Winter Moon (a poem)

 The winter moon hangs pale and high,

A lantern in a frozen sky,

Its quiet glow on fields below

Turns every drift to silver.

It slips between the leafless trees,

A watchful eye in icy breeze,

And shadows stretch in midnight blue

Where frost begins to shimmer.

The world feels still beneath its light,

A breath held long in deepest night,

As if the earth itself has paused

To listen to its glowing.

And though the dark may linger long,

The moon hums out a gentle song—

A whisper soft as winter wind,

A hint of something warming.

Through Each Tomorrow: 6 (Timeless) by Gabrielle Meyer

 

In 1883, Charles Hollingsworth is a poor farmer desperate to secure financial stability for his mother and sister, as he is unsure which of his time-crossing paths he will choose on his twenty-fifth birthday. Posing as the Earl of Norfolk, he enters the opulent circles of Newport’s elite to assist a fellow time-crossing friend, Drew. But suspicions of his identity arise among the upper crust, and his encounters with Drew’s intriguing sister further complicate decisions that could impact a lifetime.   In 1563, Lady Cecily Pembrooke serves Queen Elizabeth while clinging to the hope that her stepbrother Charles will remain with her in this path. As the true Earl of Norfolk, Charles is deeply entangled in the deadly politics of the court. When he brings Drew, a physician in training, to Windsor Castle to help save the ailing monarch, old feelings for Drew rekindle in Cecily’s heart, but her love faces impossible odds under the strict rules of the crown. As their futures hang by a thread, will Charles and Cecily’s web of secrets unravel and ensnare them in an inescapable destiny? Gabrielle Meyer delivers an enthralling tale of love, sacrifice, and the relentless pull of time in her newest Timeless series installment.

Amazon

Review

If you’ve ever wished you could step into two different lives—preferably ones filled with charming heroes, gorgeous gowns, and just the right amount of emotional chaos—Through Each Tomorrow serves it all up with a big, warm smile.

Gabrielle Meyer once again proves she is the queen of “How is this going to work out?!” storytelling. Our heroine juggles dual timelines with more grace than most of us manage with a single to-do list, and somehow she still finds room for faith, love, family, and the occasional gasp-worthy twist.

The book is filled with sweet romance, heartfelt moments, and just enough tension to make you press the “keep reading” button way past bedtime. Each chapter feels like opening a surprise gift—sometimes sparkly, sometimes emotional, always delightful. And the way Meyer connects the threads between timelines? Chef’s kiss. You’ll find yourself cheering, swooning, and maybe whispering “don’t choose the wrong era!” more than once.

Gabrielle Meyer once again proves she is the queen of “How is this going to work out?!” storytelling. Our heroine juggles dual timelines with more grace than most of us manage with a single to-do list, and somehow she still finds room for faith, love, family, and the occasional gasp-worthy twist.

The book is filled with sweet romance, heartfelt moments, and just enough tension to make you press the “keep reading” button way past bedtime. Each chapter feels like opening a surprise gift—sometimes sparkly, sometimes emotional, always delightful. And the way Meyer connects the threads between timelines? Chef’s kiss. You’ll find yourself cheering, swooning, and maybe whispering “don’t choose the wrong era!” more than once.

Gabrielle Meyer lives in central Minnesota on the banks of the upper Mississippi River with her husband and four children. As an employee of the Minnesota Historical Society, she fell in love with the rich history of her state and enjoys writing fictional stories inspired by real people, places, and events. You can learn more about Gabrielle and her books at www.gabriellemeyer.com.

The Spring Ball Promise by Maddie Smith

 The Spring Ball Promise by Maddie Smith

(A free short story).

Lady Eleanor Harcourt had never intended to cause a stir at the Mayfair Spring Ball, yet the moment she glided through the gilded doors, fans snapped open like butterfly wings and whispers fluttered from corner to corner. Draped in periwinkle silk and wearing the serene expression expected of a proper young lady, she appeared the very model of obedience. But beneath her composed exterior flickered a spark of mischief—one she intended very much to indulge.

Lord Nathaniel Ashbury, newly returned from his years abroad, spotted that sparkle at once. He had been described by society as handsome, aloof, and entirely uninterested in the endless parade of eligible ladies. Yet the moment Eleanor entered the room, Nathaniel felt an unfamiliar tug of curiosity. Rumours swirled about him like a well-tailored cloak, but none of them prepared him for the simple elegance of a young woman who seemed utterly unmoved by the spectacle around her.

When he approached and requested the first waltz, the room fell into an eager hush. Eleanor accepted with graceful composure, though her heart beat with a thrill she refused to admit. As they took to the floor, the orchestra swelled, chandeliers glittered overhead, and all of Mayfair seemed to watch them with bated breath. Nathaniel’s hand found the small of her back with a confidence that made her pulse skip.

“I must warn you, my lady,” he murmured, his voice warm enough to melt even the iciest resolve. “I have been accused of stealing hearts.”

Eleanor raised her chin, meeting his gaze with unwavering poise. “Then allow me to warn you in return,” she replied. “Mine does not surrender easily.”

Their waltz turned effortlessly graceful, their steps aligned so perfectly it felt as though they had danced together in another lifetime. Nathaniel found himself smiling—truly smiling—for the first time in years. Eleanor, for her part, found her carefully tended composure slipping into something far more dangerous: delight.

Over the next weeks, their paths crossed far too often to be a coincidence. Stolen glances at garden parties, lively debates in drawing rooms, quiet walks where society could not intrude—all of it fed the growing connection between them. Yet with affection came uncertainty. Nathaniel, burdened by the secrets of his past travels, feared he was unworthy of a woman as sincere as Eleanor. Eleanor, pressured by her mother to make a “strategic” match, questioned whether she dared follow her heart when duty demanded otherwise.

The ton watched their unfolding story with ravenous interest, wagers placed daily as to whether it would end in scandal, heartbreak, or triumph.

At last, on a soft June evening in Hyde Park, Nathaniel stopped beside the lake, the glow of twilight painting him in shades of gold. “Eleanor,” he said quietly, “you deserve a man with an unblemished reputation… one who offers certainty. I cannot promise such things.”

She stepped closer, her expression gentle but unyielding. “Lord Ashbury,” she replied, “I have no use for perfection. But I do value honesty. And I believe,” she added, placing her hand over his, “you are far braver and kinder than you allow yourself to believe.”

For a moment, the world held its breath.

Nathaniel lifted her hand to his lips. “Then if you are willing,” he said, voice barely above a whisper, “I would like to offer you my imperfect heart.”

Eleanor smiled—radiant, sure, and utterly disarming. “I accept.”

And so the whispers of society turned from speculation to celebration, for nothing delighted the ton more than a romance that defied prediction. Lady Eleanor Harcourt and Lord Nathaniel Ashbury became the season’s most enchanting match—not because of fortune or title, but because, in a world ruled by expectations, they had chosen one another freely.

Their story, as the ladies of the gossip columns later insisted, was proof that even in the most glittering ballrooms, the rarest treasure was a heart won honestly.

©maddiesmith2025

ohlookanotherbook

Murder at Millar's Hotel: A 1920s Mystery (Lady Ellen Investigates Book 1) by Kelly Mason

It’s 1924. Lady Ellen of Ashcombe Hall is on a relaxing hotel break to recuperate. Her nemesis is found dead in the restaurant, face down in his pea and ham soup. Can she confront her past to solve the mystery?

Lady Ellen seeks respite in the charming seaside town of Branden Bay, whilst her home, which was used as a convalescent home for war veterans, is being refurbished to its former glory. Her peaceful break takes a dark turn when she unexpectedly crosses paths with her arch-nemesis, the enigmatic Major Albert Coltrane. Major Coltrane is found lifeless, his face submerged in his own soup after a heated and public confrontation with Ellen who finds herself accused of murder.

Determined to clear her name, she forms an unlikely alliance with Lottie Penny a hotel chamber maid and Captain Ernest Hamilton, a former patient at her convalescent home.

With her faithful Irish setter, Prince, by her side, Lady Ellen embarks on a riveting journey through hidden alley bars and the opulent music hall of Branden Bay. They strive to unravel the threads of the mystery, in race against time to expose the real killer before Lady Ellen becomes the next victim.

If you love the glitz and glamour of the era and a twisty plot, then step back in time to the roaring 1920s, where jazz-filled evenings and clandestine secrets collide. Murder at Millar’s Hotel is the first book in the Lady Ellen Investigates series.

Amazon

Five Stars

If you’ve ever wished Downton Abbey came with a few extra dead bodies and a heroine who solves mysteries with equal parts charm, curiosity, and steel spine, then Murder at Millar’s Hotel is your perfect weekend listen.

Set in a delightfully atmospheric 1920s hotel—complete with clinking cocktail glasses, elegant gowns, and more suspicious guests than polite society should allow—this audiobook whisks you straight into the glittering (and occasionally deadly) world of Lady Ellen. She’s sharp, witty, and just mischievous enough that you can’t help imagining she’d be wonderful fun at a dinner party… preferably one that doesn’t end with a corpse.

The narration is a treat too. The narrator brings the era to life with velvety accents and just the right touch of theatrical flair, making every character—from dashing suspects to gossipy socialites—larger than life. It feels like you’re seated in a plush velvet armchair listening to an old-time radio drama unravel in real time.

The mystery itself is perfectly twisty: not too grim, not too fluffy, and sprinkled with enough red herrings to keep you guessing (and occasionally shouting “Aha!” at your speakers). It’s a cozy whodunit with a stylish 1920s kick—ideal for fans of classic detective tales who appreciate a little sparkle with their suspense.

As a child Kelly was obsessed with Scooby-Doo, she progressed to reading Enid Blyton, with her favourite series being, The Famous Five. As an adult, her absolute favourite author is M C Beaton and her Agatha Raisin series. Kelly normally writes romance under a different pen name, but is now turning her hand to the genre she adores - Cosy Mystery. Her writing is inspired by the seaside town she lives in, situated on the South West coast of England, a few ghostly dreams and her three sassy cats, all of which were strays before she made the mistake of naming them and letting them in the back door!

Hope ( a poem)

 

Hope is the whisper

that slips through the cracks,

a soft little lantern

in moments gone black.

It’s the quiet reminder

when storms linger long:

“You’ve walked through the worst—

you are steady, you’re strong.”

Hope is the sunrise

that glows after night,

the warmth in your chest

when you choose to hold tight.

It lives in the small things—

a breath and a spark,

a hand reaching out

when the road feels too dark.

And even when echoes

of doubt start to creep,

hope settles beside you

and hums you to sleep.

For hope never leaves—

it just waits to be found,

the promise that something

good still comes around.

Don't Give Up ( a poem)

 

When the climb feels steep

and your heartbeat shakes,

when the road you’re on

is a trail of aches,

take one small step—

just one will do.

The mountain moves

because of you.

When doubts grow loud

and courage feels thin,

remember the battles

you already won in.

You’ve bent, not broken;

you’ve stumbled, not stayed.

You’ve walked through shadows

and still found day.

So lift your chin

when the world says “stop,”

for storms can rumble—

but you still rise up.

Every sunrise starts

in the darkest night.

Hold fast, keep breathing,

and walk toward the light.

You’re stronger than fear,

braver than luck,

and miracles happen

when you don’t give up.