Bluebird on the Prairie

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Bluebird on the Prairie

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Bluebird on the Prairie
Bluebird on the Prairie

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Bluebird on the Prairie

Model Number: bluebird1
Inspirational Romance.
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Manufacturer: Tasha Hackett
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Eloise Davidson clings to the safety and routines of her home. Zeke has his sights set for California. Is it possible they are both searching for the same things?

Eloise is strong, enduring, wistful, angry, afraid, isolated, and determined. 

But what is her story about? Love. But also grief. 

Bluebird on the Prairie is a witty, compelling, and inspirational romance about all the good things like home, family, and love, but it’s about hard things like death, and grief . . . but also about this one time when Eloise was playing the creek with her toddler nephew and a strange man fell down the bank headfirst. 

So there she is, wearing nothing but a wet chemise, absolutely scandalous, and a dirty man—who may or may not be attractive in the least—is sprawled out at the bottom of the creek bank. 

Hmm. What would you do?

Excerpt from page 13: 

He didn’t need her help. He’d be on his way. Just as soon as he could get up. He attempted to stand.

“Please,” she said, “sit and rest a moment. You’re bleeding.” 

“Yup.” Zeke slumped back against the bank in a more refined position. Keeping his face downcast from her, he gathered his wits. His head throbbed. And he wasn’t sure where the blood came from, but it was on his hands.

Fell off the stupid bank.

Nothing’s broken.

Mostly naked girl standing nearby.

Her bare feet sank into the pebbles, and the water caressed her ankles. Not that he noticed. He didn’t know where to look now that she stood right next to him. Suddenly, her face appeared in front of his, and she looked directly into his eyes. She still held the baby close to her chest.

“You okay?” she said. “You have blood all over your face.” Zeke stared at his hands. They were covered in mud, bits of grass, and some blood. “I’m sorry.” He looked at her, then turned his eyes toward the creek, the trees, the bank, the clouds, and any where else but her. And then he started talking.

“I’m Ezekiel. Zeke. People call me Zeke. Ezekiel James. Whatever you want. My mother used to call me Zekey James, which is weird if you ask me. Which you didn’t, I mean, you asked me to leave. Earlier. Which I didn’t. But I was—I would have—I was. Leaving. I was leaving. I didn’t mean to, I tried not to, I wasn’t even looking. I mean, I looked some, just because I came across you so suddenly on accident.” Shut up, Zeke. Stop. Talking. He squeezed his eyes shut.

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