Good day to ye, me foin leprechauns. I hope ye’re wearin’ the green in honor of Saint Patrick and dear ole Ireland. We all claim a bit o’ the Irish today, do we not? I surely do, but o’ course I really do have a few drops of green blood in me veins, from me da’s side o’ the family.
Now, I’ve a bit of a gift for ye if ye’re interested (and ye don’t already own it.) ’Tis me wee book, White Witch. As ye may recall, this bitty piece of historical fiction is an introduction to me much, much longer trio (well, only a duo just yet) of western romances, collectively titled Texas Druids. I’m sorry to tell ye there’s no romance in White Witch.
Oh, Jessie Devlin, the darlin’ girl, is whisperin’ in me ear, tellin’ me that’s not quite true, and she’s right. Ye will find a hint o’ what’s to come in the young lady’s future. Mainly, though, this is a tale about Jessie’s family and how they managed to survive the terrible Chicago fire of 1871.
What’s that ye say, Jess? Oh, aye. She’s remindin’ me to show ye the book cover. (Don’t let on that I told ye, but she’s a bit on the pushy side.) All right, all right, stop yer naggin’, colleen! Here’s yer blessed book cover!
She has lovely blue eyes in the picture, does she not? David (the man in her dreams, who she’s not yet met) will think of them as bluebonnet eyes, for they bring to mind Texas bluebonnets, wild flowers that set the land aglow every spring where the lad grew up. He’s missin’ his home, ye see.