02 Jan That Dickinson Girl Joan Koster #ThatDickinsonGirl #HistoricalFiction #BlogTour #TheCoffeePotBookClub @womenwewrite @cathiedunn

FEATURED AUTHOR: JOAN KOSTER

I am pleased to welcome Joan Koster as the featured author in The Coffee Pot Book Club Blog Tour held between January 2nd — January 6th, 2023. Joan Koster is the author of the Historical Biographical Fiction, That Dickinson Girl (Forgotten Women Series), released by Tidal Waters Press on 15 November 2022 (345 pages).

Below are highlights of That Dickinson Girl, Joan Koster’s author bio, and a riveting excerpt from her book.

Tour Schedule page

HIGHLIGHTS: THAT DICKINSON GIRL

That Dickinson Girl

Forgotten Women Series

by Joan Koster

(Blurb)

SHE IS GOING TO BE THE GREATEST ORATOR OF THE CIVIL WAR

Eighteen-year-old Anna Dickinson is nothing like the women around her, and she knows it. Gifted with a powerful voice, a razor-sharp wit, and unbounded energy, the diminutive curlyhead sets out to surpass the men of her day as she rails against slavery and pushes for women’s rights. Only two things can bring her downfall—the entangling love she has for her devoted companion, Julia, and an assassin’s bullet.

Forced to accompany the fiery young orator on her speaking tour of New England, Julia Pennington fights her growing attraction to the ever more popular celebrity. When a traitor sets out to assassinate Anna, Julia must risk her life to save her.

Loosely based on the life of forgotten orator, feminist, and lesbian, Anna Dickinson, That Dickinson Girl is the story of one woman’s rise to fame and fortune at the expense of love during the political and social turmoil of the American Civil War.

An earlier version of That Dickinson Girl was a finalist in the Mslexia Novel Competition.

Buy Links:

Universal Buy Link  ♠   Amazon US  ♠  Amazon UK  ♠  Amazon CA  ♠  Amazon AU

Signed Paperback  ♠  Barnes & Noble  ♠  iTunes  ♠  Kobo  ♠  Google Play

AUTHOR BIO: JOAN KOSTER

When she is not writing in her studio by the sea, Joan Koster lives with her historian husband and a coon cat named Cleo in an 1860s farmhouse stacked to the ceiling with books. In a life full of adventures, she has scaled mountains, chased sheep, and been abandoned on an island for longer than she wants to remember.

An award-winning author who loves mentoring writers, Joan blends her love of history, and romance, into historical novels about women who shouldn’t be forgotten and into romantic thrillers under the pen name, Zara West. She is the author of the award-winning romantic suspense series The Skin Quartet and the top-selling Write for Success series.

Joan blogs at JoanKoster.com, Women Words and Wisdom, American Civil War Voice, Zara West Romance, and Zara West’s Journal , and teaches numerous online writing courses.

Social Media Links:

Website  ♠  Amazon Author Page  ♠  Newsletter Sign Up  ♠  BookBub  ♠  Goodreads  ♠  Facebook  ♠  Twitter

Pinterest  ♠  Instagram  ♠  ResearchGate  ♠  LinkedIn  ♠  YouTube  ♠  GOODREADS book link

EXCERPT: THAT DICKINSON GIRL

Chapter 2 Excerpt 4

Anna winked at Gracie over Julia’s shoulder. “Take care of your sister’s ankle. I wish you well. My tongue may be glib, but hers is a pruning knife that shreds hearts.”

“Cut the dramatics, Nappie,” Sam said, coming in from talking to the cabbie. He turned to Julia. “You ready? The driver’s anxious to get his horse moving in the cold. I covered the fare.”

Julia gave a tight shake of her head. “There was no need. But thank you.” She grasped Gracie’s arm and limped down the steps, her skirts bobbing like the paper boats Anna and her brothers used to set adrift on the Delaware, the ones that never came back.

“Wait.” Anna yanked her coat off the hook, rummaged in the pocket, and pulled out the complimentary tickets intended for her mother and sister. She dashed down the step and shoved them into Julia’s hand. “Please come to my Concert Hall oration.”

Julia stared at the flimsy bits of paper as if she’d been offered an invitation to feast with the devil. She would never come, unless—

 “I’m going to talk about you,” Anna whispered in her ear. “The poor working girl with holes in her shoes, in one of my exemplary stories.”

Julia’s face blanched white. She stashed the tickets inside her coat then disappeared into the cab.

Despite the damp breeze coming off the Delaware that whipped at her skirts and tangled her curls, Anna pressed her coat against her chest and watched the cabbie pull away from the curb.

What was it about that girl? She’d never felt the need to interfere in someone’s life as she did Julia Pennington’s. The mill girl deserved more than whatever life had thrown at her and her sister. If she could, she’d whisk her away, free her from whatever dire secret made her lips turn down and her hands tremble.

She wanted to laugh with her. Curl up under the covers at night and read poetry. Argue until dawn. She pictured herself, arm in arm with Julia, two bold women promenading past all the pontificating men and striding up to the platform. Of all the women she knew, Julia Pennington, in her faded clothes and scuffed shoes, was the first who had seen through her. She had inner strength, that girl. And her hair—

Sam jabbed her with his elbow. “Come in out of the cold, Nappie. You will catch your death.” He held the door for her and hustled her inside. “What a pair of goslings. Wherever did you find them? The young one claims she wants to be a doctor but does not have a serious thought in her head. She talked on and on about the health of the cabbie’s poor horse. Made me go out and check it over, as if I know anything about horses. And the other one has the face of a stone Venus and says nothing. Her clothes belong in the dustbin. You can’t save every beggar girl, Anna.”

“No, Sam.” She pinched his sleeve. “Those girls are trapped in a world where women can’t earn a decent living or have aspirations beyond marriage.”

Her brother pulled her hair and grinned. “Give it up, little sister. I’ve heard it all. Move along. It’s way too cold out here.” He opened the parlor door and stepped inside. The door shut behind him with a thud.

Anna hung her coat on the hall tree. Pompous prig. Her brothers liked to talk justice all right, spouting arguments for woman’s rights while they sat in a cozy parlor with their friends.

But like so many good men, it was easier for them to blame women for their own rotten lot in life. They would never take action for women like Julia, who toiled long hours in unbearable conditions for a third of a man’s salary.

But she could. She could mount the platform and speak out for women.

Anna leaned against the front door, steadied by the hard oak. That was the way to show girls like Julia and Gracie what determination and ambition could accomplish. She pictured herself banging the podium and demanding womanhood to rise up and claim their rightful place in the world.

She, not her brothers, had inherited her father’s fight, and oration was her gift. Everyone said so. Why, two years ago, had she not driven a man from the Clarkson debates with words alone? Why shouldn’t she inspire women to take action?

One of Julia’s hairpins lay forgotten on the table. She picked it up and pressed the end against her thumb until pain radiated deep under the skin.

Marmee was right about the danger. Self-satisfied men would not hesitate to make an upstart woman’s life miserable if she challenged the status quo. Look at how her boss at the Mint treated her like a pesky fly he wanted to bash.

She pushed away from the door and twisted her hands in her hampering skirts. If she had enough courage, she’d slash the hated softness of womanhood off and peel away the tender skin until only bone and hardness were left.

She set her brother’s silk top hat jauntily on her head and nodded at the image in the hall mirror. She knew she was a plain woman, but it was no fancy that, except for fate, she might have been a handsome man.

She tore off the hat and threw it down. She had to do it. She had to change the world for women, no matter what. And she would start with Julia Pennington.