🔦In the Bookish Spotlight🔦A Dream in the Wilderness by Jean Hackensmith

 


Title: A Dream in the Wilderness

Author: Jean Hackensmith

Pages: 285

Genre: Historical Romance

Unable to find a teaching position in the flooded job market that is New York City, twenty-one-year-old Sarah Bentley accepts the position of nanny to Caleb Wachsmann’s three children after the farmer’s wife, parents, and infant son die in the Cholera epidemic of 1834. The twist? The job is in Superior, Wisconsin in the Michigan Territory, an unsettled wilderness located on the northwestern tip of Lake Superior.

Caleb is not looking for love; his heart will always belong to his beloved Annie. What he does need is a woman to watch after the children while he toils in the fields making a living for his family. Sarah turns out to be that woman. She raises his children with a gentle and loving hand and also helps Caleb to overcome an unbearable loss. As Wisconsin vies for statehood, the young couple will face challenge after challenge as they struggle to tame a wilderness that really doesn’t want to be tamed at all.

A Dream in the Wilderness is available at https://www.amazon.com/Dream-Wilderness-Saga-Book-ebook/dp/B0DJS19HMH.

 


Book Excerpt


Superior, Wisconsin

August 21, 1834

Caleb Wachsmann stood before the four open graves, his two eldest children on either side of him and the youngest in his arms. His entire body was numb. It still didn’t seem possible that all four of them could be gone. But they were. Cholera had taken them systematically, one by one. His father. His mother. His beloved wife, Annie, the mother of his children. His gaze settled on the last coffin, no more than three feet long. Inside was his six-month-old son, Danny. 

Caleb and the older children got sick first. Caleb’s mother had been through other cholera epidemics and knew exactly what to do. They started boiling the drinking water from the nearby St. Louis River and, between her and Annie, and even his father, had forced tons of the bacteria-free water down their throats to prevent dehydration. At one time, Caleb joked that he thought he was going to float away.

He and the older children recovered. Then the rest of the family got sick. The rapid deterioration in their conditions made it impossible for Caleb to keep up with the hydration on all four of his patients. Danny was the first to succumb to the disease. He lasted only 24-hours after the first symptoms appeared. The others lasted two to three days.

Caleb couldn’t help but blame himself. He was responsible for their care, and he had failed.

“Pa?”

Caleb didn’t hear his son’s voice. He was too lost in his thoughts and his grief.

A yank on his shirt sleeve brought him back to reality.

“Pa!”

“What, Seth?” he asked with exasperation heavy in his tone as he looked down at the carrot-topped, freckle-faced boy before him. In fact, all of the children were the spitting image of their mother, and it made looking at them all the more painful.

“Why did we put Grandpa and Grandma and Ma and Danny in the ground? Grandma and Ma aren’t going to like it at all, cuz they don’t like to get dirty.”

Caleb stooped before his eight-year-old son, placing two-year-old Bethany on his knee, then indicated for the five-year-old Jenny to come closer, also. “Remember how I told you that your ma and Danny and your grandma and grandpa are in Heaven with God now?”

The two older children nodded.

“You see, what we put in the ground wasn’t your Mama and Danny anymore, or your grandma and grandpa. The part of her that made your mama your mama and Danny, Danny already went to Heaven.”

“Like their ghosts, you mean?” Seth asked.

“Their spirits,” Caleb corrected. “What’s in the ground is just what was left over and, in time, that part of them will go back to the ground.”

“But it still kinda looked like Ma when you and Father Hauley put the cover on the box,” Seth argued.

Caleb sighed his resignation. “Yes, it did. I don’t know how to explain it better, Seth. When you get older, you’ll understand.”

“So, who’s gonna take care of us now, Pa?” Jenny asked. “Mama and Grandma always took care of us when you and Grandpa were out in the fields plantin’ stuff.”

“I haven’t figured that out yet, honey, but I will.”

The little girl’s green eyes teared and her face scrunched up with her sadness. “I miss Mama, Pa. I want her to come back.”

The sight of his sister’s anguish brought renewed tears to Seth’s eyes also, and Caleb pulled both of them close. Bethany put pudgy arms around her older brother and sister and joined in the hug.

The traveling priest who had performed the ceremony, the only other person present at the burial, looked on in sympathy when he considered what lay ahead for the young father. It was unheard of for a man to raise three children on his own, especially a farmer who spent ten to twelve hours a day cultivating his fields. Yes, Caleb Wachsmann was going to have to find a woman, and he was going to have to do it soon.

– Excerpted from A Dream in the Wilderness by Jean Hackensmith, Jean Hackensmith, 2024. Reprinted with permission.


About the Author
 

I have been writing since the age of twenty. (That’s 47 years and, yes, I’m disclosing my age.) I am the proud mother of three and grandmother to four wonderful grandchildren. After losing who I thought was the love of my life, my late husband Ron, in November of 2011, I met Rick. So, it is definitely possible to have more than one “love of your life.” Rick and I were married in July of 2018 and are still going strong today. He is my soulmate, my confidant, and my biggest fan. He has read every book I have ever written (even the romances!) 

Next to writing, my second passion is live theater. I founded a local community theater group back in 1992 and directed upwards of 40 shows, including three that I authored. I also appeared on stage a few times, portraying Anna in The King and I and Miss Hannigan in Annie. I am sad to say that the theater group dropped its final curtain in 2008, but those 16 years will always hold some of my fondest memories. 

I moved from Superior 15 years ago, seeking the serenity of country living. I also wanted to get away from the natural air conditioning provided by Lake Superior. We moved only 50 miles south, but the temperature can vary by 20-30 degrees. I guess I’m a country girl at heart. I simply love this area, and am lucky to, once again, have someone to share its beauty. I love the solitude, the picturesque beauty of the sun rising over the water, the strangely calming effect of watching a deer graze outside your kitchen window. Never again, will I live in the city. I am an author, after all, and what better place to be inspired than in God’s own backyard.

Let’s Connect!

Website: https://www.jeanhackensmith.com.

🔦In the Bookish Spotlight🔦Vanity Project by Andre Spiteri

 


Title: Vanity Project

Author: Andre Spiteri

Pages: 500

Genre: Crime/Police Procedural

How far would you go to protect yourself if the truth is too hard to swallow?

DI Brian Brandon’s first murder investigation after a forced leave of absence seems open and shut. A love triangle gone horribly wrong.

But, the more he digs into the life of the victim — freelance cybersecurity consultant Ray Higgins — the deeper he’s drawn into a complex web of greed and betrayal.

With bodies piling up and the press baying for blood, Brian faces a race against the clock. What he hasn’t planned on is that his own demons are also hot on his heels.

Can he uncover the killer’s true identity before they catch up with him, or is he doomed to pay the ultimate price?

Vanity Project is available at Amazon UK and Amazon US.

 


Book Excerpt

Detective Inspector Brian Brandon stared into the bathroom mirror, but a stranger stared back at him.


Three weeks of forced leave, and he didn’t recognise himself anymore. His wavy salt-and-pepper hair was frizzy, thinning on top, and appeared far heavier on the salt than it had been that morning when he’d checked himself in the hallway before leaving for East Strathburgh Police Station to plead his case. His face was pasty and puffy. Careworn. The face of a man who has had too much time on his hands and far too little to fill it with for much longer than is healthy. The knot of his blue paisley tie constricted his fleshy neck, which was spilling over the collar of his white poplin shirt. A shirt with a tailored fit that, through some process he vaguely understood but couldn’t quite fathom, had become too tailored in all the wrong places.


He closed his eyes and held onto the sink with both hands, a captain steering his ship through a thicket of fog.


‘I’m fine, sir. I assure you,’ he’d told – practically begged – DCI Lowe five minutes earlier. ‘Champing at the bit. Raring to go.’


What he hadn’t told Lowe was that he wasn’t sure how much longer he could trust himself to keep his head without work to occupy him. His thoughts were racing at breakneck pace, taking him places he’d rather not visit for fear he’d want to remain there. Permanently.


Lowe had given him a long, appraising look from beneath his legendarily bushy black eyebrows and leaned forward in his faux-leather office chair. Brian, standing in front of Lowe’s cluttered glass and brushed-aluminium desk, had shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other, like he needed to go to the lavvy.


‘It’s too soon, Brian,’ Lowe had said, steepling his fingers under his non-existent chin.


‘It’s been long enough,’ Brian had insisted. ‘I’m polis. It’s what I do. This kind of thing… it’s…’ He’d waved his hand around, looking for the right words. ‘It’s par for the course in our line of work,’ he’d ended flatly.


Lowe had raised his eyebrows. One of the hairs was sticking out at an obtuse angle, giving him an oddly comical look.


‘Have you spoken to somebody?’ Lowe had asked. His tone was gentle. Fatherly. But there was steel in his eyes. ‘It helps. What you’ve been through—’


‘I’m fine,’ Brian repeated, a tad more forcefully than he’d intended.


He’d stopped, then. Taken a breath. Held Lowe’s eyes with an earnest gaze.


‘Look,’ Brian had said. ‘Try me. That’s all I’m asking. If I can’t hack it, I’ll be the first to tell you. No need to worry about that. We’re understaffed as it is. So what do you have to lose?’


Lowe had sighed then. A deep, heavy sound that Brian hadn’t been sure what to make of. Was Lowe about to relent? Had he managed to wear him down?


‘Let me think about it,’ he’d said at last, weighing every word.


‘But—’


‘I said, let me think about it,’ Lowe snapped. ‘Take the win.’


Brian had pushed down several smart retorts and nodded deferentially.


‘Thank you, sir,’ he’d said finally, trying not to grit his teeth.


Now, standing in front of a rust-spotted mirror in the lads’ lavvy across the hall from Lowe’s office, a grey shadow toyed with the edges of his field of vision, and he opened his eyes before it could take on a more substantial form. His thoughts turned to home. To the bottle of Monkey Shoulder in the cupboard under the sink. He pushed them away. Opened the cold tap. Splashed his face. The freezing water jolted him.


Aye, that was better. Once he got back to his flat and peeled off this ill-fitting suit, maybe he’d go for a run. Clear the cobwebs. Put himself on the road to well-being and prove to Lowe he was walking the talk.


He turned the tap off, pulled a bunch of paper towels from the dispenser and patted his face dry. Then he took a deep breath. Steeled himself. Walked out of the lavvy, through the corridor, toward the carpeted stairs that led to the station’s entrance, and the parking area outside.


‘DI Brandon!’


Lowe’s voice, calling him from his office doorway, stopped him mid-stride. Brian’s heart skipped a beat.


‘Come back here, will you?’ his senior officer added and strode back into his office without waiting for a reply.


Brian followed, his stomach clenching. ‘Sir?’ he asked from the doorway.


Lowe gave him another one of his appraising looks. His unblinking stare made him feel vulnerable. Naked.


‘Fine,’ he said, after a pause that felt like it had gone on for hours. ‘You’re right. We’re stretched thin and I can’t spare one of my more experienced DIs.’


Brian’s knees almost buckled with relief. His lips curved into a smile.


‘Does that mean—?’


Lowe lifted a hand, palm outward, in a silencing gesture.


‘Just so we’re clear,’ Lowe continued, ‘I’ll be watching you like a hawk. The second I sense you’re not up to the job, I’m putting you back on forced leave, you hear?’


‘Loud and clear,’ Brian said, with feeling.


A brief memory flashed. 3 a.m. Two days earlier. A half-empty bottle of Monkey Shoulder standing on the coffee table. Hunched on the sofa in a frayed terry-cloth robe, counting out how many Nytol one-a-day tablets he’d managed to scrounge from his medicine cabinet and wondering what would happen if he took them all. Washed them down with long gulps of the water of life.


Something prickled behind Brian’s eyes.


‘I won’t let you down, sir,’ he said, hoping his voice didn’t sound as shaky as he felt.


‘Let’s hope so, Brian,’ Lowe said, turning his gaze to his laptop – a sign Brian was being dismissed. ‘Let’s hope so.’


– Excerpted from Vanity Project byAndré Spiteri, Maverick Words, 2024. Reprinted with permission.


About the Author
 

André Spiteri is the author of award-nominated crime thriller Back From The Dead and other novels featuring struggling characters with troubled pasts. He was born on the sunny island of Malta in 1982 and lives in Edinburgh with his wife, their two daughters, and two cats. 

Website & Social Media:

Website www.andrespiteri.com

Instagram/Threads ➜ https://www.instagram.com/andrespiteri_