Forever Hidden (The Treasures of Nome Book #1) , livre ebook

Baker Publishing Group - Tracie Peterson

Découvre YouScribe en t'inscrivant gratuitement

Je m'inscris

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne
En savoir plus

169 pages

English

Vous pourrez modifier la taille du texte de cet ouvrage

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne
En savoir plus

A propos
Informations
Extrait

Description

For Havyn Powell, growing up on her grandfather Chuck Bondrant's dairy outside the 1904 gold-rush boomtown of Nome, Alaska, offered all she needed. She had the love of her mother, two sisters, and grandfather. But now, at 23, Havyn realizes the stability of her life may soon vanish. Havyn is determined to find a way to keep the family together, but her grandfather's health is declining and everyone seems to be holding secrets from each other, including the handsome, dark-haired stranger who recently arrived.John Roselli arrives in Nome looking for a steady, consistent job. He has grown tired of the promises of getting rich quick and just wants an honest job with honest pay. His grandfather once knew a Chuck Bondrant, and so when John arrives at the dairy, he's quickly offered a job--and a path to more if he wants it.Havyn's plan for helping out the family means using her beautiful singing voice and her sisters' musical talent at a local roadhouse. They're an immediate hit, and it looks like her plan will be a success. But the spotlight brings with it dangerous eyes that covet Havyn and are jealous as she and John grow ever closer. But will they realize the peril before it's too late?

Sujets

Historical romance

Informations

Publié par	Baker Publishing Group
Date de parution	07 janvier 2020
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781493422814
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	3 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0384€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Cover
Half Title Page
Books by Tracie Peterson and Kimberley Woodhouse
All Things Hidden
Beyond the Silence
T HE T REASURES OF N OME
Forever Hidden
T HE H EART OF A LASKA
In the Shadow of Denali
Out of the Ashes
Under the Midnight Sun
Books by Tracie Peterson
B ROOKSTONE B RIDES
When You Are Near
Wherever You Go
What Comes My Way
G OLDEN G ATE S ECRETS
In Places Hidden
In Dreams Forgotten
In Times Gone By
H EART OF THE F RONTIER
Treasured Grace
Beloved Hope
Cherished Mercy
S APPHIRE B RIDES
A Treasure Concealed
A Beauty Refined
A Love Transformed
B RIDES OF S EATTLE
Steadfast Heart
Refining Fire
Love Everlasting
For a complete list of titles, visit www.traciepeterson.com .
Title Page
Copyright Page
© 2020 by Peterson Ink, Inc. and Kimberley Woodhouse
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
www.bethanyhouse.com
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan
www.bakerpublishinggroup.com
Ebook edition created 2020
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
ISBN 978-1-4934-2281-4
Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the authors’ imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cover design by Jennifer Parker
Cover photography by Mike Habermann Photography, LLC
Kimberley Woodhouse is represented by The Steve Laube Agency.
Dedication
To Miss B (otherwise known as Miss B Havyn). Keep singing, beautiful girl. I miss seeing you every week for lessons, but it’s a privilege to watch you blossom and grow from afar. (Thank goodness for the technology of today!) Oh, make sure you do the monkey exercise . . . at least once a day. For me.
And to Monica and Merle Powell, precious friends and an amazing couple. Thank you for allowing us to make fictional characters out of your girls. It has been so much fun. Although, we could never capture how amazing they really are! Keep on keepin’ on—we cherish your friendship.
And to Chuck and Diane Bundrant. What an absolute privilege it is to know you and call you friends. Thank you for your generous spirits and love for people. You’ve touched thousands of lives.
To God be the glory!
Contents
Cover
Half Title Page
Books by Tracie Peterson and Kimberley Woodhouse
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Dear Reader
Prologue
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
Epilogue
A Note from the Authors
Acknowledgments
About the Authors
Back Ads
Back Cover
Dear Reader
T his series began with three beautiful young ladies whose cinnamon-colored hair and dark brown eyes stirred us to create stories to match their spirits. Whitney, Havyn, and Madysen Powell were my (Kim’s) piano and voice students. In January of 2017, they came to one of our book events, so excited that not only did I know the amazing Tracie Peterson, but we wrote books together. Tracie was completely captivated by my girls and told me that someone had to write stories about them. The idea was born and we ran with it.
In researching our next locale for this series, I came across some historical pictures from Nome. A few in particular were of the Nome Dairy and Poultry Yard. Inspiration struck when I saw a picture of a man with a yoke over his shoulders, two pails of milk dangling, with walls of snow around him that rose in height above his head. On top of the snow, a chicken appeared in mid stride. It cracked me up. I had chickens when we lived in the country in Colorado. I loved those girls. And yes, they all had names. In fact, the mom of one of my piano students made a sign for my chicken house with all of their names. Check out my blog for pictures.
Apparently, I am not the “type” in most people’s minds to have chickens. So “Kim’s chicken adventure” amused my husband and my friends. Jeremy would often find me out there feeding them and carrying on conversations. (Don’t judge. Yes, I talked to my chickens. Yes, they chattered back. One followed me around like a puppy, always at my heels.) I even had a wonderful lady bring me a chicken at a large women’s event I spoke at—and much to Kayla’s shock, I drove all the way from Nebraska back to Colorado with the chicken in the car.
Needless to say, all the chicken stories in this series will be based on real events from Kim’s crazy time of having chickens. And one even from my dad. Well, my grandmother always told me the story. And made sure I saw the chicken grave. Every time we visited. Tracie also made me chicken pillows. I should post pictures of those too.
While Whitney, Havyn, and Madysen are named after the real girls, please remember they are fictional characters. But if you ever get the chance to hear the real-life Powell girls sing or play, you should take it. I promise you won’t be disappointed.
As always, Tracie and I find it an absolute joy and privilege to bring you another story. Thank you for reading. For praying. For investing in us.
Enjoy the journey,
Kimberley and Tracie
Prologue
Cripple Creek, Colorado—1891
Y our husband is . . . well . . . he’s gone .” Chuck Bundrant bit the inside of his cheek after he gave the news to his daughter. “I’m sorry, Melissa.” It was necessary to tell her the news, but the apology left a bitter taste in his mouth. The truth about Christopher Powell was much worse than Chuck would ever tell his girl, but at least it was over and done now. While he hated to see Melly hurt, what coursed through him was more than just relief. Gratitude and joy were the first words to come to mind.
His son-in-law had been a constant thorn in his side.
“Chris . . . is dead?” Melly blinked several times and half sat, half fell into the chair behind her. “But . . . what . . . ? What happened? Can I see him?”
“I’m sorry. No. He’s already been buried. He was beyond recognition. I’d hate for you to see him like that.”
She took a deep breath and put a hand to her mouth. After several moments, she lowered her hand and looked him in the eye. “What will we do?”
“You don’t need to worry about it. I’ll take care of everything.” Sighing, he touched her shoulder as he looked out the window to the snowy landscape around them. Down the hill, he could see men with wheelbarrows hauling rocks out of his mine. The clanking of picks and shovels echoed through the mining camp. “Why don’t you and the girls move in with me? You spend most of your time here anyway, around the piano.”
Her chin lifted and he got a glimpse of his strong and independent daughter. “I appreciate that, but I can’t do that to you. When we’re here, it’s for the girls’ lessons. And you’re never here during that time. I don’t think you realize what it would be like to have us around at all hours. The girls are rambunctious . . . playing their instruments or singing . . . all the time. You’d never have any peace. Besides, I can’t expect you to take care of us . . .” Melissa used her hands as she spoke—a normal habit for her whenever an instrument wasn’t in them. But her frantic movements now and the speed of her words showed her distress.
A fact that made him feel even more of a horrible father than when he couldn’t control his son-in-law’s actions. Was he doing the right thing? It wasn’t like he could change the course of events now. “You’re my daughter, and your three precocious redheads are my granddaughters. Who, I might add, bring joy to my life every day. I know quite well how energetic and . . . loud they are. They keep me young.” His words seemed to go unheard. She just turned her face to look out the window.
“It’s not supposed to be this way.”
The words were hushed. Her hands still.
He started to make a retort about the no-good man she’d married, but when her shoulders slumped, it pricked his heart. By the look of her, shock had settled in. Why was Christopher’s death so hard for her to believe? Didn’t she know her husband for who he was? Or was he that good of an actor? Of course it wasn’t supposed to be this way. Couples were supposed to grow old together and raise their children in loving homes. In a normal marriage situation, that would be true. But theirs?
Chuck had thought for sure the news would bring her a bit of relief. After all, she’d never again have to deal with a husband coming home drunk. Or worry that he would gamble away all their money. But watching Melissa now . . .
He’d thought wrong.
He’d been so focused on his own distaste for the lowlife that he’d let himself forget who his daughter was at the core of her being. She’d always had a heart for people, always believed there was good in them. When she eloped with the rogue all those years ago, she’d raved about what a good man Christopher Powell was deep down.
Chuck knew better the minute he met Christopher. He’d seen him for what he was: a gambler. A drunk. A man who made a habit of coming to his father-in-law for money to cover his debts. At family gatherings, Christopher always put on a show. Cleaned up real nice. Showered Melissa with attention. Knew how to talk the talk of society.
Of course, if Chuck was honest . . . he’d put on as much of a show himself. Pretending to like the man his daughter had married. All to keep the girls happy. The façade had become a way of life. But the girls were sharp as tacks . . . surely they had noticed their father’s behavior or heard the rumors of Christ