Because history is fun and love is worth working for

Tag: time travel Page 2 of 3

An Irish Wake

Peggy McDermott studied the tray of soda bread sandwiches and tarts. “I’m hoping this is the last of them, Prudie. I didn’t expect to serve up so many.”

The kitchen maid wiped her sweaty face with a corner of her apron and grinned. “Who would expect it? An O’Brien wake at Meirliun turning the whole of County Clare into respectful mourners.”

Peggy snorted. “Respectful mourners hoping to get a taste of whiskey skin tea and a bite of lunch, maybe?”

“Well, it’s a grand salute to Mistress Margaret.” Quickly, Prudie crossed herself. “She looks like an angel, in that white shroud with her hands bound forever in prayer by her rosary, and the bell hooked over her thumbs.”

“You dressed her, then?”

“Aye, Sarah and I washed and dressed her before we laid her in the bier. Livy was useless, wailing in the arms of the master long after her mum passed.”

“Ah, the poor little thing. Her mum was taken too young for an heiress, and that one so near to coming out. Is she doing her duty upstairs?”

“Last tray I took up, she was sitting beside the coffin, looking like a caged raven in her chair—her ginger hair covered in black and pale as the corpse she was, taking condolences with grace and more gravity than even her da.”

“The master grieves in his own way, Pru. Clay pipes and tobacco are laid out in the library for the male tenants and staff. Angus is minding the liquor cabinet. Every puff and toast will protect the mistress’s soul in the hereafter, or so he says.”

“Did Sarah open the parlor window to allow her spirit to escape?”

“Aye, the housekeeper stopped the clocks, covered the mirrors and set the candles at the head and foot of the bier. Her Robbie and my Lewy are dressed as footmen, ushering guests, and standing watch at each end til burial on the morrow.”

Prudie sucked in her grin. The two gloved lads in green coats with white gloves? Both had unusual run of the manor for sons of servants, but the master always took a liking to them. Chinwag at Meirliun claimed he even charged them to look after Livy when she tagged after the boys when she was younger. The mistress was said to be mortified, knowing her little heiress was hanging with low boys. But Livy was willful and even sending her to a Dublin finishing school couldn’t smooth the wrinkles in the highborn lass.

Peggy smirked when she heard the clatter on the steps. “That’ll be me own dear footman. Lewy’s come for the tray.”

Tall and tanned, with his collar askew and no gloves, Lewy snatched one of the sandwiches and popped it into his mouth before his mother could slap his hand. When he kissed her after a swallowed gulp, she baffled the air with her hand. “Tell me you weren’t samplin’ the master’s jug, now.”

“Da gave me a go, Mum. Standing watch like a statue surrounded by death and roses works on the throat.”

“Is Robbie partaking as well?”

“Not with his mum supervising, but he looks like he needs a swill. He’s stunned as Livy watching the bell in her mother’s hands.”

“Tis an old custom, favoring hope of life by the sound of a ringing bell, but I think the mistress is gone for good.” Crossing herself, she wiped a tear from her eye with the back of her hand. “Even St. Patrick himself could not heal the break in her heart.”

Lewy wondered if his mother knew—the common chinwag he had heard . . .about Robbie and Livy.

About the Book

He was lost in time…found by love.

Jessica Brewster is being watched…and things go missing from the remote Wyoming home she shares with her toddler. In a freak accident, she shoots the grizzled thief stalking her before she recognizes the mesmerizing green eyes that belong to the only man she ever loved.  Has Mitch bridged time to find her? In a race to save his life and change hers forever, she takes him into her home and heart. But his memory loss and puzzling clues curry doubt and danger.

Is he truly her son’s father or an irresistible stranger in her arms?’


I screamed as the gun exploded in my hand and fell to the ground. The bear moving toward Scout dropped, and I raced to scoop up my son before he toppled into the icy stream. Cradling my whimpering child, I ventured closer and could see at once that it was no bear I shot. A man in a bearskin poncho lay on his side. A mass of dark matted hair covered the side of his face that wasn’t blooming with blood,
running down his cheek, pooling in his ear and staining his thick beard.

 “Is he, is he dead?” I whispered.

 Chuck fumbled for a pulse and we all started when the man groaned and his eyes fluttered open.

Green! His eyes were green. The fear in them registered with me as he searched our faces. When his eyes met mine, his jaw twitched. A flash of memories washed over me and my heart began to thump wildly. I set Scout down when my knees began to buckle and I thought I was going to be sick as I reached out to staunch the blood.

So red against the white snow. His eyes, so…green. Every shade in a spectrum of emotion raced through me. I knew only one man who owned those eyes. Had he come back to me?

Did I shoot the only man I ever loved?

About the Author

Born and raised in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, CJ Fosdick has freelanced for over 30 years, writing stories and articles for local and national publications, including the Post Bulletin and Rochester Women. Stories are published in three anthologies, including Minnesota’s Blossoms & Blizzards and a Prentice-Hall H.S. Literature Textbook. Her novel series debuted in 2015 with The Accidental Wife, voted a Golden Quill finalist for Best First Novel and a top 10 finisher for Best Author and Best Romance in the 2015 Preditors & Editors Poll. She pursues her novel dreams on a wooded country hilltop in Rochester, MN, with husband, family, and a menagerie of well-fed wild and domestic animals.

Publisher Website:
Author Website:

Author Twitter: Falorac13
Author Facebook:
Author email:


Which Surpasses All: Friends, Love, or Time?

Vanessa entered the bookshop with her head down. Lately, it seemed as if her life was more like that of a story, and she longed to find refuge in one of the books here, so that she might forget her troubles… such as the strange man who she was beginning to think might possibly be from another time and the horrid man her parents wished her to wed, considering her options were so few.

She bumped into a lady. “Oh, I am quite sorry!”

The lady, one Vanessa had never seen before, granted her an easy albeit preoccupied smile. “Don’t worry about it.”

The lady walked away, but Vanessa found herself watching her. There was something about the way the woman held herself, carried herself, the way her clothes fit, that suggested something was… off, for lack of a better word.

No matter. Vanessa found herself a book, purchased it, and settled into a chair to read. She had only turned the first page when someone sat in a nearby chair. Vanessa paid the newcomer no mind until she heard enough sniffs that the person was either very ill or on the brink of tears.

She closed her book and glanced over to see the lady she had bumped into earlier. A book lay open in the lady’s lap, her head hang low, but her eyes were closed as a single tear ran down her cheek.

Vanessa did not wish to intrude, but the lady seemed so lonely and sad, that she stirred herself to speak. “Is there something I can help you with?” she asked.

The lady jerked back, stiffened, and wiped the tear away. “I’m fine. I’m good. No worries.”

No worries? What an odd thing to say!

The lady grimaced. “Do not worry,” she added.

Vanessa closed her book. “I am worrying, though. You are upset. I know we aren’t aquaintances—I don’t even know your name—”

“Katia,” the lady supplied.

“I’m Vanessa.”

They shared small smiles.

After a moment, Katia sighed, her brief happiness disappearing. “I don’t… I don’t suppose it would hurt to talk to someone.”

Vanessa leaned forward. Katia had lowered her voice so much that she could hardly be heard.

“I… I miss my friends,” she blurted, as if this was a terrible secret.

“Do they live far away?” Vanessa asked.

“You could say that,” Katia mumbled. “I don’t know if I’ll ever see them again.”

“Oh, no!”

Katia nodded emphatically. “I want to see them again, but…” She sighed. Wistfully? Dreamily? Vanessa was not certain.

A crowd entered the bookstore, their chatter and laughter making a private conversation impossible, so they waited until the crowd thinned before speaking further.

“What is holding you back?” Vanessa asked. “From visiting your friends?”

“Time,” she muttered the word as if it were a curse.

Vanessa furrowed her brow. She did not understand. All in all, this Katia seemed like a peculiar lady, but even so, Vanessa found herself wishing to befriend her.

“And then there is Lord Landon…” Katia added, her cheeks staining pink.

“Ah. So time and love are holding you here?”

Katia’s cheeks now burned with seemingly hot red. “O-Of course not love! That’s… Do you think you could love someone who is so different from you?”

Idly, Vanessa found herself thinking of Gerald, the strange man who fancied himself a medieval knight. Despite his oddities—much like Katia—something drew Vanessa to him, something she could not explain.

“I think love is complicated,” Vanessa said after a moment.

“Yes,” Katia murmured. “Complicated. As complicated as…” The last was mumbled, but Vanessa would have been hard pressed to say that she finished with, “time travel.”

Was traveling through time possible after all? Was Gerald not crazy? Could a medieval knight find happiness… and maybe love… today, in the 1800s?

As for Katia, when did she come from? Being from another time would explain her strange mannerisms, the fitting of her clothes, and her odd speech.

Then again, could she truly accepted this notion?

“Who complicates love for you?” Katia asked.

Vanessa laid her book on the table between them. Where to start?

“It all began when I was hungry for a treat from the kitchen…”
Vanessa is the heroine in Love Before Honor, whereas Katia is the heroine in The Test of Time.

LoveBeforeHonor1400x2100To avenge his love’s death, Sir Gerald challenges her murderer to a duel. Her twin, however, feels that Alice never loved the knight and gives him a tea that sends him to into the future, to the Regency era.

Lady Vanessa seeks a Christmas treat when she hears something outside the manor. Upon investigation, she sees a man dressed in armor. Unwilling to turn away a confused man with the approaching holiday, she convinces her parents to house Gerald until the new year.

Scandal has forced her parents to accept William as their daughter’s best chance at marriage. Although rich, he does not understand her or her love of books, whereas Gerald listens to her, confides in her and she him. With the approaching holiday, nothing is certain – not whether Gerald can discover a way back to his duel, whether he can move on from Alice, and not whether this Christmas will be a happy one for either Gerald or Vanessa.

Amazon ~ Barnes and Noble ~ Kobo ~ iBooks

Nicole is one of the Belles. You can learn more about her here.

Can Love Cross the Boundary of Time?

Landon entered White’s and asked for a drink. His dreams had been trying as of late, the mysterious lady who haunted his nights visiting him often and was beginning to invade his every thought. If he could only drink away her beauty, forget about it, make on with his life as if she did not exist…

With a start, he realized a man had sat beside him, his shoulders hunched, his face closed.

For whatever reason, perhaps because he felt a sudden kinship with the man whose eyes seemed to mirror the growing swell of emotions Landon himself felt, he cleared his throat. “Would you like a drink?” he asked.

“Ale,” the man said after a moment. “The stronger the better.”

Landon ordered one, and it wasn’t until they had shared several rounds without a word that the man felt moved to speak further.

“This be a strange place,” he remarked, glancing around.

Landon frowned. “Have you never been before?” White’s was a staple, where a man could enjoy drink and dice and cards and more.

“Never been to anywhere here,” the man muttered. He glanced around some more and then leaned in close. “Can you be… Who are you?”

“Landon Philamore.”

“A lord, I take it.”

Landon nodded. “And yourself?”

“Sir Gerald of Hanover.”

The man seemed to want to say more, and Landon waited, giving the man time to reason through his thoughts.

“Do you think,” Gerald said slowly, but then he halted.

“I think I great many things.” Landon would have smiled, but the man’s countenance bore too heavy a burden. “Tell me what ails you.”

“I do not think…” Gerald took a deep breath and then said in a rush, “I am not from this time.”

At once, Landon’s heart began to race. The lady from his dreams, the things she sometimes said, her mannerisms, her jokes… On more than one occasion, he suspected the same thing of her.

“I know I must sound daft,” Gerald continued.

“I think you need another drink,” Landon said.

At Gerald’s nod, Landon motioned for two more drinks.

“What is it that you miss most from your time?” Landon asked.

“You believe me?”

He shrugged. “It matters not what I believe. Your beliefs take priority.”

“I do not know what I belief, what I think, who I love.” Gerald stared glumly at his mug.

“Well, I believe that love can transcend anything. Even those from other lands… or other times.”

“Do you?” Gerald asked, the light of hope shining in his eyes for the first time since they began their conversation.

“Yes,” Landon said firmly, but whether he said it for Gerald’s sake or his own, he could not be certain…

Landon is the hero in The Test of Time, whereas Gerald is the hero in Love Before Honor.

ThetestoftimesmallKatia jumps at the chance to go to England with her best friend after Rose ditches her deadbeat boyfriend. While walking through the market, she spies a large mansion and recognizes the guy out front as her high school friend Tony. Just as they start to reconnect, Katia passes through times and lands in the arms of Lord Landon, who looks like Tony but certainly doesn’t act like him.

Soon, Katia learns that this 1815 is different from the one in history books. Trapped in a parallel world, Katia struggles to not fall for Landon but his charm proves too much for her. Just when she is about to confess her love for him, Katia travels through time yet again.

The course of love never did run smooth and if Katia can’t figure out and master the test of time, she’ll never see her friends again, or worse, never be reunited with Landon.

Amazon ~ Barnes and Noble ~ Kobo ~ iBooks

Nicole is one of the Belles. You can learn more about her here.

The mystery of the hidden parchment

PD castle

Gentle Reader:

I am most pleased to share with you something that has come into my possession, although I will not divulge the source of such a rare find. Suffice it to say, this small treasure was found when a wall within a chamber at a certain castle caved in. Within the fallen rocks, several unusual items were found that surely could not have come from the medieval era. An odd writing instrument, made of a material that this editor has never seen before, accompanied a parchment containing the words of a lady who confirms my suspicions that she found herself in a time not her own. But I will let you be the judge of her origins as you read on.


I’m losing my mind. There is no other reason for the delusion that is plaguing me. They tell me I hit my head upon my arrival at the beach and perhaps that can explain the migraine that has me hiding away in this room. Yet, it’s a room that isn’t like anything I’ve ever seen in my life, except between the pages of a book.

 I feel as though someone is constantly watching me. These servants come and go in my room and yet, half the time, I close my eyes because I refuse to believe what I am seeing when they are open. The people here are oddly dressed in clothes that belong in a historical movie or a faire. Candles light the room, and I have yet to see anything electronic or even electrical. No television. No landline. No wires or sockets. No lights that would require power. My cellphone doesn’t get reception. Food arrives on platters with wine even for breakfast but I have no appetite for food. They advise me that I’ll be well soon and will return to my normal self, but there is nothing normal about where I am. I feel like I’ve stepped through the looking glass into the twelfth century.

There is a man called Fletcher who is the reason I hit my head when I tripped trying to escape him. He scares me, not only because of the almost sinister appearance of his clothes, but also because of how I feel whenever he enters the room. I swear I know the instant he’s about to enter. And with just one look at him from across the room, all the air gets sucked from my lungs in a rush of emotions. I don’t even want to think about those hypnotic amber eyes. I hate to admit it, but a person could drown staring into those eyes and do so gladly.

Yes…I am going crazy. I keep pinching myself to wake myself up but all I am achieving is a red arm. Clearly, I am wide-awake, but I continue to refuse to believe that I am somehow stuck in twelfth century England. How is it possible? I cannot, in a single step along a Californian beach, go back 900 years in time and to a completely different continent than the good American soil I remember.

penMy name is Jenna Sinclair. I am 25 years old living in San Francisco, California and I’m not in a medieval castle. I am writing this note so I can remember who I am, where I come from, and not become drawn into this hallucination that will rob me of the last shreds of sanity I possess. I’ll finish this note to myself on this crazy parchment before my damn pen runs out of ink and hide it between the rocks in the wall. I will return home to my mother and my best friend Amy. And most importantly, I will not, under any circumstances, fall in love with a handsome stranger who dresses as a knight of old and who might fulfill every romantic notion that has ever crossed my mind. Obviously I’m dreaming this whole dang nightmare.


Jenna Sinclair
San Francisco, California

TFMH 72dpi-1500x2000Jenna Sinclair and Fletcher Monroe are characters in Sherry Ewing’s just released novel To Follow My Heart: The Knights of Berwyck, A Quest Through Time Novel (Book Three).


Love is a leap. Sometimes you need to jump…

After a gut wrenching break up with her fiancé, Jenna Sinclair heads to the coast to do a little soul searching. To say everything is subject to change is putting it mildly. Her world is not only turned upside down, but pretty much torn asunder when she is pulled through a time gate on the beach beneath the Cliff House and transported more than eight hundred years into the past.

Fletcher Monroe, captain of the garrison knights at Berwyck Castle, has wasted too much time pining for a woman who will never be his. When he finally decides to move on with his life and focus on his duties, he is suddenly confronted with a woman who magically appears at his feet. This could either be the best thing that has ever happened to him or another cursed event in a string of many.  He soon finds he is wildly attracted to her, but she’s scared to death of him ─ not a very encouraging beginning.

From the shores of California to twelfth century England and back again, Jenna and Fletcher must find a way to reconcile their two different worlds before Time forever tears them apart.

Buy Links:

Amazon US | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo
AU | BR | CA | DE | FR | UK

_DSF0006Sherry picked up her first historical romance when she was a teenager and has been hooked ever since. A bestselling author, she writes historical & time travel romances to awaken the soul one heart at a time. Always wanting to write a novel but busy raising her children, she finally took the plunge in 2008 and wrote her first Regency. She is a member of Romance Writers of America, the Beau Monde & the Bluestocking Belles. Sherry is currently working on her next novel and when not writing, she can be found in the San Francisco area at her day job as an Information Technology Specialist. You can learn more about Sherry’s work here on her page with the Bluestocking Belles or on the following social media outlets:

Website & Books

Sign Me Up!
Street Team

Out of Place & Time


Riorden de Deveraux slammed to the floor with the wind knocked out of him. He growled in outrage, threw his cape out of his way and put forth his sword ready to encounter the fool who dared to take him unawares.

Kitty Packe by Sir William Beechey 1753-1839A startled gasp rang out and a young woman, oddly attired in a type of gown he was unfamiliar with, all but ran from behind a counter in his direction. She appeared frantic and Riorden once more looked about him for the danger that surely plagued him and the woman who rushed to his side.

Seeing nothing imminent that he should fear, lest ’twas a bookshelf that would topple over upon him, he sheathed his sword and took in his surroundings. By God’s Wounds! Where was he and how did he get in a place filled with books of all places? Last he remembered he was in the middle of a siege at Berwyck Castle near the Scottish boarder.

“My Lord de Deveraux.” The woman spoke his name as if they had met afore but he had no recollection of her, nor of this place.

“I am but a knight, my lady, and have not assumed my father’s title,” Riorden declared, not wishing to think of his father and Marguerite together.

The woman nodded and took his arm. He must be losing his edge if this slight little miss did not fear him. “Yes, yes…of course. I really must insist that you come with me, sir knight.” She looked over to a room full of people. “We would not want you to encounter your other self now would we? It could mess with the whole time continuum.”

Riorden’s brow rose. The woman’s mind was surely addled. “Have we met?” he asked warily.

She gave a pleasant enough smile. “We will one day…with the exception of meeting now I suppose. I know this seems a little confusing but I have someone who can straighten this all out for you. I am Lady Constance Whittles, by the way. I work for Mrs. Marlowe, the owner of this establishment.”

“My lady,” he murmured with a hasty bow, still unsure of this woman who seemed desperate to usher him to a remote area of the bookshop. He had no time to dally with a woman this day. He must needs return to Berwyck to guard the Devil’s Dragon of Blackmore, not that Dristan could not do so himself.

Lady Constance came to a door that she opened and waved at him to enter. “She is just inside, Lord de Deveraux.”

He frowned, both over the title and his puzzlement over the situation he found himself in. “Who is?”

“You shall see.” With the slightest push, Riorden found the door closing, almost slamming shut on his sorry arse.

He stared, opened mouthed, at the woman sitting behind a desk. She set her quill down, crossed her legs covered in curious blue hose, and clapped her hands in glee. “Riorden! How good to see you again. Oh! Would you look at that, you’re younger than the last time we met.”

“We have not met afore, madam. I am sure I would remember you had we done so,” he declared through pursed lips. A giggle escaped her; the woman must be as daft as the Lady Constance.

“Have a seat.”

“I think not,” he answered, folding his arms across his chest.

“So stubborn. Why I created such a trait in you is beyond me,” she mumbled more to herself than for him to overhear he supposed.

“Who are you?” Riorden demanded. “Why have you summoned me here, witch? You must needs return me to Berwyck posthaste.

She began playing with the feather on the quill. “What part of your question should I answer first?” She smiled and sat there as patiently as could be as though she had all of Time to await his answer.

Riorden fumed. “Who are you?” he asked again.

“I’m your author, of course.”

“What?” he shouted.

“Gosh you’re gorgeous when you get all riled up. Temper flaring, blue eyes blazing. Dang I did a good job with you. No wonder Katherine is going to fall in love with you.”

“Just who the bloody hell is Katherine?”

Attachment-1“You’ve been dreaming of her,” the lady declared calmly. “A woman, not of your time, comes to you when you sleep. Short, blue-green eyes, tawny colored hair. She’s been doing the same with you since she was a small child.”

“H-how did you come by such information,” he sputtered. He had not told anyone of the dreams he had been having of late. They had disturbed him for the woman was much like a ghost haunting his every waking hour.

“I told you, I’m your author. Of course, I know everything about the both of you. I’m sorry I had to put you through so much with Marguerite but she was never meant for you. Your life will be tied to another.”

“You know nothing of my feelings for Marguerite.”

“Yes, I do, but that doesn’t matter now. I just wanted to meet with you briefly to let you know that all will be right in your world soon. I’d also appreciate it if you’d get out of my head in the middle of the night and stop grumbling about how to write what’s going on at this very moment. It’s very irritating when we could have had this conversation during normal working hours.”

“You are a witch,” Riorden said crossing himself and unsure what this woman would spout about next. “You are jesting with me and I do not like it. Return me from whence I came.

“Funny thing about a quill,” she continued examining the writing instrument as if she didn’t hear him. “I always plan on my stories to go one way but you characters always pull me in other directions. You told me we were connected recently, that you could feel my need. Well, that’s why I’m here to end your hurt and disappointment over Marguerite. You will be given your heart’s desire, Riorden. You just have to be a little patient.”

She stood and came over to him. Afore he knew what she was about, she pulled upon his armor, rose on the tips of her feet and kissed both his cheeks. She then held his face between her hands staring up into his eyes.

“I will live on through you, Riorden, long after I have left this mortal world. The words I’ve written about your life, and the others who will follow you, will be found forevermore between the pages of my books. Thank you for being a part of that. Be happy, Riorden, that you will one day find a love to cherish for all time. Not everyone can be so blessed.”

One moment he was in a far off distant land with that strange woman, and the next he was dodging a mace aimed straight at his head. Thrust back into the heat of battle, he would credit his hallucination to the cut that slashed across his forehead and not the ridiculous notion that he had just somehow traveled through time. Mayhap, he had even dreamt the whole damn thing…

Hearts Across Time -72dpi-1500x2000Riorden de Deveraux can be found in Sherry Ewing’s special edition box set, Hearts Across Time (The Knights of Berwyck, A Quest Through Time Novel (Books 1 & 2) available for just $0.99. He is also a secondary character in Sherry’s debut novel If My Heart Could See You that is the beginning of her Knights of Berwyck, A Quest Through Time series. Lady Constance Whittles is a secondary character in Under the Mistletoe that is also available as of May 8, 2016.

_DSF0006Sherry picked up her first historical romance when she was a teenager and has been hooked ever since. A bestselling author, she writes historical & time travel romances to awaken the soul one heart at a time. Always wanting to write a novel but busy raising her children, she finally took the plunge in 2008 and wrote her first Regency. She is a member of Romance Writers of America, the Beau Monde & the Bluestocking Belles. Sherry is currently working on her next novel and when not writing, she can be found in the San Francisco area at her day job as an Information Technology Specialist. You can learn more about Sherry’s work here on her page with the Bluestocking Belles or on the following social media outlets:

Website & Books

Sign Me Up!
Street Team

Page 2 of 3

Powered by WordPress & Theme by Anders Norén