Glamorous Illusions (The Grand Tour Series Book #1) , livre ebook

Baker Publishing Group - T. Bergren Lisa

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195 pages

English

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When Cora Kensington learns she is the illegitimate daughter of a copper king, her life changes forever. Even as she explores Europe with her new family, she discovers that the most valuable journey is within. The first book in the Grand Tour series takes you from the farms of Montana through England and France on an adventure of forgiveness, spiritual awakening, and self-discovery.

Informations

Publié par	Baker Publishing Group
Date de parution	01 juin 2012
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781493420704
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	3 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0432€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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What people are saying about …
Glamorous Illusions
“A fascinating mix of travel and intrigue, heartache and romance, Glamorous Illusions sweeps you away on the Grand Tour, exploring London and Paris through the eyes of a young woman who longs to find her place in the world. The title captures the story perfectly, as Cora delves beneath all that glitters to discover what is real and true, while not just one man but two vie for her affections ... ooh, la la! A grand start to a new series from a seasoned author who writes from the heart.”
Liz Curtis Higgs, New York Times bestselling author of Mine Is the Night
“Who am I and where do I fit in this world? These are just two of the important questions addressed in this poignant story that takes the reader from an impoverished farm in Montana onto an opulent cruise across the Atlantic to stately England and finally to the city of love, Paris. With fresh characters, a touching story, and plenty of adventure and romance, you’ll get swept away in this lavish world of the young and wealthy.”
MaryLu Tyndall, author of Surrender the Dawn and Veil of Pearls
“From a bankrupt farm in 1913 Montana to the glitter and glamour of a European Grand Tour, Glamorous Illusions is the trip—and the read—of a lifetime. Absolutely one of my favorites ever, this book is a stunning adventure from first page to last. A truly masterful storyteller, Lisa Bergren has penned a magical journey of the heart and soul that will leave you breathless and longing for more.”
Julie Lessman, award-winning author of The Daughters of Boston series and Winds of Change series
“A Cinderella story lingers in the pages of Glamorous Illusions. Open the book and be swept into a story of heartache, strength, and romance. Add in the sweeping beginnings to a Grand Tour of Europe, and I found all the ingredients for a story I couldn’t put down.”
Cara C. Putman, author of Stars in the Night and A Wedding Transpires on Mackinac Island

© 2012 Lisa T. Bergren
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
Previously published by David C Cook
Ebook edition originally created 2012
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 978-1-4934-2070-4
This story is a work of fiction. All characters and events are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is coincidental.
Cover Design: JWH Design, James Hall
Cover Photographer: Steve Gardner, Pixelworks Studios
CONTENTS

Cover
Endorsements
Title Page
Copyright Page
Epigraph
PART I: THE CALL
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
PART II: CROSSINGS
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
PART III: THE CONTINENT
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
A Chat With the Author
Discussion Questions
Historical Notes
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Back Ad
Back Cover
God is not disillusioned with us. He never had any illusions to begin with.
—Luis Palau
PART I:
THE CALL
CHAPTER 1
Montana, 1913
~Cora~
As the locomotive reached the train station, I strained so hard to see my folks that my eyes hurt. I looked left and right, but the town was as sleepy as always. It wasn’t as if I had to search for them among throngs—I saw no one but old Clifford Miller across the street, climbing into his wagon with some effort, and Susan Johnson entering her hardware store.
Likely just late , I decided, making my way forward between the seats before we had fully stopped, then climbing down the steep steps to the wooden platform.
“Miss?” asked a man’s voice behind me.
I turned in surprise, holding my hand up to my old hat as I felt a pin slip, and then—embarrassed that I’d forgotten to even look for it—took my valise from the conductor’s hand. “Thank you.”
The railroad man looked beyond me to the vacant platform and street. “Someone comin’ for you, miss?”
I nodded eagerly. “Yes. My parents. They must’ve been delayed. They’ll be along shortly.” A long whistle sounded. Not that there was anyone around to rush aboard. Protocol, I supposed. That whistle, usually heard from three miles distant, was a part of all my childhood years. A warm sense of home filtered through me, making me smile.
The man lifted his brows and nodded back with a curious smile as the train began to chug into motion. “Good day, then.”
“Good day,” I returned, watching as he stepped aboard the steps and disappeared inside the train.
The train station—little more than a water tower, a platform, and a tiny hut of a shelter—was in the center of Main Street, which was all of two blocks long. I shaded my eyes and looked to the massive mountains behind the station, which were a pale blue in the afternoon sun. Dunnigan had once been a gold-rush town, established to supply the miners who had streamed into the mountains, seeking their fortune. But it had seen its heyday come and go. Now the buildings were in need of paint, and half the storefronts were abandoned. These days, it existed solely to supply the local farmers who stubbornly eked out an existence on the prairie in the shadows of the Rocky Mountains’ peaks, farming and ranching.
But oh, did it feel good to see those mountains again. I closed my eyes and lifted my face to feel the cool breeze coming off them, down to us on the eastern plains. The feel of it, the scent of pine and sage and dust…all were of home. I craned my neck again, eagerly looking down the road in the direction Mama and Papa should be coming from. But no one was on the road—and I could see a good mile before it disappeared over a hill.
Mr. Miller, with his balding head, giant, flapping ears, and sagging jowls, pulled up alongside the platform. “Well, if it isn’t Cora Diehl,” he said with a smile. “Welcome home, girl.”
“Thank you, Mr. Miller. I don’t suppose you’ve seen my folks today, have you?” A stab of anxiety shot through me. What if something was wrong?
“No, miss. Drove right by your place on the way in. Didn’t see hide nor hair of ’em. But I can take you out.” He nodded toward the foothills, in the direction of home.
“Oh, that’s all right,” I said. I could walk the three miles faster than Clifford Miller’s old mare could haul us.
“Nonsense, girl. I’ll take you. And if we meet your folks on the road, then that’s less time on the road for them.”
“Oh, Mr. Miller. I don’t wish to burden your mare…”
“Come, come,” he said, waving me forward. “If old Star can haul hay, she can haul a bit of a girl like you. Unless that valise is full of bricks.” Even though his tone was gruff, his watery eyes twinkled.
I smiled. I was hardly a bit of a girl . I was a woman grown, but I supposed my old neighbor would always see me as the five-year-old who would come to call, uninvited, and trail him around his homestead. “As long as you’re certain it’s no imposition.”
“Imposition? Pshaw . Just being neighborly. Did they not teach you that in teacher college?” He reached over across the seat to take my hand as I clambered up.
I met his teasing grin. “No, we didn’t cover that particular subject.”
“Hmph,” he said, flicking the reins.
We moved out, down the road. Mr. Jennings, the saddler, came outside to sweep his front stoop and waved as we went by. “Welcome home, Cora.”
“Thanks, Mr. Jennings! See you soon!”
“Hope so! You stop by and tell me all about that teacher college, all right?”
“I will!”
I didn’t know what was keeping my folks, but it didn’t really matter—I felt welcomed already. The welcome sight of sleepy Main Street; the warm, dry wind as it swept dust across the road; the cheery red barns and tidy fence posts… After the busy bustle and noise of the city, the quiet and normalcy of the long summer stretching before me felt peaceful, like a blanket settling in around my shoulders, urging me into a porch swing.
“So I take it that Normal School over there in Dillon still suits you,” Mr. Miller said.
“It’s wonderful,” I said. “I’ve learned a great deal. Two more years, and I can teach anywhere in the state.”
“Should come home. Settle down with Lorrie Cramer.”
I lifted my brows. “Isn’t Lorrie Cramer seeing Louisa Anderson?” I said politely. Not that I really cared. Lorrie Cramer was a nice boy. Quiet. Hardworking. But all he ever thought about—all he ever wanted to think about—was farming. In the last year, I’d decided I loved learning. It fed me. Expanded me. Shaped me. I’d be eager to return to school, come fall. And I knew I needed a man who longed for the same.
“Ach. He doesn’t care about Louisa. He’s always had an eye for you.” Mr. Miller gave me a sidelong glance, and I smiled. While I couldn’t help but find Lorrie’s attention flattering, I didn’t want him to set his cap for me. Because he and I would never be more than friends. We just weren’t well matched.
Mr. Miller and I chattered on about his rheumatism, the strange, dry winter followed by the dry spring, the shortage of spring lambs, calves, and foals. “Wind started in January,” he said, “and hasn’t let up yet.”
In all my years on the farm, I could only remember one year when my papa was happy with how much rain we’d had—when it came, how it came, ho