A Heart-warming Romance from the Heart of America
For every flowering blossom of spring, a heart discovers true love...
Maggie... As a spirited girl of fifteen, she fell head over heels in love with a handsome stranger...a love she was too young to understand.
Hunter... Part Indian, and all gentleman, he was touched by young Maggie's charms and secretly vowed to ask for her hand when she was of marrying age.
He did return to her years later - only to find the shattering truth that had scarred her heart... For Maggie had turned her back on love and not even the caring embrace of her sisters and father could ease the dark secret that tarnished her spirit. Until Hunter's gentle touch turned the future into a promise of love fulfilled, turned her sorrow into the sunshine warmth of home and hearth...and a love that would flourish with the passing of the seasons.
An excerpt from Spring Blossom: ...
"I would like to say good night now, Hunter," she said reasonably. "I'm very tired."
His eyes strayed to the hand-painted screen in the corner. "If you are feeling shy..." he said and left the remainder of his sentence dangling between them.
"You are not staying?" she asked.
"It would look a bit odd, don't you think, for the groom to spend the wedding night in one room while the bride sleeps in another?"
"You are not staying." This was not a question but a statement of fact.
He took a small sip of brandy and watched as she set her glass on the table beside the bed. "You need not panic because I am here, Maggie," he said softly. "You'll never become more comfortable with me if I sleep in the next county, now will you?"
"Sleep!" she gasped. "Hunter, you are not sleeping in this room! My sisters care little whether we share the same room, and I..."
"And your father?" he asked quietly.
"I don't care what he thinks about our arrangement. He has married me off..."
"Don't speak of him in that fashion, Maggie," he said in a soft warning tone. "Your father didn't sell you into bondage, nor did he betray you. The man loves you. He did what he felt was right for you."
Margaret did not take kindly to this dressing-down, although she knew his words were painfully true. "You're changing the subject," she said evenly. "We were discussing your sleeping accommodation."
He looked down at the small, feminine chair that, he suspected, would barely hold his weight. "I won't sleep here," he said lightly.
A black scowl crossed her face. "You will not sleep in my bed."
Hunter sighed audibly. "Issuing all these orders to your husband is not a grand way to begin a relationship, my girl. Why not step behind the screen and get out of that dress before you lose your hold on it?" He grinned for her benefit. "Not that I would object if that should occur. I am only thinking of your modestly."
Maggie had lowered her eyes to inspect her predicament as he spoke, but his final attempt at teasing her fell far short of its mark. "Oh!" She flounced toward the screen. "You are a buffoon!"
He smiled, once more raising the glass to his lips, waiting...
"Hunter Maquire!" she cried, appearing around the end of the screen, holding a man's silk robe and shaking it as if wishing it were his neck. "Tell me Anna left this behind my screen!"
"I did ask..."
Suddenly Margaret appeared defeated, and still the holding the robe, turned wearily aside. "Hunter, please stop playing with me. You planned it all and I don't like this."
His smile disappeared and he stared across the room, all pretense of teasing gone. "I know you don't, little one," he said patiently, setting his glass on the table before getting to his feet and walking toward her. "Maggie, I didn't marry you to cause you pain or distress. I have more...tender reasons," he said softly. Standing before her, he bent down to take his robe from her hand.
Spring Blossom is also available at
"If western heroes are your kind of man, then you'll fall in love with Hunter Maquire from Jill Metcalf's Spring Blossom, the most sensitive man around. Can anyone clone him?"
... Romantic Times Magazine