#prismbooktours

1) Miracle Creek is a fictional town based on the factual town of Cashmere, Washington and its nearby Icicle Creek and Icicle Creek Bridge. Check it out!

2) I was in bed for most of the duration of writing Miracle Creek Christmas, through two back surgeries leapfrogged by two shoulder surgeries over a 3-year span. So although I live within two hours of Wenatchee Valley, I couldn’t visit to research it myself for some details. Fortunately, I’ve visited the area multiple times since I was a little girl, and I had a couple of friends who live there that I reached out to. And I used Google Maps a lot. And Miracle Creek was born!

3) The Aplets & Cotlets fruit candy factory is a landmark in Cashmere, and the scene where Riley and Mark consider taking the factory tour was edited out. The factory is now closed due to COVID-era economics. 🙁

4) I began writing Miracle Creek Christmas after the 2015 wildfires that raged across Washington State, spreading firefighters so thinly, fighters from neighboring states were called on to help. The Chelan Complex Fire was an actual event, though Mark and Jay’s experience with the boys was fictional.

5) Riley is named after my beautiful niece, Riley Anglesey, who is a freshman this year at BYU.

6) Miracle Creek Christmas was originally titled, “Hold on Forever” after the song by Rob Thomas, who I adore. The song so perfectly expresses the way Riley and Mark come to feel about each other–“Lay down all your troubles end to end, they could reach up to the stars. So many roads, you don’t know where you’ve been, but you still know who you are . . . Just fall apart if you need to. I’m here and I won’t leave you now. Don’t look down. Hold on forever…” Such a great song for these two.

7) I fashioned Cal Rivers after the iconic Mr. Paul Newman. I had so much fun writing the scenes between Mark and his dad! The sass from those boys!

8) The alpine town of Leavenworth is indeed one of my favorite places to visit and the depiction was no exaggeration! I love every painted mural, lederhosen, oom-pah band, bratwurst, and felt cap. And don’t forget the bollen!

9) The character of Gus was fashioned after one of my husband’s best friends. Everyone needs a Gus.

10) Thirty years ago, my husband and I were given an antique Gustav Stickley Craftsman-style rocking chair as a wedding present. And a star was born. I have rocked all my babies in it. Rock on.

BONUS) For several weeks I volunteered to pick up a sweet woman I barely knew from her dialysis appointment because her husband would often travel for work. Her name is Carmen, and she’s become very dear to me. Sometimes authors take a few bits and pieces from people we know or observe to create a new character–like Gus and Cal. But with Carmen, I wrote Carmen. She is her. And I couldn’t even change her name. She is a wonder and an inspiration to me. And fortunately, she was overjoyed and humbled to play a part in this story! A few months before Miracle Creek Christmas was released, Carmen received a successful kidney transplant and no longer has to endure dialysis! She remains a dear angel in my life.

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“Miss Crauford?” The servant, whose blue livery matched the opulent cloth on the coach’s driving box, approached me.

My palms were clammy within my gloves, and I mindlessly rubbed them against my middle. Did I truly have the tenacity to enact such a preposterous scheme? It wasn’t too late to simply comply with Papa’s demands and marry Lord Denhurst’s son. I wavered between two seemingly detestable options. Then an image of India filled my mind’s eye. If I abandoned my plan now, I would likely never see my home again. Once Papa was in England, he would see me married, just as he said he would. That would not do. No, I needed to convince Lord Denhurst to revoke his offer, thus adhering to Papa’s admonition that I would not make him break his word, and to be on my way home before Papa arrived.

The man stopped when he was still a little way off. “You are Miss Crauford?”

“I will do anything to get home,” I whispered under my breath, rousing my courage. It was now or never, and never was not an acceptable option.

“I should certainly hope so.” I lifted my chin to an arrogant level, acting in complete opposition to Mrs. Purcell’s lessons. “Otherwise I have made a very tedious voyage for nothing.” The man’s dumbfounded expression was proof I had chosen the correct vocal timbre to use—obnoxiously loud and fast with a grating quality that had been perfected in the privacy of my cabin over the last several months. “Have you come to take me to my soon-to-be husband?” I scanned his figure in a blatant appraisal, refusing to consider my own mortification so as not to risk a blush. “Or are you him?”

“Yes, miss,” he said, before realizing his error. “I mean, no.”

“Which is it?” I asked, swiftly closing the distance between us. “I would not mind the latter, for you appear to be a man worth crossing an ocean for, despite your obvious oversight of fashion.”

His gaze whipped to the coachman stationed atop the carriage before he returned it to the ground between us. “No. I’m only the footman. I’ve been sent from Grandview to collect you.” There was utter desperation in his voice.

“Collect me?” I scoffed in feigned offense. “As though I am your master’s possession? What an absurd and utterly infuriating notion. Pray tell me, do all men in England think so little of the female sex or is that a particular view of Lord Denhurst and his son?”

Excerpted from The Nabob’s Daughter by Jess Heileman, Copyright © 2021 by Heileman. Published by Vagabond Publishing.

About the Author

In kindergarten, Jess won a first prize ribbon for her original creation Pigs in Wigs. It was a solid storyline: there was this pig that wore a wig—and it rhymed. Not impressed? Neither were her children when shown the very masterpiece that influenced her to become an author. “You won a ribbon for that?” Yes. Yes, she did. Thankfully, life has since exposed her to a thorough education with its share of awards and accolades—and, more importantly, to the trials and human experiences that form the heart of a storyteller and the substance of great stories. Besides her love of writing, Jess is an avid reader, shameless people observer, international café loiterer, and partially retired photographer. She loves being a mother to five amazing humans and a wife to the greatest man she knows.

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