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Spotlight -- Bride of the Rockies by Angela Breidenbach -- with giveaway

Angela Breidenbach • Jan 01, 2022

Today I'm thrilled to welcome Angela Breidenbach as she shares about her latests release, Bride of the Rockies. Read all the way through and learn how you can be entered into a random drawing for a free ebook copy of her book.


Angela, tell us a little about yourself to readers who may not know you -- yet.


Thanks, Donna. I am a professional genealogist, media personality, conference speaker, bestselling author of eighteen books, and screenwriter. I livein Montana with my hubby and Muse, a trained fe-lion, who shakes hands, rolls over, and jumps through a hoop. Surprisingly, Angela can also. Catch her show and podcast, Genealogy Publishing Coach!


Great. Now, where can readers find you online?

https://AngelaBreidenbach.com

A-Muse-ings Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/n0s2t2

Social Media: @AngBreidenbach

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Angela-Breidenbach/e/B00460W4F4

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/angela-breidenbach

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3370320.Angela_Breidenbach

Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/c/AngelaBreidenbach


Will you share an excerpt from your book with us?

 

Happy to, Donna, and thanks for asking.


Excerpt from Bride of the Rockies, Book 5 in the Queen of the Rockies series:


May 1, 1893

BETTINA GILBERT GAWKED AT THE WHITE CITY from a bench on the hurricane deck of the steamship as she balanced a sketchbook on one knee, a white lace glove in her lap to avoid graphite smudges. The clouds clearing from their early morning drapery drew away as if a cord were pulled on a stage revealing the glow of bright white classical structures gleaming in the spring sun. Heaven might as well be laid out before her. The Peristyle's forty-eight Roman columns, one for each US state, and its gateway arches spread the massive colonnade across the park's waterway entrance butted by the mammoth casino on one side and the matching music hall on the other. From the distance, the shape made by the harbor buildings seemed more like Bettina pictured the Lord's giant throne room, regal and triumphant, calling believers into His presence.


Could she capture that sense of incredible royalty in a sketch before the boat docked? The cacophony of the crowd on board rumbled with unencumbered excitement to discover the Columbian Exposition of 1893. The noise of the crowd on the pier walkway rolled across the short distance to collide with the clamor on the boat as if one hand met the other in wild ovation. Did the angelic chorus sound as loud? God must have rather the regular headache. Bettina pressed lace clad fingertips to her temple.


"Beautiful from this vantage." The expressive awe in the man's words tickled her ears, a calm center in the explosion of buzzing energy. His voice soothed her spirit like the sun on her shoulders eased the shivers after the morning's rainy start. "We're blessed with unusual opportunity."


Against the rising roar from inland, where thousands upon thousands listened to President Cleveland's opening address near the Court of Honor's Columbus fountain, and those on the dock scurried to see the great man press the golden key to open the fair, this man's quiet words subdued Bettina's frayed nerves. "Yes, astonishingly so." She slipped the sketch pencil into her hair and turned into the sun, barely escaping its cloudy curtains, to find her fellow passenger.


Lifting her gloved hand to block the glare, Bettina caught a glimpse of a mustache and dark hair under a bowler as she waited out the signal bell clanging orders to the steamship's crew. Then a woman with several well-dressed children, girls in matching gray frocks and boys in matching gray knickers and vests, jostled into an open space hindering a good view of her congenial companion.


He must have given way—as a gentleman should according to her father. Refreshing since manners seemed sorely lacking as more and more travelers bore down on Chicago the last few weeks. Well, it'd been a pleasant interlude amongst the din. She returned to her sketching.


"Antoine, qu'est-ce que je dis? Votre frère... "


French. Bettina tried to ignore the poor mite's scolding for shoving a sibling, but her love of language and sense of unrequited adventure meant a tiny bit of intentional eavesdropping. Poor bored Antoine was picking on his brothers. She knew exactly what that felt like. Her pencil flew. The boy's face, eyes full of longing, took over the upper corner of her page watching the city from afar.


Who were all these people? What were their home countries like? Why were they here, specifically? She loved digging into the details, but on a much more minute level. The magnitude of the crowds everywhere she looked already drained her people patience. She'd much prefer peeping into a microscope or testing soil samples. But then, she still had to find a way to meet the man she hoped would have a place for her to continue her research. Dr. Kelsey would be here, at the exposition, taking part in the congresses before massive audiences. She couldn't arrive on that day and expect to be prepared. No, coming early to investigate was a wise choice.


She cast a quick, consolation glance at the boy who wanted to be done with the waiting. It had to be harder still to wait when the World's Fair seemed only inches away and as yet so inaccessible. Would anything be as thrilling for him again in his lifetime? Or hers? The boy turned to face away from his family, nose in the air as if watching a seagull, an elbow popped out and jabbed his little brother setting off another squabble. Then he pretended a wide-eyed innocence as his sibling overacted to the injury, sending his mama into another fit of French scolds.


Oh, no. Bettina rolled her lips inward and tightened them to keep from laughing. Anyone could tell what a finger shaking at a nose meant. How many strangers caught her brothers, or her, acting just this way during childhood? She focused on shading dimension into the numerous arches of the Peristyle rather than be an encouraging party to the French lad's mischievous antics. French boys and Irish-American boys. Not so different. Although she seemed to get away with a few pranks as the middle child to keep her four brothers in line, it was survival as far as she was concerned. Adding an eight-year old sister into the family meant jostling for a new pecking order.

Bettina peeked back at the boy. "I see you." She mouthed at him and signaled between their eyes in case he didn't speak English, he'd understand.


He rewarded her with a knowing grin.


She tipped her pencil to her hat—the silent, secret language of mischievous middles.


His grin grew.


She'd take one-on-one communication any day over parties and crowds. Then she caught sight of another gaze. A little breath wedged in her throat at the handsome stranger's nod of detection. He'd noticed the exchange and joined in the humorous moment. Bettina lowered her lashes and turned toward the dock, a warm blush creeping across her cheeks. She whispered to herself, "No distractions." My, but she liked the confident look of him.


Approaching the already teeming dock doubled the volume and drowned out her ability to think. Today national and international experts began to gather and share scientific discoveries and potential medicines derived from the study of plants. The upcoming congresses promised to educate and entertain on every topic imaginable.


Though winning a slot to present her own paper on strategic crop planting for maximum harvest both excited and terrified her. Only the possibility of gaining a position close to home at Oberlin College convinced her parents the summer in Chicago would be worth the sacrifice of letting their daughter go for a short time. But would anyone even want to hear an unknown, let alone a woman botanist, speak on farming techniques? Hopefully one Reverend Doctor F. D. Kelsey and his colleagues. She pushed the anxiety away and concentrated on her plan.


Bettina knew where each one of the featured displays would be housed as well as the illustrious names in botanical science she wanted to meet. She'd gleaned several from research papers at college, and thanks to the detailed articles in the Chicago Tribune for the last year or so, she knew which would be speaking or participating with an exhibit. Sharing her work was less about the audience and more about attracting an expert mentor, preferably the good Reverend Doctor Kelsey, to help her navigate her budding botany career.


The daily speakers in the congresses, where the learned of the world convened to educate and enlighten, held both the key to her future and an example of how she should conduct herself when it came her turn to present. While others took in the sights and exotic experiences like camel rides, Egyptian mummies, and Mr. Ferris' wheel on the specially dubbed Street of Cairo, Bettina intended to expand her horizons professionally by studying the scholars she wished to intern under for an advanced degree. She didn't have time for thrill seeking if the few remaining positions that fit her need for a situation near Cleveland, and her parents, were at stake.


The signal bell clanged its arrival announcement. Closing the sketchpad, she eyed the jam of families, including the French lad still pestering his little brother. The mishmash line flowed out from the stairwell and disappeared down two decks toward departure. That could take a while. A few minutes more to remember the awe-struck moment the White City boardwalk spread like a welcome mat to every nation would be worth the delay disembarking after the mass exodus off the steamboat. But then, she'd visit each botanical and agricultural exhibits first. Of all the places, admiring and studying the leading experts' work at the World's Fair had to be the best opportunity to find a master mentor for a degreed botanist.


Bettina's heart drummed in her ears matching the thrum of the antsy throng. Brilliant minds would walk here this summer. She wanted the chance to meet them, discover unknown species, uses for plant materials, and better ways to manage crops to feed the masses—and one day be considered accomplished among those brilliant minds.


She flipped open the page on her sketchbook again, tucking the loose referral letter from her professor safely in the back pages with her carefully planned list of activities, and tugged the pencil from its mooring under the small purple hat. Flaxen strands floated free of her loose chignon and danced in the breeze over her shoulders as she bent to draft a smart line drawing of her first view from Lake Michigan. Bettina studied the entrancing architecture, ducked again to feather in a little shading for the lagoon, and then shifted on the bench for a better angle to finish the brilliant white, elegant casino left of the pier. The beaux-Art domes on many of the structures seemed similar. She started counting, dipping the end of the pencil as she ticked off each one in sight.


"That's an astounding representation." He leaned over her shoulder blocking the morning sun.


Bettina gasped as she dropped her sketchbook. The blotter slid down her navy skirt and lodged near her boot—until she moved to pick it up at the same time as the ship's paddlewheel chugged, jerking into reverse as it moored alongside the dock. Skittering across the planked decking, still wet from the earlier drizzle, the book careened toward the edge. She stood to give chase.


He shot to the rescue, dropping to a knee and snagging the book by the binding corner before it slid under the boat's rail and over the side. As he rose, the pages blew open and fluttered in the breeze loosing one to float free lifted, lolling on a current.


Her reference letter! "Catch that!" she lurched, arm outstretched, and bumped the handsome stranger into the railing as they both reached for the paper. Her pencil sailed from her fingers and plunged into the waves. She scrambled for a handhold and clutched for the page losing her balance. Her gloved hand slid at the same time as her boot pitching her forward, off her feet, in the direction of lapping water against the hull.

 

That was exciting! Are you up to answering questions?

Sure, fire away.

Where did you get the idea for the book, character, or series?

     Bride of the Rockies came from a few little lines I found in the Montana Room archives in my local library as I was researching the first book in the Queen of the Rockies series. I read that the Montana women won seven medals at the 1893 World’s Fair that was also named the Columbian Exposition. Like many others, I didn’t realize how modern and well educated the Wild West really was compared to the lore and romanticized version of uncouth people until I stumbled on all the articles, antique books, and photos of the event.


But those few reported lines about seven medals really caught my attention. The more I chased down what those medals were and what they meant, the more stunned I was at the science and success of a cooperative group of women who lived on the edge of known civilization as far as the rest of the world believed. The amazing accomplishments of these Montana women doesn’t get the recognition deserved. At the time, they became known worldwide for their stunning discoveries and the way they presented that to the world. International papers talked about the women and their incredible level of intelligence, education, and success. I couldn’t let that story go because we rarely hear a word about these achievements today.


 I spent days researching the names of the women, reading the meeting notes, tracking antique newspaper articles, and then tracking train schedules from Helena MT to Chicago. From there I had to figure out where and how the pavilion was built, how they staffed the five-month event, what they did with the paltry sum allotted to them, the events of the 1893 World’s Fair, foods and inventions first displayed, clothing, transportation, how the White City was constructed and laid out, who attended, weather, and more. My goal was to uncover tidbits that might have been overlooked by others that I could use about the famous event. I hope readers will discover more than than they’ve ever heard of before about the Chicago’s World Fair in some fun ways. I know I sure did! It was really hard to stop because the research was so fun and fascinating to me.


Our local Western Montana Fair has some unique foods like 1) tater pigs, a breakfast link inside a baked potato topped with butter and sour cream with a side of pig tails aka French fries made from the hollowed potato and 2) vikings, a deep fried sausage concoction that has to be experienced. I think it would have been really fun to be in 1893 when Coca Cola, breakfast cereal, and caramel corn were introduced to the world along with the telephone!


Tell us about your next book & when is it being published?

Flame of the Rockies, Book 6 Queen of the Rockies Series


Can she release her prejudice to love again?


August 1910, Idaho/Montana Border

The fiery pain at her new husband's murder might equal the disaster blazing across the Pacific Northwest. Stranded in the treacherous railroad camp, baking bread for survival, Juliana Hayes has no desire to marry a railroad ruffian like Lukas Filips, or anyone else. Can she release her prejudice to love again? Or will either one of them survive The Big Blowup to find out?


Based on true history when three million acres burned out of control on the border of Montana and Idaho darkening the skies all the way to the East Coast. It’s a wonder anyone survived!

 

What question would you like readers to answer to enter the random drawing for a free ebook copy of Bride of the Rockies?

What are your favorite memories of the biggest fair you’ve attended or your favorite fair food?

 

Leave your comment as well as your email address in this format, please: NAME AT PROVIDER DOT EXTENSION

For example: Donna AT livebytheword DOT com


*gift will be fulfilled through BookFunnel

 

 


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