Suitor by Design

From Friends to Sweethearts

Minnie Fox’s goal is to find a beau who can help support her ailing father and his struggling dress shop. As a working man, her friend Peter Simmons simply doesn’t fit the bill. Instead, Minnie’s got eyes for Peter’s childhood pal—a wealthy Chicagoan. So why can’t she stop thinking about Peter?

Peter wishes Minnie would see him as more than a friend. As a hardworking mechanic, Peter knows he’ll never be able to dazzle Minnie with fancy suits and expensive cars. But maybe he can prove to her that what’s in a man’s heart is worth more than what’s in his wallet.

The Dressmaker’s Daughters: Pursuing their dreams a stitch at a time

Minnie swallowed.

The back of her throat was dry.

Peter was looking at her, and she couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze. Those hazel eyes would steal every thought from her head. So she looked at her hands, her boots, the pew, anything but him.

“Did you find an envelope at the garage?”

His brow pinched. “What kind of envelope?”

“A regular one. Full of papers and such.” She didn’t exactly want to admit that she’d lost actual money, not when some of their customers were standing within hearing distance.

“No.”

Her hopes died. “Oh. I’d hoped…” Her voice trembled so she stopped.

His expression softened. “I didn’t look around, though. Wanna go check?”

“Can we?” In her excitement, she made the costly mistake of looking into his eyes.

They twinkled. “Sure.” He held out an arm. “Let’s go now.”

Warmth came back to her fingers and toes. She told herself it must be due to her renewed hope that they’d find the money, but deep down she knew it was something else. Or rather someone, who just so happened to have twinkling hazel eyes.

CHRISTINE JOHNSON

A small-town girl, Christine Johnson has lived in every corner of Michigan’s Lower Peninsula. She loves to visit historic locations and imagine the people who once lived there. A double-finalist for RWA’s Golden Heart award, she enjoys creating stories that bring history to life while exploring the characters’ spiritual journey—and putting them in peril! Though Michigan is still her home base, she and her seafaring husband also spend time exploring the Florida Keys and other fascinating locations.

Christine loves to hear from readers. Contact her through her website at christineelizabethjohnson.com.

Suitor by Design

Christine Johnson

That they might be called trees of righteousness,

the planting of the Lord, that He might be glorified.

— Isaiah 61:3

I must thank my father, who answered many, many mechanical questions.

Any mistakes are mine alone.

No expression of gratitude would be complete without acknowledging my husband, who endured all my strange questions and pleas for solitude with patience, if not full understanding.

Most of all, every iota of glory belongs to my heavenly Father, the Author of everything, without whom there would be no stories.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Pearlman, Michigan

February 1924

“It’s hopeless.” Minnie Fox stared at her reflection in the mirror behind the drugstore soda fountain, her cherry soda temporarily forgotten. Only three weeks shy of her nineteenth birthday, she should at least have a beau. Most of the girls her age were either engaged or married. Minnie had no one.

It must be her looks. She bore no resemblance to the motion-picture actresses on the covers of Photoplay. They sported glamorous bobs. How would she look with that hairstyle? Minnie pursed her lips, stained red from the soda, and rolled her long, wavy hair up to her jawline. The fat rolls of hair on either side of her face looked like loaves of bread sitting atop her threadbare brown wool coat.

She let her hair drop. “It is hopeless.”

“What’s hopeless?” Minnie’s next older sister, Jen, plopped onto the stool next to her.

“Nothing.” Minnie twirled the straw in her soda, took a sip and lingered while the bubbles fizzed against her lips. “I don’t know why I care. There isn’t a sheik within fifty miles.”

“Sheik?” Jen’s lip curled in distaste. “Stop talking like them.” She poked a thumb toward Kate Vanderloo and her college girlfriends a couple stools away. Born to wealth and privilege, Kate was pretty enough to grace the cover of Photoplay. So were her girlfriends. All were here on midsemester break and to attend the Valentine’s Day Ball.

“Shh! They’ll hear you.” Minnie scrunched a little lower. “For your information, that’s what everyone calls guys who try to look like Rudolph Valentino.” She flipped through the magazine until she found what she’d read earlier. “It says here that the college campuses are full of sheiks. It’s quite the rage.”