A Rebel in My House by Sandra Merville Hart

Posted by on Jul 21, 2017 | 32 comments

A Rebel in My House by Sandra Merville Hart

A Rebel in My House by Sandra Merville Hart is the second in her Civil War romance series, this one taking place during the Battle of Gettysburg. You’ll love meeting Sandy and hearing about her fascination with the War Between the States and her dedication to serious research and accuracy in her writing. We would love to hear your comments. Sign in on the Rafflecopter at the bottom to increase your chances to win a signed print copy of her book.



Fabulous Fridays

A Rebel in My House

Welcome back, Sandy! I’m excited to hear about your latest Civil War romance, A Rebel in My House! Tell us something about how you became interested in the Civil War period.

Thanks for having me back, Norma! I’m excited to be here. I remember hearing my aunt talk about the Civil War when I was five or six. The adults in the room talked about how horrible the war had been. They shook their heads over brother fighting against brother and father against son. I wanted to know more even then. My ears perked up whenever someone mentioned the war that ravaged the South.

What kind of research went into writing A Rebel in My House?

I had written an unpublished novel that included the Battle of Gettysburg so I had lots of research notes. I began researching for this novel with a trip to Gettysburg. I began with a ranger tour of the battlefield where the Battlefield Guide, Clay Rebert, tailored the tour around my novel questions. Other ranger talks taught other aspects of the battle. My husband and I spent time exploring the battlefields and many of the museums. We also attended walking tours. Then I spent the next five to six months checking out nonfiction Civil War sources from the library. I read battle details, soldier diaries and accounts, and Gettysburg resident accounts. I took copious notes to mark where I found certain details so I could return to them. I studied period accounts to understand prevailing attitudes and beliefs. When I felt like I’d been there, I knew I was ready to write the story.

Introduce us briefly to the main characters in your most recent book A Rebel in My House.

Sarah, a seamstress, lives about two miles outside of Gettysburg by Willoughby Run, where the fighting begins on the first day of battle, July 1, 1863. She has a strained relationship with her sister who lives in Gettysburg. Cannons and rifle shots frighten Sarah. Then flames engulf a neighbor’s house. Is she next?

Jesse, a Confederate soldier, is separated from his brother and his regiment during retreat. He’s now behind enemy lines. Folks in a home near a creek may shelter him. Should he risk it?

What do you enjoy doing when you’re not researching and writing about the Civil War?

My husband and I love getting together with adult children and grandchildren. We can hardly wait until these little ones are big enough to play baseball, soccer, etc. We enjoy walking, going to movies with friends, and going to baseball games. And I love to read a novel when it’s just for pleasure.

Who was the first author who inspired you to write?

It was probably Louisa Mae Alcott. I remember reading Little Women one hot summer’s day and crying over a tragic death. I was about twelve. My friend came over and caught me crying. Though my tears embarrassed me, the fact that Jo always wanted to be a writer affected me. It was a dream I craved, too.

Are you a full-time writer or do you hold a day job? What is the biggest challenge/obstacle you face in protecting your writing time?

I write full-time. The biggest challenge has been having others respect that the time carved out for writing isn’t “free time” just because I work from home. This has gotten better over the years.

What is one thing you recommend to writers who are starting out and wondering if they should try to connect with readers beyond “Here’s my book, buy it, and review?”

Social media has opened new avenues for readers. It’s easy for them to connect with authors on Facebook and Twitter. They can comment on blog posts. Readers want to feel good about you.

We were at the same writer’s conference recently. What did you learn there that will have the most impact on your writing in the future?

So many pearls of wisdom come from writer’s conferences, don’t they? But the biggest thing I took home was “Don’t write wimpy characters.”

If you could spend the day with a character from your all-time favorite novel, who would it be and what would you do?

There are so many! The person who came to mind first was Anne of Green Gables. Friendship with her could never be boring!

Please share the opening scene of A Rebel in My House with us.


Friday, June 26, 1863

Two miles outside Gettysburg, Pennsylvania

Running feet on the dirt road outside quickened Sarah Hubbard’s heartbeat. Her fingers stiffened on her sewing machine and her back straightened.

Were they coming? Every conversation these days centered on the Confederate soldiers crossing into southern Pennsylvania.

“Miz Hubbard. Miz Hubbard, please let us in!”

Not soldiers but friends. Sarah’s body sagged at Elsie Craig’s voice, but why did she yell? Sarah dropped the gingham dress she’d been sewing and ran to throw open the front door. Alarmed at the fear lining Elsie’s dark face and eyes as she clutched the hand of her four-year-old daughter, Mae, Sarah scanned the horizon for Confederate soldiers. “Hurry inside.”

Elsie needed no second bidding. She guided Mae over the threshold and closed the door. “Miz Hubbard, you gotta hide us.” Her tall, thin body leaned against the door. “The Rebs are in town gathering up all the colored folks they can find. Someone said they’ll be taking them south as slaves and that they’re warning folks not to hide us.”

Sarah gasped. “Why do such a terrible thing?”

“Don’t make sense, does it? Some of us have lived in Gettysburg for years. Others like me have always been free, but it don’t seem to matter to the Southern army.” A long loaf of bread peeked out among jars and clothing in a well-laden basket Elsie set on the rug. She dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around her trembling child. “I had to leave my house and most of my possessions, but I’ve got the most important thing right here.” She looked up at Sarah as she patted Mae’s shoulder. “Last week my Sam left for Pine Hill, the settlement up near Biglerville. With it being two miles off the main road to Carlisle, the Rebs won’t find him there. Sam never expected the army to come after women and children or he’d never have left us. I miss him something fierce. We’ll go to him when the soldiers get out of town.”

Tears etched tracks in a smudge on Mae’s cheek, tugging at Sarah’s heart as much as Elsie’s wide eyes and trembling hands. Sarah rushed to an open window and pushed aside the curtain a few inches. The Pennsylvania governor, Andrew Curtin, had declared a state of emergency two weeks earlier and called for local militia. Where was their help?

Birds chirped. A rooster crowed. The familiar rush of water on Willoughby Run, a nearby creek, didn’t need to drown out marching footsteps. No soldiers appeared on the country lane outside her white clapboard home beside the woods. Despite the calm view outside her window, Sarah shivered as if standing in a cold draft. How could two women and a child protect themselves from soldiers?

Elsie peeked around Sarah’s shoulder. “Can we hide here?”‘

“Of course.” She strove for a confident tone despite her shaky legs. “But where? My sister’s horse is in the barn. They will certainly search there.”

“Rebs are buying up livestock, so Mrs. Burke’s horse ain’t safe neither.” The pretty young mother’s gaze darted across the sparse room where two chairs and a drop-leaf table rested against the inner wall. A blue dress adorned the wall near the fireplace. She glanced toward the narrow wooden stairs that led to a loft bedroom. “The garret is the first place they’ll look.” She rubbed her shoe against a faded brown rug. “Does this rug cover a cellar door?”

“No, the opening is in the kitchen.” Sarah indicated the doorway with a shrug of her shoulder.

Elsie tugged Mae’s hand, and the little girl followed her through the opening.

Sarah joined them in the room that served as her kitchen and the sewing room. “There.” She pointed to the three-foot by four-foot wooden hatch that lay flush with the floor between the table and the large black stove. Her sewing machine table and chair sat close to the room’s lone window.

“Is the cellar big enough for us to hide there?”

“Yes. It covers the length of this room and extends into the yard.” Sarah lifted the door to reveal a ladder leading to a dark space below. She knew the location of each jar and can that lined the shelves just out of view along with flour-filled cotton sacks. Most of the meat lay deep in the ash pile behind the house, buried there when the Southern Army crossed the Mason-Dixon. The bulk of her precious fabric, wrapped in India rubber to protect it from the ashes, hid beside the meat.

Elsie stared at the ladder before raising her gaze to Sarah’s. “If you cover the door with the rug from the main room and move your sewing machine table on top, no one will know the cellar exists.”

“Good idea.” Sarah covered her mouth with her hand. What would the soldiers do to her if they discovered Elsie and her daughter hiding in her cellar? Send her to a Southern prison? She could only guess at their reaction. Not that it changed anything. She straightened her shoulders. Elsie had become a friend during the two years she worked for Sarah’s sister. She’d not abandon her now. “I will do it.”

Elsie’s tense face relaxed into a grateful smile. “Thank the Lord for you, Miz Hubbard.”

“I’m happy you came to me.” She enveloped her and Mae in a quick hug.

“Don’t tell no one we’re here.” Pride fought with dependence in her eyes. “There’s some loyal to the South who’d turn us in, some you might not expect. There’s others who just don’t consider what they say or do like they should.”

Sarah stared at her and wondered if Martha Burke, her only sibling and Elsie’s former employer, fit the latter group. “I promise. No one will know the two of you are here.”

Elsie pressed a palm to her heart. “We’re safe then, Mae. We’ll get below as quick as we can.”

“You’ll need your food for traveling to Sam. Take a loaf of bread and jelly down with you.” She gestured to three fresh loaves covered with a cloth. “No telling how long it will take the soldiers to come or if they will find my house. You may be there a few hours.”

Elsie carried her things down the ladder along with a lantern and matches. Everything was in the cellar by the time Sarah finished slicing a loaf of bread.

The ladies rolled up the heavy rug and toted it to the kitchen, and Sarah concealed the cellar door after her guests descended the ladder. Her hands then shook so badly that it took five minutes to shift the sewing machine table into place. Sweeping up the dust left behind by the rug took another several minutes.

She stepped back to survey the room. Elsie’s plan was a good one. Only frequent visitors would know a cellar nestled beneath the rug.

After a month of agonizing worry, Rebels were in Gettysburg. There had been so much conjecture about Southerners coming north—her worst nightmares were realized. She fought the impulse to close the windows and hide in the garret. Figuring soldiers would find closed windows a strange sight in the late June heat, she kept them open. Even though Elsie and her daughter were safely hidden, Sarah’s stomach continued to churn in fear for them—for herself. And how was she to save her sister’s horse? She drank a dipper of lukewarm water from a bucket. She should draw another bucket for Belle.

Oh no. Belle. Elsie said that Confederates wanted livestock. How had she forgotten the danger to her sister’s horse? Martha usually stabled it with a blacksmith in town but had moved the mare to Sarah’s barn when news came that Confederates approached Pennsylvania. Both sisters agreed that Sarah’s home, a couple of miles outside Gettysburg, was less likely to draw attention from soldiers.

Now Rebels might come to her home. Martha would be angry if they took her horse, but there wasn’t anyplace to hide the chestnut mare. She couldn’t leave with Elsie and Mae in the cellar and didn’t ride anyway. Her neighbors’ barns were just as vulnerable as hers.

Movement outside the window caught her eye. Six men in gray and one in butternut strode down the hill toward her home, a cloud of dust in their wake. Her chest tightened at the muskets in their hands. Two horses trailed after them. A sorrel mare, saddled and dusty as if someone had been riding it, resembled a neighbor’s.

She returned to her sewing machine to try to appear normal. Her heart hammered with fear as she fastened her gaze on her fabric. The footsteps grew louder.

Someone pounded on her wooden door. “Open up!”

“Coming!” She whispered a prayer for Elsie and Mae’s safety while scurrying to the door, fearing they’d kick it down if she tarried.

Her pulse raced at the sight of bearded Southern soldiers on her porch. Her gaze drank in their tattered, dirty clothing. Two were barefoot. Another had tied the holey remains of his shoes onto his feet with string. After lonely nights of worry, the feared enemy was at her very doorstep—with Elsie and Mae relying on her protection. Somehow, that knowledge strengthened her.

She tilted her chin. “Good day, gentlemen.” Perhaps treating them courteously would incline them to extend the same to her.

The oldest man, perhaps in his late thirties, tipped his gray kepi at her. “Howdy, Miss …”

A deep breath did nothing to calm her nerves. “Sarah Hubbard.”

“Miss Hubbard.” He inclined his head. “I’m Sergeant Willis. We’ve come to purchase all your extra food.”

“There is none for sale, Sergeant Willis. Thank you for stopping by.” She stepped back to close the door, but he blocked it with his foot. She gasped at the threatening behavior.

His steely gaze demanded her compliance. “I’m afraid I’ll have to insist, miss.” One soldier elbowed the door open wider. “You see, our soldiers are hungry.”

Clutching her throat, Sarah retreated back into her front room. If only her sister hadn’t insisted on keeping their mother’s dog in town. These men wouldn’t dare treat her disrespectfully with Butch growling at them. Then again, they might have shot her protective pet. Her mouth went dry. As matters stood, she faced the Rebels alone.

The sergeant sniffed the air. “Aw. You baked bread today.”

Her heart leaped to her throat as she thought of the loaf she’d given Elsie. Then she remembered two loaves remained above. She led the way to the kitchen on trembling legs. “Yes, I baked bread this morning.” Keeping a cordial tone might save her. “Would you like a slice?”

“We’ll take both loaves.” His gaze scoured both rooms from the doorway that separated them, then he nodded to two men in the back of the group. “Check the loft.”

Her deceased parents’ possessions were stored in Sarah’s old garret bedroom. She pressed her palms to her cheeks as the men ascended the stairs. Surely the trunk stuffed with old books, letters, and clothing didn’t interest these men. Her mother’s locket, wrapped in an embroidered handkerchief, lay tucked inside the folds of an old dress. They couldn’t justify taking that.

Sergeant Willis’ gaze traveled the room. “You got preserves?”

She closed her eyes, grateful that she had a stocked cupboard on the main floor. The officer didn’t have to know that most jars and cans lined the cellar shelves. She opened the cupboard beside the kitchen window. “I have blackberry jam.” She picked up a quart jar. “And this one is apple jelly.”

Two soldiers nudged closely enough that she backed away from their sweaty bodies. The youngest took the jar from her unresisting hand. “We’ll take everything on the shelf.”

Her mouth fell open at their brashness. Did they truly intend to take every morsel they discovered? For all they knew, all the food she possessed sat on these shelves. “What will I eat? Leave me something.” A glance at the unsympathetic faces around the room made her wish she didn’t face them alone.

One snatched the last corn muffin from a basket on the table. Crumbs slid down his shirt as he crammed it into his mouth.

“We’ll pay for the grub, Miss Hubbard,” Sergeant Willis said. “Confederate currency.”

“That money is not good here.”

He grinned. “It soon will be, but we can write a receipt if you prefer.”

She lifted her chin. Receipts were likely even more worthless. “I choose the currency.”

He laughed. “This one’s got spirit. Currency it is. You got any milk? Butter?”

“I’m hungry for eggs,” a pimply-faced soldier in back piped up. He cradled both loaves of bread in his arms along with his musket.

Hope rose at an opportunity to get them out of her home. “There’s a crock of butter, an egg basket, and a milk urn in the springhouse on the creek over there, Willoughby Run. I share it with a neighbor so I will show you which containers are mine.” She sidled past the men to the open front door, hoping they’d follow. There was not a peep from the cellar—not that anyone would have heard with the soldiers’ heavy tread as they searched the house.

“That won’t be necessary. We’ll need all of it.” The sergeant nodded to two fellows near the door.

As they stepped outside, the two soldiers made a strange call that reminded Sarah of a coyote. It sent shivers down her back.

“Hey, Sarge.” A bearded soldier of perhaps twenty poked his head over the loft opening. “Found a man’s clothes and a pair of boots in a trunk up here. You want ’em?”

“No.” Her body tensed at her father’s last remaining personal possessions in the soldier’s grubby hands. “Please don’t take them.”

The sergeant raised his eyebrows. “Miss Hubbard, you don’t have a father or brother in the Union Army, do you?”

She shook her head, thankful beyond words that he didn’t ask about a brother-in-law. “I want to keep the clothes as they belonged to my father. He died before the war.”

“Then he won’t need them anymore, will he?” He looked up at the loft. “We’ll buy them, Billy.”

The back of her neck turned hot. Her father hadn’t wanted a divided country, but they took his clothes anyway. At least they didn’t want the locket. The soldiers’ tattered clothing proved their need of the coats, blouses, trousers, and undergarments. Afraid of angering them with further protests, Sarah clamped her mouth shut.

“The boots are mine.” The man with shoes tied to his feet pulled a knife from his knapsack and cut the strings. He laughed when the shoes fell apart on the floor. “Won’t be needing these no more.”

The sergeant grinned and then turned to Sarah. “You got any cows? Chickens?”

There was no mention of a horse. She shook her head. “A neighboring family provides milk and eggs in exchange for seamstress work.”

“Don’t lie to us, miss.” His brow furrowed. “It won’t go well for you.”

She wished she could lie to the men robbing her. As it was, her inability to keep secrets placed her friends in danger. Please, God, don’t let him ask about Elsie and Mae. I can’t protect the horse, but I must protect them. “That’s the truth. There are no cows or chickens.” Her hands twisted into her apron.

The officer tilted his head as he considered her. “Check the barn.”

Her head jerked. “Please, leave the horse be. It doesn’t belong to me.”

“Ah, so you have a horse.” His eyes gleamed.

Four of the soldiers whooped uproariously and bolted from the house.

Her heart sank. “No, it belongs to my sister.”

“We’ll write a receipt for it.”

That made sense since livestock cost more than food and clothing. She met his gaze squarely. “A receipt for the horse. Currency for everything else.” The Southerners had won most of the recent battles and had now crossed the border. It might not hurt to have some Confederate money.

He inclined his head. “Agreed.”

Two soldiers had filled her best basket with the contents of her cupboard. They carried it outside, leaving Sarah alone with Sergeant Willis. He sat on a chair at the kitchen table, scraping the legs against the floor, then wrote on a scrap of paper.

Directly over the cellar.

Her every muscle tensed as his pencil scratched across the paper. If only they’d leave before any noises came from below. Each moment stretched to the breaking point. Every nerve screamed for relief as the officer counted his currency.

The sergeant stood and gave her the receipt along with a few bills. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you.”

Anger shot through her. They’d taken her food and worse, her father’s clothing. Taking Belle would infuriate her sister, who had been as jumpy as a frog since the war began. This man didn’t care if his actions deepened the wedge between her and her sister. He hadn’t given her a choice but he had paid her. It wouldn’t do to annoy him. She clamped her mouth shut and followed him to the porch.

Belle neighed when the men led her from the yard and headed west.

A receipt wouldn’t compensate her sister’s loss of a mare. She crushed the receipt in her fist.

The Confederates splashed through Willoughby Run and out of sight.

Sarah went back inside and slipped the front door lock into place with trembling fingers. She glanced at the money in her hand—four dollars for food that would have fed her for a month— then scurried to her bedroom and raised the loose floorboard under the bed. The bills went inside the cup of money hidden there. She smoothed the crumpled receipt and slipped the paper into her apron pocket to give to her sister. Her encounter with Southern soldiers could have been worse. Her misfortune didn’t compare to Martha’s. And certainly not Elsie’s. And they were all alive and unharmed.

Once the Southerners were out of earshot, she lifted the cellar door a few inches. “They left. You are safe.”

Mae covered her little face with her hands.

“I’ll praise the Lord from down here, Miz Hubbard.” Elsie’s voice trembled. “I heard them soldiers talking. Me and Mae will stay put.”

“I believe that is the wisest course in case more soldiers come.” She shuddered as she lowered the door. The food from her cupboard was gone. If others came, what would she give them? Her face tightened. Not her mother’s locket, that was certain. She climbed the garret stairs to fish out the necklace.

Only when the delicate metal with her parents’ portraits painted inside lay tucked beneath the high collar of her brown dress did her shoulders relax.

Book Blurb:

When the cannons roar beside Sarah Hubbard’s home outside of Gettysburg, she despairs of escaping the war that’s come to Pennsylvania. A wounded Confederate soldier on her doorstep leaves her with a heart-wrenching decision.

Separated from his unit and with a bullet in his back, Jesse Mitchell needs help. He seeks refuge at a house beside Willoughby Run. His future lies in the hands of a woman whose sympathies lay with the North.

Jesse has promised his sister-in-law he’d bring his brother home from the war. Sarah has promised her sister that she’d stay clear of the enemy. Can the two keep their promises amid a war bent on tearing their country apart?

Sandra Merville Hart authorAbout the author:

Sandra Merville Hart, Assistant Editor for DevoKids.com, loves to find unusual or little-known facts in her historical research to use in her stories. Her debut Civil War romance, A Stranger on My Land, was an IRCA Finalist 2015. Her second Civil War romance novel, A Rebel in My House, is set during the Battle of Gettysburg. It released on July 15, 2017. Visit Sandra on her blog at https://sandramervillehart.wordpress.com/.

Connect with Sandy:

Website: https://sandramervillehart.wordpress.com/

Book Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_j3JI-wECyY&feature=youtu.be

Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/sandra.m.hart.7

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/sandramhart7/

Google+: https://plus.google.com/u/0/100329215443000389705/posts

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8445068.Sandra_Merville_Hart

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Sandra_M_Hart

Amazon Book Links:A Stranger on My Land cover

A Rebel in My House: https://www.amazon.com/Rebel-House-Sandra-Merville-Hart/dp/1941103383/

A Stranger on My Land: https://www.amazon.com/Stranger-My-Land-Civil-Romance/dp/1941103278/

A Rebel in My House cover

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  1. What intrigues me most about this book is it taking place so close to Gettysburg. I live 40 minutes from Gettysburg and visit every chance I get. Always so many fascinating things to discover and I absolutely love to read about the Civil War.

    • Deanne, if I lived that close to Gettysburg, I’d be there a dozen times a year. The place fascinates me. I did a lot of research for this book and discovered little-known facts. There may be surprises for you. Hope you enjoy the novel!

  2. Thank you for sharing about this book. I’ve added this to my #TBR and looking forward to reading it (I hope soon).

    • Yay! Thanks for added it to your list. Hope you enjoy the story!

  3. I love anything about the civil war!

    • I can relate, Shelia! That period of our history fascinates me. Hope you enjoy the story!

  4. Thanks for a great review. I am a huge fan of the Civil War Era and I imagine many people found themselves in the company of a wounded soldier who was fighting for the other side!

    • Absolutely. The citizens were overwhelmed with wounded from both sides. In some hospitals, Confederate wounded were treated beside Federal soldiers … and got along well. Thanks for commenting!

  5. I enjoyed the interview and the except.

    • Thanks, Onisha. Hope you enjoy the story!

  6. Wonderful review! The Civil War was such a harsh time in our country. I’m intrigued to see how these characters handle their extreme circumstances.
    psalm103and138 at gmail dot com

    • I read many citizen accounts. Everyone had a difficult time, though some suffered more than others. I think you will find some surprises in the novel. Hope you enjoy it!

  7. I love historical fiction of the Civil War era. The women of that time had to be so strong and independent even to the point of posing as men and fighting alongside their loved ones. I feel it started the growth of women’s rights and independence. Loved the review. Thanks for the giveaway and good luck everyone!


    • Debbie, I discovered so many strong women while researching for this novel. They inspired me. Hope you like the story!

  8. I love historical fiction and would love to read this book. Thanks for a chance to win a copy. You are a new author to me.

    • I love meeting new readers! So happy to hear from you. Hope you like the novel!

  9. It is interesting to me how people handled differing sides of the Civil War, among friends, families and enemies, as well as surprise relationships.

    • They certainly did react differently. Characters in my novel react differently to the same situation, too. Thanks for commenting and entering the drawing, Janice. Good luck!

  10. What intrigues me most is how the romance between a Confederate soldier and a girl with Northern sympathies will develop and last. Very excited to read this story,Sandra, Always loved reading about the Civil War and this story brings different dimensions to the average Civil War romance.

    • The barriers between them were real. These romances happened historically, according to my research. In at least one case, the woman couldn’t accept the Southern soldier though he loved her all his life. So attitudes were tough to overcome. Hope you like the novel!

  11. What intrigues me the most is when we
    visit Gettysburg and walk the fields that
    was once a battlefields.
    Thanks for the chance to win

    • Carol, I love walking the battlefields. There’s a stillness yet the land whispers a story. Good luck in the drawing!

  12. I love the Civil War era and love reading books set in this era as well. I have been to Gettysburg many times and was just there this past October. I have read previous books by Sandra and can’t wait to read this one. Thano you for the chance to win. Blessings!

    • Lisa, I’m always ready to return to Gettysburg as soon as I leave! The whole town is steeped in history that I know you appreciate, too. Hope you enjoy this novel that has so much of my heart invested in it. Good luck in the drawing!

  13. I love historicals. My father was born about 20 miles away from Gettysburg so we used to visit in the summers when I was a kid. Live stories about the Civil War. Thanks.

    • Paula, I’ll bet those trips to Gettysburg gave you an appreciation and love for history. I think you will enjoy this story. Good luck in the drawing!

  14. I enjoy learning history in such an experiential way. It goes right along with my tour through the south when teaching my children about the War Between the States.

    • This novel does work with that. The hero is a Confederate soldier from Tennessee. 🙂 It was a teacher that instilled a love of history in me. Never underestimate the value of your job. Good luck with the drawing!

  15. Sandra,

    I’ve always been intrigued by the battle of Gettysburg. I’ve put a link to your web site and book on my FB page. Good luck with this release…

    • That battle has intrigued me since learning of it, but it really snagged me when I visited Gettysburg. Thanks for sharing my link on your FB page, Mark. I really appreciate it!

  16. I finished reading the e-book A Rebel in my House today. This book checked all the boxes for me. Historical fiction, civil war era, romance, drama, Christian. I was captured from the beginning to the end and still wanted more. Sarah the Northern lady living outside of Gettysburg and Jesse the Southern Rebel from Tennessee lives collide, never to be the same. I truly felt like I was there while reading this wonderful book

    • Wow! Thank you so much for this wonderful review. I’m thrilled that you felt you were there with Sarah and Jesse–I research until I feel like I’ve been there to take readers there. It would be great if you could post a review on Amazon, Goodreads, etc. to help other readers find the novel. Thank you for commenting!

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