Message From The Author

Author's Message

Money does not grow on trees. If sovereigns should, however, suddenly decide to sprout on shrubbery, they would not select Miss Ada Westlakes orchard. Apples barely grow on the stunted, runted, unpruned branches, much less money. In fact, Ada thought shed be lucky to find enough fruit, after the bugs and the birds, the village brats and the various blights had wreaked their decimation, to make preserves for the winter. She would have been content with enough apples for a pie or two, or even a tart.

Nevertheless, a coin had definitely struck Ada on the brow.

The ancient apple tree showered her with leaves, twigs, a caterpillarand a cascade of coins. A leather pouch fell at Adas feet. The forked stick fell to the ground. Ada nearly fell off the back of the cart.

A fortune, in her nearly barren orchard.

A fortune, in her nearly bankrupt fingers.

A fortune. But not her fortune, of course. There were, regrettably, no fairy godmothers, no pots at the ends of rainbows and, most definitely, no money trees.

Shed simply have to return the money.

So begins Miss Westlakes efforts to dispose of her windfall, despite how handy it would be. She has a muddled sister, an absent brother, a greedy sister-in-lawand only one friend to help her. At least Chas was her friend yesterday, before shed turned down his latest, and last, offer of marriage.

Marriage to a man like Chas was every girls dream, but Ada could not accept his eminently honorable offer. His heart had nothing to do with the proposal.

I do hope you enjoy reading about Ada, Chas, an amateur opera, a by-blow smuggler, a pregnant dog, a matchmaking mama and the efforts to return Miss Westlakes Windfall.

Please come visit me and my own Hero at

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