Cinders to Satin

( 11 )


From the bestselling historical romance writer Fern Michaels, author of TEXAS RICH and TEXAS HEAT, comes this exciting saga of Callie James, a brave immigrant girl from squalid Dublin, who battles her way through the hard world of late nineteenth century New York on a passion-filled, bittersweet journey to make her dreams of passion and success come true.
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Cinders to Satin

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From the bestselling historical romance writer Fern Michaels, author of TEXAS RICH and TEXAS HEAT, comes this exciting saga of Callie James, a brave immigrant girl from squalid Dublin, who battles her way through the hard world of late nineteenth century New York on a passion-filled, bittersweet journey to make her dreams of passion and success come true.
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780345339522
  • Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
  • Publication date: 10/28/1986
  • Format: Mass Market Paperback
  • Edition description: Reissue
  • Pages: 512
  • Sales rank: 182,498
  • Product dimensions: 4.16 (w) x 6.85 (h) x 1.05 (d)

Meet the Author

Fern Michaels
Fern Michaels
With over than sixty million copies of her books sold around the world, New York Times bestselling author Fern Michaels pens romance after epic romance, each filled with all the drama and heartbreak her loyal fans can handle.


Born Mary Ruth Kuczkir in Hastings, Pennsylvania, Fern Michaels was married and the mother of five before she embarked on her long, successful writing career – a career that began with something midway between a challenge and a command. When her youngest child went off to kindergarten, Michaels's husband imperiously ordered her (in just so many words) to get off her ass and get a job. Long years in the domestic trenches had left her short on marketable skills, so she decided trade off her lifelong love of reading and write a book. Just like that. The domineering, unsupportive husband is history. And Michaels has gone on to pen bestselling romance after bestselling romance. Just like that..

With typical modesty, Michaels does not claim to be a great writer; however, she admits proudly to being a born storyteller. Her bulging bookshelf proves she is all over the map, producing with equal facility hot historicals, lighthearted contemporary capers, adrenaline-laced thrillers, and heartwarming tales of family and friendship. She is especially adept at writing stories about women who prevail in hard times – a reflection, perhaps, of her own struggles in her marriage and early career.

Raised to believe that the fortunate in life have an obligation to give back, Michaels devotes a lot of time to philanthropic concerns. She has established a foundation that grants four-year scholarships to needy students and has set up pre-schools and daycare centers for single mothers. She is also an avid animal lover and has been known to own as many as five dogs at a time.

In 1993, Michaels picked up stakes and moved from her home in New Jersey to a 300-year-old plantation house in Charleston, South Carolina. She and the dogs share the house amicably with a friendly ghost whom Fern has dubbed Mary Margaret. In addition to stopping clocks and moving pillows from room to room, Mary Margaret has been known to occasionally leave flowers on Michaels's nightstand!

Good To Know

Michaels confesses in our interview: "I'm a junk food junkie and a chocoholic. My desk drawers have more junk food in them than paper and pens. I chomp and chew all day long. At night I get up and eat Marshmallow Fluff right out of the jar. In between eating, I write."

Her first "sort of, kind of job" was in market research. Michaels recounts the gig's low-point in our interview: "I had a partner and we were testing a new pressurized drain cleaner. All you had to do was put this can in the drain, squeeze and supposedly the drain would open right up. It did, all right.

"The whole wall collapsed, and stuff that was in there for a hundred years flew everywhere. The lady didn't tell us the drain backed up to her kitchen drain and disposal. The company didn't care that we smelled like a sewer or that our clothes were ruined. The lady got a new bathroom, and we both got fired."

Michaels reveals some of her sources of inspiration: "Inspiration comes from everywhere. The title for Finders Keepers came from a cartoon with two chipmunks that my grandson was watching. I had a title but no story. I finally came up with one to fit that wonderful title.

"Names for characters sometime come from television. I had a character named Metaxis which is odd to begin with. There is a news anchor on T.V. who has that same last name. Sometimes it will just be a word someone says in passing, something I read or saw. There's no rhyme or reason to it. It's almost like, okay, I need something here, stay alert and it will happen."

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    1. Also Known As:
      Mary Kuczkir
    2. Hometown:
      Summerville, South Carolina
    1. Education:
      High School

Read an Excerpt

That seemed to strike him funny. "It's evident we're strangers. If you knew me better, you'd have no doubt of my opinions concerning the English Law we suffer. You'll never make it through the streets with that heavy booty, you know. You may as well leave it here and get home with you."

Callie drew herself up to her full five feet one inch, facing him brazenly. This was no time to back down. "I dragged it all the way here from the grocer's, didn't I? And at a full run, I might add. I'll make it home, all right, or die trying. I've a family to consider."

"A little thing like yourself with a family?" he questioned.

"Well, I do too! They're my own brothers and sisters."

"Come along, then. I'll walk with you. Just to be certain the grocer and his boy don't come back this way."

Callie hesitated and saw his logic. He was right. She wouldn't have to let him come all the way with her, just far enough to get out of this neighborhood. And if he tried anything with her, he'd be sorry. Her shoes were stout and their soles thick. He'd feel them where they'd hurt the most if he got any funny ideas in his head. "All right, I accept your offer. Seeing as how it means so much to you." He laughed again, and she scowled. Callie ignored him and picked up her basket, falling into step beside him.

They'd not gone a block when she was panting with effort. The basket must have weighted thirty pounds. Breaking the silence between them, he said, "If I tell you my name, will you let me help you carry your hard-earned goods?"

"I already know your name. It's Kenyon. Mr. Kenyon. However," she turned and dumped the basket unceremoniously into his arms, "I'd beobliged if you carried it a bit of the way, Mr. Kenyon."

"Byrch. Byrch Kenyon." He looked for recognition of his name but none was forthcoming.

"Any man willing to tell his name under these circumstances can't be all bad," Callie said. "Kenyon is a fine old Dublin handle. But Byrch! Why would anyone pin a moniker like that on a fine Christian lad? Hadn't your mother heard of good saintly names like Patrick or Sean?"

"And who says I'm a fine Christian lad?" This little piece of baggage had a mouth on her!

"You're Irish, aren't you? Or are you?" Callie turned and eyed his quizzically. "You speak with a fair lilt of the auld sod, but there's something else besides."

"I'm here in Dublin visiting friends," he answered smoothly.

"Here!" Callie drew up short, swaying her shoulder into his tall frame. "You're not English, are you?" she demanded. Not for anything would she associate with an Englishman.

"No. American. My father is Irish. I'm here in Dublin waiting passage back to Liverpool. Then I'm bound back to America."

"Well, at least I know you're not lying to me. No one in this world would admit to family and friends in Ireland during these hard times if it weren't so." And then she smiled, and Byrch Kenyon thought the fair sun of summer had lit the dark streets.

"If you won't tell me your name, at least tell me something about yourself," he said, hefting the basket onto his hip as though it were no heavier than a lady's handkerchief.


"Callie what?"

"That's all you'll get from me, Mr. Kenyon. Why don't you tell me about yourself instead? Then I can tell my mother all about you."

"So, you have a mother. Back there in the alley I thought you were responsible for your brothers and sisters all alone."

"I didn't mean to make you think that, but you never asked about my mother. Hey! Watch where you walk! You've spattered mud on my dress!"

They were under gaslight near the corner, and Byrch turned to look down at her. "You're a lovely child, Callie. Do you know that?"

She shrugged. "So I've been told. But listen here, you try any funny stuff, and you'll feel the toe of my boot crack your shins!"

Byrch smiled and made a courtly, mocking bow. She was a tough little scrapper, but he was beginning to suspect it was all a show. Probably she really was afraid he'd try something with her. As though his tastes ran to children! As though this little mite would stand a chance against him!

"Are you going to tell me what you do in America? We've only a little ways to go now." Callie deliberately softened her tone. Perhaps she shouldn't have said anything about him trying something. She was sensitive enough to know she'd hurt his feelings and upbraided his gallantry.

"I run a newspaper in New York City," Byrch told her, "and I'm trying to make my mark in politics there. So many Irish have come to America, and most of them have settled around New York. I intend to help them, to be their voice in government."

Callie stopped dead in her tracks and turned to face him. If he expected to see admiration in her eyes, he was mistaken. She had turned on him with a temper so fierce he felt as though an icy wind had blown him down.

"So, a voice of the people, is it? And what of the Irish here in Ireland, starvin' and sweatin' to earn a day's wages to buy bread for the table? The English know we're hungry for any kind of wage, and so it's not even a fair pay they offer us to slave in their mills and dig for their coal. To my mind, those Irish who left their country have no need of a voice in the land of milk and honey where the streets are paved with gold!"

"Times are hard for the Irish over there too, Callie. There's no milk and no honey and no gold for the Irishman. It isn't what it's cocked up to be, believe me. I'm doing what I know best and where I think I can help the most."

"Are you now?" Callie said hotly. "Don't be wasting your time and energy on me, Mr. Kenyon. Go back to your Irish in America and help them!"

She snatched the basket from his arms and ran off, leaving him standing there with an incredulous expression on his face. What had he said to make her take off like that? Then he realized they must have come close to where she lived, and it was the easiest and simplest way to rid herself of him. A smile broke on his face, and he laughed. "You're a fine girl, Callie. I hope we meet again."

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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4
( 11 )
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Sort by: Showing all of 11 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted May 13, 2001

    A Timeless Historical Classic !

    This masterpiece has to be by far the most beautifully written book i've had the pleasure of reading. Although i've read this book many years ago, it is still one of the first books i would recommend to a person that is a true romantic. Thank you very much Fern for writing such a touching story.

    3 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted December 30, 2013

    Most disappointing

    The first third of the book was good, Ms, Michaels characters were believable. She set up a interesting plot. It all went down hill when Callie became involved with her emp,oyers son. She went from being smart and couragous to weak and dumb. After the fire in Shantytown, it was just another cheap dime store romance, The arogance and srubborness of the main characters on my nerves. And the pages and pages of detailed coupling wasn't necessary, Sometimes the imagination is sooo much better.

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 7, 2014

    As an avid Fern Michael's fan, I found myself questioning if she

    As an avid Fern Michael's fan, I found myself questioning if she had really written this book. The historical research was very well done and I thoroughly enjoyed the book until the main character, Callie James, got involved with her employer's son.  From that point on it read like a very cheap, almost pornographic, romance novel.  Com on Fern, you are much to good to feel you have to resort to trashy, Fifty Shades, type of writing.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted December 13, 2014


    Nearly squeals with pleasure. More i moan

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  • Anonymous

    Posted December 13, 2014


    I lean over and i lick your face

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  • Posted January 24, 2014

    Romance Trash

    As an avid Fern Michaels reader, I must say how disappointed I was with this book. The historical facts where very well researched but the numerous sex scenes made it read like a dime store romance novel. I found myself wondering if Fern Michaels had actually written this as skipped through numerous pages of nothing but extremely graphic sex scenes.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 17, 2014

    highly recommended

    never disappointed in her books

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  • Anonymous

    Posted December 26, 2013

    Excellent read

    I enjoyed this book so much...I laughed, I cried, it was quite a story of love lost and won. I would recommend this book to anyone who loves a good romance or just a story about lifes defeats and conquests.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted September 5, 2014

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted October 24, 2013

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted January 21, 2014

    No text was provided for this review.

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