ECPA BESTSELLERS
Mistletoe Memories ~ Spend a heartfelt Christmas on Schooley’s Mountain as four generations, spanning 200 years, make a house a home.
Bygone Christmas Brides ~ Light a candle in the window and sit down to a slice of fruitcake as you delight in six 19th Century romances that welcome love at Christmastide. Many traditions held dear today have their roots in the British Isles and have been practiced for over a hundred years. In these six delightful historical stories, romance is nurtured amidst baking Scottish shortbread and English mince pies, burning the yule log, and hanging kissing boughs. But each couple is also plagued by worries of the day. As Christmastide draws to a close, will faith and love endure for future celebrations?
I was invited by Gina Welborn to participate in this series. Her vision was that one home carried generations of memories. Set in Schooley's Mountain, Washington County, New Jersey, all that I knew to start was that there were mineral springs located there and that people used retreat there and "take the waters." It was a joyful journey as I populated my novella with some true historical characters as well as those I imagined. With an love for early American history, I choose the year 1820 for my story's setting, at the historic Heath House on Schooley's Mountain. I was thrilled to discover many historical publications describing the inn and the mineral springs. But what I enjoyed most was the relationship between Annaliese, Stephan, and Rory and the home they built together!
Christmas in America wasn't generally celebrated until the mid-19th century, but the early Germans and Dutch who lived in this area of New Jersey did enjoy their traditions from the old country. About the time of my story, Washington Irving published stories of Old Christmas in England so I tied this in to my novella. Oh, and the mistletoe? There was plenty of that to be found!
We were beyond thrilled when Mistletoe Memories became a bestseller on the Evangelical Christian Publishers Association list. My publisher repackaged two of our novellas, including my
'Tis the Season" to be enjoyed again in Bygone Christmas Brides, also and ECPA bestseller!
'Tis the Season
Schooleys Mountain Springs, New Jersey (1820) ~ Stephan Yost, resident carpenter of Schooley’s Mountain, New Jersey’s fashionable resort, spends off-season working on repairs, renovations, and constructing new buildings. When he is hired to build a permanent home for the resort's physician and his spirited daughter, Annaliese Braun, in time for Christmas, Stephan finds himself enamored by the precocious spinster. But will he be able to compete for her affections against the advances of a manipulative iron baron?
Reviews
"I thoroughly enjoyed these stories! Set around the holidays they each will give you a bit of holiday cheer. I gave this book 5/5 stars. I thought the stories were all well written and made me want to read more by the authors who wrote them. I liked the time periods of each story and the descriptions were excellent without filling the pages with too much detail. I would recommend this book to those who enjoy the simple Lifetime and Hallmark movies around the holidays. I would definitely buy this book as a present for a friend, knowing that they will enjoy it!" ~ Irene's Christian Reviews
"Carla Olson Gade has used an historic figure and estate to give credence to hero Stephan Yost's reason for being on Schooley's Mountain - an actual resort area back in the day. Carla has also placed heroine Annaliese Braun in one of those resorts as the doctor’s daughter. Annaliese loves her summers on Schooley’s Mountain and would even accept life as a spinster if it allowed her to live there year ‘round. But late fall every year her father drags her back to their ornate Manhattan apartment. This year will be different though, for her father announces that he’s hired Stephan Yost to build her the house of her dreams in time for Christmas. Annaliese wonders if perhaps a home and family at Schooley's Mountain are in God’s plan for her after all. But remorseful Stephan curbs his attraction for her lest she guess his secret and reject him outright, believing it would be less painful for everyone if he guards his heart and leaves quietly when the job is done. Of course, I haven’t given you all the facts in this tender love story, and neither did Carla at first. I like the way she wrote the story, dropping bits of character information here and historical info there when I needed to know. I didn't need writing gimmicks to keep reading as she'd given me enough heartfelt emotion to keep me interested. As for the ending, I’d like to say, I saw it coming, yet when it did, it was natural and right, the whole tale flowing in a surprising and satisfying conclusion. Based on this story, I can definitely say I’ll be looking for more of Carla’s stories."
~ Anita Mae Draper, author
SNEAK PEEK - FIRST PAGES
'Tis the Season
Washington Township, New Jersey
Late October 1820
Slow there, boys. Whoa, Hippocrates. Whoa, Galen!”
Annaliese Braun arched back as she drew in the reins with a firm grip. Spooked by a high-pitched whistle, the pair of riled horses continued their unsteady trot. The conveyance
shook and the horses lurched ahead. The carriage shuddered beneath her as she tried to maintain control and pull the horses to a stop.
“Ea–sy fellas,” Annaliese called out to them, peering at the packed dirt road before her. The carriage felt askew. She leaned over and beheld the large wheel wobbling at her side, looking up in time to see a large branch strewn across the mountain road. The team shifted and with a jolt, angled back. The rear wheels of the wagon slid into the wide gulch at the side of the road. Wet with leaves from last night’s storm, the slippery descent tipped the carriage at a precarious angle on the uneven terrain. The carriage rocked from side to side, back and forth, as the horses wrestled to gain footing.
I must stop the horses! Annaliese moved to the edge of the footboard of her father’s red landau. As she felt for the tread, her cotton pelisse caught on the side lantern. She steadied the toe of her ankle-boot on the small step and tugged at her long cloak. As she struggled to free herself, the horses bucked and knocked her onto the damp ground where she landed in a most unladylike fashion. Hippocrates and Galen shuffled about as they dug their hooves into the rocky, leaf-strewn slope.
She looked up at the carriage looming over her, trying to find her voice. The harnesses pulled taut and the wheels rolled forward—toward her legs beneath the coach. Annaliese pushed against the ground trying to move, when strong arms grabbed her by the shoulders, hoisting her from harm’s way.
She landed with her back against a warm, thumping, masculine chest, facing the bent knees of buckskin breeches tucked into knee boots. “The horses!” she screeched out. “I am
all right, please get them!”
“You are sure?” he asked, with a slight guttural intonation.
“Please, hurry!” Schnell!
The man sprang to his feet and climbed up the shallow embankment to the road, running after the confused horses. He took hold of Galen’s harness and yanked back. “Ho. . . halte,” he called out, working his way in front of the team, bringing them to a stop. Hippocrates tossed his head and blew out reverberating snorts.
The man led the horses to a small glade off the side of the road, drawing the faltering carriage behind them.
Annaliese was taking deep breaths, trying to regain her senses, when the handsome rescuer squatted down in front of her, taking deep breaths of his own. His green eyes, brightened
by his ruddy face, gazed at her intently. “Miss Braun, it is good to meet you at last,” he said, a subtle inflection of Dutch upon his tongue.
Annaliese blinked. It really was he, and she was not dreaming after all. The man she’d longed to meet, had continued to avoid all summer, took her by the hands and gently pulled her to her feet. She rose, finding herself in such proximity to him that there was nothing else she could say but, “Why, Mr. Yost, how do you do?”
“Stephan, if you please, miss,” the Heath House resident carpenter said, taking a few steps back from her. “It is what I am accustomed to.” His eyes roamed the top of her head with
curiosity. “To answer your question, I believe I fare better than you this day.”
From the corner of her eye, Annaliese noted her plaid chin ribbon dangling somewhere in the vicinity of her temple. She winced. “I must be quite a sight.” She lifted her hands and felt
the disheveled state of her bonnet.
A crooked grin rose above Stephan’s cleft chin.
Annaliese withdrew her bonnet of braided straw and gathered taffeta, and her thick plait plopped onto her shoulder. She often wove her unruly locks into a neat coif surrounding the crown of her head, but the pins from the back must have come undone, as had her pride.
She released a deep sigh as she glanced down at the hat, turning it about in her hands. The back was crushed and fall leaves were plastered to it. “Perhaps I should begin a new fashion and leave them.” A nervous laugh escaped her lips and she began to pluck the leaves from amongst the small plumes and other trimmings. “I should have thought of it before the resort guests went back to their grand homes in the cities. They could have shared the latest fall headdress with their elegant friends.” Enough of her nervous chatter. What did he know of fashion, with his rugged apparel befitting a tradesman?
Stephan nodded, muffling a laugh, and turned to look at the horses.
As he did so, Annaliese pulled off her soggy chamois driving gloves and discreetly felt the back of her pelisse, finding that the damp ground had saturated the fabric.
“If you are all right, Miss Braun, we should see to the horses and your carriage.”
“Yes, of course.”
Stephan took long strides up the incline and turned to her, extending his hand. She placed her ungloved hand in his firm grip and he carefully helped her to the road. Then the handsome Dutchman motioned for her to walk ahead of him.
“You may go ahead, thank you.” She fanned her warm face with her gloves in the absence of her fan. Who would have ever expected to need a fan on a morning outing in the country in late October? She followed Stephan to the roadside patch where her geldings nosed through wet leaves and nibbled on the spiky grass. Careful to keep her backside away from Stephan’s view, she worked her way around the team and wagged her finger at them. “Hippocrates and Galen. You have been most naughty today. There shall be no carrots for you.”
Stephan’s eyebrows lifted. “Hippocrates and Galen?”
“My father named them after the ancient physicians,” she answered. Stephan issued a slow nod.
Annaliese raised her brow and shrugged. Did he understand the logic or simply find their names peculiar?
He cocked his head. “Now tell me, Miss Braun, how did your intelligent horses deposit you and your carriage into that gulch?”
Annaliese swallowed. Gulch? It was a gulch all right, and she had fallen straight in. Stephan Yost may have rescued her, but her heart was in the precarious position of rebelling
against her plans for the future.
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