Sneak preview - Lost in Time - Part 5

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear that sound from you.” Something feral glittered in his eyes as his tongue darted out to moisten his lips, the message obvious. “Oh yes. Not just thinking about you, but imagining all manner of scenarios where you would have no choice but to succumb to my … shall we say … desires.”
So the veneer of gracious civility was simply a pretence, designed to disarm her. Or something. It had certainly put her right back on her guard, tensing for his next move. “Excellent. You have no idea how much of an aphrodisiac your fear is. I’m going to enjoy bending you to my will – you will definitely be my biggest challenge so far.”
The not-even-thinly veiled threat in his tone sobered her completely, although the tiny sip meant she wasn’t even approaching squiffy. Or at least she shouldn’t be. Had he drugged it? She tried to think back to whether the bottle had already been open, but he’d definitely poured both glasses together. Unless he’d added something to her drink.
“Are you all right? You seem a little peaky.”

That did it. “You put something in my wine.”
“I did?” He laughed out loud. “I suspect you’ve been watching too many James Bond films.” He picked up her glass and gulped back a large swig. “I assure you I’ve never had to drug a woman in my life.”
“Not when you can intimidate, terrify or threaten her.”
“What’s the difference?”
She glared. Now he wanted to talk semantics? He was obviously just toying with her, bully that he was. She should take his toys away. Subtly. Any overt demonstration of his lack of power over her would inevitably lead to a puffing up of feathers and a desperate desire to dominate. A cool glance. “I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure it out.”
Raising her glass in a toast, he emptied, swilled and dried it before pouring more wine and offering it.
Despite his attempts to disconcert, she was starting to get the measure of what he really wanted. The trick would be in making him think she was being duped into satisfying his weird “desires.” She accepted the glass and took another small sip, then gestured at the room. “As for James Bond – this whole set-up is straight from a Bond-villain scene. Right down to the dastardly laugh.”
He obliged with a suitably demented cackle, tapping his steepled fingers in the classic bad-guy gesture. Then his whole demeanour changed as he sat forward. “Diverting though this is, we should get down to business.”
Putting the glass on the desk-cum-table, she resisted the compelling impulse to fold her arms against his onslaught. “What happens if I refuse?”
“Did I not make myself clear? Refusal is not an option.” He paused. “On either count.” “You can’t make me do anything which would hurt Eric.”
Another belly laugh. “Whatever gave you that idea? Hurting him is the very last thing I want. He’s of no use to me unless his brain is in full working order, and that won’t happen if he’s missing a finger.” Another pause. “Or a leg.”
Ignoring the graphic images his words conjured up, she glared. “And you think his brain will be in full working order when he finds out what you’ve done to me?”
“Exactly what have I done apart from treat you to a very fine Syrah?”
She clamped her lips together to stop herself from falling into his trap.
“How hurt do you think he’ll be when he finds out you’d rather meet me than celebrate your twentieth anniversary in the romantic Scottish location where you were wed?”
She managed to quell a second gasp, but only just.
“Eric’s a passionate man and you’re a very attractive woman – or at least you would be if he didn’t make you dress like a frump.” His sidelong glance said he was baiting, and she refused to rise to it.
“But how much does he trust you? Do you honestly think he’ll believe you could spend a couple of hours alone in a hotel room with a man of my reputation and not have sex?” “You flatter yourself.”
“Every day. It has far more sincerity than compliments from toadying sycophants who would curry my favour in the hope of getting something from me.” A wink. “But I’m under no illusions about my attractiveness to women. Although I’m not a complete ogre, I realise it’s my wealth that makes them call me handsome.”
His glare demanded some reaction, but he surely couldn’t expect her to protest. The vast majority of women – and probably most men – would call him handsome, with or without the money. But Naomi never paid any attention to physical appearance, being far more attracted to courage, integrity and kindness. So she didn’t react.
Her cool indifference should have rankled, but instead of annoyance, humour sparkled his eyes and twitched his lip. “I sensed a worthy adversary, but you exceed all expectations. You’re not like most women, are you?”
“I couldn’t possibly comment, only knowing a small fraction of the available population. As, I suspect, do you. Moving in the circles you do, I imagine you come into contact with many women who have little in common with me.”
He barked a laugh. “Why couldn’t I have landed a gem with your courage and wit instead of …” A head shake. “Never mind. What’s done is done.” A speculative glance. “What if I told you there’s a way you can secure Eric’s immunity from my unsavoury attentions?”
Her lips had no more chance of not twitching at the deliberate irony than Eric did of swimming on the moon – his favourite expression for impossible situations. This pleased Devlin greatly if the glitter in his eyes was anything to go by. Down to the nitty-gritty. “I’m listening.”
Her eyes widened as he outlined the deal. She had no choice but to comply – the alternative didn’t bear thinking about.

Sneak preview - Lost in Time - Part 4

Naomi’s Ordeal – 1985

Hugging her raincoat tight against the wind, Naomi pictured Eric in the garden at Gretna, wishing she could have told him the real reason why she couldn’t go with him to celebrate their twentieth wedding anniversary. The picture dissolved into the hurt on his face when she’d told him, tinged with that frisson of fear that she’d finally met someone truly worthy of her love.
It was the one thing he kept harking back to on the rare occasions they exchanged cross words. Or rather she voiced her concerns about how hard he drove himself – working all day and then spending hours in the attic doing Lord knew what.
Like a broken record, stuck in the same groove, he would apologise for neglecting her and promise to try harder. She couldn’t remember quite when he’d gone from being confident of her love, to questioning his worthiness. But she’d never done anything to give him reason to suspect her fidelity. Until today.

The question wasn’t whether she would go through with it, rather what would happen if she didn’t. It was doubly evil that the monster had picked her wedding anniversary for this secret liaison, and she couldn’t imagine it was anything but deliberate – making the stakes that much higher
Meeting him in a Travelodge was deliberately designed to make her feel grubby, but until she had secured certain assurances, she had no choice but to play along with his sleazy fantasy. As she knocked on the door, the wind tore at her headscarf, whipping it away.
Drat! It was her favourite, the very first Christmas present from Eric, and she’d worn it to feel his presence nearby.

“You’re late.” No niceties, but nothing about this man could be called nice.
She declined to make excuses. He should be grateful she turned up at all instead of doing what a smart person would have done and gone to the police. It had better be worth it.
“You’re here now, so let’s get started. Take off the coat.”
As she’d imagined, he thought he could bully her into submitting to his intimidation tactics. He’d learn. “No.”

A frown. “Sorry. I should re-phrase. You’ll want to take off your coat because it’s ridiculously warm and it’ll dry better. If I'd known you were going to walk, I’d have sent a car.”
What the heck? Not what she expected at all. And it was stifling. As he walked over to the desk, she took advantage of his turned back to remove her coat, hanging it on a hook.
“Red or white? I wasn’t sure so I have both.” He pulled a bottle of wine from an ice bucket and spun around, a polite smile hiding his reaction to her get up.
She’d gone for a long-sleeved, buttoned-up flannelette shirtwaister – what her mum called a proper passion killer.

“If you don’t want wine, I have water, juice or a nice cup of tea.”
If he wanted to surprise her, he was doing fine. 
When she tried to reply, her voice cracked. “Red, please.”
“And perhaps a glass of water to clear your throat.”
Revising her opinion about the niceties, she accepted the water and sat in the chair he gestured, realising he’d paid for one of the executive rooms with more than just a bed.
The drinks sorted, he sat in the other chair, sipping his wine, his gaze appraising. “I suspect you have quite a different idea of how this meeting will run, however I wanted somewhere discreet in neutral territory.”
She sipped the wine, pleasantly surprised at the full-bodied, spicy tang.
His scrutiny suggested a need for her approval of his choice, and she nodded, setting the glass down and clasping her hands in her lap to stop them from fidgeting.

“I've been thinking about you a lot since that first meeting two decades ago. Despite my sister’s histrionics, I’m well aware that you and Eric did a far better job of bringing Lily up than she could ever hope to, and for that I thank you.”
‘You’re welcome’ didn’t seem appropriate, so she said nothing, wondering exactly what he wanted.
“I’m going to come to the point. I'm aware of Eric's talent as an inventor, and I want him to work for me. You must persuade him it would be in his best interests.”
Or what? Naomi knew she’d been right about the not-so-veiled threat in his invitation to meet. More fool her for thinking it was her body he wanted.
“Make no mistake, I will get what I want one way or another. Your instincts were spot on. It does include you.”
The strong wine made its presence felt, and she couldn’t prevent the small gasp from escaping.



To be continued ...

End of an Era

2024 has not been without its trials, and I can't say I won't be sorry to see the back of it.
But it ended on a high - I finally managed to complete the final Time Doctors book.
And then it got better as, thanks to my fabulous launch team, it's in the top 10 in at least three bestsellers charts.

I'm defo gonna have a wee rest while I catch up with all the housekeeping stuff I've been putting off in the race to the finish line - little things like the last three in paperback and all the publicity bells and whistles.
Then there's a final book in the previous series to finish, and by the time I've done that, I'm hoping for some inspiration on how to stay with the Time Doctors gang for a while longer.

Release of Lost in Time

I can't remember when writing the last book in a series didn't take way more time than all the others - usually because they end up being much longer (blame all the loose end-tying). In this case, 25% more than the next longest. But mostly because I can't bear to part with my beloved characters and will do anything to spend more time with them. *Sighs*
I'm already figuring how I can do that very thing - watch this space. In the meantime, here it is - probably the most technically demanding book I've ever written - hope there's not too much blinding with maths, science and esoteric stuff, but it is where I live.

What do you do when mobsters are out for your blood? Invent a time machine, of course.
Decades spent ducking and diving between past and present have taken their toll on Eric.
His beloved wife is dead. The bad guys are closing in on his family. And now he’s stranded in limbo.
Only his grandchildren can free him.
Two minor problems: they must first solve the puzzles he's used to protect himself – and they don’t yet know the terrible truth about what he’s done.

Sixth in the Time Doctors series, this fun-filled romp kind of expects readers to have followed the other five. At a push, it could be read as a stand-alone, but readers will have massive spoilers in going back to read the previous stories. What can I say? Pretty inevitable in a serialised story.
Big Bang Theory meets Escape Room with a fun helping of time travel.

Anyway, you can pick up your copy of Lost in Time by clicking the link - a steal at £2.99/$3.49 or read for free on Kindle Unlimited. This installment brings the fun adventures of a bunch of 30-something geeks exploring their familys’ pasts to a close as they pull out all the stops to unravel Eric's convoluted clues so they can rescue him from limbo.

Winter Solstice

In decades past, I'd have been down at Avebury, ringing in the Solstice with a bunch of other like-minded folks, but nowadays, I have other priorities.
It would have to be the shortest day today, because time is running out.
With only a week to go, my to-do list looked like this:
Finish decorating tree/rooms, put up outside lights
Marks & Sparks shop, wrap pressies, write/deliver cards,
Buy fresh vegetables, make 2 stuffings and bread sauce.
Make/decorate 4 Christmas cakes, bake another 2 dozen mince pies (x2)

And also:
Lost in Time (Time Doctors ‘6): Proof last 3 chapters, final beta edits, publicity stuff.
I’ve only managed to complete 3 of these, so yet another week with no blog.
Ho Hum!

My top 13 Hits of the 90s

1. The Mavericks - Dance The Night Away 5-1998
2. Lou Bega - Mambo No 5 (A Little Bit Of...) 8-1999
3. The Waterboys - The Whole Of The Moon - 04-1991
4. Richard Marx - Hazard - 05-1992
5. Heart - All I Wanna Do Is Make Love To You - 04-1990
6. Manic Street Preachers - Motorcycle Emptiness - 06-1992
7. The Foo Fighters - Everlong 8-1997
8. Alannah Myles - Black Velvet - 04-1990
9. Bryan Adams - (Everything I Do) I Do It For You - 06-1991
10. Bill Medley & Jennifer Warnes - (I've Had) The Time Of My Life - 01-1991
11. Bryan Adams, Rod Stewart & Sting - All For Love 01-1994
12. Aerosmith - I Don't Want To Miss A Thing 9-1998
13. Seal - Kiss From A Rose 08-1994

And the nearly made its:
Berlin - Take My Breath Away - 10-1990
Jimmy Nail - Ain't No Doubt - 07-1992
R.E.M. - Everybody Hurts 04-1993
Aerosmith - Cryin' 11-1993
Bon Jovi - Always 09-1994
Paul Weller - You Do Something To Me 07-1995
The Rembrandts - I'll Be There For You 08-1995
The Manic Street Preachers - A Design For Life 04-1996
Lighthouse Family - Ocean Drive 05-1996
No Doubt - Don't Speak 2-1997
Shania Twain - That Don't Impress Me Much 5-1999

Sneak preview - Lost in Time - Part 3

Isaac Grows a Pair

Staring at his kindle to avoid making eye-contact, Isaac had never felt so alone. Of all the places to be stuck for two and half hours, an Austrian train wouldn’t have been his first choice – he didn’t share Sheldon’s love of them. But he did have many other things in common with The Big Bang Theory’s main character – especially when it came to the OCD tendencies. This entire journey had him well out of his comfort zone on so many levels, but he’d made a conscious decision to stop being so needy. Or as Kevin so quaintly suggested, to “put on his big-boy pants and man-up.” The ability to quote a cliché for every occasion was the guy’s superpower – or one of them. Despite the irritating class-clown persona, he had many redeeming features and was definitely someone Isaac would want in his corner in a crisis.

A raucous outburst from the end of the carriage provoked a pursing of his lips in what Kevin described as his lemon-sucky face – there he was again. Maybe it was simply the comic, visual nature of his epithets. Isaac grimaced at the noisy gaggle of youths, who he concluded were undoubtedly British and almost certainly drunk. Hunkering down, he tried not to raise his head above the parapet, nor his eyes from the kindle, despite the overt disapproval of those around him.
The older woman sitting opposite tutted. “They sound as though they are enjoying themselves a little too much. I suspect alcohol is involved.” Although aimed at no one in particular, her remark received supportive grunts from the other two men in their seating cluster.
He kept his eyes down as she glared in his direction. “I think this is common behaviour in young Englishmen.”
His mind screamed a protest that he’d never acted so thoughtlessly, even when he was young enough not to know any better. Resisting the weight of her expectant gaze, he recognised she’d spoken in heavily-accented English. The man next to her spoke in rapid German and she switched language as they chatted with the stilted to-and-fro of strangers bonding over a common foe.
Relieved at losing her attention, Isaac wondered briefly how she’d guessed he was English, remembering something Andrea had said about how he dressed like everyone’s idea of a perfect English gentleman. He sighed. How much easier would it have been if he’d got a seat on the same flight as Andrea, a seasoned traveller? Her plane was full, but it gave her the opportunity to spend a couple of days with her parents before he arrived. Although a bonus for her, it left him trying to tackle his first journey outside the UK alone. Big-boy pants indeed.

Feeling the woman’s gaze once more upon him, he reactivated the sleeping kindle, scrolled to the end of the chapter and resumed. His ability to shut out the background noise failed completely as one of the louts stumbled closer, still shouting to his mates, his language loud and offensive. As he reached their seats, the train swayed and he overbalanced, showering their table with lager from the can in his hand. Some of it landed on the woman opposite and she gasped.
“Sorry darlin.” He peered at her, gesturing with the can as he giggled. “Quite tasty for an old Kraut, ain’t ya?”
Isaac couldn’t believe the reaction of the two men who simultaneously found something fascinating in the scene outside the window. Something about the woman reminded him of Andrea, and he felt it his duty to protect her from such repulsive attention. Channelling the kind of courage his housemates displayed in their Dungeons and Dragons sessions, he adopted a cool tone. “You should apologise.”
“I already said sorry.” The lout’s gaze dismissed him as harmless. “Wasn’t my fault anyway. Blame the bleedin’ driver for taking the bend too fast.”
“You should apologise for your foul language and insulting attitude.”
“Oh yeah? Who’s gonna make me? You? Don’t make me laugh.” He towered over Isaac, puffing out his beer-belly.
Having had years of experience with bullies, Isaac knew his lack of height meant it would be a mistake to stand toe-to-toe in an attempt at physical intimidation. Instead he used a handy trick, raising his gaze to a point on the lad’s forehead and lowering his voice. “You have made a grave mistake. Martina is a black belt in many martial arts and could inflict serious damage. I strongly recommend you apologise.”
“Like I said, who’s gonna make me?” The nervous glance at his distant mates confirmed the crack in his bravado. “You an’ whose army?”

“My colleagues here are equally proficient so your little gang of inebriates would be completely outclassed.”
“Using big words don’t impress me much.”
Luckily the woman, whose name-tag identified as Martina, was up to the challenge, and had hardened her features as Isaac spoke. After a neutral glance at her aggressor, she rattled out a swift command to the other two, who both fixed the lad with menacing stares, resulting in complete deflation and a mumbled apology.
It would have to do. No point pushing it. “I suggest you mind your manners and run along.” Which he did.
Unfortunately, Isaac had lost all chance at anonymity as the woman introduced him to the other two who were, in fact, her colleagues. The three of them praised his courage in standing up to the scary thug who thankfully made no comment on his return journey.