New York Times bestselling author Kristen Proby returns to tales beyond the natural and normal with her brand-new, captivating paranormal romance series that is sure to capture your heart and make you believe in magic.
Returning to her beloved home of Salem after a trip away, Lucy Finch can’t shake the feeling of anxiety that suddenly plagues her. Nor can she shrug off her third eye’s urging that she has a mission she must undertake—a secret she must uncover.
As a green witch, Lucy has always felt strongest and the most at home in the forest, surrounded by nature. But when a disturbing dream wakes her and sends her fleeing into the woods, she isn’t prepared for what she finds. She expected her element. Perhaps a message from spirit. She didn’t expect to cross paths with a sexy-as-sin man, straight out of a movie scene.
Jonas Morley isn’t like the other residents of Hallows End. He knows the town’s secrets, as well as Salem’s, and it has been his honor and duty to protect them for as long as he can remember. But the gorgeous witch who graces the town’s hidden border shakes him and makes him second-guess his directive. She calls to him like no other. But can he save his home and those under his care and still make her his? Or will their union mean danger and destruction for not only them but also those who live within the town’s borders?
Curses don’t discriminate, and the curse of the blood moon is the most determined and dangerous of all.
Hallows End is the first book in the Curse of the Blood Moon Series.
Download today on Amazon, Apple Books, Audible, Barnes & Noble, Kobo!
Kristen Proby has published more than forty titles, many of which have hit the USA Today, New York Times and Wall Street Journal Bestsellers lists. She continues to self publish, best known for her With Me In Seattle and Boudreaux series, and is also proud to work with William Morrow, a division of HarperCollins, with the Fusion and Romancing Manhattan Series.
Kristen and her husband, John, make their home in her hometown of Whitefish, Montana with their two cats.
The oldest of the Jamison triplets, hereditary witch and criminal defense
attorney, Astra Jamison knows more about the laws of magick than her two
sisters. She serves the Goddess but believes those who hurt and harm people
who can’t defend themselves should be punished, abhorring it when
innocents suffer. She is always willing to dole out her kind of justice to
anyone who offends her, often sending them to gruesome deaths. When she and
her sisters open a time portal to 1888 Liberty Valley to save two people
from a serial killer, the last thing she expects is to have the wizard she
views as an age-old enemy return, seeking retribution for sins she committed
in the past.
Wizard and healer in more than one life, Rowdy Tall-Deer struggled to
survive when his soul-matched mate arranged his murder time and again,
having rogue shape-shifters attack and eat him alive. Discovering a time
portal that leads to the 21st century and the witch who betrayed him means
making new plans. Does he opt for vengeance or attempt to learn the truth
behind her machinations? Nothing is as it seems when her demon father
becomes involved, determined to continue a war that began eons ago.
Will love finally conquer evil or is history doomed to repeat itself for
their next life?
Other Books in the Liberty Valley Love series:
Liberty Valley Love – “Where no matter what, soulmates find
Josie Malone lives on the family farm, a riding stable in the Cascade
foothills where she organizes most of the riding programs, teaches
horsemanship, nurses sick horses, holds for the shoer, trains whoever needs
it – four-legged and two-legged. And writes books in her spare time,
Liberty Valley Love, a paranormal western romance series, “where no
matter what, soulmates find each other” and the Baker City Hearts and
Haunts, a paranormal military romance series – “where love is
real and so are the ghosts!”
Box Set, First 3 Books in the Knights In Time Series
Date Published: 09-05-2014
Publisher: Books to Go Now
Best-selling series, together for the first time in a boxed set.
Three friends…warrior knights, One battle will change their lives, Love will change their worlds.
HEROES LIVE FOREVER
Elinor Hawthorne has inherited a house haunted by two medieval knights, Basil Manneville and Guy Guiscard. Basil is literally the knight of her dreams. She never expected to “meet” a ghost face to face let alone fall in love with one. Living the normal life together that they’d want is impossible unless fate intervenes.
A lifetime later fate does intervene. Basil, still in love with Elinor, is told her spirit lives on in a young woman. He is given another chance at life to find her.
JOURNEY IN TIME
The budding romance between London attorney, Shakira Constantine, and her client, Alex Lancaster is put to the test when the couple finds themselves torn through time back to the medieval world. It’s a world Alex has a strong connection to, a connection that will cost him his life unless they can find a way to return to this time. Without him, Shakira is condemned to live in a dangerous medieval world alone.
Together they’ll struggle to discover a way back to the modern world while dealing with the political and social intrigues of 14th Century England. The intrigues of that world all too often work against their efforts to get home.
Stephen Palmer, a wounded medieval knight finds himself torn through time from the battlefield to the modern and alien world.
Seriously injured, he now must make his way in a world he has no context for and no knowledge about.
Esme Crippen is hired as his tutor. Love is something he does understand and as the two fall into love, they both must overcome the fact the world thinks him mad with his time-travel talk, including Esme.
About the Author
Chris Karlsen is a retired police detective. She spent twenty-five years in law enforcement with two different agencies. The daughter of a history professor and a voracious reader, she grew up with a love of history and books.
An internationally published author, Chris has traveled extensively throughout Europe, the Near East, and North Africa satisfying her need to visit the places she read about. Having spent a great deal of time in England and Turkey, she has used her love of both places as settings for her books. “Heroes Live Forever,” which is her debut book, is set in England as is the sequel, “Journey in Time,” the third is “Knight Blindness.” They are part of her Knights in Time series. All three are available as a boxed set on Kindle. She is currently working on the fourth in the “Knights in Time,” series. “Golden Chariot,” is set in Turkey and the sequel, “Byzantine Gold” is set Turkey, Paris and Cyprus. They are part of her Dangerous Waters series.
Her most recent release is called, “Silk” and is book one of a new series, The Bloodstone Series. It is a suspense set in Victorian London.
Published by Books to Go Now, her novels are available in digital, ebook, and Android App. and in paperback. “Heroes Live Forever” is also in audio format.
A Chicago native, Chris has lived in Paris and Los Angeles and now resides in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and four rescue dogs. A city girl all her life, living in a small village on a bay was a interesting adjustment. She’d never lived anywhere so quiet at night and traffic wasn’t bumper to bumper 24/7.
Some of Chris’s favorite authors are: Michael Connolly, John Sandford, Joseph Wambaugh, Stephen Coonts, Bernard Cornwell, Julia Quinn, Julie Anne Long, Deanna Raybourne and Steve Berry.
Ride with the Moonlight (Thunder on the Moor, Book 2)
Author: Andrea Matthews
Publication Date: 25th November 2020
Publisher: Inez M. Foster
Page Length: 387 Pages
Genre: Historical, Time-Travel, Romance
After rescuing sixteenth-century Border reiver Will Foster from certain death at her family’s hands, time traveler Maggie Armstrong finally admits her love for the handsome Englishman, though she can’t rid herself of the sinking suspicion that her Scottish kin are not about to let them live in peace. What she doesn’t expect is the danger that lurks on Will’s own side of the Border. When news of their plans to marry reaches the warden, he charges Will with March treason for trysting with a Scot. Will and Maggie attempt to escape by fleeing to the hills, but when Will is declared an outlaw and allowed to be killed on sight, they can no longer evade the authorities. Will is sentenced to hang, while Maggie is to be sent back to her family. Heartbroken, she has no choice but to return to Scotland, where her uncle continues to make plans for her to wed Ian Rutherford, the wicked Scotsman who she now realizes murdered her father in cold blood. With Will facing the gallows in England, and herself practically under house arrest in Scotland, she continues to resist her uncle’s plans, but her efforts are thwarted at every turn. Will’s family, however, is not about to stand by and watch their youngest lad executed simply because he’s lost his heart to a Scottish lass. A daring plan is set into motion, but will it be in time to save Will’s life and reunite the lovers? Or will Ian’s lies prompt Maggie’s family to ensure the bond between them is forever destroyed?
Often writers started out as readers. Was there a particular book that inspired you to be an author?
ANDREA: I’ve always loved to read. Books had the power to carry me away to distant lands and times, and made it possible for me to do and be whatever I wanted. The first book I really remember falling in love with was Pride and Prejudice, and I have to say, Mr. Darcy still holds a place in my heart. However, that’s not what inspired me to be an author. I think, perhaps, it was the other way around. Since I’ve always had a vivid imagination, it was easy for me to become engrossed in a book, where I could clearly envision the scenes and the characters, but when I wasn’t reading, I was daydreaming and coming up with stories of my own. My daydreaming use to baffle my teachers, because they’d think I wasn’t paying attention. But when they called on me, I had the answer. That was the beginning of my skill at multitasking. And it has served me well. An added advantage is that I really never get bored since I’m always thinking about the next story or rehashing a scene in my head.
Do you tend to read the same genre you write?
ANDREA: Yes, and no. I do prefer to read historical and time travel romance and mysteries, which is what I write, but I also enjoy some fantasies and an occasional thriller. One thing I’m not a big fan of is bildungsroman or domestic fiction. They tend to be too deep for me. I do a lot of “deep” reading when I’m involved in the research for my books, so when I’m reading something for enjoyment, I usually prefer light-hearted romances or cozy historical mysteries. But whatever I read, there always needs to be a little romance, even in my mysteries.
Do you have a favorite time period to write about? If so, why?
ANDREA: I majored in history and tend to enjoy anything pre-nineteen twenties, though I do occasionally stroll forward past the early 1900s. I’m not sure the period matters so much as the story. When writing the Thunder on the Moor series, I wanted the Border Reivers at their height, which was the mid-sixteenth century. My Cross of Ciaran series needed a time on the cusp of Christianity in Ireland. Generally, the story, the characters, and the events within the story will determine the time period. It just seems to be that most of those plots end up finding their home more than a hundred years ago.
How long have you been writing, and how long did it take before your first book was published?
ANDREA: I’ve always loved creating stories and have been writing for as long as I can remember. It started with poems and song lyrics, then around 1992, while recovering from the loss of my gall bladder, I decided to try something a little more in depth, just to keep me busy while I recuperated. I gave a few chapters to some friends, and at their insistence, ended up finishing the book. It’s tucked away, and some day may see the light of day again, but I had already thought of a few other tales I wanted to tell. That first novel did wet my taste for something more however and gave me the incentive to put some of those other stories to paper — on a typewriter, no less. PCs and word processing programs were still a few years away. And so, I began to write novels, even shopped some around a bit. However, I still had a family to raise, and then I returned to school to get my MLS and became a full-time librarian, so I concentrated on improving the works when I could, not thinking much more about publishing them. Finally, a few years ago with my children grown, and about seven or eight drafts of my first novel under my belt, I decided to take the publishing plunge.
What is the scariest thing you face as a writer? How do you handle it?
ANDREA: Probably reading reviews. It’s almost like I want to close my eyes and peek through my fingers, praying they’re good. And the good ones are wonderful. They give me encouragement and let me know what I got right. The bad ones, however, can be a bit daunting, at least until you accept the fact that not everyone out there is going to like what you write. But that’s okay. You can’t please everyone, and once you get past their sting, there are some that might even help you improve your writing. Of course, there are always going to be those that serve no constructive purpose whatsoever, but I’ve learned that as long as they’re not in the majority, you just have to push them aside and move on. There are a million reasons why someone may not like your work, many of which have nothing to do with how good your writing is. It may be someone who doesn’t usually read the genre you write, or someone who has a favorite book that no one else can ever compete with, or even someone who just doesn’t believe in giving a good review. Whatever the reason, I’ve finally learned to that they are going to appear from time to time, but I am thankful for the vast majority that are good.
If you could pick your top 3 favorite books of all time, what would they be?
ANDREA: Wow, that would really be tough. Pride and Prejudice, of course, then probably the Harry Potter series, and . . . I guess there is no single book I could list as number three. Having been a librarian, I’ve been exposed to so many wonderful books, it would be hard to choose. So, I’m just going to have to say number three is whatever I’m currently reading. I employ the fifty page rule. If a book hasn’t captured my interest in the first fifty pages, it’s not going to and I’m not going to continue reading it. I used to feel as if I’d have to finish a book if I started it, but I finally realized that there are just too many good books out there to waste time reading those I don’t enjoy.
What do you think is the most important thing to remember when following your dreams?
ANDREA: First of all, be realistic with yourself. If you want to be a doctor, but have no aptitude for science, it’s going to be a hard row to plow. Once you’ve decided your dreams are something within the realm of possibility, however, don’t let anyone talk you out of them or make you feel like they’re impossible or not a real job. One thing more you need to remember. Whatever your dreams are, be prepared to work hard at them and do the best you possibly can. There are going to be ups and downs, but if you work hard and hone your skills, you will succeed.
Does your family support your writing?
ANDREA: Absolutely, my family has always encouraged me and listened with untiring patience to my various story ideas. By the time they were in their teens, my kids were already giving me suggestions about things they did and didn’t like. They still are, and I continue keep their suggestions in mind as I write. They’ve all always had faith in me and never made me feel like I was wasting my time.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Andrea Matthews is the pseudonym for Inez Foster, a historian and librarian who loves to read and write and search around for her roots, genealogical speaking. She has a BA in History and an MLS in Library Science, and enjoys the research almost as much as she does writing the story. In fact, many of her ideas come to her while doing casual research or digging into her family history. She is the author of the Thunder on the Moor series set on the 16th century Anglo-Scottish Border, and the Cross of Ciaran series, where a fifteen hundred year old Celt finds himself in the twentieth century. Andrea is a member of the Romance Writers of America.
An obsession with the past becomes his love story.
Obsessed with RMS Titanic from a young age, Lucas Thompson has spent his life studying the shipwreck and turning his passion into a career in marine archeology. But, on the one-hundred-year anniversary of the voyage, he’s drawn to the ship’s resting place by a strange sonar ripple that hurtles him back in time. Luke wakes in the year 1912 as a passenger on the grandest ship in the world.
It’s there that he meets Quinton Hawthorne, the man who sacrificed himself to save passengers during the sinking, including Luke’s great-grandmother. He also comes face-to-face with Lucinda Hughes, the very woman who raised him on her stories of the ship. With his inside knowledge of the impending disaster, Luke feels a responsibility to change history and develops a plan to save the doomed ship and its passengers.
Things quickly fall apart as Luke begins to fall for Quinton, knowing that it can only end in heartbreak. Though he’s determined to save Quinton, he’s also faced with a dilemma. Should he save the ship or allow destiny to play out?
April 11, 2012 4:27 pm
Lucas Thompson took a deep breath, allowing the salty sea air to penetrate every inch of his being. As the ship bobbed gently along the waves, Luke knew that this was where he was meant to be. He closed his eyes and stretched out his arms to let the fine spray mist over his face and soak into his dark gray T-shirt.
“Reliving a movie moment, are we?” a voice said behind him. He turned to see Kyle Stanton, Master of the Vessel, standing there with his hands stuffed into his coat pockets. Kyle was an average-looking man, with his dark-brown beard and constantly mussed hair. He wasn’t very tall, but he was strong and seemed to take every opportunity he could to prove so.
“Just taking in the air,” Luke replied. Kyle raised an eyebrow at him.
“Do you mean the nearly forty-degree air?” He began shrugging off his thick jacket. “Come on, Luke. You know better. I can’t have the head man getting sick on me.” Luke rolled his eyes but welcomed the warmth when Kyle placed his coat over Luke’s shoulders. The amount of cologne lingering in the fabric nearly choked him, but he endured it, if only to save Kyle’s feelings.
“Being out here clears my mind. Besides, there’s a whole team of people, and any one of them could take my place on Alice if they needed to. They’ve all been properly trained.” Kyle wrapped an arm around Luke and began to lead him down into the ship. He stopped at the base of the steps and turned to look at Luke.
“This is your expedition,” he said sincerely. He reached up, almost as if he wanted to touch Luke, but stopped himself. “You’re the heart and soul of this trip. You and this crew have been good to me over the past couple of years, you know. I’d follow you anywhere.”
“And what better opportunity to prove that than this wild goose chase?” Luke laughed and handed Kyle his jacket. “Thank you. I’m really glad the gang’s with me on this.” He turned to go to his room, the grin never leaving his face.
Luke pushed the door to his quarters open, shoving at it with his shoulder to widen the entrance. He’d been having to slip in and out of the narrow opening due to the stacks of boxes piled all around the room. Scrolls of maps and schematics littered every surface and boxes of records were stacked so high that Luke feared a paper avalanche might happen at any minute. Even the bed was buried somewhere under the journals and books. As much as he would like to excuse the mess as part of the expedition, both he and his friends knew better.
This was Luke’s collection, formed over the last eighteen years. It was his life’s work, which had started when he was only eight years old. Luke crossed the room and looked over his belongings, eventually coming to stand in front of the culmination of it all—his maritime archeology degree. He smiled sadly.
“This one’s for you, Gam.” Next to the degree hung an old black-and-white photograph of his great-grandmother, Lucinda Hughes. It had been taken back in the thirties and showed Lucinda posing on the beach, a soft breeze lifting her curls and a dazzling smile lighting up the camera. Luke touched the frame, then backed away. He had a lot of work to do before they reached the site.
For fans of the unsinkable ship and time travel romance, The Depths of Time is a must-read. It’s an emotional, page-turning story full of hope, loss, and love.
When Luke finds himself on board the Titanic, he’s lost and confused. Until he meets Quinton. The man has always fascinated him, but meeting Quinton in person has a much bigger impact on Luke. Falling in love wasn’t part of Luke’s plan. Once he falls for Quinton, he knows he can’t leave the man to die.
The Titanic has always been a fascination of mine. I can’t think about the horror of that night without wanting to cry for all the lives lost. In Lori Fayre’s The Depths of Time, the story of Titanic gets a somewhat happy ending.
Lori Fayre was born and raised in a small South Georgia town. Her debut novel, “The Devil’s Maverick”, was a novel nearly six years in the making. An obsessive consumer of romance, Lori knew it was the only genre for her. When she’s not writing, she enjoys reading, drawing, or binging Hulu with her husband and Yorkie.
Genre: Time travel romance, Scottish Historical Romance
He hoped for a wife. He found a companion through time and beyond.
It is 1715 and for Duncan Melville something fundamental is missing from his life. Despite a flourishing legal practice and several close friends, he is lonely, even more so after the recent death of his father. He needs a wife—a companion through life, someone to hold and be held by. What he wasn’t expecting was to be torn away from everything he knew and find said woman in 2016…
Erin Barnes has a lot of stuff going on in her life. She doesn’t need the additional twist of a stranger in weird outdated clothes, but when he risks his life to save hers, she feels obligated to return the favour. Besides, whoever Duncan may be, she can’t exactly deny the immediate attraction.
The complications in Erin’s life explode. Events are set in motion and to Erin’s horror she and Duncan are thrown back to 1715. Not only does Erin have to cope with a different and intimidating world, soon enough she and Duncan are embroiled in a dangerous quest for Duncan’s uncle, a quest that may very well cost them their lives as they travel through a Scotland poised on the brink of rebellion.
Will they find Duncan’s uncle in time? And is the door to the future permanently closed, or will Erin find a way back?
“Storm coming,” Lewis said laconically. “I can smell it.”
Duncan studied the sky. If anything, the clouds had sunk even lower, dark and menacing they seemed within touching distance. What little wind there had been fell away, and sweat dewed Duncan’s face, his neck.
“Best increase our pace,” he said.
“Won’t help,” Lewis said. “We’ll be caught in it anyway.”
Duncan gave him an irritated look.
Lewis merely shrugged. “One does not die of rain or thunder,” he said. “I recall—”
Whatever Lewis remembered was drowned in a clap of thunder. And just like that, the storm was upon them. Daylight disappeared, replaced by a murky half-light that made it difficult to see much more than the road before them. Rain fell in torrents from above, and all around lightning flared.
Duncan’s horse baulked, shying from something Duncan could not see. He heard Lewis call out, tried to locate his man but could not make out anything but the whipping branches of the trees. Now and then the darkness was seared with light when a bolt of lightning flashed too close, and every time that happened, Duncan’s mount skittered sideways, throwing frantically with her head.
The road was still visible, widening into a crossroads. Duncan wiped at his face and tried to take his bearings. They were at most a couple of miles from Bourne’s Island. Something crackled overhead. This time, lightning struck very close. Thunder roared, the ground shook.
Duncan’s mare reared and neighed.
“Easy lass,” Duncan said, clutching at her mane to keep his seat. She reared again, bucked, and Duncan was sent flying. He landed painfully in the gravel. His head connected with a rock and for a moment he lost consciousness. Long enough that when he looked up the horse was gone, racing back the way they’d come.
Duncan tried to stand. His head hurt, his face stung and there was blood on the knees of his breeches. Yet another clap of thunder had him jumping backwards, pain shooting through his left leg. The crossroads was a slurry of mud, and the ground tilted this way and that. Once again lightning flashed overhead and the road beneath his feet shook. He had to find cover but standing under trees in a thunderstorm was never a good idea. Duncan shivered and took a shuffling step towards the closest oak. At least it would offer some cover from the rain and lashing wind.
Step by careful step, he made his way over the crossroads. God’s fish, but his leg hurt, and to judge from how his vision blurred, the blow to his head had been hard enough to do some serious damage. One more step and he was at the centre of the crossroads, gaping at how the muddy water swirled around his feet. And then something changed. Instead of dirty brown water, wisps of bright colours coiled themselves around his feet. Green and blue bands tightened round his legs. He couldn’t move, transfixed by the colours. With a roar, the ground at his feet parted. Duncan fell, his last conscious thought being that Grandma Alex had been right: crossroads were dangerous places indeed.
Erin Barnes leaned forward to crank up the volume, squinting at the road before her. Her wipers swished back and forth like a couple of high-speed metronomes, but with the rain coming down in torrents they did little to improve visibility.
She took a right and lowered her speed as she approached the old crossroads. In weather such as this, the old gravel roads became water-logged, and she definitely didn’t need the complication of an accident. Not after this shitty day. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. She threw a look at the rear-view mirror: no headlights following her. Idiot, she told herself, they wouldn’t dare.
“No, of course they wouldn’t,” she said out loud but the knot of tension that lived in her stomach remained where it was, an uncomfortable weight that had her glancing back the way she’d come over and over again. Steve might. He’d looked ready to throttle her earlier and he had a damned short temper.
Had her grandmother Emily been alive, she’d have told Erin that some crusades were best left alone—unless one was willing to pay the price. Crusade? Erin snorted. This was no crusade, this was her sinking her teeth into a story that would make her career as a journalist and avenge Emily’s death. Well, unless the story got her killed first.
She’d spent months getting an in on it, swallowing down the desire to throw up that afflicted her whenever Steve kissed her or pawed at her body. And now…She tightened her hold on the wheel, recalling just how quickly Josephine Wilkes’ expression had changed, from mildly interested to icy rage when she studied the pics in Erin’s phone. Okay, so she’d done a lot of illegal snooping to take those pics, using the hot romance between Steve and herself as a cover to access his family home on several occasions. Too bad Mama Josephine wasn’t as dense as her youngest son—but then, if she’d been that dumb she would not be heading the racketeering business she’d inherited from her husband years ago.
So here she was, driving madly for the safety of her home, south of the air field. Safety? Please! But now that they had her phone, now that they’d slapped her around a bit, maybe they thought she’d do the smart thing and just keep her head down. Huh. When she’d squeezed out of the narrow bathroom window and sprinted for her car, Erin had been as determined as ever to bring the Wilkes family down. Even more, actually, given that now it was personal, her face swollen and puffy after the repeated “love pats” from dear ex-boyfriend Steve.
Thunder crackled through the night and Erin jumped, the car swerving slightly. Shit! More thunder, and if anything the rain intensified, a veritable deluge that had her slowing her speed to a crawl. A flash of lightning illuminated the landscape and a huge bundle lying right in the middle of the crossroads. Was that a man? An outflung arm? Erin stepped on the brake. Too late. There was a dull thump when her fender connected with the object. For some moments, she just sat there, her hands clenched so tight round the steering wheel they hurt. On the radio, someone was singing about perfection.
From outside came a loud howl. It made her jump. Definitely a human voice and with a deep sigh Erin concluded her day had just gone from bad to worse. She’d just hit some poor idiot, although to be fair, it was just as much his fault as hers. What sort of moron would just lie on the middle of the road. An injured one, her brain told her, one that is even more injured now that you’ve run him over.
There was a gun in the glove compartment, and she tucked it into the waist of her jeans before getting out. One never knew, this could be one of Steve’s more subtle attempts at getting his hands on her, but the moment she thought it she dismissed it as ridiculous. Steve had little finesse, was way more into brutal intimidation. She shivered, uncertain if it was the rain or the thought of Steve that chilled her to the bone. The pile on the road groaned.
A man, she concluded some moments later. Dark hair plastered to his forehead, something that resembled a linen shirt stuck to his torso and long legs encased in weird pants and knee-high boots. Erin rolled her eyes. One of those Renaissance Fair types, she thought, placing a careful hand on his back to make sure he was still breathing.
“Hey,” she said, wiping at her face. “Are you okay?” Stupid, stupid question. The man’s eyes fluttered open.
“Hi,” she said, trying out a little smile.
“Hi?” He scooted out of reach and sat up, groaning loudly. He looked at her. His eyes widened. He blinked and looked again.
“Can you stand?” she asked him, wondering if it would be totally uncharitable to help him to the side and then drive off.
Aye? And what an odd accent. He sounded British, somehow.
The man lurched to his feet, took a step and promptly fell to his knees.
“Are you drunk?” she demanded. He clutched at his left leg and she was suffused with guilt. She’d broken his leg or something, and here she was accusing him of being drunk.
He looked at her. “I wish I was,” he said. “It would explain my hallucinations.”
“Aye.” His eyes narrowed. “Or are you real?” Once again, he stood, favouring his left leg. He was tall, well over six feet, and that shirt of his displayed an impressively broad chest. He was also bleeding from a gash on his forehead, his right sleeve was badly burned as was the forearm and hand, and he grimaced when he put weight on his left foot.
“Of course I’m real.” She grabbed hold of him when he swayed. He yelped and shied away, landing yet again on the ground.
“God’s fish!” he exclaimed. “You are real!”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Had Anna been allowed to choose, she’d have become a time-traveller. As this was impossible, she became a financial professional with two absorbing interests: history and writing. Anna has authored the acclaimed time travelling series The Graham Saga, set in 17th century Scotland and Maryland, as well as the equally acclaimed medieval series The King’s Greatest Enemy which is set in 14th century England.
Anna has also published The Wanderer, a fast-paced contemporary romantic suspense trilogy with paranormal and time-slip ingredients. Her September 2020 release, His Castilian Hawk, has her returning to medieval times. Set against the complications of Edward I’s invasion of Wales, His Castilian Hawk is a story of loyalty, integrity—and love. Her most recent release, The Whirlpools of Time, is a time travel romance set against the backdrop of brewing rebellion in the Scottish highlands.
All of Anna’s books have been awarded the IndieBRAG Medallion, she has several Historical Novel Society Editor’s Choices, and one of her books won the HNS Indie Award in 2015. She is also the proud recipient of various Reader’s Favorite medals as well as having won various Gold, Silver and Bronze Coffee Pot Book Club awards.
Tagline: An explosive enemies-to-lovers tale teeming with wicked secrets and fiery passion.
The only thing Destiny knows is her name, but who’s complaining? She lives in a beautiful million-dollar seaside chalet without a care in the world. At least until a psychic shows up at her front door claiming Destiny’s true identity is remarkable. She must remember who she is. What she’s meant to do. If that isn’t enough, her house isn’t her own, and her fate tied to a man in the distant past. A fierce, brooding Viking who’s too arrogant for his own good yet sinfully alluring.
Leviathan doesn’t believe in love, so the woman he saved shouldn’t be haunting his thoughts. Especially considering they barely got along. Yet now, thanks to the fire he used to keep Destiny alive, the feisty, stunning redhead is put in his path once more. Worse yet, she might be the foretold Sigdir who sparks the next Great War. That means she must die by his blade once and for all.
Will Leviathan be able to sacrifice Destiny to save everyone? Or is it already too late, and she’s found her way into a heart he didn’t know he had? Find out as they embark on an epic dragon shifter romance adventure across time in Viking Ancestors: Forged in Fire.
As dumbfounded as she’d been when she saw it from afar, Destiny looked up at the castle towering over her. It wasn’t a typical Viking structure but something more sinister yet somehow alluring. Blackened wall walks curved around dozens of towers, and spires shot toward the sky.
“Though he calls it the Realm’s, welcome to what everyone calls Leviathan’s Keep behind his back,” Freya informed. “Because he does so much for us. Gives us safe harbor.” She grinned. “He built it to Múspellsheimr standards to make its dragons feel welcome. All dragons, for that matter.” She glanced at Leviathan with pride. “It’s seen many battles over the years as dragons grew into their own, but in the end, it’s always been a place of resolution and accord. A place where dragons can act like themselves among their own kind.”
“Impressive.” She meant it too. This place was something else.
She eyed people as they made their way toward an ancient-looking grand staircase leading to a behemoth door flagged by massive torches. Though everyone looked normal enough, Viking to the bone, she could feel the fluctuating animalistic energy in the air. Leviathan nodded at many in passing but said little, his expression hard though his eyes were cordial enough.
“It might be safe, but he still doesn’t want them out in this unnatural weather, does he?” she murmured. “He’s worried about them.”
“Every hour of every day of every year,” Freya said softly. “Endlessly.” Her knowing gaze slid Destiny’s way. “Not many see that so clearly.” She considered her. “Or better put, feel it.”
“My necklace then?” Destiny hadn’t missed the shocked glances that went from her face to her collar. Again, she felt the urge to yank it off, declaring her independence, and again, just as swiftly, wanted it right where it was.
“You know better than to ask me that.” Freya stuck close, making it clear to all they were allies. Friends despite having just met. “You knew Leviathan better than most before I put that necklace on you.”
“Perhaps,” she murmured, but Freya was right. Whatever had happened between them had bonded them together in a way she knew damn well he struggled with. She struggled with.
Yet it had happened.
Was part of them.
And it was locking them together more readily than a collar ever could.
The inside of the castle took her breath away with its stark, towering, regal yet gothic beauty. A massive octagonal great hall led to several long, spiraling staircases going in different directions, rising up so high she wondered if there were an end in sight. Endless cathedral-like stained glass windows depicting sweeping dragons were made more magnificent by the shimmering ash beyond.
“Look at this place,” she whispered in awe, not sure what to admire first.
Four behemoth hearths hosted roaring fires, and huge bowls of fire hung like chandeliers as high as the eye could see. The air smelled of smoke, lust, and roasting meat.
“It used to reek of sulfur too,” Freya said out of the corner of her mouth, “but Leviathan whipped things into shape and taught this bunch how to get their dragon breath under control.”
She bit back a smile. “Glad to hear that.”
Everyone might appear Viking with fur cloaks and pagan looks, but there was no mistaking the fire flaring in many a cat-like eye. Dragons peered back at her with such strong curiosity she knew her collar had made a big impact.
Where Leviathan had remained in front of them to this point, now he fell in beside Destiny. Not to introduce her but rather, from what she could tell, to claim his territory. There was no grand introduction that a time traveler had arrived but rather a pointed sweep from his stormy gaze, lingering on select group of males before he gestured that she follow him.
“Seriously?” she said under her breath to Freya. “Was that Leviathan’s way of welcoming me?”
“Yes.” Freya chuckled and linked arms with her, again making it clear to all they were friends. “And I’ve never seen him do it. Not once with anyone.” She winked. “Let alone a woman branded by his scale.”
“Ah, so that’s the official name for wearing this around my neck?” She snorted. “Sounds like ownership if I didn’t know better.”
“But you do know better,” Freya reminded. “You know this is all for show because you and Leviathan don’t do forever.”
About the Author:
Sky Purington is the bestselling author of over fifty novels and novellas. A New Englander born and bred who recently moved to Virginia, Purington married her hero, has an amazing son who inspires her daily and two ultra-lovable husky shepherd mixes. Passionate for variety, Sky’s vivid imagination spans several romance genres, including historical, time travel, paranormal, fantasy and erotica. Expect steamy stories teeming with protective alpha heroes and strong-minded heroines.
Purington loves to hear from readers and can be contacted at Sky@SkyPurington.com. Interested in keeping up with Sky’s latest news and releases? Either visit Sky’s website, http://www.SkyPurington.com, join her quarterly newsletter, or sign up for personalized text message alerts. Text ‘skypurington’ (no quotes, one word, all lowercase) to 74121. Texts will ONLY be sent when there is a new book release. Readers can easily opt out at any time.
Cocky American Ad Exec, Bradley Connors, and his courageous ex-RAF fighter pilot husband, Janes Garrett, are back in London and once again separated through the power of time. With James stranded in 1956 during a polio outbreak, a world of homophobia threatens to keep him from the man he loves. How will he talk himself out of the trouble he’s unwittingly creating? Who from his past can he rely on to help him get home to Bradley? Will they be able to save their friends from the deadly pandemic or will they too perish in the attempt? And can they do all this while reaffirming that nothing can tear their love apart, not even time itself? Time Cures is a love story like no other. It’s a romance through time.
“Considering the length of time he was unconscious, I feel it imperative that he remain in hospital for at least the next twenty-four hours for observation. Provided no other symptoms manifest, he can be released to his family at that time,” Dr. Donaldson advised.
James was relieved that the diagnosis wasn’t worse. He knew Bradley was still going to be angry at him for getting hurt. Again. At least he would be angry – once Bradley got over being relieved – when James finally got around to calling him.
“Pardon me, Doctor,” the nurse interrupted before the doctor could make his grand exit. “But, before ya came in, the patient was showing signs of confusion and talkin’ all sorts a nonsense. I’m thinking he mighta banged his ‘ead a bit harder than he’s lettin’ on.”
“Confusion?” That got the good doctor’s attention.
“Yes, Doctor. He was spoutin’ some nonsense ‘bout needin’ to ring his husband, an’ seemed to think he had a telephone in that kit bag of ‘is.” The nurse pointed to James’ messenger bag while giving the doctor a knowing look.
“Is that so . . .” The doctor turned back to his patient, one bushy eyebrow raised inquisitively, much more interested in the young blond man now than he had been initially. “Do you remember your name, son?”
“Yes, of course. It’s James Garrett.”
The doctor nodded and asked another question. “Do you remember the accident that gave you that bump on the head?”
James thought about it, but just came up blank. He started to shake his head to indicate ‘no’, only the gesture made the dizziness and nausea worse. He groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “No,” he moaned.
“Well, that’s not a good sign,” Doctor Obvious surmised, his eyebrows knitting together so closely that they now looked like one long, hairy caterpillar creeping across his forehead. “Now, what’s all this chit chat about a telephone and a husband?”
“I just want to call him and let him know where I’m at,” James offered, feeling and sounding pathetic even to his own ears.
“You say you have a . . . Husband ?” The doctor very clearly emphasized the word ‘husband’ in a disbelieving tone of voice.
“Yes! I want to call MY HUSBAND, okay?” James was losing patience with the proceedings and his voice had risen commensurately with his annoyance level. “His name is Bradley Connors. We’re here visiting from the United States; Bradley has business with a big client here. We’re staying at The Strand Palace. He’s probably waiting for me there and, most likely, has already called the police to help find me. If you’d just let me get my cell phone out of my bag I can call him and he’ll come down here and take me to a different hospital where they’ll stop asking me idiotic questions . . .”
The doctor interrupted him before he could continue his rant. “Do you know where you are right now?”
“You mean the hospital? The nurse said it was St. Bart’s. Or do you mean London?”
“Righteo. And what’s the date?”
“Um . . .” James had to think a little about that, his memory going a little fuzzy on him. “I think it’s still Monday, right? August . . . August 14th?”
“Close. You got the date correct but it’s Tuesday. What about the year?”
“2017 . . . ?” James answered, starting to get a funny feeling about where all these questions were leading.
“Hmmmm,” was Donaldson’s only reply. Then he turned to the nurse with more directions. “Clearly, this is a much more serious case than I previously suspected. We could be looking at Traumatic Encephalopathy or, perhaps, some type of advanced psychosis. I’m going to call in Dr. Abbott for a psychiatric evaluation. Change the charge order to note a seventy-two hour hold.” Returning his attention to the patient he added, “never fear, young man. We’re going to take good care of you. Hopefully, by the time we’re done here, you’ll be in tiptop shape once more, back in full possession of all your mental faculties.”
With that proclamation, Dr. Donaldson spun about and started for the door.
“Wait,” James shouted after the departing man before he could exit. “What year is it, really?”
TAG has been writing for almost a decade, starting out with a hesitant toe in the realm of fanfiction before venturing into the scarier world of self-publishing original works. With an eclectic background as a lawyer, microbiologist, all-around nerd, and adventurer, TAG brings that off-kilter sense of humor, unbounded curiosity, a love of details, and astonishing powers of research to all their writing. If you are looking for a griping story, with compelling characters that deal with real world issues, then you’re in the right place.
Lily has been writing close to for twenty years, but has only ever (until recently) dipped her toes into writing fan-fiction. Lily is a born and bred Londoner and loves nothing more than getting lost in a book – whether it be writing one of her own, or reading something from one of her favorite authors. In her spare time, Lily likes to think of herself as somewhat of a disability rights activist, helping to create change for those that may not have a voice to speak up or, like Lily herself, those that may have been too quiet to stand up for themselves.
A mysterious inheritance and magical forces thrust Kara Malone through the ages to the Scottish Highlands of old. There she encounters Alaxandar McLeod, the dark stranger who inhabits her dreams.
Alaxandar leads the charge to learn the truth about the violent raids against his clan. When his horse almost tramples a beautiful stranger, he is beguiled but skeptical. Is she a spy, or worse, a witch come to lure him with her body and distract him from his quest?
With his clan ever leery of Kara’s presence, and the raids intensifying, Alaxandar must decide what is right for his family and his heart. Will Kara choose to stay with the stranger from her dreams made flesh, or the mission she vowed to complete?
She held tightly to her grandmother’s fragile hand, her fingers trembling. “The key is hidden with your grandfather’s picture,” Glynnis said with her last breath.
A loud rumbling shifted Kara Malone’s subconscious from that heart-rending scene to one where horses ran full speed, and men screamed. She woke with a start. Fully conscious of her surroundings, she identified the noise as thunder. The fury of the storm rattled the windows.
“Damn.” She swung her legs over the side of the full-sized bed as a bolt of lightning cracked outside. She clutched the edge of the mattress, bowing her head and breathing deeply. Dreams and nightmares had been her constant companions since the age of thirteen. This one shook her more so than usual because it involved not only the wild and handsome warrior, but the last moments with her grandmother, as well.
Pulling on sweats, she went downstairs to quench her thirst and steady her nerves. She headed straight to the antique liquor cabinet and a bottle of Asbach Uralt Brandy. The lining of her throat burned as the alcohol coated it. Her eyes watered.
They weren’t tears. She rarely cried.
She looked out the window. Sheets of rain showered the lawn. Mother Nature’s cleansing.
Clutching the glass, Kara wandered the well-known house in the dark, feeling like an intruder. Without her grandmother, the place would soon be unbearable. No more laughter while making bat-wing cookies for trick-or-treaters. No more hot buttered eggnog with that hint of Rum at Christmastime while wrapping presents in front of the fire.
Lurking on the threshold, she jumped as lightning lit her grandmother’s darkened bedroom. She hadn’t realized she’d come to this room, the sanctuary of her childhood when the nightmares had gotten so awful that she ran to Haskell and Glynnis’ room. They smiled, opening their arms and their hearts to give her peace from the frightening moments. No child should suffer the fear of the unknown alone.
A fluttering motion caught her eye. She turned her head. There was nothing there.
‘Tis the wee fairies ye see, little Kara. They protect the children.’
Glynnis had a story for everything. “There are no children here anymore, Grams.”
In another flash, the portrait of Haskell Malone brightened. Her grandmother’s weak voice echoed in her head. The memory of Glynnis looking so frail and worn lying in the hospital bed caused Kara to take a huge gulp from the tumbler. She hissed as it burned her throat and soothed her nerves.
The amber-colored liquid sloshed onto her hand as she slammed the drink down on the dresser. She licked it off before lifting the cumbersome frame from the wall. First, she lay the frame face down and slid the backer from its tracks. There were no magic keys taped to the cardboard or canvas. “I knew she was pulling my leg,” Kara murmured putting everything back together. She stood the portrait against the wall.
Rain battered the roof and wind bent trees almost in half with its force. Another bright burst of lightning and booming thunderclap caused her to jump.
“Get a grip.”
Nights of little to no sleep were making her hands jittery and her mind foggy. She looked at the frame again. A weird feeling came over her. Something didn’t seem right or was she imagining it? She flipped on the lamp and stared at the ornate, golden, hand-carved filigree on the frame. Glancing at the smiling face of her grandfather, she grumbled. “Do you know something I don’t, Grandpa?”
Kara ran her fingertips along the edges and touched the design until her forefinger scraped against an oddity. Moving closer, she concentrated on that area. She rubbed her thumb over it and pushed. A small gold key popped out of the design.
“Oh my God.”
Why would her grandmother hide the key in such a sneaky way? Glynnis had seemed to have all her faculties still intact before she passed. But surely, the story couldn’t be true.
Shaky fingers lifted the brandy glass. Clan stone, Scotland, myths, and legends. Glynnis loved the fairytales. Ancient Scotland was her favorite subject. She talked about the people with such familiarity. It was like she actually knew them.
“This is ridiculous,” Kara said. Marching over to the closet, she threw open the door and stared into the cluttered space. She pushed into the mess. “I swear the woman was a pack rat. You’d think she’d never heard of the Salvation Army or Goodwill.”
Ten minutes later, in the farthest recesses, her fingers brushed something. Blowing hair out of her eyes, she pulled the ten-by-eight-inch cedar box adorned with Celtic symbols into her lap. She recognized her grandfather’s handiwork in the intricate carvings. A Celtic wooden cross, which hung in the living room above the doorway, had also been hand-carved by Haskell. It was a grand hobby of his. Flipping the box over, she ran her fingers across his initials etched in the corner.
The tiny lock had the same shape as the key. An excitement—or was it fear—gripped Kara’s stomach. The room seemed hotter than before. Standing, she grabbed the dresser to fight off waves of dizziness.
Never drink on an empty stomach.
Crossing the floor, she sat on the edge of the bed and hugged the box to her chest. The combination of alcohol and sleepless nights caused blurry vision and the start of a major headache. She didn’t think she could deal with another shock right now. Placing the key on the chain around her neck, she tucked the box under her arm and went back to bed.
It’ll wait. What was one more day going to matter?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Sloan McBride is a multi-published author whose books have been reviewed, and featured in RT Book Reviews. She is a romance author who leans toward the paranormal, adding suspense, and mixing in mythology with her Time Walker Series. She dances through the Highlands, making merry with the clans in The Talisman Trilogy, and turns up the heat in the crazy world of smokejumpers in the Men of Fire Trilogy.
Sloan lives in Illinois with her husband of 39 years and two children who have grown into adulthood. By day she is executive assistant to the majority owner of a dynamic law firm. By night, she puts on her writing persona and creates kick-ass heroines and the tortured men who love them.
If you’d like more information about Sloan, please visit her website at http://www.sloanmcbride.com where you can sign up for her newsletter to receive notice of new books, giveaways, and more.
Ever since the genre exploded in the mainstream romance world back in 1986, with the publication of Timeless Passion by Constance O’Day Flannery, I have loved time travel. It had always been my goal to write time travel in a unique way, and Dreamland certainly delivers on that! I love all the books I’ve written, but I have to admit, this one is my favorite.
Tell us something about the novel that doesn’t appear on the blurb or the excerpt.
Okay, obviously if the book is set in Hollywood during the Roaring Twenties, I had to mention someone famous. So…Dicen and Juliet go to a party and he sees a man that’s slightly familiar. Juliet tells him it’s John Barrymore, and he replies now he sees the resemblance to Drew. Juliet asks who’s that, and he replies “Just a girl I know.” I think the scene is hilarious!
How much research went into Dreamland?
I wanted this to be as authentic as possible so a lot of research went into the lingo. The 1920s was a completely unique time period, rich and beautiful as well as dangerous and frivolous. We as readers know what’s right around the bend for these people, how the world descends into the Great Depression, and we feel that live-or-die exuberance from the characters. And it’s heartbreakingly intriguing. That’s what I love about this book and these characters.
The Roaring Twenties lingo
Bimbo: refers to a macho man
Giggle water: liquor, alcoholic beverage
Half-seas over: shitfaced
Jake: okay, as in “Everything’s fine”
Big six: tough, like a six-cylinder engine
Keen: appealing, good looking
Balled up: messed up
Bee’s knees: great
Rummy: drunk man
Drugstore cowboy: man hanging around the street corners
Dicen Burke had it all. As lead singer in the world famous rock band, Dark Army, the world lay at his feet. But the path to super stardom warred with a painful past and during a performance the demons haunting him finally descended. Unable to stop the self-destructive path of alcohol and drugs, when he fell, he fell hard.
He wakes up in a world he doesn’t know. The Twenty-first century rocker is now in the 1920’s, lost and bewildered. He’s taken in by Juliet Fox, a beautiful woman trying to be a positive influence in her brother’s wild lifestyle among the Hollywood Motion Picture elite.
Dicen does his best to adapt, and with Juliet by his side, he discovers a world that offers him a clean slate. But when he’s pulled back to the present, separated by time from the one person that gives him a reason to live, will he find a way to push past his demons as well as find Juliet again?
“Hey you,” a soft voice commanded. “Open your eyes please”
He tried to obey, struggling to push past the lingering darkness that clung to him like a second skin. God, he felt horrible.
“That’s it,” she soothed. “Open your eyes. Look at me.”
Finally, he managed to raise his eyelids. An angel leaned over him, staring into his eyes. She smiled at him so he smiled back. He had always thought it would be demons that would come collect him when he died so it amazed him that heaven was calling.
“Ah, a set of beautiful baby blues,” she murmured, stroking his cheek. “Hello, handsome.”
He opened his mouth to say something but the words wouldn’t come. His tongue felt swollen, dry. He forced himself to swallow to try to get some saliva flowing.
She cocked her head. “Bad hooch I’m thinking. Gotta be careful of certain juice joints. Come,” she said, holding out her hand. “Let’s get you sitting upright.”
He hadn’t realized he’d been lying down but as she helped him up, he realized the halo around her head had been nothing more but the flickering of a street light accentuating the midnight hue of her hair. When he was vertical once more, he finally saw all of the woman’s features. Short bobbed hair held back by a headband made of crystal beads while dark eyes watched him from under thin, perfectly arched eyebrows. Her lips were a cupid’s bow, painted a deep red. Her skin a flawless pale shade that contrasted sharply with her heavily made up eyes.
“Like what you see?” she asked.
He blinked. “I always like my fans. Where am I?”
One of those thin eyebrows arched. “That hooch must’ve really made you balled up. You’re off Hollywood Boulevard, of course, belly up in an alley.”
He looked around, completely baffled. How the hell did he get here? Where was the stage? The screaming fans? Kieron, Van and Tony?
“Do you have a name, handsome?”
“Yeah, sorry. I’m Dicen Burke.”
He waited. He waited for the name to sink in, for her eyes to widen, for her to begin batting her eyes in an attempt to flirt her way into his bed.
“Juliet,” she said. “Juliet Fox. I was looking for my brother, Thayer, and figured I’d find him upchucking out here and instead I find a keen big six. Say, you’re no drugstore cowboy are you?”
“Excuse me?” Her lack of a response to his name, along with slang he didn’t understand, threw him.
“You know, a guy that hangs around street corners looking to pick up ladies. Just so we’re clear on the matter, I ain’t that kind of girl,” she informed him, the smile on her face lessening the harshness of her tone. “Have you seen another man out here, by chance, throwing up?”
She confused him. He shook his head and then wished he hadn’t when it throbbed. “God, I need an aspirin.”
I began reading my mom’s Harlequin Presents in the fifth grade, and from the first story I knew I wanted to write romance novels. I like writing about the very ordinary girl thrust into extraordinary circumstances, so my heroines will probably never be lawyers, doctors or corporate highrollers. I try to write characters who aren’t cookie cutters and push myself to write complicated situations that I have no idea how to resolve, forcing me to think outside the box. I love writing characters who are real, complex and full of flaws, heroes and heroines who find redemption through love. You can find me on the web at: