Goodreads helps you follow your favorite authors. Be the first to learn about new releases!
Start by following Melanie Dobson.
Showing 1-30 of 57
“I have no desire to be in a relationship for the sake of being in one,” he said. “I’ve made mistakes in the past, terrible ones. The next time I date a woman, I hope it’s for keeps.”
― Chateau of Secrets
― Chateau of Secrets
“That's what she wanted more than anything. To be free of her anger. Wounds.”
― Catching the Wind
― Catching the Wind
“A butterfly fluttered from flower to flower in the old garden, gracing the silvery-blue tips of the crocuses and what remained of the icy-white petals of the lady's prized tulips. The yellow strands on the butterfly's wings shimmered in the fading light, and Libby watched the creature in its journey, mesmerized by the graceful rise and fall of its dance.
Her arms outstretched, Libby twirled around like she had as a girl, embracing the last rays of sunlight. Here in this garden, she was as free as the butterfly. Here she didn't have to hide.
The butterfly climbed above the flowers and soared toward the lily pond. Beyond the pond were more flowers, hundreds of them, and then the trees.
Soon the butterfly would curl up under a rock or leaf and rest for the night, hiding in the darkness, alone and vulnerable until the sun powered her wings again at dawn.
Libby trailed the creature around the pond to see where it would land. If the night stayed warm, she might curl up beside the butterfly to rest, but not now. She no longer had to hide in these gardens.
Soon the moonlight would glaze the paths with gold, and she would explore for hours, enveloped in the shadows and the light.”
― Shadows of Ladenbrooke Manor
Her arms outstretched, Libby twirled around like she had as a girl, embracing the last rays of sunlight. Here in this garden, she was as free as the butterfly. Here she didn't have to hide.
The butterfly climbed above the flowers and soared toward the lily pond. Beyond the pond were more flowers, hundreds of them, and then the trees.
Soon the butterfly would curl up under a rock or leaf and rest for the night, hiding in the darkness, alone and vulnerable until the sun powered her wings again at dawn.
Libby trailed the creature around the pond to see where it would land. If the night stayed warm, she might curl up beside the butterfly to rest, but not now. She no longer had to hide in these gardens.
Soon the moonlight would glaze the paths with gold, and she would explore for hours, enveloped in the shadows and the light.”
― Shadows of Ladenbrooke Manor
“Autumn Dancer flutters among the flowers, chasing the last rays of sunlight until her haven is swallowed up by the night. Her sisters are asleep now, hidden under the fronds, but she doesn't care. She dances alone in the twilight, embracing the warmth of the golden hour, her wings sweeping past silky petals of the late summer blooms. In the safe cocoon of her garden, she dares believe that no harm will ever enter the gates. This is her world of beauty and peace, of sweet nectar and life, completely unspoiled by the footsteps of danger or the silent mockery of time.”
― Shadows of Ladenbrooke Manor
― Shadows of Ladenbrooke Manor
“Eyes closed, she imagined the butterflies soaring over the petals, riding the tail of the breeze. She imagined a fairy leading their dance, her wings shimmering in the sun.
Then one of the butterflies seemed to come alive in her mind, like a character on the silver screen. Twirling in the sunlight that spilled through the window.
She was pale blue, laced with gold, and Libby could see her, inside and out, every detail on her slender body, every color on her wardrobe of wings.
Libby released her legs and sprung down onto the rug on her floor. Under her bed was a box with her old sketchbook and colored pencils. She hadn't wanted to draw in a long time. She'd only wanted to be among the flowers and butterflies.
But if she couldn't be with her friends, perhaps she could entertain them in her room.
The sketchbook in hand, she hopped back on the bed and began drawing the blue butterfly who'd twirled in the lamplight, but her butterfly looked so dull on the paper. Nothing like the butterfly she'd seen moments before.
She- Libby Doyle- was a creator, and her creation begged her for more.
Rushing to the bathroom, she filled a paper cup with water. In her parents' bedroom were tubes of special paint. And a brush. Mummy once told her she'd kept the paints to remember her father- Libby's granddad- but what better way to remember him than to use his paints to birth another life?
'Life.' She wanted to breathe light and color and life into her friends.”
― Shadows of Ladenbrooke Manor
Then one of the butterflies seemed to come alive in her mind, like a character on the silver screen. Twirling in the sunlight that spilled through the window.
She was pale blue, laced with gold, and Libby could see her, inside and out, every detail on her slender body, every color on her wardrobe of wings.
Libby released her legs and sprung down onto the rug on her floor. Under her bed was a box with her old sketchbook and colored pencils. She hadn't wanted to draw in a long time. She'd only wanted to be among the flowers and butterflies.
But if she couldn't be with her friends, perhaps she could entertain them in her room.
The sketchbook in hand, she hopped back on the bed and began drawing the blue butterfly who'd twirled in the lamplight, but her butterfly looked so dull on the paper. Nothing like the butterfly she'd seen moments before.
She- Libby Doyle- was a creator, and her creation begged her for more.
Rushing to the bathroom, she filled a paper cup with water. In her parents' bedroom were tubes of special paint. And a brush. Mummy once told her she'd kept the paints to remember her father- Libby's granddad- but what better way to remember him than to use his paints to birth another life?
'Life.' She wanted to breathe light and color and life into her friends.”
― Shadows of Ladenbrooke Manor
“Hatred stops at nothing to destroy, but love can break through the root of evil.”
― Memories of Glass
― Memories of Glass
“Quickly she shredded the cabbage on the chopping block and tossed it along with the onion and tomatoes in a blue Pyrex bowl. Then she slid the lamb chops, encrusted with fresh rosemary, into the oven.
While the lamb baked, she brushed her hair in the washroom and pinned it back again. Then she zipped on a silk floral dress she'd purchased in Bristol and retrieved her grandmother's rhinestone necklace, one of the few family heirlooms her mother packed for her, to clasp around her neck.
At the foot of the bed was the antique trunk she'd brought from her childhood home in Balham more than a decade ago. Opening the trunk, she removed her wedding album along with her treasured copy of 'The Secret Garden' and the tubes of watercolors her father had sent with her and her brother. Her father hoped she would spend time painting on the coast, but Maggie hadn't inherited his talent or passion for art. Sometimes she wondered if Edmund would have become an artist.
Carefully she took out her newest treasures- pieces of crystal she and Walter hd received as wedding presents, protected by pages and pages of her husband's newspaper. She unwrapped the crystal and two silver candlesticks, then set them on the white-cloaked dining table. She arranged the candlesticks alongside a small silver bowl filled with mint jelly and a basket with sliced whole-meal bread from the bakery. After placing white, tapered candles into the candlesticks, she lit them and stepped back to admire her handiwork.
Satisfied, she blew them out. Once she heard Walter at the door, she'd quickly relight the candles.
When the timer chimed, she removed the lamb chops and turned off the oven, placing the pan on her stovetop and covering it with foil. She'd learned a lot about housekeeping in the past decade, and now she was determined to learn how to be the best wife to Walter. And a doting mother to their children.
If only she could avoid the whispers from her aunt's friends.”
― Shadows of Ladenbrooke Manor
While the lamb baked, she brushed her hair in the washroom and pinned it back again. Then she zipped on a silk floral dress she'd purchased in Bristol and retrieved her grandmother's rhinestone necklace, one of the few family heirlooms her mother packed for her, to clasp around her neck.
At the foot of the bed was the antique trunk she'd brought from her childhood home in Balham more than a decade ago. Opening the trunk, she removed her wedding album along with her treasured copy of 'The Secret Garden' and the tubes of watercolors her father had sent with her and her brother. Her father hoped she would spend time painting on the coast, but Maggie hadn't inherited his talent or passion for art. Sometimes she wondered if Edmund would have become an artist.
Carefully she took out her newest treasures- pieces of crystal she and Walter hd received as wedding presents, protected by pages and pages of her husband's newspaper. She unwrapped the crystal and two silver candlesticks, then set them on the white-cloaked dining table. She arranged the candlesticks alongside a small silver bowl filled with mint jelly and a basket with sliced whole-meal bread from the bakery. After placing white, tapered candles into the candlesticks, she lit them and stepped back to admire her handiwork.
Satisfied, she blew them out. Once she heard Walter at the door, she'd quickly relight the candles.
When the timer chimed, she removed the lamb chops and turned off the oven, placing the pan on her stovetop and covering it with foil. She'd learned a lot about housekeeping in the past decade, and now she was determined to learn how to be the best wife to Walter. And a doting mother to their children.
If only she could avoid the whispers from her aunt's friends.”
― Shadows of Ladenbrooke Manor
“The hill between the manor and forest displayed layers of Lady Croft's prized gardens. Paved pathways wove through a formal Italian garden, rose garden, water garden, lily pond, and a tulip garden built around Roman ruins.
Maggie stood beside a statue of the goddess Hemera and a row of yew bushes that had been neatly pruned into a wall to form the perimeter of the Croft family maze. Walter sat nearby on a picnic blanket as she scanned the hillside above the maze to see if she could find Libby's copper-streaked hair among the immaculate gardens and all the people dressed in their finest for this entree into Ladenbrooke's gardens.
The Croft family opened the front gate to the public once each summer. Hundreds of people from around the Cotswolds came to peruse Lady Croft's magnificent displays- the golden heather, purple dahlias, peach lilies floating on the pond.”
― Shadows of Ladenbrooke Manor
Maggie stood beside a statue of the goddess Hemera and a row of yew bushes that had been neatly pruned into a wall to form the perimeter of the Croft family maze. Walter sat nearby on a picnic blanket as she scanned the hillside above the maze to see if she could find Libby's copper-streaked hair among the immaculate gardens and all the people dressed in their finest for this entree into Ladenbrooke's gardens.
The Croft family opened the front gate to the public once each summer. Hundreds of people from around the Cotswolds came to peruse Lady Croft's magnificent displays- the golden heather, purple dahlias, peach lilies floating on the pond.”
― Shadows of Ladenbrooke Manor
“In seconds, the room flooded with wide-eyed girls wanting to meet the artist of the butterfly stories.
Stories about healing and redemption. Love and friendship.
Stories about shifting shadows and an armory full of color to drive the darkness away.
"Emerald Dawn rises early before her sisters wake. With her smile, she charms the sun and chases clouds away. Diamonds hide among the silvery dew. Rubies shimmer in the roses. And she tiptoes through the castle garden to find their hiding spaces.”
― Shadows of Ladenbrooke Manor
Stories about healing and redemption. Love and friendship.
Stories about shifting shadows and an armory full of color to drive the darkness away.
"Emerald Dawn rises early before her sisters wake. With her smile, she charms the sun and chases clouds away. Diamonds hide among the silvery dew. Rubies shimmer in the roses. And she tiptoes through the castle garden to find their hiding spaces.”
― Shadows of Ladenbrooke Manor
“Soft moonlight enveloped her path, guiding her toward the gate like creamy white petals leading a bride to the altar. Walter didn't understand- she needed to be in these gardens. The beauty breathed life into her. Filled her very soul.
She pushed down the latch, testing it slowly to see if it was locked on the opposite side. Her heart leapt when it opened.
The lady left her gardens every autumn now when the flowers began to die, and Mummy didn't seem to care if she visited the gardens when the lady was gone. But in the summer, when the flowers were blooming, when the air smelled sweet and the butterflies danced in the breeze, Mummy and Walter didn't want her to explore.
Yet this was her sustenance. Her magic. She needed to be here as much as the butterflies needed their nectar to fly.
Quietly she closed the gate and hurried across the brick path until she reached the circular rose garden. In the center of the roses was the most lush carpet of grass. She tossed her shoes into the air, the soft grass tickling her toes. Then she stretched out her arms and twirled in the moonlight.
Some people thought the rays of the moon were cool, like the rays of the sun were warm, but they were wrong. The light from the moon was as warm as the sun, a lovely, golden warmth that electrified her from the inside.”
― Shadows of Ladenbrooke Manor
She pushed down the latch, testing it slowly to see if it was locked on the opposite side. Her heart leapt when it opened.
The lady left her gardens every autumn now when the flowers began to die, and Mummy didn't seem to care if she visited the gardens when the lady was gone. But in the summer, when the flowers were blooming, when the air smelled sweet and the butterflies danced in the breeze, Mummy and Walter didn't want her to explore.
Yet this was her sustenance. Her magic. She needed to be here as much as the butterflies needed their nectar to fly.
Quietly she closed the gate and hurried across the brick path until she reached the circular rose garden. In the center of the roses was the most lush carpet of grass. She tossed her shoes into the air, the soft grass tickling her toes. Then she stretched out her arms and twirled in the moonlight.
Some people thought the rays of the moon were cool, like the rays of the sun were warm, but they were wrong. The light from the moon was as warm as the sun, a lovely, golden warmth that electrified her from the inside.”
― Shadows of Ladenbrooke Manor
“He unzipped the nylon case, and inside was a discolored frame that smelled like smoke. A thin layer of soot covered the painting under the glass- a picture of an old manor house. Gothic Victorian. Wisteria climbed the wall near the entrance, the pale-lavender blossoms clinging to the gray stone. The artist had brushed flowers below the windows as well, though those colors had been muted by the smoke damage.”
― Shadows of Ladenbrooke Manor
― Shadows of Ladenbrooke Manor
“Not exactly, but I'm learning that this life isn't about me anyway nor is it about what I want out of it. Following Christ is about surrender and faith and about God working through me instead of me working for God.”
― Refuge on Crescent Hill: A Novel
― Refuge on Crescent Hill: A Novel
“She didn't look up, her gaze focused entirely on the paper before her as she drew what looked like a wing. He picked up one of the papers from the floor, and on it was a butterfly, the colors a blending of vibrant yellows and oranges.
He held out the paper. "What's this one called?"
"Golden Shimmer," she said. "She loves the sunlight."
He picked up a picture of a light-purple butterfly with a string of pearls around her neck. "And this one?"
"Lavender Lace. She has the power to heal all sorts of wounds."
He scanned the room, all the pictures on the floor. "Do they each have a name?"
Finally she looked at him, her bright-blue eyes meeting his. "Of course."
And he realized with a pang of sadness that these were Libby's friends for life.
"They are beautiful."
A glint of a smile. "Thank you."
He picked up another butterfly, this one a dark violet shade, a silver streak bleeding across the edge of its wings.
"What is she called?"
"Silver Shadow."
"Does she have a story?"
Libby's smile faded. "She's lost and can't seem to find her way home.”
― Shadows of Ladenbrooke Manor
He held out the paper. "What's this one called?"
"Golden Shimmer," she said. "She loves the sunlight."
He picked up a picture of a light-purple butterfly with a string of pearls around her neck. "And this one?"
"Lavender Lace. She has the power to heal all sorts of wounds."
He scanned the room, all the pictures on the floor. "Do they each have a name?"
Finally she looked at him, her bright-blue eyes meeting his. "Of course."
And he realized with a pang of sadness that these were Libby's friends for life.
"They are beautiful."
A glint of a smile. "Thank you."
He picked up another butterfly, this one a dark violet shade, a silver streak bleeding across the edge of its wings.
"What is she called?"
"Silver Shadow."
"Does she have a story?"
Libby's smile faded. "She's lost and can't seem to find her way home.”
― Shadows of Ladenbrooke Manor
“His mother's flowers won all sorts of prizes for their beauty, but he thought Libby, with her brilliant copper-streaked hair and striking blue eyes, was more beautiful than anything found in a garden. She was an enchanting princess, reigning over a comely court.
He'd known Libby was a princess since they were children. She'd captivated him long before he started school, and for years, he'd been trying to win her attention. Some people thought she was crazy, but she wasn't. She was ethereal. Magical. Like a fairy or butterfly.
If only he could be like her. Happy and free.
She seemed to understand what so many people did not. That happiness was not found in trying to pigeonhole one's self into another's ideal. Happiness was found in embracing all you were created to be.
She twirled again in the twilight.
Libby seemed to draw energy from the flowers.”
― Shadows of Ladenbrooke Manor
He'd known Libby was a princess since they were children. She'd captivated him long before he started school, and for years, he'd been trying to win her attention. Some people thought she was crazy, but she wasn't. She was ethereal. Magical. Like a fairy or butterfly.
If only he could be like her. Happy and free.
She seemed to understand what so many people did not. That happiness was not found in trying to pigeonhole one's self into another's ideal. Happiness was found in embracing all you were created to be.
She twirled again in the twilight.
Libby seemed to draw energy from the flowers.”
― Shadows of Ladenbrooke Manor
“With all the flourishes and flowers, these pictures seemed to be created by a young woman anyway. At least one who was young at heart.
Heather turned the page again to a pink butterfly named Rosa Belle, and she smiled as she read the description. Rosa Belle was a very proper butterfly, invited often to take tea with the queen in the gardens behind Buckingham Palace.”
― Shadows of Ladenbrooke Manor
Heather turned the page again to a pink butterfly named Rosa Belle, and she smiled as she read the description. Rosa Belle was a very proper butterfly, invited often to take tea with the queen in the gardens behind Buckingham Palace.”
― Shadows of Ladenbrooke Manor
“glass. Eliese collapsed onto the scuffed hardwood, shards cutting the bare skin on her legs. The weight of this day, this year, pressed down on her, more than she could bear. She’d wanted to help”
― Memories of Glass
― Memories of Glass
“Everyone has a choice," Josh says. "Be strong enough to do what is right or be consumed by evil.”
― Hidden Among the Stars
― Hidden Among the Stars
“I wanted you to know...” he started and then hesitated. “What?” she asked. “I did not vote to kill the dogs.” She caught her breath, surprise mixing with relief. Jack had stood up for what was right. “You only wanted me to trust you.” He nodded. “One day you’ll love a man, Samantha. A man you will trust.” She hoped he was right. One day she hoped to marry a man she trusted with her life and her heart.”
― Where the Trail Ends: The Oregon Trail
― Where the Trail Ends: The Oregon Trail
“Everyone has a choice,” Josh says. “Be strong enough to do what is right or be consumed by evil.”
― Hidden Among the Stars
― Hidden Among the Stars
“Jesus says He doesn’t want us to worry. He wants us to be like those birds in the air or the flowers in your mama’s garden, living in the moment of beauty and trusting in Him.”
― The Masquerade
― The Masquerade
“Micah set down his gift and wrapped his arms around both of them. Alex leaned down and lifted the boy with one arm. The other he put around Samantha. “I no longer have an income, or a position for that matter, but we can find our way together, can’t we?” Samantha smiled. “I have a surprise for you.” He kissed the top of her head. Micah grinned. “Does this mean you’re going to marry her?” “If your sister says it is all right.” Tears trickled down her cheeks. “It’s fine with me.” Alex looked into her eyes, and she never wanted him to look away again. “Is there a reverend around here?” he asked. Samantha laughed. “I believe we can find one.” He leaned close to her. “Will you marry me, Miss Waldron?” She put her hands on her hips. “Only if you’ll stop calling me ‘Miss Waldron.’” “All right.” He paused, leaning closer as he whispered in her ear, “How would you like to be called Mrs. Clarke?” “Samantha,” she insisted. He smiled. “I think I’ll just call you Sam.”
― Where the Trail Ends: The Oregon Trail
― Where the Trail Ends: The Oregon Trail
“Alex stepped forward. “Who is gone?” Both men turned, and Huey’s eyes filled with surprise. And then fear. “Who is gone?” he repeated. Huey cleared his throat. “Samantha and the boy.” Alex clutched his fists. “Where did they go?” “Across the river.” Alex grabbed the man’s collar, pushing him up against the wall. “What do you mean, they went across the river?” “I told her you wouldn’t like it if she left.” “Told her?” Alex raged. “Why didn’t you stop her?” “I couldn’t. She insisted on paddling herself across the river.” He shook his head. Samantha had almost drowned on that river. Why would she insist on leaving on her own? He relaxed his grip on Huey’s collar. “What did she say when you told her I wouldn’t like it?” “She said it didn’t matter, that you were leaving first.”
― Where the Trail Ends: The Oregon Trail
― Where the Trail Ends: The Oregon Trail
“She did this because Hitler and him men had given her no other choice.”
― Hidden Among the Stars
― Hidden Among the Stars
“Lord Alexander Clarke stood before her, looking quite regal in his frock coat and top hat. She couldn’t breathe. “You’re supposed to be on that boat,” she said, her voice trembling. “Going to London.” “London is no longer my home.” “But Lady Judith—” He stopped her. “She did not want to stay here.” “You were supposed to marry.” He shook his head. “I did not love her, nor did she love me.” She brushed her hands over her yellow apron, streaking dirt down the front of it as he stepped closer to her. The pounding of her heart seemed to echo in her ears. “Why do you Waldrons keep running?” “Micah and I—” she whispered. “We had to finish our journey.” He reached for her hand, and her heart leaped as he wrapped his strong fingers over hers and placed them on his heart. “The trail ends right here, Miss Waldron. With you and me.” “If you don’t call me ‘Samantha’—” He leaned forward and drowned her words with his kiss. Her body warmed in his embrace, her skin fluttering at his touch. Strong and tender. Powerful and passionate. Alex Clarke hadn’t gone to London. He was here, and he wanted to be with her.”
― Where the Trail Ends: The Oregon Trail
― Where the Trail Ends: The Oregon Trail
“My world of books confronts the realities of life, but the endings—at least the ones I prefer—clean up the mess at the end. Everything is resolved when I close the cover, but the ugly realities of this world—what man does to man—bleeds right off the page.”
― Hidden Among the Stars
― Hidden Among the Stars
“What sounded good and right was really evil.”
― The Curator's Daughter: A Sweeping WWII Dual-Timeline Novel of Hope and Courage in the Face of Evil
― The Curator's Daughter: A Sweeping WWII Dual-Timeline Novel of Hope and Courage in the Face of Evil
“My God, the soul You have given me is pure. You created it, You formed it, and You breathed it into me.”
― Hidden Among the Stars
― Hidden Among the Stars
“The title on the front of the sketchbook was written in bold cursive: 'Libby's Book of Butterflies.'
One of the edges was folded, and she smoothed it with her hand, reverently, to honor the sister she'd never known. Then she stepped back under the light and flipped through the first pages. There were beautiful paintings of butterflies, their wings bright from the watercolors.
Did her sister create this book or did someone make it for her?
Mum had loved her gardens, but Heather had never known her to do any kind of artwork. She'd always been busy planting her flowers and working as a hairdresser and caring well for their family.
Intrigued, Heather slowly turned the pages. The butterflies were unique in their brilliance, each one with a magical name.
Golden Shimmer. Moonlit Fairy. Lavender Lace.
Under the butterflies were short descriptions. Like they all had different personalities. Her favorite was the Autumn Dancer, colored a vibrant orange and red with speckles of teal. It reminded her of a leaf, clinging to its branch before the autumn winds blew it away.”
― Shadows of Ladenbrooke Manor
One of the edges was folded, and she smoothed it with her hand, reverently, to honor the sister she'd never known. Then she stepped back under the light and flipped through the first pages. There were beautiful paintings of butterflies, their wings bright from the watercolors.
Did her sister create this book or did someone make it for her?
Mum had loved her gardens, but Heather had never known her to do any kind of artwork. She'd always been busy planting her flowers and working as a hairdresser and caring well for their family.
Intrigued, Heather slowly turned the pages. The butterflies were unique in their brilliance, each one with a magical name.
Golden Shimmer. Moonlit Fairy. Lavender Lace.
Under the butterflies were short descriptions. Like they all had different personalities. Her favorite was the Autumn Dancer, colored a vibrant orange and red with speckles of teal. It reminded her of a leaf, clinging to its branch before the autumn winds blew it away.”
― Shadows of Ladenbrooke Manor
“When she was a child, she'd often wondered about the old manor. Some said the place was haunted, but she thought it mysterious. Sometimes when she was a girl, she would wander through the wrought-iron gate along Ladenbrooke's stone wall. The fragrance from flowers on the other side captivated her along with the beauty of the gardens. The butterflies reminded her of the fairies she'd loved as a child and, when she was older, of the fairies dancing through the magical garden in 'A Midsummer Night's Dream.'
Shakespeare was born forty miles from here. In Stratford-upon-Avon. Perhaps the gardens in the Cotswolds inspired him as they once inspired her.”
― Shadows of Ladenbrooke Manor
Shakespeare was born forty miles from here. In Stratford-upon-Avon. Perhaps the gardens in the Cotswolds inspired him as they once inspired her.”
― Shadows of Ladenbrooke Manor
“Those kids are going to eat her alive,” Simon said, walking up to stand beside Alex. “I am not so sure. She has spirit.” “I don’t know about spirit, but she’s about the loveliest lady I’ve ever seen.” Alex bristled. He knew that many of these men were already hounding her with marriage proposals, but he didn’t want her to have to marry one of them for provision. “You had better take care not to make a fool of yourself, my friend.” Simon laughed, clapping him on the back. “L’amour always makes a fool of itself.”
― Where the Trail Ends: The Oregon Trail
― Where the Trail Ends: The Oregon Trail
