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Welcome to the Blog Hop for Sung in the Shadows by Crystal Caudill for The Art of Love & Danger series!
About the Book
Series: The Art of Love & Danger #2
Author: Crystal Caudill
Publisher: Kregel Publications
Release Date: March 17, 2026
Genre: Biblical Fiction
When past darkness prowls, will stepping into the light lead to a brighter future?
In nineteenth-century Cincinnati, fear keeps Nora Davis caged with secrets and lies. Her true identity as the daughter of a famous opera singer is too dangerous to reveal with her former captors still on the loose. But weekly singing lessons at Longview Asylum—her paranoid mother's permanent residence—light a flame in Nora, and it's one she can avoid fanning for only so long.
With his suicidal ma in the asylum, Ezekiel Beaumont's soul is weary, but Nora's presence at the asylum intrigues him. As a Pike's Opera House employee, Ezekiel thinks Nora might be cut out for the stage. He also begins to wonder if Nora's ma is really the famed Constanza Brisbane, who went missing mid-performance. He's determined to find out.
Though Ezekiel brings the performance world a little too close for comfort, Nora is drawn to his warm personality all the same. The two of them steadily grow closer, but then Nora begins to fear she's being watched, and her own paranoia blooms.
As the line between what's real and false grows fainter, will Ezekiel's and Nora's faith and love overcome?
"From the haunting halls of Longview Asylum to the dangerous secrets of Nora's past, Sung in the Shadows delivers a riveting blend of romance, mystery, and redemption." —Misty M. Beller, USA TODAY best-selling author of the Sisters of the Rockies series
PURCHASE LINKS: Goodreads | Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookBub
Excerpt
Chapter Two
Cincinnati, Ohio
January 18, 1881
Fear was a cage, and it had Nora Davis’s family trapped and hid-den beneath a canvas of secrets and lies. Frustration rippled through her as she stared out the hack window and past the winter-brown landscape to the gray sky, pregnant with the threat of rain. Heaven forbid they reveal to Dr. Chalfant that they’d changed their names to escape a real kidnapper, and thereby prove Mum was sane. Didn’t Father understand that sharing the truth would set their family free? Or at least free Mum from Longview. It wasn’t as if Dr. Chalfant would print the truth in the newspapers and destroy the life Father had carefully crafted for them. How could Father claim to care about Mum’s welfare when he’d rather guard their secret than free his wife from an asylum?
Nora added a few stitches to the sock she knitted, then undid them. Her stitch tension was as tight as her shoulders. These weekly trips from Cincinnati to Carthage always resulted in headaches and a smoldering temper. She understood Father’s reasoning for keeping their past life a secret. Her kidnapper had never been caught. Thus, it stood to reason he might still be searching for Nora. Except what criminal would pursue a former victim for nearly twelve years? And they didn’t have to tell everyone they’d changed their names from Brisbane to Davis, just her best friends and Dr. Chalfant. She was so tired of keeping her past life from them. Her friends, the Guardians, could be trusted with anything. After all, they’d created their little secret society and bonded over a desire to defend those who could not save themselves. They’d be allies, not liabilities.
The hack trundled over the wooden bridge crossing the Miami Canal toward an expansive brick building known as Longview Insane Asylum—Mum’s residence for the last five years. Nora’s chest squeezed with grief. If Father would allow Dr. Chalfant to know their secret, then maybe they would focus on treating Mum’s paranoia rather than convincing her their past didn’t exist.
Lord, please let this visit go better than the last. Give Mum peace and freedom from fear.
Years of praying the same prayer hadn’t changed anything, but maybe this would be the time God tired of her asking and granted her request.
As the hack turned onto the drive for Longview, Nora focused on binding off the sock on her knitting needle so it would be ready to donate with its match. Once the sock was free, she wove the yarn tail into the stitches so it wouldn’t be noticed by its recipient and picked at until it unraveled. Her weekly donation felt so little in the grand view of things, but it was something tangible she could do to comfort those who, more often than not, were forgotten by others.
The hack slowed, and Nora tucked her knitting needles into her specially added skirt pocket and placed the yarn and finished product inside her bag. The driver released the door over her legs, and she climbed down on her own. He acknowledged her enough to claim her coin, then rolled off at a speed that suggested he feared madness, a communicable disease.
Nora sighed, then faced the imposing brick edifice that appeased society by locking away those whose existence they’d rather ignore. Stretching wider than a city block, the facility was a large, five-story central structure flanked by multiple smaller buildings protruding from each wing. Her heart ached at what its size represented—eight hundred patients hurting, broken, alone, and suffering at the hands of professionals who declared they knew what was best. How many of those patients’ families were like hers, hiding the shame, pain, and brokenness of having a family member here from a society who would shun them if they knew?
Lord, give me strength.
Nora climbed the steps to the main entrance beneath the portico and strode into the monumental circular entrance hall. A great glass dome above provided natural light that passed through the glass floor to the kitchens below.
“Good afternoon, Miss Davis. I’m glad you’ve come.” Nurse Ab-bott rose from behind a desk and met Nora halfway. “Your mother’s insisting she’s Constanza Brisbane again and that you are in grave danger. It will ease her mind to see you safe.”
“I am glad my presence will bring her comfort.” Nora forced an even tone when all she really wanted to do was rail against the unfairness of life. Mum would never improve without proper treatment. “Is it really so bad she believes herself to be a famous opera singer?” “So long as she believes herself Constanza, she will believe you are in danger. Dr. Chalfant insists that treating her delusion first will free her of her paranoia.”
It would be a reasonable approach if it weren’t so wrong.
Nora dug around for the socks in her bag longer than necessary to ensure she remained the master of her countenance. Once certain her frustration wouldn’t show, she handed over the socks. “I understand Dr. Chalfant’s position, but her very soul is composed of notes and song. You’ve heard her sing. Silencing that music will only make her worse.”
“Which is why everyone pretends not to hear her give you lessons. You’re lucky Dr. Chalfant can’t hear from his office.” Nurse Abbott gave her a stern look, but compassion softened its effect. “Leave your things at my desk, then go into the reception room while I fetch your mother.”
Nora walked past the main staircase into the finely appointed room. It was no doubt meant to impress investors and visitors while hiding the dark nature of what occurred in the wards. The inclusion of an upright piano had surprised her initially, but the blessing had become her favorite part of coming here. She lifted the fallboard to reveal the ivory and ebony keys and slid her fingers over their smooth surfaces before walking up and down a C major scale. If only she were allowed to have a piano at home, she could truly master her assigned exercises, but Father had forbidden all forms of music in their new life. He didn’t even allow singing at church. Instead, he insisted they arrive late, sit in the back, and slip out before the end, all so neither of their singing voices would draw attention. According to him, the opera world was too small and the risk of being found out too great. She closed the fallboard. Mum would have her practicing scales soon enough.
It was some minutes before Mum arrived, but when she did, it was with a cry of relief and a crushing hug.
“Oh, my dear girl. Are you well?” Mum pulled back and cupped Nora’s face as she scrutinized her appearance for any hint of harm.
“I’m fine, Mum. I can confidently say the only villain I’ve encountered this week is Flossie’s puppy, Harold. He sneaked ahold of a sock I was knitting and ruined it before Flossie or I could get it away from him.”
“I’m so glad.” Mum’s forehead wrinkled as she continued her hunt for injuries.
As usual, Mum was too caught up in her paranoia to listen. It shouldn’t hurt—they went through this every week—but oh, how Nora longed for some sign Mum had improved. But it was not to be today, and she wouldn’t allow that to taint her treasured time.
More in This Series
About the Author
Crystal Caudill is the author of “dangerously good historical romance,” with her work garnering awards from Romance Writers of America and ACFW. She is a stay-at-home mom and caregiver, and when she isn’t writing, Caudill can be found playing board games with her family, drinking hot tea, or reading other great books at her home outside Cincinnati, Ohio.
Connect with Crystal by visiting crystalcaudill.com to follow her on social media or subscribe to email newsletter updates.
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