Showing posts with label Time Travel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Time Travel. Show all posts
Monday, May 6, 2019
Saturday, April 13, 2019
Monday, April 1, 2019
Reigning Magicks by Candace Osmond & J.J. King 💕 Book Tour & Gift Card Giveaway 💕 (Fantasy Time-Travel Romance)
After decades of war, two hostile druid factions come close to a peace treaty that could save hundreds of lives. All they need is the hand of Princess Ashlynn to seal the deal, but the stubborn and powerful daughter of Clann Kavanagh’s High Priestess will have nothing of it.
Desperate to change her fate, Ashlynn ventures into the forbidden forest in search of an ancient spell. When the old magic goes awry, the princess finds herself thrown into the future and stranded in an unknown land.
With the help of a handsome and powerful Romani sorcerer, Ashlynn searches for answers and a way home even though every moment spent at Cian's side makes Ashlynn less certain of her desires.
Now she must decide if the past is worth changing or if their future is worth fighting for.
Be sure to grab your copy of REIGNING MAGICKS right now!
Wednesday, March 20, 2019
Saving John Lennon by A.J. Gallant 💕 Book Tour & Gift Card Giveaway 💕 (Time-Travel Romance)
In 2018, two friends discover an open door in the summer forest in Maine. It’s winter inside and they’ve never seen anything like it. When they realize that it’s 1980 on the other they hatch a plan to go to New York and save John Lennon.
In 1980, a stranger invades Sarah’s dreams on a nightly basis. He’s handsome and funny, but when she bumps into him in real life she can’t believe her eyes. But his story of time travel is preposterous and it’s difficult to decipher his motives for acting so weird. He claims to be from 2018.
Can love bloom under such circumstances? Will Richard be trapped thirty-eight-years in the past?
Payton is from a thousand years in the future; he’s trying to stop Burton from time jumping because it can cause changes that could have serious repercussions. Burton has arranged for Taft and Richard to save John Lennon, but will it all go terribly wrong?
Saturday, December 22, 2018
One of a Kind Christmas by Lexi Post 💕 Book Tour & Gift Card Giveaway 💕 (Paranormal Time-Travel Holiday Romance)
The spirit of Cameron Douglas has totally screwed-up…again. Now, he has to fix his mess in one night with the help of his best friend and somehow encourage his widow to move on.
Holly Douglas is anguished that this is the last Christmas she’ll be visited by her late husband, Cameron. For three years he’s sent her the spirits of Christmas Past, Present, and Future, and they‘ve helped her cope with her loss. But now all that ends, and she doesn’t understand why he must push her away.
Ethan Stewart has been in love with Holly since Cameron’s death, but she isolated herself from everyone, including him. Then something changed, and he was welcomed back as her friend. But he wants more— to love her openly, and most of all to make her happy again. Though he loved his best friend like a brother and will do anything for Holly, as he’s pulled into the spirit world, he discovers the price they must pay for their chance at forever…and it just might be too high.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them. “I miss Cam. It was as if we were two parts of the same soul. I lived vicariously through him even while I worried constantly about him. It was one of the reasons I was constantly warning him to be careful. I was afraid to lose him.”
Ethan looked away and rubbed the back of his neck. “And then I did.”
She felt as if her heart were breaking all over again, not for her but for Ethan. He was so good to her. He even loved her. And she… “Ethan, I understand.”
His gaze returned to hers. Though she couldn’t see his face clearly, the limited light reflected off the sheen in his eyes.
She placed her hand on his cheek and rising on her toes brushed her lips across his in a feather-light kiss. She only meant to give comfort, but a spark of something else hit her heart.
She remained there, her lips close to his but not touching, wanting more but afraid to ask.
Ethan remained absolutely still, his breath mixing with her own.
He loved her but would never push her. It wasn’t his nature. She could walk away right now, but to what?
Nothing.
She stared at his mouth in the dim light. She wanted to live again. She wanted to feel again. Tilting her head, she pressed her lips more firmly against his, moving her hand down his stubbled jaw and behind his neck to pull him closer.
Ethan’s lips opened, and she slipped her tongue between them.
As his arms came around her, it was like waking from a dream. A slow burn flowed through her veins as he took control of the kiss and explored her mouth with his tongue. It was an unhurried exploration and heat built in her belly. When he pulled back to lick the underside of her top lip, she took her first deep breath. As she exhaled, tingles spread throughout her body.
He kissed the corners of her mouth before leaning his forehead against her own. “Ye catch my blood on fire, lass.”
Ethan looked away and rubbed the back of his neck. “And then I did.”
She felt as if her heart were breaking all over again, not for her but for Ethan. He was so good to her. He even loved her. And she… “Ethan, I understand.”
His gaze returned to hers. Though she couldn’t see his face clearly, the limited light reflected off the sheen in his eyes.
She placed her hand on his cheek and rising on her toes brushed her lips across his in a feather-light kiss. She only meant to give comfort, but a spark of something else hit her heart.
She remained there, her lips close to his but not touching, wanting more but afraid to ask.
Ethan remained absolutely still, his breath mixing with her own.
He loved her but would never push her. It wasn’t his nature. She could walk away right now, but to what?
Nothing.
She stared at his mouth in the dim light. She wanted to live again. She wanted to feel again. Tilting her head, she pressed her lips more firmly against his, moving her hand down his stubbled jaw and behind his neck to pull him closer.
Ethan’s lips opened, and she slipped her tongue between them.
As his arms came around her, it was like waking from a dream. A slow burn flowed through her veins as he took control of the kiss and explored her mouth with his tongue. It was an unhurried exploration and heat built in her belly. When he pulled back to lick the underside of her top lip, she took her first deep breath. As she exhaled, tingles spread throughout her body.
He kissed the corners of her mouth before leaning his forehead against her own. “Ye catch my blood on fire, lass.”
Monday, December 3, 2018
Romeo vs. Juliet by Lara MacGregor 💕 Spotlight & EXCLUSIVE eBook Giveaway 💕 (Time-Travel Romance)
Time agent, Ambrose Radcliffe, works for Queen Elizabeth the First. In his off time, when he was not fighting battles on different historical battlefields, he searched across the centuries for his beloved Josephine, from ancient Greece and Cleopatra’s court to 1950s America and many other eras. He has finally found her.
He takes his great love from twenty-first century America back to Elizabethan England. All is well until a rich and powerful woman who wants him changes the timeline and covers her tracks well. Josephine loses Ambrose.
New time agent, Josephine Hastings Radcliffe, is determined to set things right, with the help of the bad-tempered time boss, but things do not look promising.
Later, Ambrose's time-traveling activities are so troubling that Josephine is forced to stand up to him. She must chase him through the eras to stop his plan from coming to fruition. The problem is, every time they meet up, they fall into each other’s arms, unable to deny the feelings they have for each other. Still, she has her own mission and must complete it or die trying. Josephine is called to be a hero and discovers her darker side.
Josephine…
From my apartment, I called up the stormy time door and stepped inside. The currents of swirling air blew my hair back. Recalling the coded message—which took me forever to decipher—I concentrated on the year 1965.
Across from me, a wavering spot stopped on one of the walls of the tunnel-like temporal hall. Big waves of zooming scenes from history and from the future circulated around the slowed-down vision. It reminded me of blood cells floating through an artery and bumping around a large foreign object.
I flew forward, as if I were dead and in the next world, and wiggled my feet in the air, smiling.
The number 1965 flashed before me in red across a four-by-three-foot section of the wall, pulsing in invitation. A force tugged at me, and I came up against the hall’s magnetic barrier.
An explosion cracked the air. I pressed my hands to my ears. “No!”
The drone left behind sent vibrations through my body as I catapulted through the gray mass before me.
Thump, splash! Sprawled out belly first, I coughed out mud then moaned, while sitting up and wiping the mire from my throbbing face. Cold rain pelted my skin, drawing shivers from me.
I turned and squinted, focusing first on a crowd of people. Oh my God, women in wide crinoline dresses, and men in frock coats. Gulping, I looked past them to the tall, thin man in black enthralling them with his words. President Lincoln. On a portico, the Capitol dome over his head. I gasped before swooning and splashing again in the mud at the Capitol grounds. Everything went black.
Ambrose…
Once kneeling before her headstone, Ambrose traced a finger over Josephine’s name. The shadow he cast over the stone deepened and spread, like huge gray wings stretching behind him. Horror at what he was facing raced up his spine, and everywhere, though he was a warrior, he tingled with fear. This did not feel like the celestial visitation he had been honored with when a lad of five. He scooted the baby seat against himself and held a protective hand above his daughter’s head, stiffening his spine in alert. He turned and squinted, surprised no one else was there. His scalp prickled as he tore his gaze side to side, looking for the dark presence, only to be met with eerie aloneness. His hand slid down his calf toward the dagger in his boot, though.
His next breath came out in a misty cloud before him. He shivered from the sudden cold, and an unseen presence tickled his nape with icy fingers. “What…do you want?” His stomach felt rock hard and his arms shaky. He glanced at his sleeping daughter, his heart pounding.
Determination set in. His jaw went tight. No one. No one would hurt his daughter.
Scraping sounds drew his attention down. Carved in the fresh dirt of Josephine’s grave now stood the words that weren’t there when he arrived: Help me.
He gasped. His mouth went dry. Would her Catholic soul go to a place even he, a Protestant, could not contemplate? Suicides, according to her faith, did not find peace on the other side. Quite the opposite.
His heart beat harder, hurting him with each throb. He closed his eyes, praying. He had a daughter to raise. How could he follow Josephine to that dark place and help her?
Knowing death reversals were forbidden, an idea came to him as he remembered his recent dream. He would do battle for her now if... He picked up his daughter’s baby chair and called up the time portal, stepping inside. After dropping off his little girl with Auntie Adele and Uncle Tyler, he approached his angry time boss, the portal keeper. They stood before the swirling gray temporal walls in the great Hall of the Centuries. Ambrose told him his idea to save Josephine’s soul or at least greatly speed up the process of her served time.
The foreboding Roman’s eyes widened. “Are you insane?”
Ambrose shuddered. Even the towering warrior before him, Ancient Rome’s fiercest gladiator, was shocked at his suggestion. “I have heard rumors, Lucius. I believe this can be done.”
*****
Introduction
“Don’t go.” I gripped the sleeve of his 16th century doublet.
His fingers fell upon my cheek in a caress, lowering to capture a strand of hair from the waves cascading down my back. He stretched it out lingeringly. I shivered.
“Josephine, my Juliet. I love thee, most well…” His voice trailed off. He encircled my waist and put his forehead to mine. “But do this I must.”
Love filled my world, displayed in his possessive grip. He pulled back. My throat thick with tears, I looked into brown eyes holding knowledge centuries beyond their nineteen years. Such exquisite good looks.
He stepped back, sighing. My tear-blurred gaze slid down to the gun at his side.
“Stop messing with history!” I slammed my fists against my thighs.
His face contorted with the grief of deep regret. “Stayest thee from my path.” He spun and strode toward the gray wall of the arched tunnel and disappeared behind it as it gave way.
“Ah!” I swiped tears from my cheeks and stalked toward the temporal wall.
My Romeo, the love of my life, had searched centuries to find me. Now, I must become a warrior in order to face him.
With a lifted chin, I crossed through the malleable time wall. After concentrating on the time and place, I stepped onto a sidewalk and gasped—this never got old—looking around at people dressed the way my parents did as teenagers. Women wore mini dresses. Some had hairstyles with that “flipped” look at the ends. Others had long, straight hair. Mainstream and hippies. Men looked classic in their slimming suits or free-spirited in flared jeans and long hair. A breeze curled past me, and something dusted over my foot. I bent and picked up a page from a newspaper, squinting at the date: December 1, 1967.
“I’m here.” Now, time to go find the person who will give me the tools to stop my husband.
From my apartment, I called up the stormy time door and stepped inside. The currents of swirling air blew my hair back. Recalling the coded message—which took me forever to decipher—I concentrated on the year 1965.
Across from me, a wavering spot stopped on one of the walls of the tunnel-like temporal hall. Big waves of zooming scenes from history and from the future circulated around the slowed-down vision. It reminded me of blood cells floating through an artery and bumping around a large foreign object.
I flew forward, as if I were dead and in the next world, and wiggled my feet in the air, smiling.
The number 1965 flashed before me in red across a four-by-three-foot section of the wall, pulsing in invitation. A force tugged at me, and I came up against the hall’s magnetic barrier.
An explosion cracked the air. I pressed my hands to my ears. “No!”
The drone left behind sent vibrations through my body as I catapulted through the gray mass before me.
Thump, splash! Sprawled out belly first, I coughed out mud then moaned, while sitting up and wiping the mire from my throbbing face. Cold rain pelted my skin, drawing shivers from me.
I turned and squinted, focusing first on a crowd of people. Oh my God, women in wide crinoline dresses, and men in frock coats. Gulping, I looked past them to the tall, thin man in black enthralling them with his words. President Lincoln. On a portico, the Capitol dome over his head. I gasped before swooning and splashing again in the mud at the Capitol grounds. Everything went black.
Ambrose…
Once kneeling before her headstone, Ambrose traced a finger over Josephine’s name. The shadow he cast over the stone deepened and spread, like huge gray wings stretching behind him. Horror at what he was facing raced up his spine, and everywhere, though he was a warrior, he tingled with fear. This did not feel like the celestial visitation he had been honored with when a lad of five. He scooted the baby seat against himself and held a protective hand above his daughter’s head, stiffening his spine in alert. He turned and squinted, surprised no one else was there. His scalp prickled as he tore his gaze side to side, looking for the dark presence, only to be met with eerie aloneness. His hand slid down his calf toward the dagger in his boot, though.
His next breath came out in a misty cloud before him. He shivered from the sudden cold, and an unseen presence tickled his nape with icy fingers. “What…do you want?” His stomach felt rock hard and his arms shaky. He glanced at his sleeping daughter, his heart pounding.
Determination set in. His jaw went tight. No one. No one would hurt his daughter.
Scraping sounds drew his attention down. Carved in the fresh dirt of Josephine’s grave now stood the words that weren’t there when he arrived: Help me.
He gasped. His mouth went dry. Would her Catholic soul go to a place even he, a Protestant, could not contemplate? Suicides, according to her faith, did not find peace on the other side. Quite the opposite.
His heart beat harder, hurting him with each throb. He closed his eyes, praying. He had a daughter to raise. How could he follow Josephine to that dark place and help her?
Knowing death reversals were forbidden, an idea came to him as he remembered his recent dream. He would do battle for her now if... He picked up his daughter’s baby chair and called up the time portal, stepping inside. After dropping off his little girl with Auntie Adele and Uncle Tyler, he approached his angry time boss, the portal keeper. They stood before the swirling gray temporal walls in the great Hall of the Centuries. Ambrose told him his idea to save Josephine’s soul or at least greatly speed up the process of her served time.
The foreboding Roman’s eyes widened. “Are you insane?”
Ambrose shuddered. Even the towering warrior before him, Ancient Rome’s fiercest gladiator, was shocked at his suggestion. “I have heard rumors, Lucius. I believe this can be done.”
*****
Introduction
“Don’t go.” I gripped the sleeve of his 16th century doublet.
His fingers fell upon my cheek in a caress, lowering to capture a strand of hair from the waves cascading down my back. He stretched it out lingeringly. I shivered.
“Josephine, my Juliet. I love thee, most well…” His voice trailed off. He encircled my waist and put his forehead to mine. “But do this I must.”
Love filled my world, displayed in his possessive grip. He pulled back. My throat thick with tears, I looked into brown eyes holding knowledge centuries beyond their nineteen years. Such exquisite good looks.
He stepped back, sighing. My tear-blurred gaze slid down to the gun at his side.
“Stop messing with history!” I slammed my fists against my thighs.
His face contorted with the grief of deep regret. “Stayest thee from my path.” He spun and strode toward the gray wall of the arched tunnel and disappeared behind it as it gave way.
“Ah!” I swiped tears from my cheeks and stalked toward the temporal wall.
My Romeo, the love of my life, had searched centuries to find me. Now, I must become a warrior in order to face him.
With a lifted chin, I crossed through the malleable time wall. After concentrating on the time and place, I stepped onto a sidewalk and gasped—this never got old—looking around at people dressed the way my parents did as teenagers. Women wore mini dresses. Some had hairstyles with that “flipped” look at the ends. Others had long, straight hair. Mainstream and hippies. Men looked classic in their slimming suits or free-spirited in flared jeans and long hair. A breeze curled past me, and something dusted over my foot. I bent and picked up a page from a newspaper, squinting at the date: December 1, 1967.
“I’m here.” Now, time to go find the person who will give me the tools to stop my husband.
💕 Always double-check the price before you buy 💕
Tuesday, November 6, 2018
Time For Alexander by Jennifer Macaire 💕 Series Tour & Gift Card Giveaway 💕 (Time-Travel Romance)
      | Sex, love, war, & quite a bit of vino - it's a Greek myth come to life... Ashley is a time-travel journalist who has fought to prove herself in a world that that believes her road in life was paved by her parents' fortune. After winning a prestigious award, she is selected to travel through time and interview a historical figure. Choosing her childhood hero, Alexander the Great, she voyages back in time for less than a day to interview a man whose legend has survived to the present day. He mistakes her for Persephone, goddess of the dead, and kidnaps her. Stranded in the past, cold and aloof Ashley has to learn to befriend, to trust...and to love. Join Ashley and Alexander the Great on their fabulous adventure. Fans of Diana Gabaldon, Jodi Taylor, and Diana Norman will enjoy this saga. What everyone’s saying about The Road to Alexander: "If you are a fan of Diana Gabaldon and her Outlander Series then you will love this story. The same heart wrenching trials and tribulations that she puts her characters through happen within this gripping tale." Lynda Warnock "Fun, sexy and at times incredibly sad, the story held me to the end and the research was incredible." Karen King, author. "If you love Time travel books then this one is not to be missed. Totally engrossing!!!!" Amazon reviewer. "A Time for Alexander is a wonderful moving saga. Really more of a historical piece than a romance, there is more than enough heat between Alexander and Ashley to keep the pages smoldering." Goodreads. "...A delightful read, I'm looking forward to the next book in the series." Amazon Reviewer. " I found an engaging and light read, fun at times with some beautiful descriptive scenes of the cities, the landscape and life in the vast and growing empire of Alexander the Great in 333 - 330 BC." Amazon Reviewer. "From the first page, I was intrigued by this story." Conan Tigard "There wasn’t a piece of this book that didn’t fit, it kept a quick pace, the dialogue was witty and entertaining and the beautiful descriptions of ancient lands entice you into accompanying them on Alexander’s quest to conquer the world." Goodreads  💕 Click on the images to enlarge 💕 Alexander couldn’t get over it. My itchy linen robe had been the very finest quality, thanks to the machine that wove it, but my shoes had been a dismal failure and he was disappointed in the god’s choice of footwear. I tried to explain that the gods had nothing to do with my sandals but fell asleep in the middle of my sentence. It wasn’t that important anyway, I thought. There was a new pair of sandals on the rug the next morning. They fitted perfectly. My old ones had disappeared, and I didn’t find out where they’d gone until I went into the village and passed by the temple. There, on the altar, were my sandals. Fresh flowers, a bowl of warm milk, and a small snail made of clay surrounded them. A young girl in temple robes sat next to them murmuring a prayer. I tried to speak to her in Greek, but she didn’t understand me. I pursed my lips and went to find Nassar. Maybe he could explain. Nassar was writing a letter for a tough-looking soldier. They were both sitting on a mat made of reeds, and every once in a while Nassar would throw his pen away and break off a reed. He would sharpen it quickly with his teeth and I realized with a small start that his front teeth had been carefully cut at a bias to trim reeds into pens. It was interesting and I resolved to have him explain how it was done. He dipped the reed into a little clay pot of ink and wrote on a rather cheap piece of papyrus. A dozen rolled-up letters were lying beside him, each one flattened and sealed with a blob of wax. He’d been busy all morning. When he finished the letter he rolled it up, tied it with a piece of grass and sealed it with hard wax. Then he flattened the whole thing with his fist, wrote the address on the outside, and placed it on top of the pile. “Next?” he called out in his nasal voice. “Good morning, Nassar,” I said as I approached. He held his arms up in a stiff salute and then bowed, touching his forehead to the mat. “Hail Demeter’s daughter,” he intoned. “Don’t do that!” I was upset. “Who told you that, anyway?” “Oh, everyone knows,” he said smugly. “Well, I’d like you to come to the temple with me to see about a pair of shoes,” I said. “Oh! The Sacred Sandals! I should be honored! May I touch them, oh daughter of Demeter?” I closed my eyes and counted to ten. “They aren’t sacred sandals,” I said. “And of course you can touch them. There’s been a mistake.” “They weren’t your sandals? The captain of the guards took them to the shoemaker early this morning to have a copy made in leather and gave the originals to the temple. It is not a coincidence that the goddess of the harvest, Demeter, guards this town. It was why you were sent here. Now that Iskander has rescued you, the harvest is sure to be fantastic this year.” “But isn’t the village protected by Ishtar?” “It was, but it’s becoming Hellenicised. Now it has adopted Demeter, goddess of the harvest, because of what Iskander said last night in his speech.” “His speech? What did he say?” “You should have asked me to translate,” he said, reproach in his voice. “He said he was glad to be there and that he hoped the play would be entertaining, that he and his soldiers were very happy in the village, and he was honored everyone had made them feel so welcome, and how the two cultures would complement each other.” Nassar took a deep breath, like a swimmer, and plunged in again. “He said that the gods of Greece were stronger than our gods so we’d do well to adopt theirs. He said you had been sent as a sign and that he’d saved you from Hades himself, so Demeter would forever be grateful. He said that as a goddess you would personally see to the welfare of the village.” He finished in a rush and smiled at me. “I’m no longer an atheist,” he said proudly. “I believe in you. Why, if I want, I can actually touch your sandals.” I closed my eyes again and waited for the wave of pain that was sure to come. Pretending to be a goddess must rate among the three top reasons for erasing a Time-traveling journalist. After a few seconds I opened one eye, then the other. Nothing had happened. I was still sitting in front of Nassar, and he was watching me with a rapt expression on his narrow, rat-like face. “Did your mother speak to you?” he whispered, his eyes wide. “No. No, she didn’t. Excuse me, Nassar, but I think I’ll just go lie down. I have to think about all this.” I stood up, shivering with disquiet, and walked back to the tent where Alexander was having a game of dice with a tall man I recognized as the village priest. I wondered if I could sneak away, but they turned and saw me. “Oh! There you are!” cried Alexander, standing up and holding out his arms. “I was worried. Did you find your new shoes? Yes, I see you did. The village priest has come to thank you for your sandals. In exchange, he has agreed to forsake all virgin sacrifices. Isn’t that wonderful? Your mother will be thrilled.” “I’m sure she will be,” I said with the utmost truthfulness. Then I went into the tent and collapsed.   |
 | When Ashley Riveraine jumped at the chance to travel back in time to meet her hero Alexander the Great, she never thought she would end up staying there… Following Alexander the Great’s army on its journey across Persia, Ashley is walking the knife edge of history. As a presumed goddess, Ashley is expected to bless crops, make sure battles are won and somehow keep herself out of the history books. Can Ashley avoid the wrath of the Time Institute while keeping the man she loves alive?  💕 Click on the images to enlarge 💕    |
 | Can you face the consequences of cheating the Fates? Alexander the Great journeys to India, where he and Ashley are welcomed with feasts and treachery. With their son, Paul, being worshiped as the Son of the Moon, and Alexander’s looming death, Ashley considers the unthinkable: how to save them and whether she dares to cheat Fate? 💕 Click on the images to enlarge 💕   |
 | From the scorching plains of Persia to the opulent city of Babylon, Ashley and Alexander continue their sensuous and passionate journey through history. Alexander the Great is now king of Persia and Greece – but his reign will be short. Time-travelling Ashley knows when her husband will die. She’s determined to cheat Fate and save Alexander and her children, even if it brings the gates of time crashing down. Following Alexander on a tour of his new kingdom, she plans her moves and bides her time. She must, however, convince Alexander to abandon his crown and his kingdom. 💕 Click on the images to enlarge 💕 In the month of May, the weather took a turn for the worse. Thunderstorms boomed over the city and there were swarms of hungry mosquitoes at night. Alexander had to oversee religious celebrations, some lasting until very late, and one evening he came back with a slight chill. I didn’t think much of it. Usse gave him some hot tea, and we lay down in bed. Plexis was already asleep, lying in his own bed next to ours. The mosquito netting moved slightly in the breeze. It was much cooler than it had been all week; the rain had cleared the air. During the night, Alexander developed a high fever. The next morning he could hardly move, his muscles cramped and he was drenched in sweat. It was malaria. ‘How do you feel now?’ I asked him for the hundredth time that day, after Usse gave him his medicine. Alexander opened one eye and stared at me. It was his blue eye, I noticed. ‘I would feel better if my head stopped hurting,’ he admitted. ‘The fever is making me thirsty. Do you have any water nearby?’ ‘Of course.’ I poured water from the pitcher into his golden cup and held it for him as he drank. The muscles in his throat worked as the water went down. Then he lay back on the bed with a sigh. ‘Do I die of malaria then?’ he asked. He tried to grin, but his mouth trembled suddenly. I leaned down and kissed him on his lips. They were hot and dry despite the cool drink. ‘Are you afraid?’ ‘I thought I wouldn’t be.’ He took a shaky breath and let it out slowly. ‘But that was when I thought the only thing that counted was my kingdom.’ ‘And now?’ I asked him. ‘I’ve had time to think. When you saved Plexis that’s when things began to change for me. I realized something I hadn’t known before. I want to stay with you. I love you, Ashley of the Sacred Sandals. I have told you that twice before. I should have said it more. Now, with this fever making my bones ache, I will tell you a third time. I want to see the babe you carry. I want to grow old surrounded by my loved ones. I no longer want to die. Does that answer your question? Yes, I am afraid.’ ‘Don’t be afraid. I love you too, Alex.’ ‘So why do you cry?’ He reached a hand to my cheek and brushed tears away. ‘Because I never dared hope that you would let go of your dream.’ My tears fell faster now. Teardrops sparkled on his hands like diamonds. ‘It took me long enough to understand that my dream was an empty one without you and Plexis by my side, and that my future was an illusion. Ashley, don’t cry. Please. I feel as if I’ve woken up from a long nightmare. All the battles and bloodshed, all the good men who died following me, they will lie on my conscious for ever. Only you will be able to ease my mind. You have seen the future, so you can tell me that it was not all futile.’ ‘Of course not, Alexander. Nothing you did was futile.’ ‘It feels that way now,’ he said. His eyes were very bright. I frowned at him. He was starting to sound distinctly un-Alexander-like. I put my hand on his forehead and jerked it back with a muffled cry. He was burning up.   |
 | In the fifth book in the Time For Alexander series, the Oracle of Amon tells Alexander he must go to the Land of Ice and Snow, so they leave their home in Alexandria and head north, to Gaul. But the Thief of Souls not only captured Alexander’s soul. He also wants Paul, and the druids have raised an army to capture him. In the heart of winter, in ancient Gaul, a terrible sacrifice is made to Persephone, goddess of the Underworld – and Ashley finds herself taking part in a deadly ceremony. 💕 Click on the images to enlarge 💕 Paul looked guilty. ‘I was hiding in the storeroom. I’m afraid I ate most of the figs and the flat bread.’ Alexander frowned at him. ‘When we get to Massalia I will find a Celt, and if you can speak to him, you can come with us. But if you’ve been telling stories, I will put you on a boat with Axiom, and he’ll take you straight back to Alexandria. Fair enough?’ Paul smiled sweetly. ‘Very fair, Father.’ He came over and put his arms around me, kissing my cheek. The he kissed Alexander. ‘I won’t be any trouble at all, you’ll see.’ I winced. ‘Don’t say that, please. Every time I hear that, there’s trouble.’ Nearchus came up on deck and strolled over. He saw Paul and said, ‘Oh, greetings, Paul.’ Then he did a perfect double take, tripped over the railing, and fell head first into the water. ‘Man overboard!’ I screamed, leaping to my feet and waving my arms. Alexander was more practical. He threw a rope into the water and Nearchus caught hold of it. Since we were sailing along at a fast clip, it took a few minutes to lower the sails and come about. The sailors hauled Nearchus onto the boat just in time; a large shark had started to circle around him. Nearchus was chalky white when he landed back on deck. He sat in a large puddle of salt water, gaping first at Paul, then at the shark fin cutting through the water. ‘What are you doing here?’ he gasped when he had gotten his breath back. ‘He stowed away,’ said Alexander wryly. ‘Don’t worry. We’ve got Persephone the Terrible, and the Harbinger of Destruction. What could possibly go wrong?’ ‘The Harbinger of Destruction? Is that what they call me?’ Paul looked pleased. ‘Oh great,’ said Nearchus. ‘We’d better batten down the hatches and put the storm sheets up. Paul’s with us.’ He looked at Paul and a smile tugged at his mouth. ‘The gods must think I was getting soft, or bored.’    |
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