Jan 2, 2026

What’s in a Name: Over Yonder

One of my favorite things about the Magnolia Manor series isn’t just the stories themselves—it’s the titles.

From the very beginning, I knew I wanted each book’s name to feel like home. Something familiar. Something you might hear drifting across a porch on a warm evening, spoken with a knowing smile and just a hint of mischief. Southern sayings have a way of doing that. They’re lighthearted, expressive, and often carry far more meaning than the words alone suggest.

Each title in the Magnolia Manor series is built from a Southernism or bit of Southern slang—phrases that sound casual on the surface, but hint at deeper truths, tangled relationships, and the kind of drama that simmers just beneath polite conversation.

Over yonder: Distance, Discovery, and the Families We Find

“Over yonder” doesn’t give exact directions. It gestures to somewhere, anywhere. It points toward something just beyond reach, just out of sight. In the South, it can mean a physical place down the road, past the trees, across the field, but it can just as easily mean something emotional: a past you don’t fully understand, a truth you haven’t reached yet, a piece of yourself you’ve always sensed, but never known how to name.

That’s why Over Yonder is one of the most introspective titles in the Magnolia Manor series. At its core, this story is about searching, not always with certainty, and not always with permission.

Mavis Montgomery has never felt an urgent need to know more about her father’s mysterious roots. Life at Magnolia Manor has always been full, complicated, and loud enough to drown out quieter questions. But sometimes curiosity doesn’t announce itself politely. It lingers. It tugs. It waits until you’re ready—or until it decides you are. An ancestry DNA test becomes a catalyst, not just for answers, but for reflection. Mavis isn’t chasing a name or a place so much as a sense of belonging. She’s standing at the edge of something unknown, wondering whether reaching for it will change the life she’s already built.

Because learning where you come from can be comforting or, at times, destabilizing. While Mavis looks over yonder toward the past, Wilbur’s present is under threat. A string of break-ins across the county puts his prized antique tractors at risk, objects that carry history, memory, and identity all their own. For Wilbur, these aren’t just possessions. They’re anchors. Proof of continuity in a life that has already seen more change than he expected.

Between the holiday season and the uncertainty of a new relationship, Wilbur finds himself navigating unfamiliar emotional terrain. Like Mavis, he’s learning that even good change can be unsettling, and that protecting what matters sometimes means trusting others more than you’re comfortable doing.

Meanwhile, Opal Tyler and Maude Cooper continue their reign as Rhinestone’s unofficial matriarchs.

With age comes authority and responsibility. They’ve earned the right to meddle, to guide, and occasionally to override common sense when they believe they know best. When the law feels distant and the younger generations seem distracted, Opal and Maude step in. Not just to help catch burglars, but to manage romantic entanglements that clearly need supervision. Because in Rhinestone, family isn’t always defined by blood.

Over Yonder leans fully into that truth. “Sometimes you can choose your family” isn’t a platitude, it’s survival. It’s what people do when lineage leaves questions unanswered, when biology offers less comfort than community, when the people who show up matter more than the ones who share your DNA.

This book explores what it means to belong, not just to a family, but to a place. To be claimed by a town, a group of friends, a shared history. It asks whether knowing where you came from is as important as knowing who will stand beside you moving forward.

At Magnolia Manor, some answers live far away. Some truths take time to reach. And some families are found, not inherited. Love is waiting over yonder.

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