Both are only 99 Cents.
Of all the books I've written, FOR ETERNITY (Time-Travel Romance #1) is by far the hardest. It took so much out of me to write this story and have the plot make sense. Therefore, I am beside myself to have this first book released.
Watch the book trailer.
It is available at Amazon (for Kindle), Barnes & Noble, and Smashwords. The print book will be available in a week or two..
His heart thudding in his chest, he slowly turned around, and blood rushed from his face - for sliding down the door was a beautiful young woman.
Just do your job and avoid the dumb door. That's what Evan Hawks was told. And he almost suceeded.
Until a careless accident brings life-changing consequences and a strange connection between parallel universes.
Yet is everything really what it seems? Or will he lose forever the best thing that ever happened to him?
This excerpt comes from a scene NOT available in the Amazon preview. If you want to read the first two chapters, I encourage you to go there.
Here, Emily Morrow, having spent the night in Evan's bed while he slept on the couch, is speaking via cell phone to Evan Hawks best friend Antony Mirelli about her lack of clothing. Sparks have already begun to fly between Emily and Evan and feelings that will greatly complicate their future.
Evan’s phone rang, but Emily snatched it up before he could reach for it. A sly smile on her face, she pressed it to her ear. “Antony!”
Evan laid down his fork in the empty plate. What was she up to?
“What do you mean why am I here? I live here. Evan said so himself.”
He withheld his grin. He could just hear Ant’s response to that.
“Oh stop blathering,” she said. “He’s an adult. Besides, you called because you want to do me a favor.”
The squawk of Antony’s voice blazed through the speaker, and she pulled it away, sticking a finger in her ear as if to clean it. Loud, she mouthed.
“Listen, sweetums …”
Laughter spurted from Evan’s mouth. Sweetums?
“Your dear friend, Ev, is a bit short o’change. You have seen his apartment, right?”
More squeaking came through the phone. “Yes, well, I figured you had, and unless you are blind, which I know you are not, you will agree that you are in a better position financially to help me out.”
Evan leaned back on the stool. Slick.
“Pish-posh. I saw those rings on your hand. Sell one. I need clothes. I have only what I wore yesterday, and today is Saturday, so unless some warp opens in the time continuum and sucks me outta here, I’m stuck here ‘til Monday.”
She removed the phone from her ear again, nodding at the sound of Antony’s voice. “Ten is perfect. We’ll be here.” With that, she hung up.
“Ten?” He smiled at her.
“Yes. We’re going shopping. Antony’s buying. He did sound a bit upset though.”
She stood and took his plate. Wandering over to the sink, she searched underneath for the dish soap. Her shirt crept up her thighs, and his eyes widened.
“Umhmm.” He coughed.
She straightened and stared at him. He nodded toward her legs. Looking down, the dish soap held aloft, she frowned. “What? Is something on me?”
He chuckled. “No.”
And that’s my point.
“Well then, I’m going to wash your dishes because you, Evan Hawks,” she pointed at him, “are a slob.”
He watched her clean the dishes, enjoying the view, and marveled that someone with her innocence could exist. Past her protests on staying with him last night, she hadn’t said a negative word. And now she stood before him wearing nothing but a t-shirt.
“Em, why is no one allowed to call you that?”
Her arms slowed their motions in the soapy water. She brushed hair from her neck and a string of bubbles stuck there. It slid tantalizing down her skin.
“My mom kicked me out when I was eighteen. She used to call me that.”
“Kicked you out? For what?”
She rinsed a plate and then set it in the dish rack. “For going to church.”
He settled onto his elbows. “For going to church?”
The idea startled him. What kind of parent kicked their child out for being decent? One with no conscience.
She nodded, and he didn’t speak for a few minutes. She placed the last dish in the rack and reached for a towel. Her fingers glowed red from long immersion in the heated water.
“She had … has … a drinking problem.”
He contemplated that. “Where did you go?” he asked.
“To live with Alyssa. She’s my pastor’s daughter. She’s like a sister to me.” She turned her head and met his gaze. “Evan, if … if it really is 2012, then she’s still alive. But … she’d be older, and I was wondering … She can’t possibly be where she was, ‘cause you said Stevens Street wasn’t there, but maybe … I guess that’s too hard … to find her.”
Too hard. This whole situation was too hard. And it hit him. Their ages. He blinked. “Emily, when were you born?”
Her shoulders stiffened. “June 2, 1950.”
The figure sent him reeling. Gripping his head, he winced. 1950? That’d make her his dad’s age. She’d be … but she wasn’t. She was ….
He raised his face. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-eight. Or I was. But Alyssa, she’d be sixty-two.”
This was wrong, her being here. It was only fair to figure out how to send her back. Yet the thought of that left a hole in him.
Admit it. She’s affected you.
She had. Within the space of a day, she’d changed something inside him, some strange longing to somehow fix up his life, to not accept how things were.
“We’ll figure it out,” he said to himself. “If there’s a way to come through, there has to be a way to return.”
Stacking the plates, she slipped them into the cabinet and wiped down the counter. It was the cleanest his kitchen had looked in weeks. She eyed the living room. “Where’s the vacuum?” she asked and she bustled past him, her arms swinging.
He grasped one as she neared. He shouldn’t have said that out loud. It had obviously upset her, and that wasn’t his intention. “Em, I’m not sending you away.”
She nodded without looking at him.
“You can stay as long as you like. Hey ...” He ducked his head into her view.
Her blonde lashes fanned out around beautiful, blue eyes, and for a moment, he yielded to his desire to fall into them. “I feel it,” he said. He placed a hand on her cheek.
-------------------------------Suzanne D. Williams
Suzanne Williams Photography
Suzanne Williams is a native Floridian, wife, and mother, with a penchant for spelling anything, who happens to love photography.