While on a genealogical research journey through the Midwest, Molly Hamilton impulsively buys a 100-year-old Victorian house in the middle of a cornfield, and falls in love with the house’s owner...the original owner, that is. Can he be a ghost? The handsome, intriguing attorney certainly feels solid—and somehow her soul knows she has always loved him.
Darius Ferguson has no idea how he has come to present-day Iowa. The last thing he knew, the year was 1880, and he had just buried his fiancée, who happens to look exactly like Molly. He cannot separate the two women in his heart—to him, they are one.
In spite of being drawn to him, Molly thinks Darius is unhinged. Darius wonders if he has joined his fiancée in purgatory. If time travel is possible, will love be enough to build a future together?
“How did you get in here?” I choked out. “Who are you?”
Darius stole a sideways glance over his shoulder to meet my eyes—or to see that indeed I did not have a gun aimed at him—before turning his face away.
“It is I, Molly. The same man you met two weeks ago. The same man you loved over a hundred years ago.”
“You’re nuts!” I spit out. “You’re not here. I’m just imagining things.” My knees were aching, and I shifted awkwardly in the tub to dive under the water again, keeping my neck twisted to watch him. I couldn’t stay in the bathtub all night. I felt so vulnerable—even if this was a hallucination...or a fantasy.
“So, since you’re not really here, you wouldn’t mind keeping your face turned away, so I can get out of the tub, would you?” My heart pounded, the rhythm matching the pounding in my head from smacking it on the edge of the tub. “Please?” I couldn’t keep the quiver from my voice.
“Certainly. It is not proper for me to be standing here at any rate. I simply came upstairs to see if you were here, and there you were—in my tub—a vision of bubbles and curly brown ringlets.”
“Go away,” I pleaded. “I may want to daydream about you, but I don’t know that I want to actually see you.”
“As you wish, Molly.” He threw another quick glance over his shoulder, and his mouth curved into an embarrassed smile before he moved away.
I watched him disappear and panicked.
“Wait,” I shrieked. “Wait!”
“Yes, dear?” He backed up to the edge of the door again, still keeping his face averted.
“Wait for me downstairs. Don’t go yet. I’ll be right there.”
Darius inclined his head slightly to the side where I saw his profile, and I could have sighed when a single golden-brown curl fell forward in his face.
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Bess McBride made her first serious writing attempt when she was 14. She shut herself up in her bedroom one summer while obsessively working on a time travel/pirate novel set in the beloved Caribbean of her youth, but she wasn't able to hammer it out on a manual typewriter (oh yeah, she's that old) before it was time to go back to school. The draft of that novel has long since disappeared, but the story is still simmering within, and she will finish the adventure one day soon.
Bess was born in Aruba to American parents and lived in Venezuela until her family returned to the United States when she was 12. She couldn't fight the global travel bug within and joined the U.S. Air Force at 18 to "see the world." After 21 wonderful and fulfilling years traveling the world and gaining one beautiful daughter, she pursued her dream of finally getting a college education. With a license in mental health therapy, she worked with veterans and continues to work on behalf of veterans. She writes romantic suspense, contemporary, light paranormal/fantasy and time travel romances and currently has eight novels published. She can be contacted through her web site at http://www.bessmcbride.com.