|
 EMMA’S TIMELESS
LOVE
By
Jewel Adams
Historic Time Travel Erotic Romance
Hostess of the Grande Ball to unveil the museum's
renovated plantation, Emma Browning never suspects a
mysterious mirror will whisk her back in time to
1825 New Orleans. Neither does she expect to find
herself engaged to a total stranger. Unable to
explain her sudden appearance in this
breathtakingly, handsome man's life, Devon Chandler
rather believe Emma is the bait in a conspiracy to
destroy him, than in her outlandish claim she is
from the future!
Join Emma and Devon as they discover their awakening
love only to face its destruction when Devon's enemy
kidnaps Emma. She escapes her captor, but falls prey
to the evil and powerful Andre La Pointe. To protect
Devon and their unborn child, Emma agrees to marry
the man she fears!
Forced into a deathbed marriage, Emma refuses to
give up and battles time to reclaim Devon's love. A
love now buried in betrayal to save the man too
stubborn to see the truth.
EMMA’S TIMELESS LOVE will carry you on a journey as
unique as the love found in the realms of time!
Time Travel Erotic
Romance
ISBN: 978-1-935048-14-5
1-935048-14-7
Word Count: 103,000
EBook $6.49
Trade Paperback
$15.49 plus shipping.
REVIEWS
WHAT THEY ARE
SAYING ABOUT
EMMA’S TIMELESS
LOVE
The Romance Studio reviewers says—4 1.2 Hearts -
…will take you to a time when men were either
honorable or scoundrels and true love was hard to
find.
Reviewed by Diana T.
Love Romance’s reviewer Gina gives Emma’s Timeless
Love a 5!
…Ms. Adams brings to life the beauty of the
plantations of the time, the stench of a waterfront
hovel and relaxing gardens of 19th century New
Orleans. The reader will feel transported to these
venues as the story draws him or her into its well
woven web of intrigue. Ms. Adams offers the reader a
wonderful gift in the pages of Emma’s Timeless Love.
Emma and Devon’s story will stay with this reviewer
for a long time to come.
EXCERPT
EMMA’S TIMELESS
LOVE
By
Jewel Adams
CHAPTER 1—
The Bargain
What was the old man up to? Was
he hiding sweet damsels in his chambers? Had she
broken free, braved his wrath to join the ball?
An angel of gold stood
teetering on the landing...almost as if she feared
what might happen should she move. Devon’s attention
devoured every enchanting nuance of the unexpected
vision, deciding that only a goddess could be so
bewitching. Shimmering in a seductive wave, the soft
glittering material of her gown pulsed like a second
skin over the boundless rise and fall of her full
breasts. Tantalizing to gaze upon, their silken
imprisonment struck a blaze alive inside of him. The
valley of tempting cleavage hinted at the concealed
mounds of vulnerable flesh. A woman full of lush
seductive curves stood there in desirable perfection
for only his gaze to drink in.
Flexing out his tight fist,
Devon wanted beyond reason to touch and feel the
ethereal beauty. Caress the silken tresses that must
have spun the enchantress’ gown of golden threads.
Where is God’s name did she come from? And why
hadn’t he seen her before now?
Trying to control his strange
reaction to the woman became impossible. To his own
astonishment Devon admitted he wanted her. The
strength of his conviction told him nothing would
prevent him from seeking her out.
Moving cautiously up the
stairs, something told him she was oblivious to his
presence and her surroundings. Frightening her more
than she appeared to be wouldn’t do. What drew him
to her was so out of character for Devon Chandler,
he didn’t dare seek an answer.
Stopping before her, on the
step below the landing, Devon looked into the liquid
pools of unseeing light. They held the damp green of
the thickest woods, with velvet rose petal lips that
parted as if to catch morning dew drops...a mouth
waiting to be kissed.
He marveled over the deep
coppery lashes and brows that framed her lovely
eyes, such a different shade than her sun kissed
hair. Red and gold all spun together in a soft, rich
thickness. Again he quelled the need to reach out
and crush the curls in his ardent palm.
How did one wake a sleeping
beauty? For the lady was undoubtedly bewildered.
Maybe she was truly an angel, lost without wings to
escape her destiny.
Pulled beyond his will, Devon’s
dark head lowered in infinite care. Breathlessly he
brushed his lips across her silken softness. Her
startled gasp was barely audible. He watched in
fascination as her thick eyelashes fluttered,
wanting to shout with joy when the green jewels
sparked in awakening life.
Deliberately, he moved closer,
inhaling the sweet exotic scent of her, like wild
flowers from the untamed ocean islands he’d seen in
his voyages. He thought the lady as a whole to be
unique, a rare commodity. Seeing the flash of fire
stirring to life he knew a very vibrant, untamed
passion trembled inside the ivory beauty. One he
wanted to sample and knew he would fight to control.
Devon’s body shook under the force of his admission.
“The lady awakes.”
Hearing his words left her
confused and uncertain. She stared in disbelief at
the mysterious presence towering above her. His eyes
were so dark, like night shadows, yet alive and warm
in sheltering strength. Emma wanted to drown in
their swirling riptide, allow them to destroy all
the fears.
Fear! The shock waves
drove the breath into her lungs. Images and
sensations rushed through her. She remembered the
thrill of success she felt over the compliments for
the Ball. And her gown, how it made her feel and the
way she floated through those dances with Mr. Albeit
until she was exhausted by the excitement. She’d
gone upstairs to catch her breath during the band’s
break. The memory fell around her like a dark
cloak...maneuvering the bulk of the gown’s skirt
on the stairs left Emma feeling light headed. She
wanted to groan when she remembered that all the
upstairs rooms were locked for the plantation’s
grand tour taking place later this evening. Emma
legs nearly gave out before she reached the sitting
room in the far hall; as gingerly as possible she
navigated the wide skirt around the velvet stool and
sat in relief over the support. Holding the gown’s
hoops down, she found they didn’t fly up in her face
as she expected. Taking deep breaths she tried to
calm the frantic pulsing at her temples. Thankfully
no one else was in the room. Feeling a little
steadier, Emma took an absent look about the small
sitting room.
“But it shouldn’t be here!”
Gasping, she stared at the mirror. Shaking her head
to clear it, the unwanted discovery didn’t disappear
from the wall behind the door. Angry that her
directions had been ignored, Emma stood stiffly
before it, her small hands gripped tight at her
sides.
“It has to be moved to the
nursery.” She swayed under the urgency the
conviction struck within her. Moving towards it she
held back from touching the repulsive mirror, as if
she feared the dreadful thing.
Scolding herself, her hands rose to take hold of
the sides, but it wouldn’t budge. Recalling that it
took two men to get it up the stairs, Emma realized
her efforts were useless. Before she could release
the mirror, a sudden sweep of chilling cold shot
through her hands and up her arms, penetrating every
inch of her body. Stumbling back from the contact,
her hand rose to silence the scream wanting release.
There, in the mirror, her reflection became
surrounded by a swirl of movement. Flashes of scenes
raced around her, too fast, they all blurred
together, leaving her as dizzy as if she were on a
fast amusement ride. Closing her eyes to fight the
sensation, Emma gripped the vanity to stop herself
from reeling.
Fighting the terror trying
to seize her, she used all her courage to stare back
at the mirror. Stealing a cautious look, she felt
the relief flood through her. Only her image stared
back. “I was just dizzier than I realized...that’s
all it could be.”
Feeling somewhat better for
finding an excuse, she straightened herself, wishing
the lingering fear would go away. Strains of music
drifted into the room. She needed to get back. But
before she could make herself move, something odd
about the unfamiliar tune caught her attention. “A
harpsichord?” Funny she didn’t remember seeing one
in the ensemble.
Moving to the door, Emma
came to a halt before it. Turning her head as if she
would shatter, her gaze rose ever so slowly, halting
in shock as they encountered the wall lantern.
“An oil lamp? But they are
electric...” The shaking started in her toes, moving
at an alarming rate, causing a violent shudder to
pass through her as if she’d been struck by
lightning.
Her hand closed over the
door handle, frantically yanking on it to escape.
When the door finally gave way she forced her numb
legs to obey her command to move forward. Pulling
the door shut behind her, she stood there trying to
catch her breath; from somewhere the realization
came over her that she was hyperventilating. She
concentrated on taking slower breaths, but what she
faced in the hall defeated her attempt for control.
Shaking her head in denial,
Emma stared in disbelief. Gone was the bright airy
hallway. Dark wood and heavy carpet lent a
malevolent feeling to the fear seizing her. Here
too, were oil lamps mounted on the walls.
“This is crazy, some sick
joke!” But voicing excuses that couldn’t possibly
have been carried out in such a short time filled
her with mounting panic. “Calm, stay calm Emma.”
Hysterics might alleviate the tension coiling in her
chest, but it certainly wouldn’t help her.
“Downstairs ...” Yes,
everything would be fine once she rejoined the
others.
Each step belied her words.
The unfamiliar surroundings, though structurally
similar to Sleeping Oaks, held no reassurance.
Shivering over the screams echoing inside her head,
Emma knew she was in trouble!
The memory slipped away like a
dream as a more urgent awareness captured her
attention. Where she now found herself seemed a
minor inconvenience when compared to the man
standing in front of her. In amazed silence her
fingers rose to touch her lips, marveling how the
warmth of his lips lingered long after their
absence.
Had he kissed her?
Looking for confirmation at the man, his roguish
humor sent creases out from the corners of his eyes.
Yes, he did and he wanted her to know. The truth
flamed her cheeks, deepening the pleased look he
maintained over her.
“Yes, I think the lady is
awake. Does she have a name?” Devon swallowed his
reaction to the slight rise of her left brow,
knowing the reason behind the question entering
those gorgeous eyes.
Without thought she answered. “Em...Emma
Browning.”
“Miss?”
“Yes, of course.” His deep
laughter startled her, making her glare back at him.
“The lady has spirit as well.”
Devon found the prospect intriguing and highly
exciting. “May I escort you to the ball, Miss
Browning?”
Emma struggled for a moment to
control her whirling emotions. It was hard not to
give in to the panic. He extended his arm for her
hand. No other gentleman this evening had been
this formal...nor so intimate. Struggling with
the compelling desire to run, Emma decided she might
very well need the support he unknowingly offered,
for the unsettling vision hadn’t gone away. In fact,
it was in all ways as close to reality as living
could get!
Taking a closer look at him,
she wondered if she could trust this mirage...was he
a dream? Did she honestly have any other choice? “I
accept your offer...under one condition.”
“Conditions, Madame, usually
require a counter promise.”
Raising her brow at the serious
change in his tone, she nodded cautiously, wondering
if she’d just made a terrible mistake. But then,
wasn’t she already in the biggest catastrophe of her
life? “Mine, sir, is that you do not leave my side,
no matter how strange you may find my company.”
Devon’s gaze drove into hers
with unflagging intensity. He suspected her request
held the lady’s warning and meant much more than
formality implied. But he had no desire to let her
take flight. Nodding his assent, he never released
her intent look. “I hope you mean that, Emma, for I
have no intention of doing otherwise.”
Seeing her tentative agreement,
Devon turned to proceed before her senses or his
fully returned. For what they were mutually agreeing
to was unconventional to say the least. And
convention was something Devon rarely contested.
Her hesitation prevented him
from continuing. Looking at her, seeing the wariness
tightening her large eyes, he feared he might have
lost the advantage.
“And you, sir, what is the
counter offer you have for me?”
Brazen little wench.
Bowing in salute to her honest effrontery, “First,
the name is Devon Chandler.”
Emma acknowledged his
pronouncement. The sudden hardening in his dark
glance made her want to flee, but the fear for what
she believed waited below stilled her nerves and
sent her chin a little higher in defiance. “And.…”
He watched her, noting every
change in that beautifully sculptured face.
Admiration swelled in his chest for her control. Her
gaze was far too expressive, exposing her fear. He
wondered how far her desperation would drive her.
And what put her in this position? An event so
powerful it allowed him to play his advantage and
manipulate her to his will, even when he
instinctively knew it went against the lady’s
delicate senses to do so?
“And, my lovely, you will
neither leave my side, nor refuse my company once we
descend these stairs. Do you agree?”
Her gaze flashed in justified
indignation over his bold request. The unveiled
threat he posed would have been clear, no matter
where she found herself to be. If she had a choice
she would have enjoyed spitting in his glorious face
and denying the power he held. Eyeing him, then the
stairs, Emma swallowed the heated retort she wanted
to give. Would he be the worst of two evils? If this
was a vision or nightmare, she prayed she would wake
before she reached the bottom. Closing her eyes, she
gave the only answer available. “I accept your
terms.”
Opening them, she met what she
felt might be shock lighting those magnetic black
depths. “I wonder, Devon, which of us will regret
our pact first?”
Rather stunned by her
frankness, Devon let his laughter quickly replace
the misgiving she’d glimpsed. “Ah, Emma, if this is
any indication of what I have just committed to, I
will never find regret in your company. Shall we
join the festivities?”
The time for hesitation was
over. Silently she prayed his humor would not
disappear, for each step and the view it afforded,
drove home the suffocating fear over her own
mortality. Odd, how she suddenly thought of another
man; her dance partner at the Ball...Emma laughed
softly over the roughish wit spoken by her handsome
dance partner. Her smile broadened, oh yes, she was
happy. The ballroom glittered in colors as he
swirled her effortlessly around the dance floor. A
councilman from one of the parishes, Monsieur Albeit
discovered her knowledge of the colonial dance steps
equaled his own and thankfully captured her as his
partner. Mr. Albeit was not only a good dancer, but
his dark looks and aquiline features made the
evening perfect for Emma. They talked of many
subjects, but mostly of Sleeping Oaks. It seemed the
plantation always held the locals’ interest.
Fascinated, Emma proved an avid listener to the
man’s knowledge of the place.
“Everyone has always
wondered why the place sat vacant, until now.”
“Didn’t anyone live here?”
“Non, not since Eighteen
twenty-six.”
This revelation disturbed
Emma, causing her to miss a step.
“Who were the owners then?”
“A puzzle many have tried to
untangle, but one that is as elusive as its past.
Whoever it was seemed to have vanished.”
Seeing Emma’s surprise he
continued, “Ah but, in this area there were many
disappearances. I am surprised your museum did not
know the folklore.”
“They might, but I’m afraid,
I don’t. I am a little out of my league at the
present.”
“Miss Browning whatever your
expertise, you have shown New Orleans they have room
for improvement.” Kissing the back of her hand, he
presented her with a formal bow. His dark gaze
twinkled wickedly over the high color his flamboyant
act stirred to life in her...
The memory’s sudden release
made Emma feel as if she were standing at the edge
of a precipice; her fingers tightened on the strong
arm beneath her palm. Devon Chandler, not Monsieur
Albeit, stood at her side. She almost giggled over
the realization. Nerves always did this to her. She
should tell him of course. Taking a cautious look at
him...no, she didn’t think he would find any humor
in the fact that she believed she had just crossed
the threshold of time!
Keeping her legs under her
became a challenge as he led her to the familiar,
yet alien ballroom. The only thing stilling her
panic was the tight hold Devon Chandler maintained
on her hand. Emma’s head was full of all the crazy
thoughts bombarding her. One stood out above all the
others…somehow she stepped back in time!
Meeting the questioning stares
as they entered the ballroom was the worst
experience of her life. Searching the sea of strange
faces quickly reinforced her growing belief over
what was happening to her. Unfortunately, she was a
stranger to these people. At the moment, knowing
what to do or say escaped her capabilities. She
could only look. And look she did, at everything
familiar that wasn’t.
This was Sleeping Oaks, or a
marvelous copy, but it wasn’t her plantation and
neither was it her century...
A silent, numbing shock,
enlarged those overly bright green eyes as he
watched her. The small quivers assaulting her tiny
form increased in their velocity. Whatever brought
her here, he feared she’d not expected this, nor did
he think she welcomed the sight. The fact she was
obviously a stranger to one and all oddly eased his
own tension.
Quickly making his decision,
nothing was going to stop Devon from doing what he
felt became the only option open to the lady
clinging to his side for protection. That she didn’t
realize she sought him barely entered in to his
decision. “Emma, I am here beside you as I promised.
Are you still with me?”
The man’s softly spoken
declaration chipped through the ice surrounding her
senses. Her fingers ached under the pressure she
used to hold onto his arm. “Yes, Devon.”
“Good. Shall we greet our host?
Your late arrival has stirred all’s curiosity, not
that I mind...I’m enjoying their discomfort. In
fact, before the evening is out their shock ought to
take them into next season.”
His words made little sense to
her befuddled state, but then, who wouldn’t be
confused in her position. A dream so real she felt,
smelled and breathed it. But even in the madness, a
strange warning came pounding in its urgency,
demanding she pay attention. Holding back his
advance toward the man he undoubtedly referred to as
their host. “Devon, why will they be shocked?” Her
thoughts were racing trying to assimilate everything
at once. Did he know about her? Would he tell them
she didn’t belong? Tell them what...she was a time
jumper!
“My dear Emma, remember our
pact?”
Impatient with his humor and
her fright, she hissed at him. “Of course I do.”
“We will see, my lady, we will
see...”
Before she could obtain any
further clarification, the group before them
appeared to converge as a pack. Visions of wolves,
moving in for the kill, forced her closer to her
strange protector’s side.
Buy From Our Retailers!
COFFEE TIME ROMANCE BOOKSTORE
ALL ROMANCE EBOOKS
FICTIONWISE
|
