Where the Fire Falls (#01 in Vintage National Parks Novel Series)
:Stunning Yosemite National Park sets the stage for this late 1920s historical romance with mystery, adventure, heart, and a sense of the place John Muir described as "pervaded with divine light." Watercolorist Olivia Rutherford has shed her humble...
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:Stunning Yosemite National Park sets the stage for this late 1920s historical romance with mystery, adventure, heart, and a sense of the place John Muir described as "pervaded with divine light."
Watercolorist Olivia Rutherford has shed her humble beginnings to fashion her image as an avant-garde artist to appeal to the region's wealthy art-collectors. When she lands a lucrative contract painting illustrations of Yosemite National Park for a travel magazine, including its nightly one-of-a-kind Firefall event, she hopes the money will lift Olivia and her sisters out of poverty.
After false accusations cost him everything, former minister Clark Johnson has found purpose as a backcountry guide in this natural cathedral of granite and trees. Now he's faced with the opportunity to become a National Parks Ranger, but is it his true calling?
As Clark opens Olivia's eyes to the wonders of Yosemite, she discovers the people are as vital to the park's story as its vistas--a revelation that may bring her charade to an end.
Karen Barnett is the author of "Mistaken" and several articles that have been published by" Guideposts" and other national magazines. She lives in Albany, Oregon, with her husband, two children, and three cats. For more information, visit her website KarenBarnettBooks.com.
July 2, 1929. Sacramento, California
Olivia Rutherford applied lip rouge the same way she painted&-with bold, broad strokes. Anything to distract from the truth. She leaned toward the mirror in the gallery&'s tiny powder room, admiring the cosmetic&'s resemblance to the cadmium red she&'d chosen for her latest painting. Girl with Scarlet Poppies was sure to be a success at tonight&'s showing. She, on the other hand? Olivia placed a hand against her chest, her heartbeat obvious to the touch. The shingled bob, the expensive beaded dress, the black hair dye&-she&'d become her own canvas, and it demanded every penny she had. If tonight&'s shindig flopped, she&'d be hoofing it home on an empty stomach. Again.
Her art dealer, Frank Robinson, always insisted she attend. &"Buyers like to meet the talent behind the artwork. Just act the part. We want them to think you&'re modern and sophisticated, not some starving bohemian.&"
She adjusted the feathered headband, the final piece of her carefree charade&-such a co