Join us for the Official Release Party for Jeffrey Cook’s DAWN OF STEAM: FIRST LIGHT on Saturday, May 17th 4-8:30pm at AFK Elixirs and Eatery in Renton, WA. Dress in your Steampunk finery or just come along for the ride. Jeff will be on hand to sign copies and talk to his fans. I’m one! Check out his book and you’ll find out why. – Sheri J Kennedy

Just in time for Mother’s Day, Jeffrey Cook, Featured Author shares an excerpt from DAWN OF STEAM: FIRST LIGHT – A Letter Home:

Letter from Heathsville, Northumberland County, Virginia Colony Archives,
Wright Collection.

September 28, 1815

Mother! (and Daddy too!)

I hope all is well down on the farm. Did you get hit by the Great Gale last week? I do hope the orchards are doing well.

We were hit by the Gale while in the air. Don’t you go panicking, although I will admit I did so while it was all going on. Jillian and I entangled ourselves in the railing and clung on. Cousin James and darling Eddy were braver then brave, and I’m sure that Captain Fisher (who *tied *himself tothe *wheel*) saved us all. Samantha Bowe (Dr. Bowe’s daughter, you remember) showed her family’s true grit when she leapt from the ship to fetch back our ship’s boy, the captain’s ward. She arrived in New York looking like a drowned swamp rat, but with a whole Matthew and herself in a
state.

We’re in New York for a bit more, doing repairs and insulating. We had
frozen pipes while looking at waterways up north, and we’ll not be able to
rely on constant water supplies inland. The crew is fully capable of
wrapping pipes, so I’ve been replacing ropes with cables where they connect
the envelope to the carriage. Those ropes were snapping right and left
during the storm. (No panicking, Mother.) That’s how we lost our first
mate. (You either, Daddy.)

Jillian is fully in her in town mode, here in New York. Her fashion dolls
for autumn and winter came here to the main post office and were waiting
for us. Of course, not content to be the most fashionable person in New
York, she’s gone bigger. She’s hosting a fundraiser tea for the soldiers
injured in New Orleans (you’ve had that news, right?). She’ll share her
fashion dolls with all the best Ladies of New York in return for the
sentiments on behalf of those brave men. The Ladies are glad to pay to be
around Jillian and be seen supporting the cause, and James is thrilled that
she’s keeping New Orleans and the cause in people’s minds. I am fixing the
ship rather then attending, as the ship is the priority, and we leave as
soon as it’s finished. I am still trying to fully reconcile myself to that.

It’s odd, I suppose, to be back in the Americas and not have stopped by to
say hello. I swear (using only the most lady-like language to do so,
Mother) that we flew almost straight over the plantation on the way down to
New Orleans, or was it the way back up? Anyway, if you saw a dirigible, it
could have been us, but we didn’t stop, as we are so behind, and running
before the frost. (Speaking of Frosts, Daddy should ask one of the College
Professors about Tambora. Scary stuff. Harvest early.)

In response to Mother’s letter, yes, I was in the same location as the
Queen of France, but no, I do not believe that she remembers me. That was
quite the night, before the men hustled us back to the ship. The men went
back out again, but Mrs. Fisher was so in shock about the whole thing that
she added Port to our tea, not even just brandy. Imagine that!

We go west next. We’ll likely beat the post to St. Louis. I have no
forwarding address to give you, for you cannot send mail to be held at the
Pacific Coast. Perhaps New Orleans, or New York?

Give my love to everyone, and ask the dear Reverend to light a candle in
the name of my crew every Sunday.

Your Loving Daughter,

Harriet Wright