I love the premise for this book... A Time for Will
Identical twins, Verity and Felicity (Lissie) Pettigrew inherit an abandoned farm in the remote hills of the Methow Valley. Little do the twins know, but their windfall harbors a secret. While exploring the old barn, Verity stumbles into a hidden portal and is instantly transported more than one hundred years into the past.
In 1885, on the same farm, Will Dawson is saddling his horse when a disturbance in a corner of the barn catches his attention. In his haste to rescue the gorgeous woman in the center of the disturbance, Will is flung far into the future.
Meanwhile, Lissie arrives on the farm looking for Verity, but finds the handsome, slightly suspicious cowboy instead. From their first words to one another, sparks fly.
Lissie’s modern manners and profane language offend Will. His solution? Some old-fashioned discipline delivered on the spot.
Affronted by Will’s distinctly un-twenty-first century approach to male/female relationships, Lissie challenges his authority at every turn in spite of nearly always ending up over his knee.
Meanwhile, Verity must deal with life in 1885. Although accepted into Will’s family, she longs to get back to the 21st century and the man she loves.
Can Will live in a future in which progress comes at the price of everything he holds dear? Can Lissie win him over, and teach him that women can be independent and willful but still soft and sexy? Will Verity find her way back to the man she loves?
Publishers note: This stand alone love story includes scenes of domestic discipline and spicy romance.
Verity went back to her woodshed hideaway, trying to estimate how long it would take everyone to fall asleep. The heat of the day still clung to the house and all the windows were open. When she thought she heard snoring, she inched across the backyard, shaking all over. Not knowing where she was or who these people were meant she had no idea of the consequences if she was caught. She clenched and unclenched her hands. It was now or never. Her complaining stomach insisted now. She had to eat or she wouldn’t be able to help herself. She tried the door but her hands, slick with nervous sweat, slid off the door knob. She wiped them on her jeans. Exhaling, she tried again. The door creaked open.
Moonlight flooded the room in front of her, spotlighting a large kitchen table with ten carved chairs arranged comfortably around it.
Verity listened, ready to bolt at the first sound of anyone approaching. Silence.
The room was foreign and familiar, all at once. The window over the sink was exactly like the one in her house. But her house no longer had a rough metal trough for a sink, nor was it fed by a hand pump. The lingering scent of freshly-baked bread made Verity’s mouth water. A cloth was draped over a couple of shapes on the counter. She tiptoed over, lifting the cloth, hoping for something good. Her prayers were answered when she found two big pies in deep tin dishes. She inhaled deeply. One smelled of chicken. The other teased her with the fragrance of apple and cinnamon.
Get in and get out, she told herself. Using her Swiss Army knife, she cut a huge slice from each one. She folded the slices into the cloth, forcing herself to resist the temptation to shove them into her mouth right there. Turning to leave as quietly as she could, it dawned on her that she was a thief in her own house. In spite of her frayed nerves, a small smile crossed her lips.
With the appetizing smell of the pies wafting up, it took every ounce of Verity’s willpower to walk stealthily to the back door. As she passed the end of the table, a folded newspaper in front of the big carver chair caught her eye. On the cover of Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper, a picture of the Statue of Liberty encased in scaffolding took up half the page. Beside it was a picture of a man Verity did not recognize. Below that was another image of the statue. Squinting hard at the old-fashioned print, Verity was just able to make out the date on the banner: the week ending June 13, 1885.
Is that where she was? June 1885?
No, it was autumnal here, just like it had been in the Methow Valley where she’d been until early this afternoon. The grass was end-of-summer brown and the leaves on the birches and cottonwood were starting to turn.
The sound of nails clicking on the floor above her forced Verity to move. She tucked the newspaper under her arm, sliding toward the door. A light thud of something falling softly followed the nail scraping upstairs. A series of small yips. She waited. When there was no more noise, she decided the dog was just turning in his sleep. Easing the door open she let herself onto the back porch again, listening for any sound that might indicate someone had woken and was coming after her. Her luck was strong. There was no further stirring.
Don’t miss these other great books from Libby Campbell and Blushing Books:
The Romancing the Coast Series
Seeing Ronnie.(Book 1)
Holding Cynthia (Book 2)
Simon in Charge – 3 book boxset
Libby Campbell, spanking writer and mischief maker
Libby Campbell writes in the bay window of her mock-Tudor home, fueled by coffee, chocolate, and many cups of fragrant tea. Sharing a love of hiking, road trips, and an occasional night of dancing, Libby and her husband live on a rocky island in the Pacific Northwest.