December 24,1980, two months after my 18th birthday, Don and I sat in his stepfathers pickup truck in my grandmother’s driveway and devised a plan to elope. There was no reason for a rushed ceremony; it was simply a spontaneous plan we devised to have a small nest egg saved before ultimately having a "real" ceremony.  Don was in the Navy and if married, he would get a little added pay. It was a simple plan- get married, not tell anyone, and save a little extra money.
 Don was on leave from Norfolk and due back to the ship right after the first of the year, so we had to move quickly if we wanted to get married before he left. We chose December 30th for no other reason than it worked within our timeline. This was LONG before the internet, but we worked out all the details; drive to Tennessee, get married and be home by early afternoon, what could possibly go wrong?
I woke early on that Friday morning, as Don was supposed to pick me up by seven for our secret rendezvous.  I was ready on time but Don was nearly an hour late picking me up. Apparently, unbeknownst to us, another couple was having a house moved to its new location on that very morning, choosing to do so early so as not to inconvenience anyone. I am talking about a single story brown brick ranch house. Until that day, I never knew you could do that.  The good news is the house is still there and every time we drive past, we remember the day it found its new home on the hill.
We had told my mother that we were heading to Bardstown to see Don’s father and would be gone most of the day and had arranged for my then sister-in-law, Mary to join us as a witness. So, after the delay, we drove to Mary’s house, waited across the street for my brother to leave for work, before picking up Mary and my nephew, BJ who was just a baby at the time. We dropped BJ off at his great aunt’s house and started for Tennessee, excited that our quest to become husband and wife had finally begun. The drive was uneventful, and we all arrived in Nashville in high spirits.
There was a line at the courthouse; apparently several other couples had hopes of getting married that day as well. When it was our turn, we told the lady at the desk we were there to get married. She smiled and asked for our birth certificates. This was the second thing that nearly derailed our plans, as we had not thought to bring them. Before you chastise us for not being prepared, please remember I had barely turned eighteen, and Don was twenty -one. This was also way before the Internet, so we had been unable to research what was involved.  After a very tense moment it was decided that we could use our driver’s licenses since they had our pictures on them. We were lucky because at that time Kentucky was one of the few states that required photos on driver’s licenses.
Once the clerk established our identities she then requested the paperwork for our blood test results. Glitch number three!  Of course we had not thought to have any blood test taken. Things like this must happen on a regular basis, as the lady directed us to a clinic where we could get our blood drawn and returned that very day.
We drove across town and after several wrong turns -no GPS back in the day- finally found the clinic in what looked to be a rather run down section of Nashville. After arriving, and feeding yet another parking meter, which seemed prevalent in the large city, we entered the clinic to find a waiting room full of people who all turned to see who had entered- this was also long before cellphones to keep everyone occupied. I was terrified as all of those eyes followed us across the room, continuing to stare even after we had signed in and taken our seats, as if everyone in the room knew of our secret.
But now, as I type, I think it was more because we were highly overdressed for the area. Don looked dashing in his leisure suit, my sister-in-law had donned a nice dress for the occasion and I had on a new outfit. One I was extremely proud of as my parents didn’t have extra money to spend on clothes and I had purchased it with my very own money from the new job I was working. I was thin as a rail at the time and I looked good in those flare jeans with pockets trimmed with soft fur and that gorgeous black velour angel sleeve top. It was 1980 and this was extremely fashionable and it never occurred to me that fur-trimmed blue jeans and a black top may not have been the best choice of wedding attire.  But, hey,  this was just our pre-wedding wedding. Right?
Luckily, we were only there for a blood draw and we were called back within a few short moments. They put us in separate rooms across the hall from one another where we each sat on an exam table waving to each other like a couple of love-struck kids. The nurse came into my room first, asked a couple of questions and then tied the tourniquet around my arm. As she was lowering the needle I asked her when the results would be back. As the needle approached the crook of my arm she replied “Oh, not long, we should have them back in the morning.”
I jerked my arm away just before the needle penetrated my vein. “But, we are getting married today,” I exclaimed, while pulling at the rubber vice that still gripped my arm.
After a few moments of chaos, we were sent across town to a blood draw center that could accommodate a same day blood draw. After arriving, and paying the parking meter, again, we made our way to a nice waiting area.  We were the only ones in the room and the receptionist, a very friendly lady assured us it would not take long to complete the process.  After only a few minutes our blood was carted away to the testing area with the word STAT clearly labeled across each glass vile. We were told it would take about an hour and since it was now nearing lunch time the receptionist suggested we take this opportunity to go and get something to eat.
I am not sure how much Nashville has changed, but in December of 1980 it was not easy for three highly stressed and very hungry people to find something to eat. We drove for what seemed like an eternity before finally finding a Burger King. We stuffed our face with burgers and fries, and hurried back to the lab to get our test results. Even though we were out for over an hour, when we returned the results had still not come back. After waiting an additional hour the receptionist called down to the lab to see what was taking so long. It turns out that our blood was misplaced and no-one could find those two tiny glass tubes. A trace was placed on them and we had no choice but to wait.
After nearly two panicky hours the blood was found, and the results finally arrived. Don paid the fifty- six dollars and we were on our way. Unfortunately, instead of being on our way to the courthouse we were headed back to the original clinic so that the resident doctor could verify the results and declare us fit to be married.  We returned to the clinic, walked back through the gauntlet of gawkers, and spoke with the receptionist who placed a call to the nurse who hurried through the doorway, scooped up our paperwork and left without a word. Forty minutes and thirty- six dollars later, we exited the building, paperwork in hand attesting that we were in good health and genetically fit to become husband and wife. Everything signed by a doctor whom we never saw.
By the time we returned to the courthouse it was late, and all of the judges had left for the day. Feeling both physically and mentally exhausted I blinked to keep the tears at bay. Seeing my distress the clerk took pity on us and offered to call over to the night court to see if there was anyone who could perform the service. Luckily there was a judge there who agreed to see to our joining.
We made our way to the courtroom and opened the door to find a room full of people, all of which turned to stare at the intruders which had suddenly disturbed the proceedings. Fearing we have entered the wrong courtroom; we closed the door without entering. Within seconds, the door reopened, and we were greeted by a distinguished man, with incredibly large ears, who assured us we were indeed in the right place.The man introduced himself as Judge Doty and beckoned us to follow. It was terrifying to walk through that crowded courtroom and I was more than relieved when we entered the back chamber.
Judge Doty was a sturdy, kind, older gentleman, with dark eyes that looked as if they had witnessed many years in the judicial system. He seemed rather pleased to be doing something as mundane as performing a simple marriage ceremony. When he asked which one of these pretty ladies was the bride, Don clutched my hand possessively, and proudly stated that I could cook too. He knew this for a fact, as I had made him a spaghetti dinner only a couple months earlier when he was home on leave. What he neglected to say, was that I had used boxed noodles, sauce from a jar, and he never even touched the homemade meatballs that I had slaved hours to prepare.
As Judge Doty began the ceremony he was interrupted by a phone call. After answering, and assuring his wife he would bring home a loaf of bread and a gallon of milk, he continued. A few seconds later a second call had been answered. This call was of greater importance, as it ended with the promise of a fishing trip to take place the following day. When the service continued and Judge Doty got to the part where a ring was needed, my sister-in-law slipped her wedding ring off her finger and passed it to Don who, without missing a beat, slipped it onto mine. Apparently in our haste to get married we had also overlooked this minor detail. At long last, and without any further interruptions, we were pronounced husband and wife and it was made official after we handed over a forty- dollar ceremony fee.
Upon surrendering the borrowed ring, and returning to the van, the first major test of our marriage was soon at hand. The van was nearly out of gas, we were over a hundred miles from home, and between all the parking meters, blood test, doctor's signatures and ceremony fees, my new husband’s cash was nearly depleted. He had a bit of money in an account at home, but that was way before the invention of the universal debit card. I had not thought to bring any money and my sister-in-law only had a couple of dollars on her, so there we were, frantically trying to figure out how we were going to get back home.
As fate would have it, Don had a money order in the van for the amount of six dollars, which he had yet to fill out. He took the money order to a bank across the street, went inside, walked up to the teller and slid the money order under the window telling her he needed money. It was at that time that the guard saw him at the teller window and watched him pass the note. Unbeknownst to my hubby, the bank had been closed for several minutes and somehow no-one had remembered to lock the side door, which is why the security guard assumed my husband was there to rob the bank!
After a few tense moments my new husband was able to convince everyone he was not a bank robber, had just gotten married, and needed to cash the small money order to get his new bride safely back home. The teller, who had already closed out her drawer, took pity on him and gave him cash in the amount of the money order out of her own purse.
With the six dollars from the money order, and the small amount of cash on hand, Don purchased gas, which he prayed would be enough to get us back to Louisville. During the drive home, I, having reached my limit, proceeded to crawl into the bed in the back of the van and sleep most of the way home.
Needless to say, we arrived back at Mary’s aunt’s house to pick up my nephew much later than we originally intended. As we reached the back door, my brother greeted us humming the hymn to the funeral march. As it turns out, my nephew had gotten sick, and his aunt had called my mom looking for us. (Again, this was way before cell phones.) When my mother questioned why we would take my sister-in-law with us to visit Don’s dad her aunt had jokingly stated “maybe they eloped.”
After gathering my nerve, I called my mom, who demanded to know where we had been. There was no reason to lie, so I told her Tennessee. When she asked why, I said “why do you think?” The next thing I heard was a dial tone. At that point I was very glad I had taken that much-needed nap. My brother congratulated us, we had a celebratory glass of wine and we left.
After once again gathering the courage to call my house my younger brother answered the phone and wanted to know why mom had been crying ever since hanging up the phone with me. She refused to come to the phone and told him to tell me if I wanted to speak with her I knew where she lived. An hour later we parked at the church, which was next door to our house, and, feeling as if we were facing the firing squad, slowly made our way across the yard and up the incline to our house.
My mom was still crying. My dad, not typically known for his patience, was so calm it was frightening. He wanted to know why we had eloped. Don spoke up and simply said “because we love each other.”
Dad then asked the million-dollar question, which was whether or not I was pregnant. We of course told them no, which was the truth. Dad relaxed, slightly, and left the room. Many years later I was told by my brother that he had seen dad with a loaded pistol in his waistband just before he himself had been ordered to leave the house. I do not know for certain if this was true, but knowing my father, I tend to believe my brother and think it was a very good thing that an impending pregnancy was not the reason for our hasty elopement.
When dad returned to the room, both he and mom then began a crusade to make us see the error of our ways and get an annulment. They claimed that neither of them objected to the marriage, just the way we had gotten married. They wanted us to get an annulment and then go back the following weekend to get re-married with them beside us. That wasn’t possible as Don had to return to Virginia. Besides, I was afraid if we agreed to this my parents would find a way to keep us from a second ceremony.
Don's refusal was because he was not about to relinquish his well-earned prize. He had nearly been shot at the bank just a few short hours earlier and he was not about to let that experience be for naught.
After a long stalemate, it was decided that I would retire to my room for the night and Don would go home. All parties involved would discuss it further the following day, when hopefully, calmer heads would prevail.
I know there are some that think it utterly absurd to sleep alone on one's wedding night, but by this point, Don and I were so exhausted it seemed like the right thing to do.
There was a lot of discussion that following day, but the final agreement was that we would follow our initial plan to keep the marriage a secret and make plans for a “real” wedding in the summer. As with our elopement, things did not go as planned. We never had the big wedding, nor did I get the white dress. I am happy to report that I did eventually get a wedding band which was replaced with a lovely diamond set on our twenty-five-year anniversary.
When we first got married several people expressed their disapproval, telling us it would not last six months. Thankfully, their predictions did not hold true and today marks our forty-third wedding anniversary.
I guess, truth be told, one does not need a fancy dress, a shiny bauble, or even a lot of money to get married. You only need perseverance, a trip across the state line, and enough money for gas to get you home….

​#Andtheylivedhappilyeverafter #soulmate #elopement #Nashville #43years 
 
 
 
 
 

​**Updated Release Date for Cold Case**

Because I want to make sure to deliver a product I can be proud of, I have decided to push the release date for Cold Case from June 24th to June 30th to allow my team time to edit and proof the book. This was not an easy decision and I hope everyone understands. 
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Writing and releasing a book a month is not for the faint of heart.

It has its challenges and can get a bit harrowing at times. I began writing Cold Case on May 9th and almost immediately got sick with a combination of bronchitis and strep throat. The crud hung on through three separate courses of antibiotics and wreaked havoc on my time in the writing chair – it’s hard to write when you don’t even feel like being out of bed.

Add to that taking an unexpected (but welcomed) trip to Kansas, where The National Orphan Train Complex awarded me the prestigious Charles Loring Brace Award for my historical fiction series, The Orphan Train Saga. I lost some valuable time in the writing chair but wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

With all of that, I can honestly say that Cold Case pushed me more than any book to date. I know my deadlines are self-imposed, but I still strive to meet them. After regrouping, I promised my editor I would send her Cold Case by the 10th (later than initially intended) and sweated that deadline until the very end.

Yesterday (the morning of my deadline,) I sat in my writing chair at 7 am and finished the last chapter at 9:45 am. I didn’t have time to celebrate as I still had to do the final read-through. It is not a quick process as I look for any issues with the story flow and use my numerous sticky notes to make any changes as I go. I finally finished and sent it off to my editor at 10:09 pm. Usually, there is no greater joy than knowing I am done, but last night, I was too tired to rejoice in finishing another book. Even today, I feel as if I have a book hangover.

My plan is to take the weekend to recover and start on Wicked Winds on Monday. We will be on the road for the next week, heading to my signing in Deadwood. It will be a working vacation in many ways, as I will be working on Wicked Winds and doing research for Spirit of Deadwood. I am not complaining, as I absolutely LOVE my job.

I am very grateful for the writing voices for choosing me and for my readers for taking a chance with an author most had never heard of. Seriously, how amazing is it that all of the Jerry McNeal books have each had orange best seller tags and remained in the top 20 (most of the time much higher- Port Hope is currently the #1 new release in Ghost fiction) of three major categories the entire year!
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THANK YOU for reading. You guys rock!

​Let’s talk~
The Jerry McNeal books do not have sex – they are not romance, and to date, Jerry has not so much as kissed anyone. Will that change? That is for Jerry to decide, though I don’t think he is the type to kiss and tell. Oh, I think he may have kissed his mom on the top of her head.

I will say they are not clean books. Jerry’s character swears. I tried to write the books without the minor swearwords he tends to use and Jerry stopped talking to me for a week. He served with the Marines and could say things much worse, but we came to an agreement. I let him take the lead as long as he promised not to drop the f-bomb or say son of a b…

If minor swearing offends you these are not the books for you. I would, however, highly recommend my orphan train saga, which are clean and suitable for ages 9 to 99.

If you like something meatier than the short read of a Jerry book, The Orphan Train Saga books are between 89k and 111k words. They don’t have ghosts, but they are well researched and have an element of mystery to them. (They are also available in large print.) All books are free to read on Kindle Unlimited.

Signed copies of all of my books are available on my website. I’m having an inventory reduction sale. Most are discounted, and some are free.

Word of warning, if you decide to click on my romance, they have …romance.

My time travel is sex free- but has swearing.

My suspense is dark ~ think Sleeping with the enemy.

Thank you and happy reading! ~ Sherry
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All of my books can be found on my Amazon author page. Here is the link.
https://www.amazon.com/Sherry-A-Burton/e/B005PM6QFG/ref=dp_byline_cont_pop_book_1

 
Don, my soon to be husband and I devised a plan to elope. There was no reason for a rushed ceremony; just merely a way to have a small nest egg saved up before having a big wedding in the future. Don was in the Navy, and if he were married, he would get married pay. Our plan was simple. We were going to get married, not tell anyone and start saving a little extra money.

 Don was on leave and due back to the ship right after the first of the year, so we decided to get married before he left. We chose December 30th. We’d worked out all the details; we would drive to Tennessee, get married, and be home by early afternoon. What could possibly go wrong?

I woke early that Friday morning as Don was supposed to pick me up by seven for our secret rendezvous.   I was ready on time, but Don was nearly an hour late picking me up. This was long before cell phones and I thought maybe he’d changed his mind. Thankfully this wasn’t the case.

The delay was because a house blocked the road. That’s right, s single-story, dark brown, brick ranch - was being moved to its new location on that very morning, the owners choosing to do so early so as not to inconvenience anyone. The good news is the house is still there, and every time we pass it, we remember the day it found its new home atop the hill.

After that minor delay, we were on our way.

We told my mother that we were heading to Bardstown to see Don’s father and would be gone most of the day. We arranged for my sister-in-law to join us as a witness. We drove to her house and waited across the street for my brother to leave for work. The moment the coast was clear, we picked up her and my nephew, who was just a baby at the time. We dropped my nephew off at his great aunt’s house and were on our way to Tennessee to become husband and wife.

The drive was uneventful, and we all arrived in high spirits. There was a line at the courthouse; apparently, several other couples had hopes of getting married that day as well. When our time came, we stepped up to the desk and told the lady we were there to get married. She smiled and asked for our birth certificates. This was the second thing that nearly derailed our plans, as we’d not thought to bring them. Before you chastise us for not being prepared, please remember we were very young. I had barely turned eighteen, and Don was twenty-one. It was way before the invention of the Internet, so we had not been able to research what was involved. 
After a couple of tense moments, the woman decided that we could use our driver’s licenses since they had our pictures on them. We were lucky because, at that time, Kentucky was one of the few states that required photos on their driver’s licenses.

Our identities established, she then requested the paperwork for blood test results—glitch number three. Of course, we had not thought to have any blood test taken. Things like this must happen regularly, as the lady directed us to a clinic where we could get our blood drawn.

We drove across town and finally found the clinic in a rather run-down section of the city. After arriving and feeding yet another parking meter that seemed prevalent in the large city, we entered to find a sea of patients waiting to see the doctor. As we entered the building, every person turned their head to check out the new arrivals. It was a tad creepy as they continued to watch as we checked in and took our seats.
 At the time, I felt it was because somehow everyone in the room knew of our secret mission. Looking back, I believe it was because we were highly overdressed for the area. Don was looking pretty dashing in his leisure suit. My sister-in-law had donned a nice dress for the occasion, and I had on a new outfit, the first one I had ever purchased on my own.

Purchased with money from the new job I’d just started,  I had on new blue jeans with a soft fur trim that lined the outside of the back pockets and a stunning black velour angel sleeve top. It was 1980, and this was the first fashionable outfit I’d ever owned. Having just turned eighteen and living a fairly naive life, it never occurred to me that fur-trimmed blue jeans and a black top may not be the best choice of wedding attire. But hey, this was our pre-wedding wedding, so it was okay.

Luckily, we were only at the clinic for a blood draw and called to the back within a few short moments. They put us in separate rooms across the hall from one another, where we sat on exam tables and waved to each other like a couple of kids. The nurse came into my room first, asking a few questions before tying the tourniquet around my arm. As she lowered the needle toward my arm, I asked her when the results would be back. As the needle approached the crook of my arm, she replied: “oh not long, we should have them back in the morning.”
 I jerked my arm away and pulled the rubber vice from my arm. “But, we are getting married today.”

After a few moments of chaos, we were sent across town yet again to a blood draw center that could accommodate a same-day blood draw. After arriving and paying yet another parking meter, we made our way to a nice waiting area where a very friendly receptionist assured us it would not take long to complete the process. After only a few minutes, our blood was carted away to the testing area with the word STAT boldly labeled across each glass vile. The woman said it would take about an hour, and since it was now nearing lunchtime, suggested we take this opportunity to go and get something to eat.

I am not sure how much Nashville has changed since then, but in December of 1980, it was not easy for three hungry, highly stressed people to find something to eat. We drove for quite some time before finally finding a Burger King. We ate burgers and fries, then hurried back to the lab to get our test results. We had been gone well over an hour, and the results from our blood tests were still not back. After waiting yet another hour, the receptionist finally called down to see what was taking so long. It turns out that our blood was missing! They placed a trace on the tubes, and we had no choice but to wait for them to be located.

After nearly two hours of panicking, the blood was found, and the results finally arrived. Don paid the fifty-six dollars, and we were on our way. Unfortunately, instead of being on our way to the courthouse, we had to drive back to the clinic so the resident doctor could verify the results and declare us fit to be married.

We arrived at the clinic, walked through the gauntlet of gawkers, and spoke with the receptionist, who called the nurse to take our paperwork to the doctor. Forty minutes and Thirty-six dollars later, we exited the building, paperwork in hand that attested that we were in good health and genetically fit to become husband and wife - all signed by a doctor we never saw.

It was late by the time we returned to the courthouse, and all the judges had left for the day. Physically and mentally exhausted, I blinked to keep the tears at bay.

Seeing my distress, the clerk took pity on us and offered to call over to night court and see if there was anyone who could perform the service. Luckily she located a judge who agreed to see to our joining.

We made our way to the courtroom and opened the door, instantly surprised to be met with a room full of people who turned to stare at the persons who’d suddenly disturbed the proceedings. We quickly closed the door without entering, fearing we had unknowingly arrived at the wrong courtroom. Within seconds the door opened, and we were greeted by a distinguished man with incredibly large ears, who assured us we were indeed in the right place.

The man introduced himself as Judge Doty and beckoned us to follow him. I was a bit scared walking through the crowded courtroom and into the judge’s chamber.

 Judge Doty was a sturdy, kind-faced older man with dark eyes that looked like they’d witnessed many years in the judicial system. He seemed rather pleased to be doing something as mundane as performing a simple marriage ceremony. When Judge Doty asked which one of these pretty ladies the bride was, Don clutched my hand possessively and proudly stated that I could cook too. He knew this for a fact as I had made him a spaghetti dinner only a few short months earlier when he was home on leave. What he neglected to say was that I had used boxed noodles, sauce from a jar, and he never even touched the homemade meatballs that I had slaved hours to cook.

Judge Doty began the ceremony only to be interrupted by a phone call. To our surprise, he answered and assured his wife he would bring home a loaf of bread and a gallon of milk. A few seconds later, he answered a second phone call. This call was of greater importance as it ended with the promise of a fishing trip to take place the following day. When the service continued, Judge Doty got to the part where a ring was needed, and in one smooth motion without exchanging words, my sister-in-law removed her wedding ring and passed it to Don, who then slipped it onto my waiting finger. Apparently, in our haste to get married, we had overlooked this minor detail. At long last, and without any further interruptions, he officially declared us husband and wife – which was formally certified after handing over a forty-dollar ceremony fee.

Upon surrendering the borrowed ring and returning to the hubby’s van, the first major test of our marriage was soon at hand. The van was nearly out of gas, we were over a hundred miles away from home, and Don was nearly out of money. Between all the parking meters, blood tests, doctor’s signatures, and ceremony fees, his cash was almost depleted. He had a bit of money in an account at home, but that was way before the invention of the universal debit card. I had not thought to bring any money, and my sister-in-law only had a couple of dollars on her, so we were frantically trying to figure out how we were going to get back home

As it turns out, Don had a money order in the van for the amount of six dollars which he had yet to fill out. He took the money order to a bank across the street - went into the bank, walked up to the teller, slid the money order under the window, and told her he needed money. It was at that time that the guard saw him at the window, watched him pass the note, and assumed he was robbing the bank.

Apparently, the bank had been closed for several minutes, and somehow no-one had remembered to lock the side door- I am not making this up! After a few tense moments, my new husband was able to convince everyone he was not a bank robber, had just gotten married, and needed to cash the small money order in order to get his new bride safely back home. The teller, who’d already closed out her drawer, took pity on him and gave him cash for the money order out of the money she had in her own purse.

With the funds from the money order and the small amount of cash on hand, Don was able to purchase gas which he prayed would be enough to get us all safely home. During the drive back to Kentucky, I, having reached my limit, proceeded to crawl into the bed in the back of the van and sleep most of the way home.
Needless to say, we arrived back at the aunt’s house to pick up the baby much later than initially intended. As we reached the back door, my brother greeted us, humming the hymn to the funeral march.

It turns out my nephew had gotten sick, and his aunt had called my mom looking for us. When my mother questioned why we would take my sister-in-law with us to visit Don’s dad, her aunt had jokingly stated: “maybe they eloped.”

After gathering my nerve, I called my mom, who demanded to know where we had been. There was no reason to lie, so I told her Tennessee, and when she asked why I said: “why do you think?” The next thing I heard was a dial tone. At that point, I was very glad I had taken that much-needed nap.

 My brother congratulated us, we had a celebratory glass of wine, and left.
After once again gathering the courage to call my house, my younger brother answered the phone and wanted to know why mom had been crying ever since hanging up the phone with me. She refused to answer and told him to tell me if I wanted to speak with her. I knew where she lived. An hour later we parked at the church next door to my parent’s house. Feeling as if we were facing the firing squad, we slowly made our way across the yard and up the incline to the house.
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My mom was still crying.
My dad, not typically known for his patience, was so calm it was frightening. He wanted to know why we had eloped. Don spoke up and simply said, “because we love each other.”  
Dad then asked the million-dollar question. “Are you pregnant?”
 We, of course, told them no, which was the truth. Dad visibly relaxed, well at least a little, and left the room for a moment. Many years later, I was told by my brother that he’d seen dad with a loaded pistol in his waistband before he himself had been ordered to leave the house. I do not know for certain if this was true, but I think it was a very good thing that an impending pregnancy was not the reason for our hasty elopement.

When dad returned to the room, both he and mom attempted to make us see the error of our ways, pressing us to get an annulment. They claimed that neither of them objected to the marriage, just the way we’d gotten married. They wanted us to get an annulment and then go back the following weekend to get re-married with them beside us. I was afraid if we agreed to this, they would find a way to keep us from a second ceremony. Dons refusal was because he was not about to relinquish his well-earned prize. He had nearly been shot at the bank just a few short hours earlier, and he was not about to let that experience be for naught.

After a stalemate, it was decided that I would retire to my room for the night, and Don would go home. All parties involved would discuss it further the following day when hopefully calmer heads would prevail.

 I know some probably think it utterly absurd to sleep alone on one’s wedding night, but by this point, Don and I were so exhausted it seemed like the right thing to do.

The final agreement was that we would follow our initial idea to keep the marriage a secret and plan for the big wedding in the summer. As with our elopement, things did not go as intended. We never had the big wedding, nor did I get the white dress. I am happy to report that I did get a wedding band that was eventually replaced with a lovely diamond set on our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Good things come to those who wait! ;)

When we first got married, several people expressed their disapproval. They called it puppy love and told us it would not last six months. I am happy to report that their predictions did not hold true - we just celebrated forty-one years together.  

I guess truth be told, one does not need a fancy dress, a shiny bauble, or even a lot of money to get married. You only need perseverance, a trip across the state line, and enough money for gas to get you home…. 
 
 

I’d like to take a few moments to share a bit about The Orphan Train Saga.
In the mid-1850s, there were over 30k children living on the streets of New York City. My goal with each book is to show the situations leading up to the enormous homeless children population. Each book will show how that child came to be living on the streets or in the asylum. Through their stories, I’ll show why so many parents were unable to care for their children and the conditions that spurred one-man- Charles Loring Brace- into action. His goal, to help save the children that so many in the city looked upon as nothing more than cockroaches littering the streets. With help from his high society friends, Reverend Brace formed the Children’s Aid Society. The CAS was instrumental in sending the children out on the orphan trains.
  Each book in The Orphan Train Saga is written with the hope that the reader will see that the orphan train program, though far from perfect, was a necessary tool to help get the children out of the city, thus offering them a chance at having a better life.
 Though many in today’s society are appalled at how some of the children were treated, it is important to know that most of those placed out had good lives. Due to the high death rate from disease and infection, it is also important to note that most of those children would not have lived to see their eighteenth birthday had they not been sent out on the trains.
 Before you make up your mind that this was a political evil, it is also important to note that this was NOT a government program. In fact, the placing out program (orphan trains) was the catalyst that helped to invoke government programs aimed at helping keep families together. The Placing Out Program was the beginning of the modern-day foster care program and helped to put other many other programs, such as child labor laws prohibiting factories from hiring children in place of men.
 Over two-hundred-fifty-thousand children were sent west to find new homes. My goal is to keep those children’s memories alive and further educate the reader by throwing in snippets of forgotten history to help keep the books exciting.
The books are void of swear words, and I try to keep graphic scenes to a minimum.
Though I initially believed this historical fiction saga geared towards adults, I have a fan base ranging from eight to ninety nine according to my latest fan mail.
 Now for a bit about my saga…
 Discovery is the first book in the saga where Cindy and her mother discover the journals hidden in the attic. In reading the journals, Cindy, her mother Linda, and the reader learns of the life that stole her grandmother’s love. Traveling back in time to when her grandmother was just a child, we learn of her father’s death during the trip to America from Poland in search of a new life. We learn of the institutions in which the children live. In having Mileta’s mother drop her at the front door, I show the ease with children could be tossed aside. Something reiterated when Mary tells Mileta her mother dropped her there on Christmas day with promises to return. Another child holds firm to the hope their papa will return one day. During Mileta’s journey on the trains, a couple attempts to adopt her while in route to Detroit. This scenario did occur during at least one of the original placements. A child was adopted and later replaced with another child along the way.  Also, in Discovery, we meet Tobias and are introduced to the infamous Purple Gang. A notorious Detroit gang so ruthless that even Al Capone was afraid of them.
Shameless, the second book in the saga, tells Tobias’ story. Shameless is set in both New York City and Detroit. The reader will join a young Tobias at his “home” in the graveyard of St. Paul’s Chapel, take a disastrous ride on an ill-fated subway- which will later be known as the Malbone Street Wreck- one of the deadliest crashes in the United States as well as the deadliest in the history of the New York Subway system.  Shameless also probes deeper into the Purple Gang and of whisky running during prohibition. We meet a new cast of characters, including Franky (book 4) and Slim (book 5.) We meet Mr. Twichell, a good friend of Mark Twain,  who shares words of wisdom with a young Tobias. We get to see more of the placing out process and what happened when placements didn’t work out. We learn the finer points of picking pockets and travel to Chicago and have a brief encounter with Al Capone. We’ll follow as Tobias meets Mileta and see what motivates his fierce protection instincts and sets the tone for the first five books in the saga.
In Treachery, the third book in the saga, you’ll delve into the life of Anastasia and see if she is as rotten as she’s lead us to believe in previous books. Or, if she is merely a product of circumstances which landed so many children onto the streets. Treachery is full of history and dives headfirst into the lack of child labor laws as Anastasia worms her way into working at the Triangle Shirtwaist factory. Then hold your breath as she barely escapes the 1911 fire that claimed the lives of 146 garment workers. You’ll bear witness to the plight of unwed mothers in the early 20th century and discover what lengths mothers would go to see their children safe.
Guardian, the fourth book in the saga, releases on October 20th, 2020, with Franky’s story. Travel to Chicago and meet Judge, who takes in Franky and gives the boy and the reader a brief tour of the windy city in 1926. Next, you’ll arrive back in Detroit, where Franky is one step away from being caught up in the Purple Gangs. During the course of the book, the reader will take a ride with Jimmy Hoffa, meet a young Audie Murphy, and travel to Italy when a grown up Franky recounts his brief stint in Anzio during WWII.
There will be eighteen books in the saga and they are so intricately weaved together you’ll want to read them in order. Along with those planned within the saga, I’ve already begun working on several “extras”-spinoffs if you will- that will allow the reader to see what happens to some other characters they will meet along the way. Loyal, book five in the saga, will be released in 2021.
If you are looking for romance, you may find yourself disappointed. If you are looking for brief snapshots of real 20th-century history wrapped within the stories of children who want nothing more than to survive in a world where so many around them are perishing, I believe you will fall in love with The Orphan Train Saga.
 
You can order signed copies of the books on my website. You may also order print books at either Amazon or Barnes & Noble. Each book is available on Kindle and can be read for free via Kindle Unlimited.

#Theorphantrainsaga #Historicalfiction #20thcenturyhistoricalfiction #Cleanread #Theorphantrains #Purplegang #booksetinDetroit #Booksetinnewyorkcity #booksetinchicago #Westbyorphantrain #Kentuckyauthor #Michiganauthor #prohibition #THegreatdepression #Bookclubs #pickpockets #Orphanchildren #Quiltstories #Hiddenjournals

Hello everyone,
I wanted to make a contest in exchange to help gain reviews, however Amazon does not allow it. If I were to get caught they would remove all reviews from my books.
I know you probably get tired of me begging for reviews (trust me, I hate asking) but I wanted to take just a moment to explain why they are so necessary. You enjoy my books so please take a moment to read this. While I appreciate everyone that sends me a message telling me how much they love the book, I need the world to see those messages.
So why should you leave a review?

1. I am an Indie author which is another word for self-published. I hire an editor, have a professional cover made for my books and have a team of beta readers who read through my manuscript to help ensure I put out a book which is well written, aesthetically appealing and (hopefully) free from mistakes. I take pride in my work and want to give you the best reading experience possible. Some indie authors are not as diligent and therefore give self-published books a bad rap. By leaving a review you are not only telling me how much you enjoy my work, you are telling potential readers how much you enjoy reading my work. (**I was with a “real” publisher with my first two books, I like the control –over content, covers- and publishing dates- I have with Indie publishing.)
2. There are certain magazines and venues I would love to advertise in, however, some of them do not even consider the books (or author) until they’ve reached a certain number of reviews. There are also book fests and signings I would like to take part in that look to reviews before offering an invitation.
3. Each morning when I wake I do two things. I check my sales (This usually makes me happy) and then I go to Amazon to look for new reviews. Sometimes I smile (like when I have a new review) and other I do not (when there not any new reviews.) Please won’t you take a moment to make me smile?

 
What to say? That is the best part, you get to say whatever you want. It’s your review! Write a little or write a lot. Just remember unlike golf, the higher the score (in this case star count) the better.
 
Where to leave a review? There are four heavy hitters. In a perfect world you would decide what you want to say and copy and paste on each platform.
 
Amazon: if you did not purchase the book from Amazon you will not be considered a verified purchaser. That’s okay, just include in the review that you bought the book at a signing event and feel free to name the event. *To be eligible to leave a review on Amazon they require you to purchase $50 in products each year.
Barnes & Noble: to my knowledge Barnes and Noble does not have any rules for reviews at this time.
Goodreads: as far as I know if you have an account (they are free) you can leave a review.
Bookbub: (another free account) Bookbub is a great place for authors to advertise, but again they look to see how many reviews the author has before offering them a bookbub deal. **make sure to like and follow me on bookbub to be told of new releases and book deals.
If you have already left a review, thank you. If you want to leave the same review on the other sites, THANK YOU! One more thing, if you take the time to leave a review please double check to make sure it gets posted. Sometimes they don’t ever show up.
 
 #Pleasereview #Bookreview #yourreviewmatters #indieauthor 
 
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