BLURB:

More than hearts can be broken when you fall through time.

Corinne McGowan survives a plane crash only to fall down a hole in time. In 1868 Cornwall, she faces the ultimate decision: Let the man she loves die, or save him and change history forever.

EXCERPT:

“My uncle gave it to me on my—”

“Twenty-first birthday,” she finished for him, her body beginning to tremble. This wasn’t possible. There had to be an explanation–a logical explanation.

“How did you know that?” Ian—no, the actor playing Ian—gave her that wary look again.

She opened her mouth but had to summon spit before she could say, “I…I’ve done some research on your uncle…and you.” Her dry mouth made talking as difficult as walking through quicksand. “It has an inscription, doesn’t it?”

Please say no.

And a little more for good measure…

“Yes, it does.” His fine brown eyes studied her face with an intensity that made her want to squirm. He pressed a button and the watch cover flew up. He held it out for her to see, but she knew the inscription by heart.

“‘To I. H. on the joyous occasion of his majority.’ Except, the word occasion—”

“Occasion,” he interrupted her this time, “is spelled with two ‘esses’ instead of one. How the devil do you know this?” His eyes flashed with anger, and he snapped the watch closed with a menacing click.

“I just… I…” She had no explanation to give him. That watch was real. She’d swear it was the same one she’d seen in the museum. Not only did she recognize the inscription with its misspelling, but also the small z-shaped ding on the inside of the case near the stem. She’d wondered how and when that had happened, fascinated by a piece of the watch’s history she hadn’t uncovered.

Perhaps Ian will tell me himself.

Frantic laughter bubbled up at the thought. She clapped her hand over her mouth and stepped back, wanting to put distance between herself and the man who couldn’t be who he claimed. Making one last ditch effort at sanity, she whispered, “What’s today’s date?”

He lunged forward and grabbed her shoulders, startling her with his rough grip and the heat of his hands. “What the devil difference does that make? Tell me who you are and how you know about that inscription. I’ve shown maybe five people in the last four years, and you were not one of them.”

“Just tell me.” She panted for air, as though she were back in the whirlwind that had sent her to this place and time. “I have to know.”

A thunder of hooves rounded the bend of the woods. His friends had returned for him.

“Please.”

“The twenty-fifth of April.” His mouth curled up in a sneer.

Damn him. “The year! What’s the freaking year?”

He sank his fingers into her arms, frowning at her strangely. “The year of Our Lord eighteen hundred and sixty-eight.” He squeezed her shoulders again, and the white light filled her head as she slumped in his arms.

BLURB:

More than hearts can be broken when you fall through time.

Corinne McGowan survives a plane crash only to fall down a hole in time. In 1868 Cornwall, she faces the ultimate decision: Let the man she loves die, or save him and change history forever.

EXCERPT:

“I most certainly am not an actor.” He actually sounded offended. “Did you mistake me for one of the men in my uncle’s play?”

“Of course not, Mr. Hunterly.” She couldn’t help snickering–this guy was really into the role. “Although I must tell you, you do him justice.”

“Him who? Here, put me down.” He plopped down on the wooden turnstile and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “My hat, please.”

And a little more for good measure…

Oh, crap, she’d forgotten. She plucked it from beneath her arm and handed it to him, trying not to smile.

He seated it firmly on his head with a practiced air.

Corinne stared, her heart lurching in her chest. With the hat, the coat, the boots, this guy was the spitting image of the oil painting she’d discovered of the real Ian Hunterly, who’d been born in 1833 in London and died in 1868 in Cornwall. She looked closer, searching his face for some sort of prosthetic device. Actors never looked that close to the real thing without special effects. She frowned. His face looked like…well, his face. Clear, tanned skin and features that were obviously his own. The hairs on her arms pricked to attention.

With a strange glance at her, Ian fished in his pocket and produced a gold pocket watch.

Gaze riveted on the round, shiny object, her mouth dried and her blood turned icy in her veins. She’d seen that very watch in a museum in London two days ago. Disbelieving, she shook her head, her attention never leaving the timepiece. “Where did you get that? From the props department?”

But if he wasn’t shooting today, they wouldn’t have given it to him. And he damn sure wouldn’t be in costume. A chill zipped down her spine as she looked up at the watch’s owner, who stared back at her as if she were a lunatic.

BLURB:

More than hearts can be broken when you fall through time.

Corinne McGowan survives a plane crash only to fall down a hole in time. In 1868 Cornwall, she faces the ultimate decision: Let the man she loves die, or save him and change history forever.

EXCERPT:

Turning back to him, she stopped, struck by his appearance. He wore a formal dark blue cutaway coat, white pleated shirt and…was that a cravat tied around his neck? She’d seen enough portraits during her thesis research to recognize one. His gray trousers and over-the-knee boots also screamed nineteenth century. Oh, crap–she’d interrupted a film shoot.

“I am so sorry, Mr….er, ah, I’m sorry we haven’t been introduced.”

“Ian Hunterly, at your service.” He shifted his weight and winced.

“Ian Hunterly? How funny.”

And a little more for good measure…

Now that was a coincidence. “Anyway, I just realized that I must’ve interrupted your shoot. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, still looking puzzled. “We weren’t shooting today, merely out for a ride. Why is my name funny?” He certainly didn’t look amused.

“It’s just that you have the same name as Sir Robert Graysill’s nephew.” Her thesis topic and his nephew had become like family to her during the eighteen or so months she’d researched them. And now here she’d met an Englishman with the same name, although perhaps the name was quite common over here. Ian was a form of John, wasn’t it?

He smiled for the first time, and her heart missed a beat. The smile transformed his face from merely handsome to devastatingly sexy, as those full lips turned up the corners of his generous mouth and his eyes lit with an inner warmth they hadn’t shown before. Perhaps she should offer to take this gentleman out for a drink. He looked so very much like Ian Hunterly, for whom she’d developed a serious crush while she’d been researching him. This guy would be the next best thing.

“That’s because I am Sir Robert’s nephew.”

“In the movie?” OMG. Were they making a film about her subject and she hadn’t even known?

“In the moo-vee? What is a moo-vee? I’m sorry, I don’t quite understand.” He squinted as if perplexed and swayed slightly.

“Are you a method actor or something?” She tucked the hat under her arm, grasped him again, and started for the stile. Some actors refused to break character no matter the circumstances. A bit extreme for her tastes, especially since he was injured, but hey, dedication to his craft got him brownie points with her.

BLURB:

More than hearts can be broken when you fall through time.

Corinne McGowan survives a plane crash only to fall down a hole in time. In 1868 Cornwall, she faces the ultimate decision: Let the man she loves die, or save him and change history forever.

EXCERPT:

A human cry followed by a thud stopped her. A sharp neigh and the sound of pounding hooves vanishing into the distance made her sit up and gaze after the disappearing horse, now riderless.

“Damn and blast.”

The curse brought her attention to a young man lying on the ground to her left. He lay flat on his back, his face screwed into a furious frown. If not for that, he would’ve been pretty hot. Dark brown wavy hair, a ruddy complexion, and very full, sexy lips sent a little thrill through her. A typical Englishman, he even had those odd mutton-chop sideburns like Colin Firth in Pride and Prejudice. Were those back in fashion over here? She didn’t remember seeing anyone else wearing them.

And a little more for good measure…

“I say, have you seen my hat?”

God, he had a devastating English accent. She could listen to an Englishman talk all day long. She sighed with sheer joy.

“I beg your pardon, miss, but did you see where my hat has gotten to?” He sat up, twisting this way and that, searching for it.

“Hat?” Didn’t he mean helmet? No one rode without one these days. Still, she looked around for the black velvet helmet she remembered from her senior year P.E. class.

He jerked his head toward her. “You’re American?”

“Yes.” He got that from one word? Must’ve been her southern drawl. She sat up straighter. “I’m from Virginia.”

“Forgive me. Deuced awkward to make an introduction from the ground.” He attempted to stand, and grunted in pain as he put weight on his left foot. “Oh, damn. I beg your pardon. That hurts abominably.” He hopped about, gingerly trying to step on his foot and failing.

“Here, let me help.” Corinne shot to her feet and reached out to steady him. Grabbing him around the waist, she managed to slide his arm over her shoulders and looked for a rock or stump for him to sit on. Even the stupid well would’ve been welcome right about now.

She glanced up at him to find his eyes wide, his frown returned. He must’ve been angry with her for startling his horse. “I’m sorry I spooked your horse, but I’ve had a horrible day so far. Did you see the plane crash? I was on that. Is there somewhere you could sit down?” They’d been turning in circles as Corinne scoured the field for a place to sit him down.

BLURB:

More than hearts can be broken when you fall through time.

Corinne McGowan survives a plane crash only to fall down a hole in time. In 1868 Cornwall, she faces the ultimate decision: Let the man she loves die, or save him and change history forever.

EXCERPT:

Shaking her head, she clutched her bag and hurried down the tree line, tripping now and then on a random hillock of upturned grass, expecting to come upon an adjacent field and the downed plane. She reached the corner of the woods and sputtered to a halt.

Still no airplane. What the hell? How had she gotten so twisted around? Had she somehow ended up on the opposite side of the well than she’d come in on? Well it would be a cold day in hell before she went back to that evil object.

Corinne heaved a sigh and continued along the grassy stretch. She stumbled again and looked down at the clumps of earth and grass, perfect crescent moon shapes bigger than her hand. Were they hoof prints?

And a little more for good measure…

As she straightened, a dull thudding began in the distance. Oh, hell no. Not the well again. She clamped her hands over her ears, but now she could feel vibrations through her feet. That hadn’t happened before, so hopefully this new disaster in the making didn’t have anything to do with the well.

Scanning the open meadow, she spotted figures on horseback spread across the expanse of grass, the nearest one bearing down on her. Quickly. Turning on her heel, she raced toward the woods, not fifteen feet from her. Almost there. Almost… Her foot caught on one of the hills of churned up grass sending her sprawling, scraping knees and elbows in the coarse greensward and filling her nose with the fresh smell of newly cut grass.

She lay petrified, afraid to move as the earth shook around her. Above her the high-pitched whinny of a frightened horse. Dear God, she’d be crushed. Rolling sharply to her left she stared up at a chestnut behemoth rearing over top of her, its front legs sawing the air, its rear ones doing an impromptu dance like a Lipizzaner stallion.

Corinne screamed and rolled again, trying to get away before the wicked hooves trampled her to jelly.

BLURB:

More than hearts can be broken when you fall through time.

Corinne McGowan survives a plane crash only to fall down a hole in time. In 1868 Cornwall, she faces the ultimate decision: Let the man she loves die, or save him and change history forever.

EXCERPT:

She spun around, terrified, but nothing had changed. No dead wet girl on her tail. Just the trees and the well and that crunching glass noise.

Really, she needed to get a grip.

Except the noise had changed from discord to harmony. Almost a pleasant sound, now that she considered it. She took a step forward, and the volume increased, not painful, but soothing. More like a choir. Yes, she could definitely hear voices. They drew her on, one step at a time, toward the well, the sound more captivating with each footfall.

And a little more for good measure…

Before she quite realized it, she’d stopped only a single pace from the lip of the well. The structure stood waist high, the stones pockmarked, the mortar black with age. It must’ve been dry because no dank smell of stale or fetid water rose from it. No smell at all. Just the angelic sound of the choir.

Corinne dropped her hands to her sides, cocking her head. The volume of the jingling glass choir no longer sounded painful, although it was certainly much louder than when she’d begun walking toward it. Had someone put an amplifier in an abandoned well? Had she stumbled upon some sort of bizarre entertainment? Was she being pranked by some British version of Impractical Jokers or Candid Camera? She peered around, looking up in the trees for signs of live feed or time lapse cameras. Nothing of that sort presented itself to her. The rest of the forest lay still and hushed. Not even any birds chirped. Of course, she couldn’t have heard them if they were. So what the hell was going on here?

Curiosity replaced fear. She stepped up to the structure until the well’s ragged rim pressed into her stomach. Such beautiful music. Where did it come from? Taking a deep breath, she leaned over the edge, peering into the Stygian darkness. The angelic choir hit a single high note with the force of a gale wind. Her head filled with an eerie white light, she swayed over the edge, and plunged into the inky depths.

BLURB:

More than hearts can be broken when you fall through time.

Corinne McGowan survives a plane crash only to fall down a hole in time. In 1868 Cornwall, she faces the ultimate decision: Let the man she loves die, or save him and change history forever.

EXCERPT:

With one more backward look at the plane, Corinne stepped out of the sun and shivered. Late April in Britain meant cooler temperatures than in Virginia, but she’d thought of that and worn a sweater. Still, the air was much chillier under the trees than she’d expected. Maybe the adrenaline surging through her veins had finally worn off, allowing shock to set in. She’d better get her business done and go back to the crash site. Her head had begun to feel wonky too. Must’ve hit it harder than she’d thought. Her ears rang with a peculiar sound. Like the tinkling of crushed glass, but sharper, less pleasant. Not pleasant at all, really.

And a little more for good measure…

Walking farther into the woods, she searched for a bush of some sort to shield her from any lurking eyes, although none of her party had seemed to be heading her way. Regardless, she didn’t want to risk an audience when taking a pee.

Finally spying a larger-than-usual tree trunk, she stepped behind it and, with a quick glance around, hiked up her skirt. Relief washed through her and she sagged against the tree. She wanted nothing so much now than to head back to Mrs. Dewey’s Guest House, have a cup of tea and pile up in the bed. A sedate evening of eating take-out fish and chips and watching hilarious British sit-coms on the little television perched on the bureau in her room sounded like the pinnacle of a very trying day. Tomorrow she would sally forth to her appointment at Meadowbank Hall, the main reason for her trip to Cornwall.

At last finished, she dropped her skirts and backed away from the tree. The crushed glass sound intensified. Was it coming from somewhere outside her head? What on earth would make such a sound? Turning in a circle, she peered into the dim forest and spotted something in the distance. She took a step forward, and the volume increased. Sticking her fingers in her ears did no good. The dreadful noise seemed to come from both inside and outside her head. Hands over her ears to dull the sensation a little, she staggered toward the grayish object.

The clinking got louder as she approached the… Was it a well? Made of ragged, crumbling black and gray stones, it looked like…

Corinne stopped dead in her tracks. Crap. It looked like the well from that horrible movie The Ring. She’d watched it alone one Halloween and had to sleep with the lights on for two weeks. No way was she going closer to that thing. She turned around, walking resolutely away.

What if that girl was creeping up behind her now?