Today I’ve got fellow Astraea Press author Ruth Hartman as my guest. Let’s give her a big welcome as she talks about her venture into writing a new genre for her-regency.
This is such a special time of year. Time with family, friends, and for remembering the Christ Child as the true reason for the season. I have to admit that this time of year often causes me to be a little depressed. It seems that people rush too much. Spend more than they have. And try to out-do each other in the giving of gifts. I love giving my family gifts, it’s not that. I just wish we could focus more on the important things while we have them.
This year, I’ll be fortunate enough to spend Christmas with both of my brothers, as well as our parents. My sister won’t be able to join us, but it’s rare that we’re all together at any one time. When we are, though, we always have someone take our picture together. One of all six of us, and another of just us four kids. (It sounds funny to call us kids when I’m almost 50 and I’m the baby!) Those pictures are something I treasure. Yes, the gifts are nice and thoughtful. I appreciate and enjoy them. But the time with my family and the pictures I can look at after they’ve all gone back to their distant homes, are something of true value to me.
Merry Christmas to all, and I wish for each of you time spent with those you hold most dear!
Izzy Hodgkin just wants an adventure. Who knew it meant being locked in a closet in 2012 and when the door is opened later, it’s 1812?
Charles Hamilton Douglas Wade, Duke of Bramblewood Green, thinks he will never find the right woman. When he opens his closet door, imagine his surprise to find a woman in there. And she’s from the future!
Will Izzy stick with her plan to return to 2012 America to achieve her goal of financial independence? Or will she and Charles find happiness in 1812?
Excerpt- “Time for a Duke”
The man grasped both of her wrists in one of his large hands and tugged her toward him. The strap of her denim purse, which had until now managed to stay affixed to her shoulder, slipped down to her elbow. Izzy fumed. “Hey, you can’t—”
He tugged harder. Izzy pulled one of her wrists free. Her purse fell to the floor, its contents tumbling out. She glanced down. Perfect. Now all her stuff was strewn about. She couldn’t run away yet, because she needed everything in that bag to get out of this crazy estate and wicked country. ID, passport, wallet, and phone were just out of her reach.
Still holding one of her wrists in his massive hand, the man bent down to examine the items. He wrapped his free hand around her phone and gasped when the screen lit up. As he widened his eyes, he dropped the phone and jumped up, jerking her forward.
“How have you managed this? Are you a witch?”
Izzy stepped closer, glaring into his eyes. “Of course I’m not a witch! It’s just a cell phone, and not even a good one at that.”
The duke stared at her while shaking his head. His fingers dug deeper into her wrist. Eyes still opened wide, he bent back down to retrieve a piece of paper and stood back up. One look told Izzy it was the brochure of the estate tour with her ticket stub attached to the front. She smirked and stared directly into eyes that appeared as if they could shoot sparks.
“There, duke. See? That proves I have a right to be here. I paid for my ticket. So what do you say to that?”
A frown marred the handsome face. He turned the paper this way and that, examining it from every angle. “This is not common paper. The light from the window reflects from its surface.” He quickly scanned over the words on the page, narrowing his eyes after darting them back to the top. “What madness is this?”
“Huh?” Why didn’t he stop playing his role? It had to be obvious she wasn’t buying it.
“The date on this page. It states it’s the year 2012?”
He held the paper closer to his face. “And this image. It’s of my home. What trickery allowed it to occur? How did you come by this?”
“Because I signed up to tour this estate so I could see how the wealthy used to live. Now I wish I hadn’t.” Izzy yanked her wrist, trying to break free of his grip.
He opened his mouth, gaping like a fish. Even though Izzy wanted to be as far away from this madhouse as possible, she couldn’t stop staring at the man’s well-formed lips. They appeared to be soft and sensual. What would they taste like?