23 August 2015

Sunday Snippet from The Laird--Wild Heather Book 1



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Andrew, a wealthy Australian architect, takes life too seriously, whereas his PA Elizabeth is outgoing and fun-loving; a perfect foil for her somber boss. She is passionate about Celtic lore and language. With great reluctance Andrew answers a plea from his two elderly aunts to travel to Scotland before his uncle dies. He has no desire to visit the land his father left under a cloud many years ago, but Liz persuades him to take her along.

In the draughty and dilapidated castle, while exploring a disused attic, the pair set off a course of events that propel them back in time to 1050 where they meet Travis, coincidentally Andrew's double.



If they ever got back to their own time—no, when they got back—he'd have a hell of a job convincing his friends this had really happened. But perhaps it wasn't really happening. But it had to be; everything felt so real. He thumped a fist into a palm. Certainly he was solid, the floor beneath his feet real.


And Liz felt as soft and womanly as ever. The heathen was attracted to her, for sure. The great oaf wouldn't have any qualms about doing away with him that was another certainty. Andrew knew he must keep his head, if only for Liz's sake. What in God's name were they doing here? He couldn't make any sense of it. People just didn't travel through time. It was too preposterous for words.


If only his frail old Uncle Lawrence hadn't wished to see his last remaining male heir, they might still be at home. If only he hadn't let Liz persuade him to let her accompany him to Scotland.

It was her inquisitiveness that got them into this bloody mess. Andrew's mind strayed back to when he'd picked her up at the flat she shared with a monster of a cat. The moggy leapt onto him with a growl as she opened the door. Andrew grinned. Despite her admonishments the animal curled itself about his shoulders. He'd threatened to kill it one day. She merely laughed and took it off to the neighbor who had the unenviable task of cat-sitting.


Liz sent him to her bedroom to collect her luggage. Although he'd picked her up on a few occasions when she'd accompanied him on business dinners, he'd never been into her personal domain. It mirrored her personality to a tee. A complete contrast to his own bland serviced apartment a short distance away, her d├ęcor was a mish-mash of colors. Bright orange and green cushions were scattered on her large bed, which sported a tasseled bedspread and gold-knobbed headboard. A stuffed tiger sat in majestic dignity in the middle of the pillows.


How many men had shared that bed with her? Had the man in the photo on the bedside cabinet been one of them? Taken on her graduation day the photo showed her smiling into the eyes of a handsome man in his early forties. A smiling woman in a wheelchair sat between them.


“This is a remarkable book, and Ms. McGill is an outstanding writer. There is
rich historical detail of everyday medieval life, and characters who stepped
right out of the annuls of history. I love time travel books, and this one
is exceptional.” Deborah Brent for Romantic Times

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http://mizging.blogspot.com (Ginger Simpson)





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