Weekend Writing Warriors ~ 03/26/2023 ~ Falling in Time~ “I Am Not An Actor”

 

Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors !

I’m continuing my time travel snippets this week, from a novella I wrote several years ago for an anthology called Crashing Into Love. The premise of the anthology was that a plane crash brought people together and some of them fell in love. Since I wanted to write an historical, and airplanes didn’t exist in the 19th century, I ended up writing a time travel romance, of course. It was called Crashing Through Time and I liked it quite a lot. I’ve never re-published it, but in 2017 I started revising it into a novel, called Falling In Time, but stopped when I needed time to write my Widow’s Club series.

In 2023 I’m pulling it back out, adding about 40k to it and hopefully self-publishing it later this year. But for now, I’ll share some snippets of it with you. I hope you enjoy it!

This week I’m beginning where we left off: Corinne is helping the gentleman who fell off his horse. Enjoy!

BLURB:

More than hearts can be broken when you fall through time.

Corinne McGowan survives a plane crash only to fall down a hole in time. In 1868 Cornwall, she faces the ultimate decision: Let the man she loves die, or save him and change history forever.

EXCERPT:

“I most certainly am not an actor.” He actually sounded offended. “Did you mistake me for one of the men in my uncle’s play?”

“Of course not, Mr. Hunterly.” She couldn’t help snickering–this guy was really into the role. “Although I must tell you, you do him justice.”

“Him who? Here, put me down.” He plopped down on the wooden turnstile and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “My hat, please.”

And a little more for good measure…

Oh, crap, she’d forgotten. She plucked it from beneath her arm and handed it to him, trying not to smile.

He seated it firmly on his head with a practiced air.

Corinne stared, her heart lurching in her chest. With the hat, the coat, the boots, this guy was the spitting image of the oil painting she’d discovered of the real Ian Hunterly, who’d been born in 1833 in London and died in 1868 in Cornwall. She looked closer, searching his face for some sort of prosthetic device. Actors never looked that close to the real thing without special effects. She frowned. His face looked like…well, his face. Clear, tanned skin and features that were obviously his own. The hairs on her arms pricked to attention.

With a strange glance at her, Ian fished in his pocket and produced a gold pocket watch.

Gaze riveted on the round, shiny object, her mouth dried and her blood turned icy in her veins. She’d seen that very watch in a museum in London two days ago. Disbelieving, she shook her head, her attention never leaving the timepiece. “Where did you get that? From the props department?”

But if he wasn’t shooting today, they wouldn’t have given it to him. And he damn sure wouldn’t be in costume. A chill zipped down her spine as she looked up at the watch’s owner, who stared back at her as if she were a lunatic.

That’s all for this week! Hoped you enjoyed it! See you next week!

Don’t forget to check out the rest of the Warriors here. There are some fantastic snippets to be read.

 

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