Author reflections ·
Behind the Scenes ·
empowering women ·
Quiet courage/strength ·
Regency romance ·
Becoming Sarah: A Story of Fear, Hope, and Quiet Courage
When I first wrote Sarah Mortensen, I didn’t expect her to stay.
She was meant to be a minor obstacle—someone gently nudged toward Phineas by her ambitious mother, a quiet threat to Louisa’s happily ever after. Timid, sweet, and painfully obedient. A girl who did what she was told because she was too afraid not to.
But then… she lingered.
A jolt went through Louisa’s heart. “Phineas?” Her steps quickened. “What happened?”
By now, they were all but running down the corridor, the distant sound of voices drifting to their ears. “I insist that you marry her,” Louisa heard Lady Hartmore’s rather shrill voice as they pulled to a halt outside the conservatory.
Many guests were assembled in the doorway, blocking their view, and it took some time to wind their way through the crowd.
“I will not,” Phineas said in a dark voice the moment Louisa and her sisters managed to fight their way through. “Nothing happened. We merely had…something to discuss.”
At that, Sarah nodded, her tear-streaked face unusually pale. “He speaks the truth, Mother,” she replied, the tone in her voice strangely accusatory. “We only talked. Nothing else happened.” (Once Upon a Devilishly Enchanting Kiss)
There was something about Sarah—something in her silence, in the way she flinched more than she spoke, in the way she tried so hard to be good—that stayed with me. And as I continued writing the Whickertons in Love series, she kept showing up. Not loudly. Not insistently. Just… there. Watching. Waiting. Growing.
I never meant to write her the way I did. But sometimes, characters sneak into a writer’s mind and refuse to leave.
They whisper.
They linger.
They shape themselves in ways you didn’t plan.
They linger.
They shape themselves in ways you didn’t plan.
And you find yourself listening—because you know they have something to say.
Sarah became that kind of character for me.
I kept seeing her in my mind. Hearing her voice. Feeling her fear. And I knew the kind of story she needed. Not a loud one. Not a sweeping one. But a quiet, aching, deeply human one.
By the time I reached Christina’s story, I knew I wanted to give Sarah her own happily ever after. And it had to be one worthy of all her struggles.
Sarah’s eyes hardened. “I do not have much of a choice,” she told Christina gently as though her friend were the one in need of comfort. “Debtors keep knocking on our door, and—”
“That is not your fault! Your father should—”
Sarah’s hands tightened upon Christina’s, cutting off her words. “My family needs this. I need this.” Her chest rose and fell with a deep breath. “You know that I have no other choice. No gentleman wants to marry me, considering our reduced circumstances. It is the way of the world, is it not? Perhaps I ought to consider myself fortunate that Mr. Sharpe has come to town and is willing to marry me despite my father’s debts, despite the fact that he cannot give me a dowry.”
“Do not think like that, Sarah. You have so much to offer. You’re kind and devoted. You’re beautiful. You are—”
Sarah smiled at her sweetly. “You know as well as I do that that does not matter. Marriages are arranged for mutual benefit. It has always been thus.” Her smile deepened and took on a wistful note. “Not everyone can be as your parents are. Not everyone can marry for love.” (Once Upon an Irritatingly Magical Kiss)
Sarah’s life has always been ruled by fear. Not the dramatic kind, but the quiet, everyday kind that teaches you to keep your head down and your voice soft. Her parents never asked what she wanted. They only asked what she could offer—what match she could make, what name she could bring, what price she might fetch. And Sarah, like so many of us, tried to be what they needed. She tried to be good.
But fear has limits. And when another match loomed—one that felt darker, colder, more dangerous than the rest—Sarah broke. Not loudly. Not dramatically. But enough.
And that’s when the impossible happened.
The Dowager Countess of Whickerton, aka Grandma Edie, ever the schemer, offered Sarah a way out: a fake kidnapping. Yes, a staged abduction. A daring plan, completely unlike anything Sarah would ever do. But she agreed. Because that’s how desperate she was. How afraid. How deeply she knew that if she didn’t escape now, she might never get another chance.
As much as she had always done her utmost to do as was expected of her, to be the dutiful daughter and comply with all her parents’ wishes, her parents, in turn, had never truly cared for her happiness, had they? It was a sad truth that Sarah had ignored for far too long. Until it had been almost too late. No, she thought to herself. I have every right to save myself. (Flames of Winter)
Sarah didn’t run to rebel. She ran because she couldn’t survive another day of being silenced.
And I wanted her to find love—not just any love, but a great love. A man truly worthy of her. To this day, Keir Mackinnear remains one of my favorite heroes.
He doesn’t rescue Sarah.
He walks beside her.
He listens.
He waits.
He believes in her long before she believes in herself.
Keir’s dark blue eyes reminded Sarah of a darkening sky and an approaching storm; his voice, though, was calm and he spoke in a way that held her mesmerized. “Ye are like a pixie, little wisp,” he murmured, gently brushing the pad of his thumb across her chin. “Ye seem like a creature not from this world, strong and daring and kind, and yet also vulnerable and shy. Ye often remain hidden, like the stars during the day, but when night falls, ye shine brightly, yer light warm and beckoning like a flame in deepest winter.”
“Ye have a strong mind,” Keir continued, a slow smile revealing faint creases at the corners of his mouth, “and an even stronger heart. Ye show others kindness, even when they dunna deserve it. Ye never give up, no matter how heavy yer burden. And when ye smile, little wisp, truly smile, the world comes alive.”
“Yer life is yer own,” Keir murmured, the look in his eyes imploring as he gently brushed the tears from her cheeks. “Think long and hard on what it is that ye want, lass, and then,” he paused, and the corners of his mouth quirked upward into a grin, “go and get it. And dunna dare let anyone stop ye, ye hear me?” (Flames of Winter)
Sarah’s story didn’t end with escape. That was only the beginning.
She saved herself—tentatively, fearfully—but she did it. And then, slowly, she began to change. Not all at once. Not without doubt. But step by step, she started asking what she wanted. She started believing she might deserve more.
And when her sister needed her, Sarah didn’t hesitate. She stepped in. She offered the same help she’d once been given. She became the one who showed up. The one who protected.
That’s what growth looks like—not perfection, but persistence.
She gripped her sister’s hand tighter, looking deeply into her eyes. “Please, Kate, believe me. I did not make this decision lightly. I was just as terrified as you are now. Still, the truth remains that I have no regrets. Taking this risk is the best choice I’ve ever made because it set me free, because it taught me something invaluable.”
The expression upon Kate’s face told Sarah that her sister was hanging on every word. “What did it teach you?”
Sarah exhaled slowly, straightening her shoulders. “That I matter.” She swallowed hard as tears came to her eyes, overwhelming relief mingling with anger deep in her chest. “It taught me that I matter, that what I want matters. It is not right for others to dictate our lives, Kate. You need to believe right now that you have a right to be happy, to claim that right for yourself as well as your children. If you do not, you will forever regret it.” She smiled at her sister through a curtain of tears. “Believe me, the risk is worth it. I know that you are afraid—I was as well—but you can’t let that fear hold you back.” (Shield of Fire)
Sarah’s journey stretched across four books because it needed to. Because healing takes time. Because courage doesn’t erase fear—it walks beside it.
In the end, Sarah became the woman she was always meant to be. She found love. She found family. She found a place where she belonged.
And she learned that family isn’t just blood.
It’s the people who show up.
The ones who protect you.
The ones who love you for who you are.
The ones who protect you.
The ones who love you for who you are.
In a way, the Whickertons were always her family. Because they acted like family should.
And Sarah? She became one of them. Fierce. Loyal. Brave.
And Sarah? She became one of them. Fierce. Loyal. Brave.
Sometimes, characters come alive and tell their own story.
And as a writer, you simply listen.
You follow.
You write it down.
You follow.
You write it down.
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