My goodness, how time does fly. It seems like yesterday that I dug my first novel out of the attic, where it had sat for twenty years, and decided to do something with it. After that, it was one book after another. When I first stated writing series my publisher told me, "Series don't sell well. Make sure you don't write more than three books at the most."
I didn't listen, of course. How could I when The O'Malleys were all clamoring for their stories to be told? After that came Sugar Babies, Inc. and the delightful Susan to write about. By then I was hooked on series. It's actually pretty rare for me to write a single novel, but I have. Still, I prefer a plethora of characters, which of course leads to series like, Sassy Girls, The Marriage Market, Come Sundown, and the ones I've written as Markie Morelli, Cheri's New Rules, and Finn's Plan.
Threads of Time, my newest series has been a long time coming. I'd given the first book to a different publisher and they titled it 'Callie Mae and the Marine', which I hated. I didn't like the cover either, and the book did not do well. I think there were several reasons for this which I won't go in to, but I will admit I was very disheartened. I thought Morgan's story was one of my best works, yet it had mediocre sales. At that point I decided to put a hold on the series until the rights from the first book reverted to me, which they did in 2022.
Over the course of several months I revised book one, extended it, and changed the ending. It got a great cover from the remarkable Dar Albert, and a new title more fitting for a Time Travel series. After that, it was full steam ahead. Currently, I'm working on the third book, Woven Threads, which will be released this spring. I hope readers will give this series the chance to make them smile, and fall in love!
Morgan Whittaker is a shadow of the man he once was. Plagued by personal tragedy, his marriage in shambles, and wounded while serving his last tour of duty he only wants to be left alone.
Despite knowing their marriage is over, Cara Whittaker finds it painful and annoying to see what her husband has become. The Quantum physicist offers him a once in a lifetime chance...to travel back in time.
What he finds there is more than he ever dreamed. He’s been warned not to tamper with the fragile fabric of the future, but danger is coming. Can he stop it and change his destiny or will he run out of time?
Will he once again follow the rules or will he throw caution to the wind and step up to be the man he’s meant to be?
“Morgan? Morgan Whittaker is that you?” the man asked, pushing the brim of his hat back and squinting in the bright sunlight. “As I live and breathe,” he continued, jumping down from his wagon and striding directly to the tall man who was once his best friend.
“Where in hell’s creation have you been all these years? We all thought you were dead, killed in the Indian wars,” he continued, reaching out to shake Morgan’s hand before pulling him into a man hug and pounding his back. “And what in tarnation are you on foot for? Get throwed?”
“Um, yeah,” Morgan replied. Apparently this man knew him, although how that could be possible he didn’t know. Cara told him he was taking a chance going to rural Kansas where his ancestors had settled back in the 1800’s. It appeared she was right, as he obviously looked enough like his predecessor to be mistaken for him.
“Well, come on,” the man said, heading toward the wagon. “Never thought I’d live to see the day you got pitched off your own nag,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “You want I should try and find your horse? I guess that fightin’ took more out of you than is right.”
“I guess so,” Morgan agreed, climbing up on the seat and looking around at the countryside. “No, he was an ornery old cuss anyway, so good riddance to him.” Acres and acres of wheat, as far as the eye could see, waved gently in the breeze. He hoped the man would continue to carry the conversation because frankly, he was almost speechless. Weeks of watching old episodes of ‘Gunsmoke’ would only take him so far.
“I’ll take you out to the homestead,” the blond haired man beside him said, giving the reins a snap that set the horses in motion, “but I better stop at the house on our way or Missy will never forgive me. That little sister of yours is sweet as a honeycomb until she gets a bee in her bonnet, then watch out. We been married nigh on three years now and I’ve only had to take a hand to her a few times, but let me tell you that woman can hold a grudge like no female I ever met. Best not to rile her up if I can help it,” he said, grinning.
“You hit my sister?” Morgan asked, feeling strangely angry despite the fact that he had no idea who ‘Missy’ was.
“Hell no! You know me better than that, Morg; I just tan her hide when she gets out of hand. Nothin’ you wouldn’t a done yourself if you’d been around. If anyone knows what kind of trouble that gal can get into, it oughta be you.”
Morgan nodded and digested this information. So, he had a sister. Well, the other Morgan Whittaker did, and Lord knew where he was. Maybe he was dead. This man was married to Missy, his sister, and apparently it was permissible to spank your wife. A tiny smile tilted the corner of his mouth.
Mead Whittaker wasn’t much more than a boy when he fought at the Battel of Mine Creek, but it damn near cost him his life. The last thing he needed was another injury to the same damn leg, yet that’s exactly what he got at The Duchess Saloon one dark night in October 1880.
When Morgan approached him with a possible solution, Mead thought his brother was crazy. However, knowing he might never walk again convinced him. He would trust Morgan and risk traveling to the future for advanced medical treatment. What he hadn’t counted on was his actions putting those he’d come to care for at even more risk.
Things were unraveling in the past, actions that seemed to be unleashing devastating consequences in the present, and Mead wasn’t there to prevent them.
The threads of time are fraying; some are breaking. Can Mead and Cara work together to mend the fabric of their lives in time?
Cara spent the rest of the day with her current husband. Surprisingly, he insisted on attending services at the same church where their marriage took place. Her mind was once again flooded with new recollections as she greeted strangers and then moments later realized she did, in fact, know them. It was like putting together an elaborate puzzle, trying to determine which pieces were parts of her new life and which were from her past.
As a scientist, she knew the human brain had an unlimited capacity for knowledge, yet the more firmly she became ingrained in her new life, the more distant her old life seemed. She couldn’t help but wonder if at some point her first marriage and the ensuing effects would totally fade from her conscious mind.
They cooked dinner together, working side by side in their custom kitchen and ate at the granite topped island. Micah poured her a glass of white wine and smiled when she drained the glass almost immediately.
“Are you sure you’re feeling all right, darling?”
“Yes, of course,” Cara replied as she handed him her glass for a refill. “Why?”
His questioning, raised-eyebrow stare made his feelings known.
“You’ve been acting oddly since I found you in your office as white as a sheet yesterday. Now you appear flushed. Is there anything you need to talk to me about?”
“Umm no, everything’s fine, Witt,” she replied, taking a bite of her Chicken Alfredo. Oh, God, Oh God, a nickname! It just fell out of her mouth like a gift. She called him Witt, obviously short for Whittaker, and sometimes she called him ‘Doc’. Why was it taking her so long to remember some things and not others?
She’d been waiting for some sign, some comment that would let her know he was aware of the situation, but so far nothing. Surely they had discussed it. She worked with him, and apparently had for some time. He must know about the project, and if not, why? How was she supposed to explain it to him?
Well, you see, until last week you didn’t even exist. I had this husband, oh yeah funny thing about that, his name is Morgan and he’s probably your great-great-great-great grandfather, or maybe an uncle…well he’s definitely related to you in some way.
You see I sent him back in time and he fucked up, no fucked up wouldn’t work. She believed she’d been spanked once before for using that kind of language. Okay, okay, regroup. I sent him back in time and he met this girl, a saloon keeper named Callie Mae Walker who was supposed to die in this gunfight, only she didn’t, because Morgan did something to change things, and after he promised me he wouldn’t fuck…damn…mess with the future. I don’t really know what exactly, but they had children and you’re a descendant of one of those children…probably.
I never really loved him, but the sex was great at first. No wait. Scratch that. I married him because his younger brother died and his parents were grieving so deeply. Morgan, my first husband, that is, enlisted and was going overseas and I was continuing my education, so I figured why not? What could it hurt, right? His parents were expecting grandchildren, which of course I was never going to provide, but it put a Band-Aid on the whole thing, sort of.
“Oh Lord,” Cara said out loud, pushing her plate away and draining her second glass of wine.
“All right,” Micah said, getting up from his stool. Taking the glass away from her, he lifted her down. “I don’t know what’s come over you young lady, but I feel we need to have a serious talk. Why did you go to the office so early this morning? What? You didn’t think I would notice my wife’s absence?” he asked with a derisive snort. “What happened while you were there that’s affected you this way?” he asked, tipping her chin up and forcing her to make eye contact.
Crap he’s hot, she thought. Wanting to reach out and cup his lovely organ in her hands, she forced herself to behave. What the fuck was she supposed to say anyway?
I got a letter this morning and my husband is coming back on Tuesday. Don’t worry, I’ll introduce you and I’m sure you’ll be great friends.
“Shit,” she snapped, twisting out of his arms and giving his chest a shove with her small hand. “I don’t want to talk right now. I want to drink,” she continued, snatching up the wine bottle as she pivoted. “I’m going to the den and I don’t want to be disturbed,” she tossed over her shoulder, her bare feet slapping against the tile.
Once Cara passed into the dining room she paused, holding her breath. Hearing the garage door open and close, she let out a sigh of relief and tipped the bottle to her mouth.
She’d have to tell him, of course, and she just earned a hell of a spanking, but she also bought herself some time. Witt would never discipline her when he was genuinely angry.
Moving on to the den, she sat at the huge mahogany desk and began to write on a legal pad.
It was important to write down every detail of her life with Morgan, just in case her memories began to fade. It would also give her some talking points when she explained to her current husband what transpired. All this would take place after he’d punished her for her rudeness, disrespect, and nasty mouth. He would send her to the corner until she stopped blubbering, comfort her when he determined she was duly repentant, and then insist on the truth.
Witt would get his way, he nearly always did, but it was nice being cared for, and come Tuesday morning he would be right beside her, offering support and guidance. Taking a huge gulp from the bottle, Cara began to write. She detailed each item of importance, stopping now and then to mull over the past. By the time she was done, the empty wine bottle was on its side. Leaning back in the big leather chair, she rested her feet on the corner of the desk and waited.
I hope you've enjoyed these glimpses into my Threads of Time series. Books one and two are available now at your favorite retailers. Here are the links:
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