Interview and Giveaway With Felicia Rogers Author of The Perfect Rose

Today I’m delighted to welcome Felicia Rogers, Author of Inspirational Romance novels.  As part of her visit here at MyLadyWeb, Felicia is generously offering a copy of The Perfect Rose to one lucky person (The winner, Jan Brown, was selected on April 4, 2011 via Random.Org. )  Plus, as a special gift just to say thank you to everyone for stopping by, I’ve made up a musical jigsaw puzzle of the cover of The Perfect Rose.

On Felicia:

Q. Tell us a little bit about yourself, your background, your history, your life.

A. My name is Felicia Rogers. Born and raised in the southern part of the United States, I am a Christian wife and mother. I’m just your average, ordinary woman, with a side interest– writing. For eleven years, every waking moment of my life has been consumed with changing diapers, wiping noses, and kissing scrapes. But now that my children have grown and I enjoy a modicum of freedom, in addition to taking care of hearth and home, I write! I enjoy adding a flavor of realism and humor to my all too real romance stories. For what is love without a little laughter?

Q. Tell us about your favorite books, and why they were your favorites. What was your favorite book when you were a child and later during your teen and finally your adult years?

A. My favorite story from childhood was Charlotte’s Web by E.B. White. Mostly because it is the first novel I remember reading all the way through! When I was a teen my father gave me over 200 Harlequin romance novels for Christmas. I spent most days reading, sometimes consuming two novels a day! I read so quickly I can’t remember the title of one novel I read! As for what I’ve read as an adult, I’ve read everything from Brock and Brodie Thoene’s historical series to Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight, enjoying them all.

Q. What was the first novel you can recall reading that inspired you to want to write, and why?

A. It’s hard to pick a novel that inspired me to write. I used to peck away short one page stories on an old electric typewriter but I guess my first attempt at a novel came after reading an Inspirational novel I found at the library about pirates. It was so good I didn’t want it to end, so I ‘tried’ to write my own. Unfortunately it never made it past the first editing stage.

Q. Which authors have most influenced you?

A. One of the authors that have influenced me the most has to be Francine Rivers. Her honesty about her conversion from the secular writing world to the world of inspirational writing was very interesting and moving.

Q. Tell us about your books that you have written and any upcoming projects you have in the works.

 Currently my books consist of two novellas and one full length novel.

The Holiday Truce is a novella contained in the Celebrate the Season Anthology by Solstice Publishing. Celebrate is available in ebook and print form.

Lena Phillips and Frank Campbell are headed to Colorado for a professional conference.  The couple is far from being friends, however, and bickering is one of their favorite pastimes.  On their way, they find themselves on a country road and, because of their arguing, they have an accident.  They are lost and alone.  Will they be able to resolve their differences in order to survive?  Will facing the elements allow them to discover their true feelings for one another?   Follow Lena and Frank as their love is revealed in a permanent truce. 

The Perfect Rose is my most recent novella released in ebook by Astraea Press on Feb. 8, 2011.

Abandoned by his wife and left to raise a child alone, Caleb Reed falls short of the ideal work-from-home dad.  He needs a woman to help him, in every sense of the word.  At the suggestion of a friend, Caleb agrees to hire Ariel Lauren on a trial basis.

As an orphan, Ariel has more issues than just how to make it on her on.  Yes, she needs the money that Caleb offers her, but more than anything she finds she desires his love.  One calamity after another befalls her and jeopardizes her new job and her chance at having a family.  Will they decide to continue life alone or will the magic of the holiday bring them together?

The Key is a full length paranormal romance novel released on Dec. 2010 by Solstice Publishing. Available in ebook and print.

A teenage girl suffering from a family tragedy, Maddie Clevenger is oblivious to the ancient mystery surrounding her. She’s young and incredibly unlucky, in life and in love. She should be enjoying her senior year of high school, but instead she is tormented by a reoccurring nightmare and a very real stalker. But all that changes when Chase Donovan, an Air Force brat with a protective streak, shows up at school. Will Chase be the key to helping her solve her stalker problem? Will he be the key to solving the mystery surrounding her family’s past?

 As far as my up and coming projects that are out there, I’m working on a chick-lit book as well as an inspirational romance novel. I’m in the end stages and hope to start sending out queries soon.

 On Writing:

Q. How do you research your novels?

A. Depends. Mostly I use what is available, which amounts to using what is readily at my fingertips…the internet!

Q. Is there anything you absolutely must have in order to write?

A. In order to write I need, no I must have–Absolute Silence! No it really depends on what stage of the writing process I’m in. If I’m in the prewriting which I like to do on paper with a pen, then I can work and write almost anywhere at any time. But when I get to the first read through or second, third, fourth, etc…we all know we have to read our works until we’re sick of them… I do need silence.

Q. What is the most difficult part of writing for you?

 A. I think the hardest part of writing for me has been trying to write future books while trying to promote the ones that have already published. With the advance in ebook technology more and more people are able to publish books. This has also caused many new smaller publishers to crop up and offer publishing services, but with that comes the author promoting their own works. With so many more authors being published any new author has to work doubly hard to get noticed. This takes more time than I thought was possible.

 Q. What’s a typical working day like for you? When and where do you write?

A. A typical day for me starts between 4:30 and 5:30 a.m. I rise, do a Bible reading, and get to work writing. I write until about 7:00 to 7:30 when it is time to check email. After which time I workout, feed my children, all the while preparing them for school. I homeschool and our work starts around 9:00 a.m. Sometimes I squeeze in a few more hours of writing in the afternoon but oft times the rest of the day is filled with promoting, if I’m lucky, or if I’m not, it’s filled with regular activities like laundry, dishes, cooking, and cleaning…see I said I was average!

  Q. Tell us a little bit about your life online and any websites or blogs you maintain.

 A. On the computer you can find me in all matter of places. I belong to Goodreads. I follow Coffeetime Romance as well as many other forums. I also run my own blog on my website Felicia Rogers Author. And I run a Facebook FanPage where I discuss my writing journey.

 Just For Fun:

Q. What is your favorite quote?

A. My favorite quote is from the Bible. Phillipians 4:13: “I can do all things through Christ that strengthens me.”

 Q. Where is your favorite place to read?

 A. My favorite place to read is on the couch. But I also like reading in the tub. Maybe one of these days I’ll have a huge spa surrounded by candles, filled with bubbles, with good lighting, and chocolate covered strawberries. Now that would be a place to read.

 Q. If you were a supernatural or mythological entity, what, or who, would you be, and why?

 A. If I could be any supernatural character, I would pick Kayla Silverfox. I would prefer the powers she has in the Wolverine Origins movie. In the film, Silverfox has what is called tactile hypnosis. This means she controls people as long as she is touching them. This would be the most awesome power a mother could have! Imagine no more arguing. Just by the power of a calm touch you would be obeyed. If only…

 Q. If you were stranded on a desert island what 3 things would you desperately want with you, and why?

A. If I was stranded on the desert island the first thing I would want would be TP. I couldn’t live without toilet paper. I would request a commode as well but then I might have to get rid of one of my other wants.

Next would be matches. This way I would have warmth as well as a way to cook food. Last but not least, Chocolate! I think this is self explanatory.

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I want to thank Felicia for joining us here for an interview…and I must state for the record, “Wow! I’ll never complain about having too much to do and too little time again.  She’s amazing!

Now before you leave us be sure to leave a comment to be entered to win a copy of The Last Rose, and don’t forget to download your complimentary musical jigsaw puzzle.

Smiles and Good Reading,

Teresa

Smiles & Good Fortune, Teresa
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It is not wealth one asks for, but just enough to preserve one’s dignity, to work unhampered, to be generous, frank and independent.
W. Somerset Maugham (1874-1965) Of Human Bondage, 1915

Irene The Snowy Flower - The Story of A Woman's Place In Historical Times

Irene The Snowy Flower
Adapted From A Story by Nora Ryeman
I.
Bedfellows
Amongst Miss Melford's intimate friends, when I was a boarder at her school, was a silvery-haired, stately lady, known as Mrs. Dace, who in her early life had been gouvernante to the Imperial children at the court of the Czar. Her old friends and pupils wrote to her frequently, and she still took a keen interest in the Slav, and in things Slavonic.
When her Russian friends--the Petrovskys--came to England, they left their youngest child, Irene, as a pupil at Miss Melford's school, to pursue her education while they travelled in Western Europe for a while.
Irene Petrovsky was a pretty little thing, with flaxen hair and clear blue eyes, and we called her the Snow Flower, after that beautiful Siberian plant which blooms only in midwinter. I have never forgotten her first appearance at the school. When Miss Melford led her into the classroom we all looked up at the small figure in its plain white cloth frock trimmed with golden sable, and admired the tiny fair curls which clustered round her white brow. She made a grand court curtsey, and then sat silently, like a wee white flower, in a corner.
We elder pupils were made guardians of the younger ones in Miss Melford's school, and it was my duty as Irene's guardian to take her to rest in the little white nest next to mine in the long dormitory. In the middle of the first night I was disturbed by a faint sobbing near me, and I sat up to listen. The sobs proceeded from the bed of the little Russian girl, and I found she was crying for her elder sister, who, she said, used to take her in her arms and hold her by the hand until she fell asleep. A happy thought came to me; my white nest was larger than hers. So I bade her creep into it, which she readily did, and nestled up to me, like a trembling, affrighted little bird, falling at last into a calm, sweet sleep.
From that time forward we two were firm friends, and the girls used to call the Little Russ, Gloria's shadow.
She was very grateful, and I in my turn grew to love her dearly; so dearly that when her father, the count, came to take her home, in consequence of the death of her mother, I felt as if I had lost a little sister.
Ever after this our little snow flower was a fragrant memory to me. I often thought of her, and wondered as I watched the white clouds moving across the summer sky, or the silver moon shining in the heavens, whether she too was looking out upon the same fair scene from the other side the sea and thinking of her some time sister of Miss Melford's school.
II.
AFTER MANY DAYS.
Some years after I had left the school financial difficulties beset my uncle's affairs. Aunt Ducie died in the midst of them, and Uncle Gervase did not long survive. Our household goods went under the auctioneer's hammer, our beautiful home became the home of strangers, and I went to live in an obscure quarter of a distant town. My means being exceeding small, I took rooms in a small house in a semi-rural suburb, and from thence began to look for work for pen and pencil. I had learned to draw, and had succeeded in one or two small attempts at story telling, and with my pen and pencil for crutches, and with youth and hope on my side, I started out with nervous confidence upon the highway of fame.
Cherry-Tree Avenue was a long, narrow street within a stone's throw of the grim, grey castellated towers of the county gaol, and the weekly tenants who took the small, red-brick houses were continually changing.
Facing us was No. 3, Magdala Terrace, a house which was empty for some weeks, but one April evening a large van full of new furniture drove up to it, followed by a respectable looking man and woman of the artisan class, who soon began to set the house in order. Before sleep had fallen on the shabby street a cab drove up to No. 3, and from it stepped a woman, tall, slight, and closely veiled. I had been to the pillar box to post an answer to an advertisement, and it happened that I passed the door of the newly let house as the cab drew up. Without waiting to be summoned, the trim young woman came out to welcome the new-comer, and said in French:
"Madame, the place is poor, but clean, and quiet, and," lowering her voice, "fitted for observation."
In spite of my own anxieties I wondered who the stranger could be, and why the little house was to be an observatory. Then I remembered the vicinity of the big gaol, and thought that madame might have an interest in one of the black sheep incarcerated there.
Very soon strange rumours began to circulate amongst the dwellers in the avenue. The bright young woman was madame's foster sister; madame herself was of high degree, a countess, or one of even nobler rank, travelling in disguise; the quiet, dark young man, her foster sister's husband, was a woodcarver, who was out of work and only too glad to serve the foreign lady, who out of generous pity had come to stay with them.
I, of course, gave no credence to these seemingly absurd reports, but, all the same, I was aware that there was a mystery at No. 3. The lady was young, beautiful, and distinguished looking, she had dark, pathetic, haunting eyes, which reminded me forcibly of other eyes I had seen, but when and where I could not recall; and though her dresses were dark, they were chic, the word Paris was writ plain on all her toques.
Madame made no friends, and it was clear from the first that she desired to be undisturbed, at any rate by her neighbours. Every now and again there were visitors at No 3, but these were strangers, foreign looking visitors, cloaked, swarthy and sombre men who came and went, one of whom I overheard say in French as he flicked the ash from his cigar: "Chut! the rat keeps in his hole, he will not stir."
At Maytime, in the early gloaming, the foreign lady and I met in the narrow street.
We met face to face, and passed each other with a slight bow of recognition; a moment after I heard soft, hurried footfalls, and the strange lady was by my side.
She held out an envelope addressed to me, saying:
"Pardon me, if I mistake not, you dropped this. Is it not so?"
I thanked her, and took the letter, saying:
"It is mine, and I should have troubled had I lost it."
This little incident broke down our old-time reserve, and saying:
"I go to-morrow," she placed a bunch of amber roses she was carrying in my hand. I thanked her, and asked by what name I might remember her?
"As Nadine," she whispered softly. "I need not ask you yours."
The mention of the name electrified me. Here was I bidding farewell to Nadine, whose little sister Irene, our sweet snow flower, I had loved and lost at the old school far away.
Nadine noticed my excitement, and putting her finger to her lips, cautioned me to silence. But I was not to be denied.
"Irene?" I said in a whisper, "Irene, where is Irene?"
"Hush!" she said, taking me by the arm and drawing me in at the open doorway of No. 3. "Speak of it not again. Irene fell a victim to our cruel Russian laws, and lies beside her husband among the snow tombs of Siberia."
The next morning the strange dark house was empty. The woodcarver and his wife, and the beautiful Nadine, had vanished with the shadows of the night.

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Thirty-five years ago, inspired by the writings of Georgette Heyer, and little more than fresh out of high school, I wrote a Regency Romance novel entitled, A Very Merry Chase, which I finally published last year.  Then and now history in all it’s forms was my first love–especially women’s history. These days I have two degrees in history; however a graduate degree in women’s studies was not an option at the university where I received my MA so I had to make do with a more generalized degree. Thus, in every class I made up for the lack by researching the condition of women in each age that I studied. I have always been fascinated by women’s history, so I thought I would start sharing some of the lost treasures that I uncover... and besides the truth of the matter is, most of women’s history was never written, and if was written it was downplayed, so in many cases our only real source of insight into a woman’s station in life were stories and women's journal articles written by men, and sometimes women, for upper class ladies to read. I believe that most people have curious minds and like glimpses of how the world was, and how things were perceived in the past. I firmly believe in the idea that we must remember history in order to learn from it, grow and hopefully cut down on the number of stupid mistakes that random impulse and intellectual curiosity and greed and a thousand other human motivators lead us to make.
Smiles and Good Fortune,
Teresa Thomas Bohannon
Author of the Regency Romance novel, A Very Merry Chase
Founder of The LadyWeb Family Of Informational & Educational Websites

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It is not wealth one asks for, but just enough to preserve one’s dignity, to work unhampered, to be generous, frank and independent.
– W. Somerset Maugham (1874 - 1965) Of Human Bondage, 1915

An 18th Century Woman Speaks Out On Her Station In Life

Equity demands that--since men were given the opportunity to write much of women's history--we take this opportunity to put before the public a woman's own view of her station in life as presented by by a Countess of Arcira.

The Gospel has forbidden adultery for my husband just as for me; he will be damned as I shall, nothing is better established. When he committed twenty infidelities, when he gave my necklace to one of my rivals, and my ear-rings to another, I did not ask the judges to have him shaved, to shut him up among monks and to give me his property. And I, for having imitated him once, for having done with the most handsome young man in Lisbon what he did every day with impunity with the most idiotic strumpets of the court and the town, have to answer at the bar before licentiates each of whom would be at my feet if we were alone together in my closet; have to endure at the court the usher cutting off my hair which is the most beautiful in the world; and being shut up among nuns who have no common sense, deprived of my dowry and my marriage covenants, with all my property given to my coxcomb of a husband to help him seduce other women and to commit fresh adulteries.
I ask if it is just, and if it is not evident that the laws were made by cuckolds?

In answer to my plea I am told that I should be happy not to be stoned at the city gate by the canons, the priests of the parish and the whole populace. This was the practice among the first nation of the earth, the chosen nation, the cherished nation, the only one which was right when all the others were wrong.

To these barbarities I reply that when the poor adulteress was presented by her accusers to the Master of the old and new law, He did not have her stoned; that on the contrary He reproached them with their injustice, that he laughed at them by writing on the ground with his finger, that he quoted the old Hebraic proverb—"He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her"; that then they all retired, the oldest fleeing first, because the older they were the more adulteries had they committed.
The doctors of canon law answer me that this history of the adulteress is related only in the Gospel of St. John, that it was not inserted there until later. Leontius, Maldonat, affirm that it is not to be found in a single ancient Greek copy; that none of the twenty-three early commentators mentions it. Origen, St. Jerome, St. John Chrysostom, Theophilact, Nonnus, do not recognize it at all. It is not to be found in the Syriac Bible, it is not in Ulphilas' version.

That is what my husband's advocates say, they who would have me not only shaved, but also stoned.
But the advocates who pleaded for me say that Ammonius, author of the third century, recognized this story as true, and that if St. Jerome rejects it in some places, he adopts it in others; that, in a word, it is authentic to-day. I leave there, and I say to my husband: "If you are without sin, shave me, imprison me, take my property; but if you have committed more sins than I have, it is for me to shave you, to have you imprisoned, and to seize your fortune. In justice these things should be equal."
My husband answers that he is my superior and my chief, that he is more than an inch taller, that he is shaggy as a bear; that consequently I owe him everything, and that he owes me nothing.
But I ask if Queen Anne of England is not her husband's chief? if her husband the Prince of Denmark, who is her High Admiral, does not owe her entire obedience? and if she would not have him condemned by the court of peers if the little man's infidelity were in question? It is therefore clear that if the women do not have the men punished, it is when they are not the stronger.

Methinks the lady had a valid point!

Smiles & Good Fortune,
Teresa
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It is not wealth one asks for, but just enough to preserve one’s dignity, to work unhampered, to be generous, frank and independent.
W. Somerset Maugham (1874-1965) Of Human Bondage, 1915

Interview With Claudy Conn Author of the Paranormal Romance Legend Series

Today I'm proud and delighted to welcome Regency and paranormal author Claudy Conn.  I avidly read Claudy's books back when she wrote over 40 Bestselling Regency Romance novels and I just dreamed of someday being published.  I was very excited to have the opportunity to meet her online recently and then to read the first book in her wonderful new paranormal/Celtic mythology series--Spellbound Legend.   The reviews are in, and everyone agrees that Claudy Conn is destined to be a star in the world of paranormal romances, just as she was in the Regency Romance genre.

Claudy has generously offered an E-copy of Spellbound Legend to be presented to one lucky poster here at MyLadyWeb--the winner to be selected through Random.Org on March 27, 2011. In addition, I have created a complimentary musical jigsaw puzzle featuring the Spellbound Legend cover just to thank you for taking the time to visit with us.  So without further ado...here's Claudy. 
Hi, I am a multi-published author of Regency and historical romances. Took a break from that and before I knew it the years had vanished. Discovered paranormal romance and had to write and create again, hence, my Legend series emerged, the first being—Spellbound-Legend.
Spellbound Legend is a modern romance with roots in Celtic mythology. Will the second novel in the series, Shee Willow-Legend be similar?
Although my hero and heroine will be different, and circumstances to their story will be different, there will be recurring characters from Spellbound-Legend, such as Breslyn, the Fae Prince and Gaiscioch the Fae traitor. The war between the Dark Fae and the Seelie Fae escalates and spills over to the human realm.

Why modern romances/Celtic mythology?
My fancy?  As writers we need to step out of the confinements of a certain genre if we want to give our imagination free rein. I needed a new voice and Maxie was the heroine for me. Celtic mythology is so strongly based on the spoken word which didn’t make it onto the pages for thousands of years. There are truths in those words if you look past the black and white. The Tuatha Dé became very real for me while researched them. Druids exist today in secret societies. There is a world there that tickled my brain and made me see things I had never known existed.
All time favorite novels?
That is hard because I have so many and they are quite diverse. I love the Bronte sister’s. Wuthering Heights makes me crazy for a better ending and makes me constantly look for one. I love Jane Austin and Georgette Heyer. I absolutely am a fan of anything written by Karen M. Moning, read most of Dean Koontz, James Patterson, Nora Roberts, and S. King. I like to read.
Research?
Yup, love to research. It involves reading, you see. I did at least six months of research before I picked up my pen to write Regency, and then did the same when I decided to write paranormal. I have gone through tons of information and now have a small library of Celtic Myths for easy reference. Reading letters from the time you wish to write about is essential as it gives you a feel for the idiomatic expressions, the culture, the politics of the society you wish to present.
Your favorite novel that you've Written?
So difficult to answer that. I have six books in my Legend Series, and plan for my all heroines to make an appearance in the last book. I also have a book that will be published by The Wild Rose Press, “Darklove” and it is a paranormal romance that I just love. Can’t pick—sorry. I will leave that to my readers.:)
Where do you do most of your writing?
My husband and I share an office in our home and it overlooks our pastures and horses. We have a wolf dog and her son, and they run around out there, so when I can’t write, or have reached an impasse with my character, I look out at that scene and it is very soothing. Also, when I need a break, I sometimes log onto Facebook and see what friends are saying and have a giggle.
 If you could choose to be a mythological creature, which one would you choose?
Who would I be if I could be a mythological figure? For me, that is easy. I would be a Fae—wow, think what I might do?
Favorite quote?
Every single day that changes, but I like: “I have a simple philosophy: Fill what’s empty, empty what’s full. Scratch where it itches.” Alice Roosevelt Longworth.
What do you do to relax?
I walk/aerobic about an hour each day, which is a good thing since I have a weakness for chocolate and pizza.

What are the three things you would absolutely want to have with you if you were stranded on a desert island? 
Stranded on a desert—3 things? Hmm. My husband, chocolate and pizza, and a way out!
Thank you, Claudy for taking time out of your busy writing schedule to visit with MyLadyWeb.  It was a pleasure to have you with us.  After having read Spellbound-Legend, I am eagerly looking forward to next month's release of Shee-Willow Legend.
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To our guests, don't forget to leave a comment for your chance to win an E-book of Spellbound-Legend, and to download your complimentary musical jigsaw puzzle featuring the Spellbound Legend cover.
You can read more about Claudy and keep up with her new releases on her website at http://claudyconn.embarqspace.com/.
Smiles and Good Fortune,
Teresa

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It is not wealth one asks for, but just enough to preserve one’s dignity, to work unhampered, to be generous, frank and independent.
W. Somerset Maugham (1874-1965) Of Human Bondage, 1915

The White Flower Of Happiness - Blessed Be Those Who Know The Secret

THE WHITE FLOWER OF HAPPINESS

By
Persis Richardson

The King sat in the library of the palace reading an old, old book—a book written when the King’s great-great-grandfather sat on the throne. The King had never seen the book before and it was very interesting to him. For the book told of a strange little plant that had grown in the kingdom in those days of the old, old king.

No matter how hard the people had to work, if the little plant was growing in their homes, they were happy. Indeed, the book said that the flower of the plant was so beautiful that no garden was complete without it; so in the days of the long ago, it grew in the gardens of the rich and the poor, while happiness and prosperity reigned in the land.

Eagerly the king read the description of the little flower that grew on this wonderful plant. It was white as the driven snow. It had heart-shaped petals surrounding a wonderful heart of gold, and it was known as the White Flower of Happiness.

Now the King loved flowers dearly and there were many in his garden; but he was sure he had never seen this little flower. So, because he wanted to have one for his very own and especially because he wanted happiness and prosperity for his people, he determined to find it.

“Surely somewhere in the kingdom there must be a plant left if it grew so common in the days of my great-great-grandfather,” said the King.

Then calling the heralds to him he said:


“Ride forth and search. Go East, and West, and North, and South, and say to my people, ‘Search for the White Flower of Happiness, and when you have found it, bring it to me that I may raise more seeds so that all may have a chance to own it. ‘Tis a little flower, white as the driven snow, with petals that are heart-shaped around a heart of gold.’”

Eagerly the people, both rich and poor, went to work, for they knew of the wondrous beauty of the flower and wished it for their own.

Now there were two people who were very sure they would be first to find the flower. One was a rich woman who loved beautiful things. Her home was the largest of any on the finest street in the royal city. She had many and large gardens, cared for by the best gardeners to be found. Yet in the summer-time, when they were glowing with hundreds of flowers, few there were who could enjoy them. A high hedge surrounded them all and only her friends were permitted to go through the iron entrance gate.

This wealthy woman said to herself: “I will find the flower and it will be easy to keep it secret from all others if I have it here behind the hedge. Then I shall be sure of happiness in the future.”

So all of her gardeners were set to work to search for the White Flower of Happiness. Wherever they found a plant of rare beauty, they bought it hoping that it might be the plant she sought. Seeds of all kinds also were planted. And in the blossoming time there were flowers in the gardens by the thousands—but behind that great wall there was no flower that was white as the driven snow, with heart-shaped petals surrounding a heart of gold.

There was also a man in the kingdom who thought he could surely find the flower. He was a business man.
“If I could find it,” he said, “I would grow more plants and sell them to the people at a great profit. Then I should quickly grow rich and there would be no need for me to work.”

So he set his office force all to work to write letters to the gardeners and seed-growers of the world. They described the little flower and offered large sums for one single plant. But he, too, failed in his search. It was not to be found.

Down in the heart of the poorer section of the royal city there lived a little old lady whom every one called Aunt Betsy. She was very poor; she had only one room that she could call home, and her only companion was a scrawny cat that every one else had driven away. But it loved her and she loved it, and was glad to have it share her home.

She was very lame and had to hobble away to her work every morning, yet she was the cheeriest little body alive and every one loved her.

Aunt Betsy, like all of her neighbors, was seeking the White Flower of Happiness.

“This old street with its tumble-down houses, and uneven sidewalks, and tin cans surely needsa heap of something to cheer it,” she would say. “Now, if I could find just one plant, I would make this old alley the finest place ever. Then the little children here could have some chance. I wish I might find it.”

But no flowers grew where she lived or where she worked, so she couldn’t hope to find the plant. The only thing she could do was to save every penny she could so that, if the King found the plant, she might possibly buy a seed.

Into an old tin cup she put the pennies, one by one, but it was very slow work, for Aunt Betsy was very poor.
One winter night as Aunt Betsy returned from work, she found a queer looking bundle on her door-step and, on unrolling it, she found Bobby, one of the neighbor’s children. Now Bobby had no mother and only a poor drunken father, who often beat him. And Aunt Betsy saw, as she unrolled him, that his face was all tear-stained, so she knew what had been happening. Bobby had crept away from the blows to come to his best friend when in trouble—Aunt Betsy.

Carefully she picked the little fellow up, carried him into her bare little room, gave him a hot drink, and then tucked him all comfortably on the couch which served as her bed. Tired from his day of play and work, the little fellow was soon lost in sleep.

Not so Aunt Betsy. Sitting by the fire, all she could see were the great holes in the shoes she was drying. Bobby needed some shoes very badly, but she had no money with which to buy some.

“There is the money in the cup,” said a voice within.

“But I couldn’t give that, for I want so much to buy a seed to bring happiness to this alley,” thought Aunt Betsy.


“But a pair of shoes would bring happiness to Bobbie now,” said the voice.

She looked again at the little swollen feet under the cover on the couch. Then slowly, yet with a smile of infinite tenderness, she softly stole to the cupboard, took the money from the little tin cup, drew on her old shawl, and went out into the night.

’Twas a very happy Bobbie who went back to his home in the morning, and behind Aunt Betsy’s stove were the little worn shoes. A little later a little old woman went down the narrow stairs to her work and she sang as she went.

That night Aunt Betsy, hurrying past a florist’s shop, bumped into a barrel of waste that stood on the walk. Stopping abruptly, she saw a wilted-looking plant in an old broken pot on the top of the pile.

“Why, you poor little plant,” said Aunt Betsy. “I’ll just take you home and love you; perhaps you will grow for me in my little upper room.”

So she carried it home, transplanted it into the old tin cup from which she had taken the money, and then set it where the sunshine would find it the very first thing in the morning.

In two days the plant showed signs of life. In a week it stood tall and firm. In two weeks there was a bud which Aunt Betsy watched with great care. Would it be pink or red or yellow? She didn’t care if only it were a blossom.

’Twas night when she came home from her work, but as soon as she opened the door she knew that the little flower had opened, for the room was full of the fragrance that it was sending forth. She hurried to the window and she saw—oh, could she believe her eyes! She saw a little flower, white as the driven snow. Its petals were heart-shaped and surrounded a heart of wonderful gold. It was the White Flower of Happiness.

During the night, the little plant stayed with her in the attic room, but in the morning she carried it to the palace and gave it to the King. Thus, through a simple loving old woman, the White Flower of Happiness was given to a whole kingdom.

But the strange thing about the plant was this: Whenever its owner kept the flower only for self and did not share it with others, it withered and died; but, when lovingly shared, it grew and blossomed and made happy, not only its owner, but all to whom it went. It was in very truth to all—The White Flower of Happiness.

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Thirty-five years ago, inspired by the writings of Georgette Heyer, and little more than fresh out of high school, I wrote a Regency Romance novel entitled, A Very Merry Chase, which I finally published last year.  Then and now history in all it’s forms was my first love–especially women’s history. These days I have two degrees in history; however a graduate degree in women’s studies was not an option at the university where I received my MA so I had to make do with a more generalized degree. Thus, in every class I made up for the lack by researching the condition of women in each age that I studied. I have always been fascinated by women’s history, so I thought I would start sharing some of the lost treasures that I uncover... and besides the truth of the matter is, most of women’s history was never written, and if was written it was downplayed, so in many cases our only real source of insight into a woman’s station in life were stories and women's journal articles written by men, and sometimes women, for upper class ladies to read. I believe that most people have curious minds and like glimpses of how the world was, and how things were perceived in the past. I firmly believe in the idea that we must remember history in order to learn from it, grow and hopefully cut down on the number of stupid mistakes that random impulse and intellectual curiosity and greed and a thousand other human motivators lead us to make.
Smiles and Good Fortune,
Teresa Thomas Bohannon
Author of the Regency Romance novel, A Very Merry Chase
Founder of The LadyWeb Family Of Informational & Educational Websites

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It is not wealth one asks for, but just enough to preserve one’s dignity, to work unhampered, to be generous, frank and independent.
– W. Somerset Maugham (1874 - 1965) Of Human Bondage, 1915