A BRIDGE THROUGH TIME

BOOK INFORMATION

TITLE – A Bridge Through Time

AUTHOR – Gloria Gay

GENRE – Time Travel

PUBLICATION DATE – July 10, 2015

LENGTH (Pages/# Words) – 1678 Words

PUBLISHER – Kindle Direct

COVER ARTIST – Killion Group

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BOOK SYNOPSIS

 

Trapped in another era, Jane is forced to choose between her very life and the young man of the portrait, for she has fallen in love with the real version of Jestyn Greywick.

Years ago, at the age of fourteen, Jane Fielder visited England, the birth country of her parents, with her mother. A that time a strange event took place, and one that Jane never forgot. On a tour of a great estate with her mother, Jane became entranced by the portrait of a young man. She noticed that he had a pendant with the gold chain wrapped around his hand. Impulsively, Jane touched the young man’s hand and it felt warm. Now, years later, and devastated by the death of her parents, Jane returns to England as a foreign correspondent. She hopes the change of scene will make the loss of her parents easier to bear, for her health has lately taken a hit. Jane is as anxious to start her new job as she is to see the portrait again, for she wants to find out if she just imagined that the young man’s hand felt warm to her touch. Then when Jane touches the young man’s hand on the portrait again, she is blasted back in time to 1803.

  

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EXCERPT

She stared at him. Now that he had leaned toward her she could see his face clearly. This was the second time she had seen this man. The first time had been when she had stared at his portrait. Electricity zig-zaged through her body, clear down to her toes. What did this mean?

Jane took out a tissue from her front jacket pocket and pressed it against her cut, mopping up the blood that had trickled to her chin and neck all the time the man was speaking to her in an irate tone:

“My brother is hurt and it appears you were also injured and it serves you right!”

Jane shifted her leg to ease the shooting sparks of pain going up her side and on her right arm.

“What's your name?” Jestyn asked when Jane just stared at him.

“What's yours?”

“Of all the insolent…I have a good mind to give you a thrashing.”

“So you beat women?”

“You're a woman? A woman wearing breeches?” His voice was incredulous as he continued asking, “And what kind of strange breeches are these? And where did you get this lantern? Is it magic?” The man looked keenly at the strong light coming from the flashlight. “Did you use magic?”

“Magic?” said Jane looking down at her flashlight. A flashlight was magic to this guy?

“Listen,” she added when he just stared at her, “this pain is more than I can bear. I – could you help me up? My leg – something’s wrong with my left leg. I can’t get up.”

“It’s either sprained or broken,” the man replied. “You cannot walk on that – uh – limb for now.” His tone had changed on hearing she was a woman rather than a rascally youth spooking his horses on purpose.

“My name is Jane Fielder,” Jane said, in a more appeasing tone, I’m a reporter for CBS and I – I seem to have lost my way.” If this man was the only one that could help her, in spite of his strange attire, she should try to ask nicely.

“I’m Jestyn Greywick, miss,” he replied.

For a stunned moment Jane said nothing. Then she dragged out a few words. “You’re kidding, aren’t you?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“This whole thing…” Jane said, “…your costume, dressed as Jestyn Greywick…the carriage…were you – are these scenes arranged for tourists?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Miss Fielder,” he said.

“What I mean is you can’t really be serious about your name unless you’re – oh, I get it. You’re pretending to be Jestyn Greywick. That was the name of the man in the portrait I saw moments ago.” Jane felt dizzy and probably wasn’t making sense, judging by the look in the man’s eyes.

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AUTHOR BIO

 

Writing and painting have been Gloria’s main obsessions ever since she can remember. She and her husband consider themselves very lucky to be living in a beautiful place like San Diego, California, but most of all to have their children and grandchildren living nearby. Gloria is inspired by the sea and couldn’t think of living away from it.

A Bridge Through Time is Gloria’s first time travel romance. Her latest Regency romance, Enchanted Summer, is Gloria’s seventh Regency romance Her other Regencies include the recently published Lovely Little Liar and Scandal at Almack’s, both with Boroughs Publishing Group, as well as Love In A Dangerous Season and Kissed In The Dark that she self-published with Kindle Books.

  

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WARRIOR AND THE WANDERER

BOOK INFO

TITLE – Warrior and the Wanderer

AUTHOR – Elizabeth Holcombe

GENRE – Scottish historical romance/time travel

PUBLICATION DATE – December 23, 2014

LENGTH (Pages/# Words) - 249 pages

PUBLISHER – Amazon Kindle

COVER ARTIST – Fiona Jayde Media Designs

BOOK SYNOPSIS

An impossible adventure. A fierce, undeniable desire.

Infamous Scottish bad boy, Ian MacLean, takes a road trip to sort out his mess of a life and lands five hundred years in the past. He is taken hostage into what he is certain is a band of extreme Highland role players. The only bright light in this strange situation is his insanely beautiful warrior-princess captor who wields her claymore as well as her fiery feral charms.

To gain a strong ally for her clan, flame-haired Bess Campbell reluctantly married a powerful Highland chief who had no intentions of uniting the clans. After murdering her clan chief, he chains her to a rock condemning her to die in the rising tide, until a strangely dressed but startlingly handsome man emerges from the waves like a mythical selkie and rescues her. Bess learns her most odd savior has the same name as her murdering husband—MacLean—and makes him her prisoner.

Fearing she may have captured a madman, Bess forces Ian to journey through Scotland chasing down a killer. She finds Ian’s strange ways oddly endearing and uncommonly useful to her quest for revenge. Ian struggles to find a way back to his time, while being pulled deeper into his role in the past and his undeniable attraction for the fiery Highland warrior princess, Bess Campbell.

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EXCERPT

She knelt at his feet and began smoothing the plaid across the cold stone floor, felt him watching her every move. “Ye’d best pay close attention,” she said, “because I’m no’ gonnae do this for ye again.”

“Too humiliating?”

“Should be humiliating for ye, to have me show ye how to properly dress yourself.” “Actually, I find it charming, in a weird sort of way.”

Bess ignored the last comment and folded the bottom third of the plaid into thick pleats. She slipped the rope under them.

“Lay on the plaid,” she said. “Place yer waist at the rope in case ye’ve forgotten.” “Oh, yer sarcasm tears me apart, Blaze.”

“If it would help to tear down yer arrogance then we’d be better served, and stop calling me Blaze.” He grimaced as he folded his body down to kneel beside her.

“Your wound…,” she began.

“Is nothing,” he said behind clenched teeth as he lowered his body on top of the plaid.

He rested supine before her. Bess drew in a deep breath. She hovered over him, grasped the ends on the rope in her fists, tied it about his waist, and then adjusted the pleats under the belt.

Ian moaned from far back in his throat. Perspiration glistened across his forehead.

“Ye claim your wound is nothing, d’ye?” she chided, loosening the rope belt. Ian gave her a small forced smile.

She continued to dress him. Her fingers smoothed the wool over his hard waist, over his lean hips, and down the ridge of muscle on his thighs. Feigning indifference was the most difficult part of her task.

“Ye may stand now,” she said. “I’ll help ye.”

“No thanks,” he said struggling to sit up, “you’ve done quite enough.”

She ignored his protest.

“Bursting your stitches is no’ a sign of bravery, ’tis a sign of stupidity.” She took up his left arm and placed it over her shoulders. “Stand with me.”

“I can do it on my own,” he said.

“Ye’re just another arrogant bastard, a typical MacLean,” she said helping him anyway.

“Have you ever thought that all MacLean’s aren’t forged from the same iron as your husband?” he asked.

“Ye betrayed my trust, so aye, I do think all MacLean’s are alike,” she said.

“But what sort of man would I be if I didn’t try to escape?” he asked.

She paused. He had her there. Of course she expected he would try to escape. That was why she had chained and tied him up in the first place.

Ian on his feet, Bess took a step backward. She could not help but allow her gaze to fall down the long length of his body and discovered her task was not complete.

She bent down, and scooped up the rest of the plaid dangling from his waist and tossed it over his shoulder. He remained silent, a blessing, as she tucked the end of the plaid under the rope belt. Task done, Bess surveyed Ian, and her knees suddenly weakened.

Dear God, she thought, he’s the Highlander of my dreams, of my heart. He is the one who could make love possible, if he wasnae so arrogant and odd, and I wasnae so bound to my clan. If ‘twas another time…

AUTHOR BIO

Elizabeth Holcombe’s background includes Bachelors and Masters Degrees in Fine Arts and Art History from Virginia Commonwealth University in her hometown of Richmond. She has taught elementary school and adult education courses on architecture in Rochester, Minnesota, and then worked as a fine arts museum registrar at the Flint Institute of Arts in Michigan.

Although she’s been writing since age ten, it wasn’t until after the birth of her son that she began penning book-length fiction. A past president of Washington Romance Writers, Elizabeth has also organized two highly successful seminars on romance for The Smithsonian Associates.

Elizabeth’s first published Scottish romance novel, Heaven and the Heather (originally published by Berkley/Jove of Penguin Putnam), was a finalist for Best Historical Romance in the Holt Medallion, nominated by Romantic Times

Reviewer’s Choice for Best First Historical Romance and the Dorothy Parker Reviewer’s Choice Award.

Elizabeth lives in Falls Church, Virginia with her husband and son. She is also the proud owner of Dime Store Chic, ranked in the top 50 for vintage shops on Etsy.com. When not writing or crafting her mixed media creations, Elizabeth frequents local estate sales and flea markets.

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KING ARTHUR'S SISTER IN WASHINGTON'S COURT

BOOK INFORMATION

TITLE – King Arthur’s Sister in Washington’s Court

AUTHOR – Kim Iverson Headlee

GENRE – Science Fiction/Fantasy Time-Travel Romance

PUBLICATION DATES:

– 1 November 2014 (ebook, illustrated)

– February 2015 (audiobook, performed by Caprisha Page)

– November 2015 (hardcover, featuring more than 100 illustrations)

LENTH (Pages/# Words) – (350 pages/70K words)

PUBLISHER – Lucky Bat Books

COVER ARTIST – Jennifer Doneske

ILLUSTRATORS – Jennifer “The Royal Portraitist” Doneske and Tom “The Creature King” Doneske

BOOK BLURB

Morgan le Fay, 6th-century Queen of Gore and the only major character not killed off by Mark Twain in A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court, vows revenge upon the Yankee Hank Morgan. She casts a spell to take her to 1879 Connecticut so she may waylay Sir Boss before he can travel back in time to destroy her world. But the spell misses by 300 miles and 200 years, landing her in the Washington, D.C., of 2079, replete with flying limousines, hovering office buildings, virtual-reality television, and sundry other technological marvels.

Whatever is a time-displaced queen of magic and minions to do? Why, rebuild her kingdom, of course—two kingdoms, in fact: as Campaign Boss for the reelection of American President Malory Beckham Hinton, and as owner of the London Knights world-champion baseball franchise.

Written as though by the old master himself, King Arthur’s Sister in Washington’s Court by Mark Twain as channeled by Kim Iverson Headlee offers laughs, love, and a candid look at American society, popular culture, politics, baseball...and the human heart.

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EXCERPT

Chapter XI: The Queen in Search of a Baseball Club

CLARICE HELPED ME pack my clothing and accessories for the relocation to London: just what I would need for the first brace of weeks, which amounted to eight large traveling cases, one of which was devoted to my hair accoutrements and cosmetics. Not long after arriving in this century, Clarice had introduced me to these wonderful products, which allowed me to create the same visual effect as I had done for decades with the aid of magic; now you sit privy to the secret of how I could cast ever so many enchantments for President Malory and remain looking as glorious as ever.

While I was yet sorting through my garments deciding which to bring and which to leave, my thoughts turned toward a leaving of another sort. I must have appeared sorrowful, for of a sudden Clarice asked if aught ailed me.

“I shall miss you, Clarice, when I get to London.” Since that answer represented only half the truth, I hurried on with: “And yet I know that you shall perform your duties in continuing to oversee my office here in Washington to the utmost of your considerable abilities.”

That made her smile, and she thanked me for the compliment, but her look turned shrewd. “I imagine you’ll miss President Hinton, too.”

“Of course I shall. She has become as a sister to me.”

I resumed examination of the dress I had been holding, a sexy little black thing that I would have loved to have worn only for Accolon…

“Please tell me about him,” said Clarice.

“I beg your pardon?”

The shrewd look was back. Mayhap it had never left. “Sir Accolon. Queen Morgan, you have not—um, partnered with any man of this century more often than once to my certain knowledge, since I manage your schedule. I suspect that you have not yet found anyone you like, let alone love, as well as he. No one of this era could make you go all moony-eyed while looking at a dress; therefore, you must be thinking about Accolon. So, please tell me about him.”

Ha. I knew I had chosen her as my trusted adviser for good reason, and I rewarded her accordingly. As the memories swirled about in my mind, making me yearn even more acutely for Accolon’s company, I said:

“He was a knight with very few peers during his lifetime, excepting only Sir Launcelot and Sir Gawaine. And my brother—those three were the only knights who ever bested him in single combat. So naturally, he was big—in all parts and portions—and muscular, and very strong, yet as a lover he was no brute, but as tender as any virgin maid could ever wish for. His intellect was nearly as keen as mine, as was his eagerness to assist me in righting the wrongs inflicted upon me by my brother. He had hair as glossy black as a raven’s wing, which he kept short-cropped in the old Roman style; he once said it was more comfortable under the helmet than having masses of hair stuffed up under and making the head sweat overmuch. It had a fine curl to it that I found most endearing. His eyes were an unforgettable shade of blue, and he had a strong chin that he kept clean-shaven…Lord God in heaven! Who on earth is that?”

While I had been discoursing on Accolon’s virtues, Clarice had activated her screen, which was now displaying the image of a man who could have been my dead lover’s twin.

Clarice grinned. “You said the other day that you wanted to find another general manager for the Knights. This man is Alexander Leroy ‘Sandy’ Carter, former WBF second baseman and 2073 Tournament MVP for the Connecticut Yankees. Since his retirement as a player, he has served in various capacities for several teams, including as a GM. He is a renowned expert in all matters baseball.”

In any era, when something—or someone—sounds too good to be true, it—or he—usually is. I asked, “If he is so valuable, then why does he not stay with one team?”

A look of chagrin crossed her countenance. “Sandy Carter is what we call a ‘loose cannon.’ He can be temperamental and wild, and he gets into fights with players and coaches and…sometimes even with his bosses. And not just verbal fights, either. Usually his points are quite valid, but his means of expressing them don’t earn him any friends.”

In a word, then, passionate. Passionate men I understood and could work with. It had been thus with Accolon at the start of our association, and look at all I had been able to accomplish with him. Everything I had ever desired, except King Arthur’s throne.

Wit I well that lying and gullibility were two facets of human nature that had not changed in the last fifteen centuries and shall not change in the next fifteen, either. I had learned this while trying to evaluate potential new Knights for the team. Everyone speaks glowingly of his accomplishments and accolades; no one ever mentions his flaws or mistakes or regrets unless a wise employer chooses to ask specific questions of this ilk. Yet Clarice had offered the bad along with the good of this man. Still, I would be forced as a point of honor to relinquish my coveted title of The Wise if I accepted her words at face value; upon turning the thought-receptors toward me, I soon verified everything she had told me about this volatile man.

I asked, “Is Sandy Carter available now?”

Clarice’s grin returned. “For the right price, Queen Morgan, anyone is.”

It took only one call, and Sandy Carter expressed exceeding pleasure and eagerness to accompany me to London as general manager of the Knights. The fact that I had worn the sexy black number during the call saved the team quite a sum with regard to Carter’s agreed-upon salary.

Neither as queen nor as ball club owner do I ever make idle promises.

AUTHOR BIO

Kim Headlee lives on a farm in southwestern Virginia with her family, cats, goats, and assorted wildlife. People & creatures come and go, but the cave and the 250-year-old house ruins -- the latter having been occupied as recently as the mid-20th century -- seem to be sticking around for a while yet.

Kim is a Seattle native (when she used to live in the Metro DC area, she loved telling people she was from "the other Washington") and a direct descendent of 20th-century Russian nobility. Her grandmother was a childhood friend of the doomed Grand Duchess Anastasia, and the romantic yet tragic story of how Lydia escaped Communist Russia with the aid of her American husband will most certainly one day fuel one of Kim's novels. Another novel in the queue will involve her husband's ancestor, the 7th-century proto-Viking king of the Swedish colony in Russia.

For the time being, however, Kim has plenty of work to do in creating her projected 8-book Arthurian series, The Dragon's Dove Chronicles, and other novels under her new imprint, Pendragon Cove Press. She also writes romantic historical fiction under the pseudonym "Kimberly Iverson."

YouTube video interview: http://youtu.be/DV5iKrEIROk

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