The Story Behind Time Travel Romance Somewhere My Lass

Somewhere My Lass, was an intriguing tale to weave and quite an adventure. It's also one I had no intention of undertaking until the vivid dream that led to the startling intro: the hero, Neil MacKenzie, returns home from work to find his elderly housekeeper lying murdered at the bottom of the winding staircase and a young woman in full Scottish dress slumped at the top. She, however, isn’t dead.

That’s all I had to go on at the start of this venture, but was so intrigued I had to learn their story and pondered all the clues given. An old Victorian house, check, I’m very familiar with those; man wearing modern suit, so the story opens in present day, got it, but the young woman came from the past. Scotland’s past. This will take some doing, I concluded. Being a member of Celtic Hearts Romance Writers, a fabulous online group, was/is a great resource. I’d taken a Scottish history class and reread that trove of material while doing my usual obsessive research. I love gleaning more about the past and used an actual feud in 1602 between the MacKenzies and MacDonalds as a jumping off place.

Both Neil and the heroine, Mora Campbell, were so clear in my mind and a lot of fun to work with—definitely rank among my cast of favorites. The romance between them is one of the best I’ve written. The chemistry just took off. 

Regarding the setting for Somewhere My Lass, until this book all my stories took place in America, past and present. This departure to Scotland was a challenge, but I drew deeply on my English Scots-Irish roots, which I’ve been doing all along. Apart from the prominent Native American characters in some of my work, the others are of English/Scots-Irish backgrounds, with a smidgen of French. My ancestors, too, have a smidgen of French in the meld, a Norman knight who fought with William the Conqueror, and some French Huguenots.

One unique aspect of the story, is that rather than beginning with the hero or heroine going back in time, I brought her forward (as was the case in the dream) before sending them back together. I also included kewl sci-fi features, new for me. I’ve learned a great deal from my journey into Bonnie Old Scotland. I fell in love with the characters, new ones nudge at my mind. The colorful secondary character, Neil’s quirky friend Angus Fergus, has a lot of fans, and his own story now, Somewhere in the Highlands.

In writing Somewhere My Lass,  I was influenced by my beloved Author C S Lewis and his Chronicles of Narnia that I grew up reading. I’m still looking for Narnia. Isn’t everyone? My love of old castles and the Scottish Highlands also lent inspiration.Many of the early Scots-Irish settlers in the Shenandoah Valley, my ancestors among them, chose to live here because of the resemblance the valley and mountains bore to Scotland and Ireland. As near to home as they were likely to find in the New World.

The concept behind my Somewhere in Time series, of which Somewhere My Lass is Book Two (though written to stand alone) is that the story opens in present day, so far my home state of Virginia, and then transports the reader Somewhere else. Either back to an earlier time in the same house, as in Somewhere My Love and Somewhere The Bells Ring, or another place altogether, as in Somewhere My Lass. The wonderful old homes I grew up in and visited over the years are an integral part of the inspiration behind this series. In Somewhere My Lass, I used a compilation of Victorian homes for the mysterious house in historic Staunton, Virginia where the story begins. 


How do they go back and forth in time, you may ask. Why through ‘the door to nowhere,’ of course, a portal to the past. I was acquainted with just such a door as a child. However that was typically Victorian, not the ancient door pictured, a royalty free image, I hasten to add. No, this Medieval door is where one enters on the other side of the portal.

***Somewhere My Lass is on sale in kindle for the lofty price of .99. 

The Inspiration Behind Scottish Time Travel Romance Somewhere My Lass

For inquiring minds, those of you who want to know, or are mildly interested, my suspenseful romance novel Somewhere My Lass, was an intriguing tale to weave and quite an adventure. It's also one I had no intention of undertaking until the vivid dream that led to the startling intro: the hero, Neil MacKenzie, returns home from work to find his elderly housekeeper lying murdered at the bottom of the winding staircase and a young woman in full Scottish dress slumped at the top. She, however, isn’t dead.

‘What the heck,’ I said to self. And that’s all I had to go on at the start of this venture, but was so intrigued I had to learn their story and pondered all the clues given. An old Victorian house, check, I’m very familiar with those; man wearing modern suit, so the story opens in present day, got it, but the young woman came from the past. Scotland’s past. This will take some doing, I concluded. Being a member of Celtic Hearts Romance Writers, a fabulous online group, was/is a great resource. I’d taken a Scottish history class and reread that trove of material while doing my usual obsessive research. I love gleaning more about the past and used an actual feud in 1602 between the MacKenzies and MacDonalds as a jumping off place.

Both Neil and the heroine, Mora Campbell, were so clear in my mind and a lot of fun to work with—send their regards—and definitely rank among my cast of favorites. The romance between them is one of the best I’ve written. The chemistry just took off. The story, though, is not super-hot, but seductively sensual. I actually received a high-five along with a ‘warning’ from one reviewer because it wasn’t erotic. Weird. Warning, warning, this is not super-hot. Who sends out a Mayday alert for that? It says something about the state of romance today.

Interestingly, the Scarlet Pimpernel, a classic love story, plus he’s ingenious, never does more than kiss the ground his beloved’s exquisitely shod feet have trod, because he can’t trust her enough to express his undying passion until the end when he tells all and carries her in his arms, as her poor feet are bloodied and bruised from a selfless attempt to save him. Only he didn’t need saving. I don’t recall even a kiss between the two, except when his heated lips brush her hand, and yet it’s deeply romantic and has sparked many films. But I digress. Frequently.

Regarding the setting for Somewhere My Lass, until this novel all my stories took place in America, past and present. This departure to Scotland was a challenge, but I drew deeply on my English Scots-Irish roots, which I’ve been doing all along. Apart from the prominent Native American characters in some of my work, the others are of English/Scots-Irish backgrounds, with a smidgen of French. My ancestors, too, have a smidgen of French in the meld, a Norman knight who fought with William the Conqueror, and some French Huguenots.

One unique aspect of the story, is that rather than beginning with the hero or heroine going back in time, I brought her forward (as was the case in the dream) before sending them back together. I also included kewl sci-fi features, new for me. I’ve learned a great deal from my journey into Bonnie Old Scotland. I fell in love with the characters, new ones nudge at my mind, and I’m at work (possibly forever) on the sequel. The colorful secondary, Neil’s quirky friend Angus Fergus, has a lot of fans.

In writing Somewhere My Lass, certainly I was influenced by my beloved Author C S Lewis and his Chronicles of Narnia that I grew up reading. I’m still looking for Narnia. Isn’t everyone? My love of old castles and the Scottish Highlands also lent inspiration.Many of the early Scots-Irish settlers in the Shenandoah Valley, my ancestors among them, chose to live here because of the resemblance the valley and mountains bore to Scotland and Ireland. As near to home as they were likely to find in the New World.

The concept behind my Somewhere in Time series, of which Somewhere My Lass is Book Two (though written to stand alone) is that the story opens in present day, so far my home state of Virginia, and then transports the reader Somewhere else. Either back to an earlier time in the same house, as in Somewhere My Love and Somewhere The Bells Ring, or another place altogether, as in Somewhere My Lass. The wonderful old homes I grew up in and visited over the years are an integral part of the inspiration behind this series. In Somewhere My Lass, I used a compilation of Victorian homes for the mysterious house in historic Staunton, Virginia where the story begins. How do they go back and forth in time, you may ask. Why through ‘the door to nowhere,’ of course, a portal to the past. I was acquainted with just such a door as a child.  However that was typically Victorian, not the ancient door pictured, a royalty free image, I hasten to add. No, this Medieval door is where one enters on the other side of the portal. Yes, yes, I'm earnestly at work on the sequel to Somewhere My Lass.

***Somewhere My Lass is available in kindle for the lofty price of .99. 

Who Loves A Good Time Travel Romance? -- Beth Trissel

I do! I do! *Beth has her hand up.

After incorporating a time travel element in the form of flashbacks to early nineteenth century Virginia into my first such story, ghostly romance novel Somewhere My Love, my ultimate challenge was setting a time travel romance novel in Scotland. I’ve never physically been there, though many in my family have and told me all about its grandeur and charm. I’ve certainly read, heard, and seen many descriptions of Scotland.  Being a history buff I’ve read up on and watched numerous programs set in the British Isles. I’m a British junkie, an anglophile, while equally preoccupied with early America. But then America and Great Britain are both tied together, and were especially linked in the colonial time period.  The Shenandoah Valley of Virginia where I live and my family has lived for several hundred years resembles the hills, mountains, and valleys of Scotland and Ireland that drew so many Scots/Irish to settle here. So that gave me an ‘in.’

Up until SOMEWHERE MY LASS I’d set all my stories in America, past and present. This departure to Scotland was, as I said, indeed a challenge, but I drew deeply on my English Scots-Irish roots, which I’ve been doing all along. Apart from the prominent Native American heroes and characters in my work (Through the Fire, Red Bird’s Song, The Bearwalker's Daughter, The Lady and the Warrior, Kira, Daughter of the Moon) the others are all of English/Scots-Irish backgrounds, with a smidgen of French. My ancestors, too, have a smidgen of French in the meld, a Norman knight who sailed with William the Conqueror.

A little more about the inspiration behind SOMEWHERE MY LASS:

As is often the case, the opening of this book was inspired by a dream, one that grabbed my attention and made me wonder where in the world do I go from here? Inquiring minds like mine want to know the rest of the story and so I delved & plotted, lay awake nights trying to recapture that dream. Ultimately, this suspenseful time travel evolved from years of research into my distant Scottish roots and a long-held fascination with the idea of actually being transported to the past, with a proviso that I can return to the present whenever the thrill wears off. Say, by tea time. My characters are far more adventurous than I.

Certainly, I was influenced by my beloved C S Lewis in his Chronicles of Narnia that I grew up reading. I’m still looking for Narnia. Isn’t everyone? Not to mention, movies like Back to the Future and Timeline –I don’t care what the critics say I’d loved it–but I like to think, and my editor assures me, that I’ve achieved an original take on the oft visited time travel theme. And no, I’ve not read author Diane Gabledon or other Scottish time travels so cannot be accused of those influences.  One of the most beautiful books I’ve ever read with exquisite imagery and intriguing time travel is Tom’s Midnight Garden by Philippa Pearce, and Susan Einzig. A book written for older children but really for anyone. Me, for instance. It’s an absolute delight.

Back to Somewhere My Lass…of course, my love for old castles and the Scottish highlands also lent inspiration. The concept behind my SOMEWHERE series is that the story opens in modern-day, so far my home state of Virginia and I don’t see that changing, and then transports the reader SOMEWHERE else–either back to an earlier time in the same house, as in SOMEWHERE MY LOVE, or another place altogether, as in SOMEWHERE MY LASS. Sounds simple enough, right? But writing these stories isn’t. There were times when I thought I’d never make it through ‘Lass’ but am thrilled that I did.

 
Did I get the setting right?  Only those of you who dwell in that beautiful land or have visited Scotland can say.  I loved writing SOMEWHERE MY LASS and am doing a sequel.

****

Blurb: Neil MacKenzie’s well ordered life turns to chaos when Mora Campbell shows up claiming he’s her fiancé from 1602 Scotland. Her avowal that she was chased to the future by clan chieftain, Red MacDonald, is utter nonsense, and Neil must convince her that she is just addled from a blow to her head–or so he believes until the MacDonald himself shows up wanting blood. Mora knows the Neil of the future is truly her beloved Niall who disappeared from the past. Although her kinsmen believe he’s dead, and she is now destined to marry Niall’s brother, she’s convinced that if she and Neil return to the past, all will be right. The only problem is how to get back to 1602 before it’s too late. The balance of the present and future are in peril if she marries another, and the Neil of the present will cease to exist. An ancient relic and a few good friends in the future help pave the way back to the past, but will Mora and Neil be too late to save a love that began centuries before?

****

First Excerpt:

“You are a beauty.” His words were a hoarse whisper.

The rise and fall of her chest betrayed a deep inhalation of breath. A flicker of reproach lit her eyes. “I dinna think ye took heed of me at all.”

He winced at the well-deserved jab. “About before, I’m sorry I left you so suddenly. But there’s no earthly way I could fail to notice you. I’d have to be deaf, dumb, and blind and even then…”

The tension in her face eased and then the hurt returned. “Oh, aye? How could ye forget all ye knew?”

He remained as he was, threading that wealth of hair through his fingers. Again, the rational part of him argued, “Is it possible you’re imagining you knew me before?”

She balked, a mutinous glint in her eyes. “Nae.”

He slid his hand to the finely crafted silver chain at her throat and coaxed the coverlets further down. A slight gasp escaped her lips. He muted any outward response to the thrill running through him. The scooped neckline of her nightgown revealed the tops of white breasts sprinkled with freckles. Above this heart-hammering sight hung the crucifix. 
“I gave this to you?” he managed to ask without betraying the swell of emotion surging inside him.

“At our betrothal.”

Second Excerpt:How in the name of— Stunned beyond oaths, Neil gaped down at the slender young woman dressed in an outlandish Scottish costume. Hair the color of a flaming sunset spilled down over the red and blue tartan plaid draped around her like a shawl. A circular brass brooch heavily engraved by some skilled craftsman held the edges together. A full green skirt covered the rest of her, a hint of petticoats beneath.  

Good God. She looked straight out of the Old Country. In profound disbelief, he knelt beside her and laid his hand on her shoulder. He wasn’t hallucinating. She was real enough, warm against his hand. Stranger still, the peaty scent of turf smoke emanated from her. And some perfume he couldn’t place, but inherently knew.

Moss rose, maybe? The rich meld of fragrances carried him back, but to where? Baffled, he shook her gently. “Miss?”
She gave a soft moan.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

She turned toward him, fluttering a dark fringe of auburn lashes. Another moan issued from between what surely were petal soft lips. He frowned at the ugly bruise marring her forehead. Had that maniac done this to her? The rest of her smooth skin was pale except for the sprinkle of freckles on her nose—not too long with a pert tilt, Neil noted, along with an absence of any other immediate injuries. Thank God he hadn’t been too late to help this young woman. Perhaps he’d frightened off her attacker, the coward. Although he had no idea where the killer had gone.Neil remained on his guard. He mustn’t take anything for granted. The only certainty—a violent criminal was on the loose. Difficult to keep watching over his shoulder, though, with the inexplicable stranger commanding his attention.

Intrigued, despite the gruesome circumstances of their meeting, Neil locked his gaze on her once again. Vivid blue eyes, cast with a purplish hue, opened wide. Unusual color and deeply stirring. She blinked and stared up at him as if he’d materialized out of the mist. But it was she who’d mysteriously come upon him with such wonder and beauty.

His already pounding heart skipped a beat for an entirely different reason now. He looked long into her eyes…for a moment he forgot the grisly murder, forgot everything. There was a timeless quality in those violet depths; the term “window to the soul” took on a whole new meaning. And it seemed to him that he’d seen these eyes before… Impossible. 

He came back to himself. Mastering the tremor threatening his speech, he said, “You were knocked out, but you’ll be all right.”

She shook her head, wincing. “None of us will. The MacDonald comes,” she warned in a Scottish brogue.

The hair on the back of Neil’s neck bristled. And so it begins, a voice inside him said.

****

*Above Pic of The Door to Nowhere, or so Neil thinks.

SOMEWHERE MY LASS is available in digital download at:

The Wild Rose Press, Amazon as a Kindle, Barnes & Noble in Nookbook and from other online booksellers.

Most Recent Amazon Reader Review: 

5.0 out of 5 stars terrific time travel, October 10, 2012

By 

elizabeth petula winmill

"What a great story! This book has it all Historic, and modern all with highlanders. I love the way the author has taken all the usual "rules" of time travel stories and thrown them away. We get old things in modern day and very modern in the past. Even the secondary character is a hero. I don't want to say too much because I don't want to spoil it. I was stunned at the ending I want MORE. A great fun read!"

***Amazon has all of my books long or short, kindle and print.

Ghostly Romance Novel Somewhere My Love

Excerpt From Chapter Five: Will and Julia in rehearsal for Hamlet (Yes, Somewhere My Love has Hamlet parallels, plus Hamlet features a rather famous ghost)

Julia (as Ophelia) looked pained. “‘You are merry, my lord.’”

“‘Oh, God. What should a man do but be merry?’”

Will rose to heap condemnation on the queen for wedding his uncle so soon after the king’s death. It was a stretch, to say the least, to envision his elderly grandmother as the seductive beauty who’d  captivated his evil uncle, played by the sweating, ill at ease Douglas. But Will stabbed a finger in Nora’s direction. “‘For look you how cheerfully my mother does, and my father died within two hours.’”

“‘Nay, it’s twice two months, my lord,’” Julia corrected.

Will answered with Hamlet’s sarcasm. “‘So long?  O heavens, die two months ago and not forgotten  yet? There’s hope a great man’s memory may outlive  his life half a year.’”

Cole’s had outlived his by two centuries.

Will gentled his voice and bent back over Julia, cupping her sweet face between his hands. He loved the feel of her smooth skin. “‘Get thee to a nunnery. Why wouldst thou be a breeder of sinners? It were better my mother had not born me.’”

She gazed at him in convincing bewilderment.

He wore on. “‘I am proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offenses at my beck than I have thoughts  to put them in or time to act them. What should  such fellows as I do crawling between earth and  heaven? Believe none of us. We are errant knaves,  all. To a nunnery, go. And quickly, too,’” he urged,  and covered her lips in a hard kiss.

The taste of her was intoxicating and he drew out the feel of her mouth as long as he dared. Angry and hurt she might be, but she had no choice other  than to kiss him now. His grandmother was also obligated to indulge him. For a moment.

Heart pounding, he straightened and smoothed Julia’s soft cheek. “‘Farewell.’”

It was only a part and he merely an actor in a play, but Will recoiled at the finality of that word.~

***Somewhere my Love is available in print and at a reduced rate in eBook at Amazon Kindle, The Wild Rose Press, and  Barnes & Noble.

“Be wary then; best safety lies in fear.” ~ Hamlet

How About A Little Christmas In July?

A new excerpt from Chapter Three of my ghostly Christmas Romance with more than a whisper of the paranormal?

December 1968 

The pale light trailing down the hall illuminated the closed door to her right. Bailey stopped outside the wooden barrier, darkened and scored with age, and pressed her ear to its hard surface. Nothing unusual reached her above the rattle of the wind. Likely the smoke she detected had floated upstairs from the living room hearth. If a bum had stolen into the house and taken up residence in here—a wildly unlikely premise—she shouldn’t seek him out alone. Worse—if a ghost lurked within, she didn’t want to come upon this unearthly specter by herself. Or at all. She shivered from more than the frigid air, but didn’t turn back.

It might well be that the figure and light she’d seen earlier were simply the fabrications of her overactive mind. Supposedly no one had stayed in here for decades, presumably because it wasn’t needed. Ella gave the room an occasional dusting then shut the door. Any spillover of company slept elsewhere, including the two spare bedrooms downstairs.

Still, Bailey wondered. She had to peek inside this room. Go, if you’re going, she urged herself, before she lost her nerve.

Anticipating furniture covered in dimly seen sheets, an icy chill like the inside of a mausoleum, and no signs of life except possibly a vaporous figure, she gave the brass knob a twist and opened the door. She stood stock-still. The room crackled to life like the fire burning in the hearth across the stretch of carpet right in front of her.

If she’d come here during the day would all be as she’d expected? Was she dreaming now, because seated before the fire in one of two leather armchairs was a young man, and not just any man. He resembled Edward Burke from the photograph in the dining room. Brown hair with a tendency to wave had grown back from the short military cut she’d seen beneath the cap he wore in the picture.

Instead of the Marine uniform from World War One, he was dressed in a rust-brown velveteen robe with a shawl collar worked in a multicolored print, the sort of robe gentlemen wore in pictures she’d seen of early Twentieth Century fashion. The plush cloth covered him nearly to his ankles. His stocking feet were shod in slippers of the same hue and propped on a padded footstool.

He glanced up from the book he held in long, slender fingers. His chestnut brows rose in a quizzical arch then drew together above narrowing brown eyes. “Did no one ever instruct you to knock before entering a gentleman’s bedchamber?”

***This scene was inspired by a dream I had…which led to my writing the story.

*Old Virginia family home place pictured above.

SOMEWHERE THE BELLS RING is available in ebook at The Wild Rose Press, Amazon Kindle, All Romance Ebooks, Barnes & Noble’s Nookbook & other online booksellers.

Herbs Enhance Historical/Paranormal Romance

As my earlier posts feature herbs and the lore surrounding these age-old plants, I’m sharing several herbal related excerpts from my recent release, historical fantasy romance novel The Bearwalker’s Daughter.

Set among the clannish and superstitious Scots-Irish in the Allegheny Mountains, the story is similar to others of mine with a colonial frontier flavor and also features Native American characters, with the addition of an intriguing paranormal thread.

Remember, the herbs didn’t have to originate in America for the settlers to use them. They brought seeds, cuttings, and rootstock with them from the Old World and learned about native plants from the Indians.

 This first excerpt is from the old Scots-Irish woman, Neeley’s, point of view:

 

A brooding darkness hovered over the McNeal homestead. Of that, Neeley was certain. And she sensed from where it came. She needed all her wisdom now to prevail against it. 

She’d limped stiffly through the home sprinkling a sweetly aromatic decoction of angelica root into every corner, the most powerful herb for warding off spells and enchantment. Then she’d hung a bough of rowan wood above the doorway to lend protection from evil. The leafless branch dripped with clusters of orange-red berries, pleasant to behold as she sat by the hearth.~

And later in the chapter: 

Her needle winking in the firelight, Neeley sewed the blue fringe on the cape collar and around the long hem. The fragrance of angelica, the most sacred of herbs, rose from the linen. She’d sprinkled a decoction of the holy root over the cloth to bring protection to the wearer. Jack would need all the defense he could get.

As for Karin, her innate goodness would aid her, but Neeley wasn’t taking any chances. An herbal bath of angelica mingled with the purifying power of agrimony, redolent of ripe apricots, awaited the girl. Jack too, if Neeley managed to coax him in.~

This excerpt is from the heroine, Karin’s, point of view:

Neeley rose stiffly from her chair and shuffled forward, her stooped figure a head shorter than Karin’s. “You’ll want my help, John McNeal. Fetch the woundwort, Karin. Sarah, steep some comfrey in hot water and bring fresh linens. Joseph, the poor fellow could do with a spot of brandy,” the tiny woman rapped out like a hammer driving nails. Old, she might be, and as wizened as a dried apple, but Neeley took charge in a medical emergency whether folks liked it or not.

Sarah dashed to the cupboard to take down the brown bowl. Karin flew beside her and grabbed the crock reeking of salve. Sarah snatched a towel and they spun toward the hearth as the men made their way past the gaping crowd. The stranger lifted his head and looked dazedly at both women. Karin met vivid green eyes in a sun-bronzed face stubbled with dark whiskers. A fiery sensation shot through her—and not just because he was devastatingly handsome.~

The two following excerpts are from the hero, Jack’s, point of view.

The matriarch called Neeley bustled into the room with a steaming basin of what Jack supposed, from the herbal scent wafting in the mist, was a medicinal wash.

“Thomas, see Sarah gets to bed and brew her a cup of betony. That’ll calm her,” Neeley directed.

“Come on, Sarah. You’ll do better with a rest and some tea.” Thomas helped his stepmother to her feet and guided the unsteady woman from the room and through the assembly clustered beyond the door.  Murmurs of sympathy accompanied her departure.

Then Neeley set the white porcelain bowl on the washstand and squinted down at Jack like a hen hunting for spilt grain. She gestured with bent fingers at the girl peering from behind John McNeal’s bulk. “Karin, come closer. You’re my hands, lass.”

Her eyes, too, Jack suspected.~

And later in that scene: 

Karin dabbed his shoulder dry, then dipped her small hand into the pungent crock. Pursing rose-tinged lips, she smeared the aromatic paste on his wound. “I’ll give the salve a while to work before I dig the ball out and stitch you up. Ever had woundwort, sir?”

“Dulls the pain right well,” Jack managed, hiding a grimace. Even her soft touch stung like the devil, but he wouldn’t push her away for anything.~

I interweave herbs and other plants through all of my stories, though some more than others.

***Striking book cover by my daughter Elise~

***The Bearwalker's Daughter is available at Amazon in kindle for .99