Tamera Alexander QUOTES

121 " How very little a person knew about someone simply from looking at her. Yet how much people decided about others at a single glance. Herself included. "

― Tamera Alexander , To Wager Her Heart (Belle Meade Plantation, #3)

123 " Even at a distance, he recognized Emma sprawled headlong in the street, and he broke into a run. The road was empty, so was the boardwalk. He knelt beside her and helped her sit up. “Emma . . . honey, are you okay?” Tears streaked her dusty cheeks. “I-I lost my Aunt Kenny, and”—she hiccupped a sob—“m-my mommy’s gone.” Her face crumpled. “Oh, little one . . . come here.” He gathered her to him, and she came without hesitation. He stood and wiped her tears, and checked for injuries. No broken bones. Nothing but a skinned knee that a little soapy water—and maybe a sugar stick—would fix right up. “Shh . . . it’s okay.” He smoothed the hair on the back of her head, and her little arms came around his neck. A lump rose in his throat. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” Her sobs came harder. “Clara fell down too, Mr. Wyatt.” She drew back and held up the doll. “She’s all dirty. And she stinks.” Wyatt tried his best not to smile. Clara was indeed filthy. And wet. Apparently she’d gone for a swim in the same mud puddle Emma had fallen in. Only it wasn’t just mud, judging from the smell. “Here . . .” He gently chucked her beneath the chin. “Let’s see if we can find your Aunt Kenny. You want to?” The little girl nodded with a hint of uncertainty. “But I got my dress all dirty. She’s gonna be mad.” Knowing there might be some truth to that, he also knew Miss Ashford would be worried sick. “Do you remember where you were with Aunt Kenny before you got lost?” Emma shook her head. “I was talkin’ to my friend, and I looked up . . .” She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “And Aunt Kenny was gone.” Wyatt knew better than to think it was McKenna Ashford who had wandered away. “We’ll find her, don’t you worry.” “Clara’s dress is dirty like mine, huh?” She held the doll right in front of his face. Wyatt paused, unable to see it clearly. Easily supporting Emma’s weight, he took Clara and did his best to wipe the dirt and mud from the doll’s dress and its once-yellow strands of hair. His efforts only made a bigger mess, but Emma’s smile said she was grateful. “She likes you.” Emma put a hand to his cheek, then frowned. “Your face is itchy.” Knowing what she meant, he laughed and rubbed his stubbled jaw. He’d bathed and shaved last night in preparation for church this morning, half hoping he might see McKenna and Emma there. But they hadn’t attended. “My face is itchy, huh?” She squeezed his cheek in response, and he made a chomping noise, pretending he was trying to bite her. She pulled her hand back, giggling. Instinctively, he hugged her close and she laid her head on his shoulder. Something deep inside gave way. This is what it would have been like if his precious little Bethany had lived. He rubbed Emma’s back, taking on fresh pain as he glimpsed a fragment of what he’d been denied by the deaths of his wife and infant daughter so many years ago. “Here, you can carry her.” Emma tried to stuff Clara into his outer vest pocket, but the doll wouldn’t fit. Wyatt tucked her inside his vest instead and positioned its scraggly yarn head to poke out over the edge, hoping it would draw a smile. Which it did. "

― Tamera Alexander , The Inheritance

125 " We should not expect to have all of the blessings o life and none of its trials. It would make this world too delightful a dwelling place, and I fear we would never care to leave it. ... As it is...I have come to believe that it's only by taking some of those objects away from us to which our hearts so closely cling that He endeavors....in His kindness, to draw us from this world to one of greater happiness. "

― Tamera Alexander , A Lasting Impression (Belmont Mansion, #1)

127 " Every brick laid in the foundation of a life, however meaningfully or haphazardly placed, shaped the whole. He could now see that fact borne out in every branch of study, from mathematics to science, from economics to chemistry. Each part of the equation influenced the whole. "

― Tamera Alexander , A Beauty So Rare (Belmont Mansion, #2)

129 " ...don't you ever be forgettin' that this gift you have is for the glory of the Giver, not for the one gifted. "

― Tamera Alexander , Remembered (Fountain Creek Chronicles, #3)

131 " God had to humble you before He could raise you up. So get ready to be raised! "

― Tamera Alexander , Remembered (Fountain Creek Chronicles, #3)

133 " I know for certain there are a couple of pieces of wood in the barn back at Carnton. Enough for a child’s nativity.” “A child’s nativity? I’m not making a child’s nativity, Captain Winston. I’m building a life-sized booth and manger that will stand in the front yard by the house at Carnton. The children will all take turns playing Mary and Joseph and the shepherds over the course of the auction.” He stared. “You’re making a real nativity?” She nodded. “You are?” He smiled. She didn’t. “My father was a master carpenter, Captain Winston, and he taught me a thing or two about woodworking.” Jake tried to curb his grin but couldn’t. The image of her with a hammer and saw sparked amusement. “But you’re—” He gestured. “A woman?” “Well . . . yes, ma’am. You’re obviously a woman. But you’re also . . .” He stared, not wanting to say it. And definitely making certain he didn’t look down. “With child,” she finally supplied, an eyebrow rising. “Yes, ma’am. With child.” “Which precludes me from being able to build something?” He laughed softly. “Which makes a project that would already be a challenge even more so.” Her eyes narrowed the slightest bit. “For one, it won’t be a challenge. I’ll only need your help toward the end, when it comes to nailing the larger pieces together. And secondly, I’ve already drawn out the plans. I have all the measurements and the list of required supplies.” She pulled a piece of paper from her reticule and handed it to him. He unfolded it, and his smile faded. He looked over at her. “You’re serious.” This time she was the one to laugh, though the action held no humor. “Yes, Captain. I’m serious. "

― Tamera Alexander , Christmas at Carnton (Carnton, #0.5)

135 " stalwart spruce, masking sounds that might otherwise have been detected. She slipped a hand into her pocket as she scanned the wooded rise to their left—unsure whether her shortness of breath stemmed from her ailment or from whatever was out there . . . or perhaps both. Gripping the curve-handled derringer, an indulgent purchase she’d made before departing New York City, a measure of courage rose within her. Its .41 caliber ball would hardly deter a large animal, but it was better than facing one completely defenseless. Josiah cocked his head to one side as though listening for something. The first time he’d done this on the trail three days ago, she’d questioned him. After spotting the mountain lion, she’d swiftly learned to keep her silence. He’d shot at the animal and missed—by a wide margin if the splintered bark held truth—but his "

― Tamera Alexander , The Inheritance

137 " She didn’t ask where they were going. She just leaned back and stared up into the dark night sky. He would have been hard-pressed to explain it to anyone, but he’d never felt so much like a man as he did when he was with her. He wanted to protect her, provide for her, make her laugh, love her in every way he could. And he liked that she didn’t have to fill every moment with words too. "

― Tamera Alexander , Beyond This Moment (Timber Ridge Reflections, #2)

139 " His horse was tethered by the barn, and he carried Emma to it and held her close enough so she could pluck the surprise from his saddlebag. “Is it mine?” she asked. “It is.” She beamed and clutched the rag doll tight against her chest. “Her name’s gonna be Clara.” “Sounds like a good name to me.” He shook the rag doll’s limp arm. “Nice to meet you, Clara.” That drew a giggle from Emma. "

― Tamera Alexander , The Inheritance