and candy mincemeat cakes displayed underneath a bell jar.
Later, might be, whilst her urge for food again. in the interim her abdominal was once twisted right into a knot.
“Anything else for you?” the cashier requested as she passed over the tea, steaming and fragrant.
Meg used to be shocked to discover her palms trembling whilst she lifted the cup. “All i need is a secure trip home.”
“On an afternoon like this?” the round-faced girl exclaimed. “None however the Almighty can promise you that, lass.”
“A Wreath of Snow glows with heat, appeal, and charm. a superb read.”
—BJ HOFF, writer of The Riverhaven Years series
Christmas Eve 1894
All Margaret Campbell wishes for Christmas is a secure trip domestic. whilst her plans for a festive vacation along with her relations in Stirling disintegrate underneath the load of her brother’s bitterness, the younger schoolteacher desires not anything greater than to come back to the scholars she loves and the city apartment she calls domestic.
Then an unforeseen detour areas her within the course of Gordon Shaw, a good-looking newspaperman from Glasgow, who struggles lower than a burden of regret and disgrace.
whilst the key in their shared heritage is published, will it go away them tangled in a knot of remorse? Or may their prior carry the threads that might bind their destiny together?
As hot as a woolen shawl on a chilly winter’s eve, A Wreath of Snow is a young tale of affection and forgiveness, wrapped in a party of all issues Scottish, all issues Victorian, and, in particular, all issues Christmas.
Read or Download A Wreath of Snow: A Victorian Christmas Novella PDF
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Extra resources for A Wreath of Snow: A Victorian Christmas Novella
The lady with the comb had not yet finished her task. Lady Mary nudged me and I fairly crashed to the floor, bruising my knee. I could have died with shame at being so graceless. “Get up, my dear,” came the gentle voice. It was the queen speaking to me. “I cannot, Your Majesty,” I replied, for I was trembling all over. “Without your gracious help,” I added. Then the queen took my wrists and lifted me to my feet. Her hands were slim, her fingers long and tapered. I counted four rings on each hand.
But she commanded me to stay. She went to the window and with the same diamond began to scratch on the pane. Was she obliterating my words? ” Brother, would you not take this for encouragement? I did, and thus I live in hope. R. Poetic Musings I tire of waiting. Despair wrestles with my hopes. Did I presume too far? If boldness will not move her, I will try humility. Thus: I only sue to serve A saint of such perfection, Whom all desire, but none deserve A place in your affection. Thus if my plaints do never prove The conquest of your beauty, It comes not from defect of love, But from excess of duty.
You woke me up with your chatter,” Frances said. ” Frances’s advice startled me. ” I said. “Perhaps you should,” said Frances. ” I decided Frances was taunting me. “No, this Cat is heedful,” I said. ” I pulled the coverlet over my head and tried to sleep, but the queen’s words kept coming back to me: Nothing escapes my eye. I was less certain that her nickname was a gift. But I would be true to it: sly and wary, but fearless. One April morning, Emme, Frances, and I were airing out the queen’s wardrobe and sprinkling the clothes with scented powder to keep them from growing musty.
A Wreath of Snow: A Victorian Christmas Novella by Liz Curtis Higgs