Author Spotlight: Welcome Jo-Ann Roberts, Western Romance Author

As I said yesterday, it has been such a treat to meet the authors at the Petticoats & Pistols blog. They are an amazing group of writers! Jo-Ann Roberts is another “filly” that I’ve had the pleasure to get to know!

Born and raised in western Massachusetts, Jo-Ann Roberts was fascinated by America’s Old West and always felt she was destined to travel on a wagon train following the Oregon Trail. With her love of history and reading, she began reading historical romance during high school and college. Victoria Holt, Jude Deveraux, and Roseanne Bittner were among her favorites. Influenced by her father, she fell in love with John Wayne, James Garner, and her all-time favorite, James Stewart and grew up watching Wagon Train, Bonanza and Rawhide.

A firm believer in HEA with a healthy dose of realism, Jo-Ann strives to give her readers a sweet historical romance while imparting carefully researched historical facts, personalities, and experiences relative to the time period. Her romances take her readers back to a simpler time to escape the stress of modern life by living in a small town where families and friends help one another find love and happiness.

When she isn’t creating believable plots and relatable heroes and heroines, Jo-Ann enjoys spending time with her husband, children and grandson. She also enjoys baking, quilting and eating way too much chocolate.

After 38 years in public education in Connecticut and Maryland, she’s now calls North Carolina home.

~*~*~*~

First and foremost, many thanks to Nan Reinhardt for having me on her blog today. As a Filly sister on the Petticoats and Pistol blog site, I’m excited to having her join us in the corral!

For those who don’t know me, I’m Jo-Ann Roberts, and I’ve been fascinated by America’s Old West and always felt I was destined to travel on a wagon train following the Oregon Trail. As a firm believer in HEA with a healthy dose of realism, my romances take readers back to a simpler time and place where families and friends help one another find love and happiness.

I write sweet historical and western romances. My books have been published both independently and through a publishing house since 2019. Born in Massachusetts, I went to college in Boston, where I met my husband, Papa Bob. Two years ago, we celebrated our 50th wedding anniversary. We have two wonderful children, a darling daughter-in-law, two grandsons, and a lovely granddaughter-in-law. In 2018, after 38 years in public education in Connecticut and Maryland, we retired to North Carolina.

I also enjoy baking, quilting, and eating way too much chocolate. I’m a past winner (Historical Category) of NEORWA’s Cleveland Rocks Romance Contest. My debut romance, Lessie-Brides of New Hope Book One, was a 2020 RONE Award Nominee. Grace-Book Three in the Brides of New Hope was a 2022 RONE Finalist.

In addition to writing sweet historical romance, my second love is quilting. For more than twenty years, a group of 8-10 friends get together for Quilt Week. It’s a 10-day retreat in the Pennsylvania Amish Country. We rent a house, sharing the cost. From 9:00 am to 9 pm, we quilt, eat, get ice cream, shop for fabric, go out to eat, quilt…you get the picture. When we started, we came up with the idea of a Quilting Challenge. At the end of the week, we pick a new pattern or a line of fabric and come up with a quilt. The following year, we show off our creations. We have donated these quilts to shelters, veterans’ groups, and hospitals. In fact, each year my first project at Quilt Week is to make two baby quilts for the NICU at Forsyth Medical Center in Greensboro, NC where my grandson was born. He was a preemie, but I’m proud to say he’s now well over six feet tall, a college graduate, and was married in August 2024.

So, in 2022when author Zina Abbott asked me if I’d be interested in participating in the Christmas Quilt Bride series, I gave a very enthusiastic “YES!” I already had the quilting background, so the story came together quickly.

I wanted to add some historical quilting elements to the romances as well since I do that in all my stories. Enter the tomato pincushion. I know we’ve all seen them. But did you know it was born during the Victorian era when people believed the tomato was a sign of prosperity and good fortune in their life and had the ability to ward the house from evil spirits? So strong was this belief that they improvised when tomatoes weren’t in season. They would take red fabric pieces, fill them with sand or sawdust, and tie them with green string. But how did this turn into a pincushion, you ask? In the 1860s pins were costly and hard to get for the average housewife. People stored them in special boxes to avoid getting lost or rusted. Soon women realized that the good luck symbol next to them at the table could be used to hold and store their pins, and the sand would sharpen the pins and needles!

A wooden clapper is another tool pioneer quilters might have used. According to my research, the first one popped up about 120 years ago in England. Clappers are made out of hardwood only. In order to do the job, the wood has to be heavy and close-grained. Maple and tulipwood are the most popular woods. The clapper is used to get flat, crisp seams and creases while sewing. While today’s quilter has an iron at the ready to press the seams open or to the side, I’m not convinced a pioneer woman was as fortunate. Enter the clapper. Most likely, she finger-pressed the seam then applied the clapper to wick away any moisture from her hand.

While most of us are familiar with an image of women sitting around a quilt frame (a.k.a Floor Frame or Stand Frame), space in a pioneer home was at a premium, and keeping a permanent frame set up wasn’t practical. Instead, they created a ceiling frame made with broomcorn slats clamped together with C-clamps. Pulleys were screwed to the ceiling. The ropes were tied around the slats. They ran over the pulleys and were held in place by drape hooks screwed into the wall.

GIVEAWAY! Friends, because it’s so close to Valentine’s Day, “Christmas Brides of Harmony” –a three-book box set—will be free beginning today February 12 through February 14. Once you’ve read it, I’d so appreciate it if you could post a review to Amazon, or Goodreads, or both! Happy Reading! 

https://www.amazon.com/Christmas-Brides-Harmony-Jo-Ann-Roberts-ebook/dp/B0FZD1M9QR

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The Christmas Brides of Harmony

This anthology contains three standalone, yet inter-connected, books based in Harmony, Kansas. It’s nearing Christmas and the Circle of Friends Quilting group is planning the Annual Christmas Quilt Giveaway. Here, the quilts are stitched with love and where the quilter weaves dreams into reality, one thread at a time.

Noelle
A widow reluctant to love again…
A deputy determined to win her heart…
With Christmas looming, will the growing attraction between Noelle and the deputy reveal the gift of a second chance? Or could a stranger from the deputy’s past threaten the man who captured her heart?

Hope
He was the most stubborn and prideful man she’d ever met.
She was a busybody who stuck her nose in his business at every turn!
As Christmas approaches, will they look beyond each other’s faults and see a future blossom from a special, once-in-a-lifetime friendship?

Ivy
He was the town bully.
She was his target.
Had anything changed?
Was Ivy Sutton willing and able to forgive the boy who made her childhood unbearable?
Can Grady Walsh make up for the reckless actions of his youth?
Or will another steal her away before they have a chance to discover a kind of love that might heal the pain from the past?

Excerpt

Here’s an excerpt from Noelle Book One in Christmas Brides of Harmony….

Harmony, Kansas 1871

Noelle Prentiss snipped off a length of white thread, laid her blunt, round-shaped shears on her lap then reached for another fabric swatch to add to her quilt square. She paused, her eye straying to the torn, grey shirt of her late husband. The one she no longer needed to mend.

She lifted it to her nose and breathed deeply. Daniel’s scent—sandalwood, she recalled—had long since faded away. Despite the wide chasm that had grown between them after he’d returned home from the war, she missed his voice, his laughter, his kisses…missed the boy she married.

Shaking away the memories, she put the shirt to one side. Perhaps one day she’d donate it to Harmony’s Ladies Guild bin for the less fortunate. It wouldn’t do for Mattie and Lucy to see a reminder of the man who gave them life but little love.

She supposed she should consider Jim Morely’s proposal for the children’s sake. He attended church regularly, would provide a good living as manager of Harmony’s Community Bank, and had a pleasant, but at times haughty, demeanor.

A long sigh escaped her. Yet for the life of her, she couldn’t imagine herself married to him. Privately, she thought he took himself and life too seriously.

Besides, if she were to consider marrying again it most definitely would be for love.

Unsettled by her thoughts, she put aside her quilting and crossed the room. Here it was, mid-November and already winter had blown in with the second of two snowstorms in a week.

A glance out the window at the approaching dusk had her gasping and reaching for her cape.

Ribbons of fear pirouetted up her spine seeing Mattie and Lucy trudge alongside a man on horseback. Her eyes scanned the lane leading to the yard looking for other riders. To the right of her modest white clapboard house stood the barn and beyond was the pasture where Daniel’s beloved Morgans would graze during the warm Kansas summers.

The horseman slowed his pace to match that of the children. He sat tall in the saddle as if he was born to it. His slouch hat was pulled low over his forehead, hiding his features. But even from this distance his fawn-colored duster failed to hide the Colt holstered at his hip.

The niggle of fear grew, and her heart kicked up like a runaway team. She prayed he wasn’t a gunslinger escaping from a gunfight in Abilene, an hour’s ride to the north. The area around the cow-town was now a peaceful, law-abiding community since Marshal “Wild Bill” Hickok had convinced the renegade cowhands he meant business, and the railroad hit towns further south.

Whatever he was, whatever he wanted, it probably wasn’t a social call. Especially when she caught sight of a rifle sheathed in the leather scabbard.

“Matthew! Lucy! Come here now!” She hoped her voice didn’t sound as wobbly as it did to her ears.

With their cheeks red from the stiff wind, and their blue eyes lit with a happy sparkle, Mattie, nine, and Lucy, five, tumbled toward her.

Unfortunately, the horseman continued toward her as well.

“Mama! Mr. Cold’s our new neighbor,” Mattie exclaimed, waving at the man to come closer. “C’mon, Mr. Cold. This here’s our mama.”

Lucy trudged beside a large dog of questionable breeding. Shepherd, maybe. Hound dog, perhaps. Mongrel, definitely.

A lone strawberry-blonde curl peeked out from under Lucy’s hat, near her left eye. She brushed it back with a mittened hand. “And this is Star. Mr. Cold says she’s a good ol’ dog. She likes kids and doesn’t bite.” Seemingly recognizing her name, Star started toward Noelle, a happy wiggle going through her, then nudged her skirts, looking for attention.

She smoothed her hand over the dog’s fur, tracing the marking that earned her the moniker. “Hello, Star. Welcome to Harmony.”

The man greeted her with a two-finger tap to the brim of his hat before he swung off his mount, landing in ankle-deep snow. With his feet planted wide, his physique appeared just as impressive on the ground as in the saddle. One flap of his coat swung away with the wind, revealing a woolen shirt, dark trousers stuffed into knee-high boots, and a brown tweed vest.

With a star pinned to it.

Despair warred with apprehension. Upholding the law had robbed her of a husband. Besides, how could a lawman be her neighbor when the only place close enough to her was Miss Lou’s boardinghouse at the edge of town, about two miles away? And what sort of name was Cold?

As if he could read her thoughts, he introduced himself. “Actually, it’s Coleman. Coleman West, ma’am. But most folks call me Cole. I’ve taken a room over at the boardinghouse, so I guess that does make us neighbors. I hope I didn’t alarm you or the children. I’m just here doing my job.”

“And what job is that?” She’d seen the star but wanted to hear his story. While she held the belief most people were honest, she wasn’t naïve. Especially since she was a widow alone with two young children.

He pulled back on his duster, revealing the star she’d already noticed. “Sheriff Brody asked me to make the rounds through town to introduce myself. I’m the new deputy sheriff.”

“And you expect me to accept that fact on your say-so?”

The determined set to his mouth was unmistakable. “Ma’am, there are three facts you should know about me. I’ve already given you my name and my profession.”

“And the third?” She raised her chin a degree, challenging him.

“I don’t lie.”

Noelle swallowed around the knot of unexpected tears that clogged her throat. He appeared older than her own twenty-six years, perhaps because of his heavy facial hair, spidery lines near his eyes, and his confident manner. He was the third deputy hired since Daniel’s passing. The other two left Harmony for positions further West, one to Cheyenne, the other to Oregon City.

She hoped he didn’t have a wife or family at the boardinghouse waiting for him to return each night. Heaven knows, she’d spent more nights than she could count lying awake until she heard Daniel’s heavy tread on the floorboards.

That is, when he decided to come home at all.

Realizing her children were waiting for her to acknowledge Deputy West, Noelle pushed aside her maudlin thoughts. “Mrs. Prentiss,” she replied in kind, putting out her hand. “And these are my children, Mattie and Lucy.”

With his buckskin glove clasped around her bare hand, a tingling warmth spread up her arm, through her chest, and curled around her heart. Brown eyes flecked with bits of gold, reminding her of oak leaves in the fall, widened briefly. Was he affected by the contact as well?

He winked at Mattie and Lucy before he let go of her hand. “We’re already old friends, Mrs. Prentiss. And I see you’ve met my best girl.” His hand ran the length of the dog’s neck to her rump.

Star jumped up, placing her snowy front paws on Coleman West’s chest.

Warmed by his hearty laugh and those of her children, Noelle’s pulse slowly returned to its normal rhythm until her daughter slipped her hand inside the lawman’s.

“I want Mr. Cold to eat supper with us, Mama.”

Mattie enthusiastically joined in the request. “That’d be great, Mr. Cole. You can sit next to me.”

“No, I want him to sit next to me,” insisted Lucy.

Noelle’s stomach flipped with a nervous flutter. Lucy should have asked her first. But since the invitation was extended, she couldn’t very well reel it back in. Extending kindness to strangers was one of the reasons she enjoyed living in Harmony, and it was the neighborly thing to do. Besides, it was widely known that Miss Lou only served breakfast to her boarders; they were on their own for the midday and evening meals. “I was just about to lay supper on the table. I’ll be happy to offer you something to eat, then you can be on your way.”

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he nodded. “I’ve never passed up a home-cooked meal. I’m obliged, ma’am.”

“Lucy, I need your help,” she said. With a fond smile, she picked up her daughter’s mittened hand, and tilted her head toward the barn. “Mattie will show you to the barn, Deputy. There’s water and feed there. A blanket, too.”

“Me and Gus sure appreciate your kindness, ma’am,” he said, tugging on the horse’s reins.

Noelle acknowledged his gratitude with a quick nod, stepped into the house, and closed the door. The sooner she got supper on the table, the sooner they could eat and the deputy could leave.

As Lucy prattled on about Deputy West and Star, Noelle opened the cupboard doors and pulled plates, cups, and bowls Daniel had purchased the day after he arrived home from the war. She worried her bottom lip. She’d invited her quilting friends and other women to share a meal in her home since her husband’s passing. But no man—not even Jim Morely—had broken bread with her and the children at her table .

But here she was about to share supper with a stranger whose warm brown eyes, charming grin and mere presence had her remembering feelings she thought she’d left buried in the cemetery behind the church.

~*~*~*~

Cole stared at the closed door, unable to explain why he wanted another glimpse of Mrs. Prentiss. Even if she hadn’t said as much, the glint of a gold band on the ring finger of her left hand left him feeling strangely disappointed that she was married.

She was taller than most women of his acquaintance, yet her sturdy frame added to her natural beauty. Her nose had a mischievous upturn at the tip. He wondered how her hair—the color of a new penny—would look falling down her back instead of being pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck. But it was her pretty blue eyes rivaling the prairie sky on a cloudless, sunny day that left him powerless to look away. He’d felt the way he imagined a drowning man might feel. Grasping at something beyond his control.

Gus’s whinnying snapped him out of his reverie, and he tightened his jaw. She was married. As a gentleman, he had to keep his distance and respect her marriage vows to her husband. It wasn’t proper to ponder such thoughts, and he refused to let his mind go there. No woman, no matter how pretty, would find her way into his heart again. Especially since his wife had left him six months after they married.

He and Annabelle had been childhood friends. When they married after the war, he was twenty-two and she was just seventeen…kids. Beautiful, she had melted his heart with her dark hair, grey eyes, and womanly curves. She had been full of life, but oh, so stubborn. She had always wanted more than he could provide to the point of him losing the land and homestead he’d been born on. She’d betrayed him, then walked out without a backward glance. He fisted his hands. There was no use thinking about the past and Annabelle. He was content with his solitary life as a lawman.

Liar, a little voice taunted.

“Are you really a deputy, Mr. Cole?”

With Star running alongside him, Cole followed Mattie toward the barn, biting back a smile as he slowed his stride so the boy could keep up. Despite his tendency to get things done quickly and with purpose, he reckoned it was different with a child underfoot. “I sure am, Mattie. Before that, I was a captain in the army.”

Mattie stopped and angled his head, a frown bisecting his forehead. “You a Yankee or a Reb?”

The horrendous war in the East had been over for six years. Yet, no matter where he went, folks never failed to ask where his loyalties had lain. And his answer was always the same. “I’m an American, Mattie, just the same as you, and your ma and pa,” he answered, surprised that a boy as young as Mattie would know or care about whether he was a Yank or a Reb.

The boy’s shoulders slumped noticeably as they reached the barn. “I had a papa, but he died. Sheriff Brody and some fellas put him in a box. Folks in town brought us lots to eat. Pastor Wiley said some prayers after we put him in the ground behind the church. We go to visit on Sundays. In the summer, Mama brings him flowers from her garden. Lucy doesn’t remember him ‘cause she was little but I do. Sometimes I miss Pa. When he was thinkin’ right, he used to tell me stories and was gonna teach me how to fish.” He stared up at Cole. “Do you think he’s in heaven like Mama says?”

Dang that Thorn Brody! No wonder he smirked when he asked Cole to introduce himself to Mrs. Prentiss. He knew all along she was a widow. While a small part of his heart danced, the larger part sobered at the news. His passing must have been difficult for her. Now, she was the sole provider for her family.

“I don’t know anything about your mama, but I’m guessing what she says is true,” he answered, unable to erase a sudden vision of Mrs. Prentiss grieving in a cemetery.

Blinking several times to adjust his eyes to the darkened interior, Cole followed Mattie inside. The usual scent of animals, hay, and dampness filled his nostrils. On instructions from the boy, he found a lantern, struck a lucifer, and touched it to the wick, a circle of light preceding them. Other than the rusty hinge on the door and some rotting wood planks on the outside, the interior appeared clean, the stalls recently mucked out.

“Can I help, Mr. Cole?” Mattie pleaded, watching Cole unsaddle Gus. “Mama taught me how to use a curry comb and to brush horse hair in the direction it grows…same as a dog or cat.”

Cole nodded, cautiously allowing Mattie to brush the horse down. Though Gus worked well under the saddle for him, the animal could be temperamental at times around strangers. But the gelding merely eyed Mattie curiously.

While Mattie rubbed down the horse, Cole turned his attention to the water trough. Bundles of hay surrounded the trough on three sides. He removed a woolen blanket and two lengths of boards lying across the top before he broke through the thin layer of ice.

After he dragged the last bucketful through the water and lifted it from the trough to the hook in Gus’s stall and emptied a bucket of oats into the feed trench, he studied the barn interior.

Solidly built, it housed four stalls, two currently occupied by a pair of Morgans next to Gus. In the last stall, a milch cow eyed him momentarily, then went back to eating. Tucked away in the far end, he spotted a cutter, partially covered by a colorful quilt. Its once pristine dark red paint was flaking in spots, and the dark green trim outlining the curved body was peeling as well. The runners appeared sturdy as did the box seat covered with a green velvet cushion.

But by far, it was the quilt that captured his immediate attention. Surrounded by rows of dark fabrics on one side, light fabrics on the other, and a red square in the middle, the blocks created a mesmerizing design of sunshine and shadows.

“Papa bought the cutter for Mama, and she made the quilt for him,” Mattie said, hopping up on a wooden crate beside Cole, Star flopping down beside him. “Mama hasn’t ridden in it for a long time. She only uses the wagon or saddles on one of the horses.”

The sadness in the boy’s voice was unmistakable. “Your mama made this quilt?” asked Cole, suitably impressed but also hoping to redirect Mattie’s melancholy.

Mattie’s face brightened at once. “Yup, she sure did. She makes all kinds of quilts. Mr. Billings at the mercantile sells some of them, too. He gives her pieces of cloth, and they split the money. Lots of men buy them when they pass through during cattle drives on their way up to Abilene. I heard Mama tell Miss Lou that Pa’s job as a deputy didn’t pay a lot, so Mama made the quilts and sold vegetables from her garden. Me and Lucy take care of the chickens and the cow. We get by.”

Her husband had been a deputy? No wonder she appeared cautious when he introduced himself as the new lawman.

“We’d best get a move on, Mr. Cole.” Mattie suddenly jumped off the crate. “When mama says supper’s ready, she’s not sayin’ it just to hear herself talk.”

Cole grinned at Mattie’s youthful insight about his mother as he checked on Gus one more time and ordered Star to stay before they headed to the house. It might have been something his mother would have said.

Soft light spilled from a single window and the open door, highlighting Lucy’s small frame. “Supper’s ready, Mr. Cold. I’ve been waitin’ such a long time for you,” she greeted before she looked past him. “Where’s Star?”

Both Mattie and Cole stomped the snow off their boots and stepped inside. Cole followed Mattie’s lead, hanging up his duster and hat on a peg on the wall, before tunneling his fingers through his hair. The smells wafting from the kitchen made his mouth water. “I left her in the barn. She’ll be warm enough in there.”

Lucy’s bottom lip came out in a pout. “I want her in the house. Can you go get her, please?”

Mrs. Prentiss stepped away from the stove carrying a tureen, steam rising from the top, its aroma filling the air. She paused on the way to the table, giving Cole a critical head-to-toe once-over. “You could have brought Star inside, Deputy.”

“Maybe next time.” He gave her a wink, watching a blush of color creep up her neck and tint her cheeks.

Despite setting down the tureen with a visible tremble in her hands, it didn’t take her long to find her voice. “Mattie, please go wash. You, too, Deputy West. There’s soap and a towel near the pump.”

On the way to the sink, Cole took in a combined sitting and dining room on the left side of the house. To the right, an opening revealed a large bed covered by a quilt composed of random patches varying in size, shape, and color. Next to the stone fireplace was a ladder leading to a loft. Though the furnishings were simple, the house was warm and inviting, as if it were welcoming him home.

“Mr. Cold, you sit here by me,” Lucy ordered, her little arms struggling to scoot a chair closer to hers when he returned.

“No, Lucy,” Mattie retorted with equal fierceness. “I’m older. Mr. Cole is going to sit by me.”

More accustomed to settling disputes with patrons at a saloon or feuds over water rights than family squabbles, Cole figured the same tactics might work between siblings. Besides, he needed to shake off the mesmerizing effects of the widow’s blue eyes. “How about if I do this?” he suggested, moving the chair to the end. “This way you can both sit near me.”

When the children moved as if to sit, Cole clapped a halting hand on their shoulders, tilting his head toward Noelle. “A gentleman always seats the lady of the house first.”

Obediently, Mattie and Lucy stood by their chairs. Cole pulled out her seat, waiting behind her until she sat.

“If it’s agreeable with you, Mrs. Prentiss, would you mind if I prayed over the meal? It’s been a while since I sat at a table with a family to give thanks.”

Surprise registered on her face, and Cole noted the sheen in her eyes. “We’d be pleased, Deputy.”

Mattie and Lucy reached for his and their mother’s hands. His words came out a bit raspy as his voice worked around a sudden lump in his throat. Wasn’t this where he always wanted to be…sitting at a table enjoying a good meal with his children and a wife?

Wife! Mentally, Cole pushed away the thought. But the kernel of wanting just that had taken root and pushed itself up, gaining momentum to grow and be nourished by a pretty face and a pair of glittering, jewel-like eyes.

But first, he had to convince her to stop calling him Deputy West.