Author Spotlight:

I’m happy to welcome my fellow Petticoats & Pistols filly, Jo-Ann Roberts to the spotlight today.

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.

Amazon | Newsletter | Facebook | Website

A very big welcome to Jo-Ann!

~*~*~*~

Happy August, Friends!

Goodness, where did the summer go? I’m thrilled to be back on Nan’s blog to tell you a bit more about myself. In January 2025, Pam Crooks and Shanna Hatfield brought up a proposal to create a series for America’s 250th Birthday. (See premise below)

This historical romance series follows interconnected love stories during the American Revolution, linked by a locket that travels between heroines across the colonies. From Philadelphia jewelry shops to New York forests, British-occupied households to Revolutionary Virginia, each heroine discovers the locket serves as a secret vessel for coded messages and carries the promise of love. In a world of divided loyalties and dangerous espionage, women step beyond societal constraints to contribute to the patriot cause, navigating spy rings and risking everything for independence.

Fast forward to 2026 brought more excitement as the series, Petticoats and Patriots, and two magazines were created for the series, spotlighting the authors, recipes, games, a coloring page for young readers, and a sneak peek of the first chapter of our books.

One of the features was 10 Questions. So, to learn a bit more about me, I’m including those questions and my answers, along with the blurb and short excerpt of Her Rebel Heart, my book in the Petticoats & Patriots series.

Morning person/Night owl

Definitely a morning person! In fact, the earlier the better. My alarm goes off about 5:30 (a habit from my teaching/working days). I’ll have coffee with flavored creamer, check my emails, and meditate/pray until 6:30. Then I’ll either start the laundry, go to the pool/exercise class, pay bills, or dream up something for supper. By 10:00 a.m., I’m at the computer.

But come 4:00, I’m done in!

Favorite Comfort Food

Anything chocolate! Cake, pie, dessert, ice cream…but it has to be gluten-free! My husband usually bakes a g.f. chocolate cake with chocolate frosting for my birthday each year.

But the funny thing is, as much as I love chocolate, I don’t like chocolate with fruit…strange, isn’t it?

Plotter/Pantster/Plantsters

Some people, like me, call themselves “plantsers,” which means we follow a little of both the plotter and pantser approach.

A plantser is someone who—before starting the writing process—writes a synopsis and comes up with important details that drive their story ideas. I’m the kind of writer that enjoys planning out my subplots and character sketches and character arcs, but during

the writing process, goes rogue for some chunks of the story. I like a taste of writing by the seat of my pants—but not all of it.

Personally, I think a great plantsing strategy is to look at story arcs and outline the big moments in my book. In other words, outline the elements of plot for the major parts of the book: the beginning, the middle (which has two parts separated by the midpoint), and the end.

What hobby do you enjoy outside of writing?

If you’ve been following me on social media, you already know that quilting is my second love. Each year a group of friends get together for a week of quilting, buying fabric, sewing, eating in the heart of Amish Country. Lancaster, Pennsylvania.

What started as a long weekend morphed into a week, and now extends to ten days. We work on individual projects, yet we offer “helpful!” suggestions on fabric color selection, square placement, and technique whether it is solicited or not. Quilting offers a sense of belonging and camaraderie, fostering friendships that can last a lifetime…in my case, these friendships span 53 years!

We also do a quilting challenge each year. Some years we all make the same pattern in fabric of our choice or the same fabric line with a pattern of our choice. In 2027, the challenge is a pattern of our choice but the color scheme must reflect the first letter of our first and last names!

Quilting is often a solitary pursuit, but it’s also a deeply social activity with a cause. The quilts we make have been given to homeless shelters, hospitals, and nursing homes.

Favorite movie/comfort show

I have two favorite comfort shows…and they are both English comedies first viewed on PBS…

As Time Goes By follows two former lovers, Jean Pargetter and Lionel Hardcastle, who are reunited decades after being separated by a lost letter during the Korean War. Their warm, witty romance unfolds as they navigate misunderstandings, rekindle feelings, and blend their lives with friends and family. Starring Judi Dench and Geoffrey Palmer, the series is filled with charming performances, gentle humor, and an enduring appeal of a mature couple finding love a second time.

Call the Midwife follows a group of nurse midwives and nuns serving the East End of London through the late 1950s to the 1970s, capturing their work in maternal care and the challenges faced in a changing society. Based on Jennifer Worth’s real-life memoirs, it blends personal and professional stories with significant historical events. Known for its heartfelt storytelling and strong ensemble cast, I am drawn to this series because it parallels my growing-up years. Topics covered range from the “Baby Boom,” effects of poverty, and post-war immigration, to Down Syndrome, thalidomide, and the Apollo 11 moon landing.

Do you have a favorite historical era to write or read about?

Since most of my books are set in the timeframe from the end of the Civil War (1865) to the late 1880s, I guess my favorite historical era is Victorian (North American style) that include cowboys!

Over time, the cowboys of the American West developed a personal culture of their own, a blend of frontier and Victorian values that even retained vestiges of chivalry. Such hazardous work in isolated conditions also bred a tradition of self-dependence and individualism, with great value put on personal honesty.

What is your favorite place to visit?

By far, my favorite place to visit is the Lancaster County in Pennsylvania. Aside from the many fabric and quilt stores I mentioned earlier, it is a peaceful retreat from the hustle and bustle of the fast-paced world we live in. My husband and I have been going there since the mid-1980s. We’ve gone the touristy route once or twice, but truly enjoy just riding around the county looking at the farms, the pristine flower and vegetable gardens, clothes hanging on the line, horses in the pastures, and children running barefoot through the yard. This is truly our happy place!

Do you enjoy cooking or baking?

Baking! I enjoy the precise science of baking, the aroma of cinnamon, spices, apples, or chocolate. I’ve even adapted many of my family favorites to gluten-free to accommodate my g.f. sensitivity.

Besides, after 53 years of cooking suppers, I’ve run out of ideas!!!!

Favorite holiday tradition

The day after Thanksgiving has always been my favorite tradition. It began when my daughter moved to Alexandria, Virginia, just outside Washington, D.C. We would choose a destination and be tourists for a day. We’ve seen Mt. Vernon, the Marine Corps Museum, visited a Christmas Market, the National Portrait Gallery, the Smithsonian, Old Town Alexandria, the Torpedo Factory, antique bookstores, etc., and we always finish up the day with lunch!

Fun/quirky fact about me

I’ve always wanted to dress up and play Mrs. Santa Claus at the holidays!

~*~*~*~

Her Rebel Heart

North and South. Yankee and Rebel. Union and Confederate.
In the midst of the Civil War, can two hearts come together?
When the tide of war sweeps south and the Union Army invades and destroys the Georgia cotton mill where Kate Brodie is a nurse, not only is her livelihood destroyed but she’s branded a traitor and shipped northward with the other workers. Only the unlikely attention of a Yankee major makes the trip tolerable.

Union major, Griffin Fletcher loathes the part of his job that requires him to destroy homes, towns, and livelihoods of innocent civilians. But he’s sworn to uphold the Union at all costs. Yet, he vows to protect these women he’s been ordered to transport to Marietta. Especially the one whose fiery determination, proud stance, and soft heart draws him closer.

Determined to remain in the South, Kate makes a daring leap of faith to nurse wounded Yankee soldiers, never expecting Major Fletcher to be one of her patients. Along with his healing, they each faced the fears and prejudices that had brought them together.
With survival so tenuous, can faith help them find love in the midst of so much tragedy?

Throughout 250 years of American history, a well-loved locket finds its way into the hands of eight spirited heroines—each standing at the crossroads of love and destiny, and each inspired by a true patriot. As it journeys from one heart to the next, these stories unfold with sweet romance, unwavering hope, and a deep love of country, proving that even in uncertain times, love is always worth the risk. Start reading the Petticoats & Patriots series today!

Amazon

Excerpt

Roswell, Georgia

July 1864

“Well, Mary Ruth Croker, what mischief have you gotten yourself into today?” Kate Brodie raised her voice over the steady din of Yankee guns in the distance.

The girl’s rail-thin body shuddered before she took another breath. “I fell up the stairs, running to catch up to Little Jim and Yancey. I-I didn’t want Mr. El to take a s-switch to me for being late,” she stammered, referring to Eldrige Olney, one of the superintendents at the Ivy Woolen Mill.

Kate crouched down beside her young patient. The girl’s once golden ringlets, powdered with lint, were matted to her scalp in heat thick enough to choke on, and her luminous blue eyes filled with tears. There was something else in their depths. Fear. More fear than any ten year-old child should ever experience.

It broke Kate’s heart to watch the young ones, like Mary Ruth, suffer not only physical hardships but emotional ones as well. For three years, fear was a dominant emotion among the children, fear of home invasions by the Yankees, fear of physical violence and death, and fear of separation of family.

“Falling up the stairs is quite a trick,” Kate replied, keeping her words light while examining the scrap across Mary Ruth’s forehead and nose. “Did you hurt anything else?”

Mary Ruth had stopped crying. Yet she couldn’t control the trembling. She pulled up her pinafore and dress, stained and patched so often, Kate wondered how it remained stitched together. A trickle of blood ran down her right leg from a scrape just below her right knee. Looking further, she discovered a possible culprit for the girl’s accident. Her brogans had lost their laces and strips of fabric were the only fasteners adhering the soles to the upper leather.

“Take seat, lovey. I’ll have you right as rain in no time.” Kate stood and gathered what precious medical supplies in her small alcove. Though her formal education at Wesleyan Female College in Macon included history, philosophy and botany, it didn’t include nursing skills. Those she’d learned from her father.

After her mother passed from influenza a dozen years ago, they’d come from Sweetwater Creek, thirty-five miles to the south, when her father accepted a position from Barrington King to serve as mill doctor. While it was an unusual arrangement, it afforded them housing, a modest salary, and a chance for Auguste Travers to be home every evening.

Their idyllic life came to a skidding halt when the Confederate Army conscripted Auguste into their ranks as a regimental surgeon. His enlistment lasted until July, when he was wounded in battle, captured, and died of his wounds at Manassas Junction.

Kate couldn’t wipe away the memory as easily as she wiped the blood from Mary Ruth’s injuries. The girl winced when she applied a clean square of toweling dipped in tobacco water. “You’re being quite brave, lovey,” Kate commented as applied a salve made from a mixture of witch hazel and beeswax. Any traditional medicines and surgical supplies had been confiscated by the home guard for the troops long ago. Thank goodness she’d had the foresight to cultivate a garden that not only included vegetables, but medicinal herbs that were crushed, boiled, or made into poultices.

“Now for those shoes.” Kate stood, pulled a wicker hamper from behind her chair, and began rummaging through its contents. Since most of the well-to-do residents had fled the town, loading up whatever possessions they could manage, and fled to Atlanta, Savannah, or points further south, they had given Reverend Pratt, the rector of the Roswell Presbyterian Church, and his wife permission to disperse what they left behind.

“Ah, it think these will do nicely,” Kate exclaimed, holding up a pair of low-heeled brogans that laced up the sides with small decorative perforations on the toe and sides.

“I ain’t ever seen such fine-looking shoes.” Mary Ruth said, wonder coloring her words, as she watched Kate fit her bare feet into the soft leather. “But Mama might get mad. She doesn’t want us be beholden to anybody.”

“Your mama might be a lot angrier if you fall and break your leg,” Kate answered. She tied the laces and stood up admiring her work. “How do they feel?”

Mary Ruth jumped up from the chair and lifted her dress, her recent scrape all but forgotten as she marveled at her new acquisition. “They sure are pretty. I bet my sisters will be pea-green with envy,” she chortled, stringing out the words.

“And I bet you’ll beat Little Jim and Yancey–“

A great thunderous roar from the Yankee cannons drowned out her words, rattled the window panes, and shook the floorboards in a convulsive quake. She grabbed the small table with two hands just as Mary Ruth flung her thin arms around Kate’s legs in a frightening grasp. Just one more reason for despising the guns that had caused her pain and those blasted bluecoats.

Her husband, Hugh, was dead. Nothing would ever bring him home again. Even the solace of his tombstone in the church cemetery was denied her, for her husband was buried along with his men in a little town in Pennsylvania called Gettysburg.

A second volley followed, and Kate’s little patient buried her head deeper into her dress.

“Are the Yanks a’comin’ to send us to Hades? Are they gonna string us up by our toes?”

Kate sat down and pulled the girl onto her lap. “Wherever did you hear that, Mary Ruth?”

Mary Ruth hiccupped. “I heard Mama and Granny talkin’ at night when they thought I was asleep.”

Kate had heard the rumors as well. Especially when they learned about the Union victories at Lookout Mountain, Missionary Ridge, Chattanooga just before Christmas. And just last month news of Sherman’s victories in Georgia began to reach Roswell. Reports from Adairsville, less than a week’s journey to the northwest, confirmed the Yankees had taken the town.

She hesitated before speaking, lest she add to the child’s fears. Yet, as she spoke the words meant to comfort the girl, Kate wasn’t entirely sure even she believed them. “The way I see it, Mary Ruth, those Yankees only mean to scare us. Roswell’s so far out of the way they wouldn’t bother to tramp all the way ‘cross Georgia. Your papa and the home guard will whip those bluecoats and push them all the way back north. Besides, there’s nothing of importance but the mill in town.”

Looking somewhat appeased, Mary Ruth slid off her lap and smoothed her dress, brushing away the ever-present lint. “I best get upstairs before Mr. El docks my pay.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it. Elwood Olney may think he rules the roost, but when it comes to my patients, I’m the boss.” Kate reached for Mary Ruth’s hand, and headed for the hallway and narrow stairs leading to top floor workroom where the girl flattened clean piles of cotton into laps of batting.

Puffs of cotton swirled like falling snowflakes in the still air, humid air, punctuated by the constant rushing of water from Vickery Creek. As they reached the second floor, Mary Ruth stopped when a coughing spasm overtook her. Acting quickly, Kate swept the girl into her arms. She raced back down the stairs, her skirts chasing the cotton puffs into the corners, and through the open door to the creek, not far from the mill wheel. Though breathing in cool, moist air was preferable, she offered up a silent prayer the humid Georgia air might ease the girl’s cough.

“Feeling better, lovey?” The girl sat close next to Kate’s knees, as she continued moving her hand in a gentle circular motion on Mary Ruth’s bony back. If she wanted to, she could count the bones of her ribcage. She’d seen more than her share of how cotton lint affected the workers’ lungs. And as a result, she’d seen more than her share of funerals.

Mary Ruth ran a sleeve across her face. The exertion of coughing made her eyes water. “Look, Miz Kate,” she said, her voice strained. “They’re takin’ down our flag.”

The two watched uneasily as one flag was replaced by another. “That’s the French flag,” Kate explained. Realization dawned on her. She wondered if Mr. Roche was marking the mill as neutral ground in case the Yankees thought of destroying it. Watching the broad red, white, and blue striped banner hanging limp in the hot July sun, she wasn’t all that certain that if and when the Yankees did come, a piece of cloth, no matter the allegiance, would keep them from destroying the woolen mill.