The magic continues! Don’t miss A Matter of Time—Eliza and Deveric’s story.
Available now
Can a man with a past and a woman from the future forge a love for all time?
Nobody would blame widowed doctoral student Eliza James for giving up on Happily Ever After; at twenty-nine, she’s suffered more loss than most people do in a lifetime. But Eliza’s convinced her own hero is still out there, waiting for her, just like in the beloved romance novels she devours. Every Jane Austen-loving girl deserves a Darcy, right?
Only Eliza doesn’t dream of a modern-day affair: she wants the whole Regency experience. When a magical manuscript thrusts her back two hundred years into the arms and life of one Deveric Mattersley, Duke of Claremont, however, Eliza realizes some fantasies aren’t all they’re cracked up to be, especially when her duke proves himself less than a Prince Charming.
Convinced he's at fault for the death of his wife, Deveric Mattersley has no interest in women, much less marriage. Determined to atone for his sins, he decrees himself content to focus on running his family’s estates, and on raising his son–until the mysterious Mrs. James appears. Who is she? What does she want? And why does she make Dev’s blood run hot in a way no woman ever has?
A charming time-travel Regency romance full of wit and humor, A Matter of Time reminds us that, like books, you can't judge people by their covers, and that love often comes when least expected.
An excerpt from A Matter of Time:
January 1st, 2012. Or not.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a woman who’s just traveled across an ocean and back two hundred years in time might find herself in a bit of a pickle. Unless that woman discovers herself to be trapped in the arms of a man in possession of a good fortune … and in want of a wife.
Eliza blinked her eyes as that corny perversion of Jane Austen’s opening line to Pride and Prejudice flitted through her mind. She looked down at the man in whose arms she was awkwardly wedged. He was half-sitting, half-leaning on a settee sofa, out cold. His arms, however, held her firmly, and even as she attempted to shift to survey her surroundings, he clutched her to him. His warmth and size enveloped her, a strange energy humming between them.
Peeking out over her left shoulder, Eliza could see she was in a library of some sort. Not a public library, but rather an old-fashioned personal library, like the ones she always read about in her novels. Built-in bookcases lined the two walls, filled with volumes of books in antique-style bindings—only in pristine condition. A fireplace separated the shelves on one wall, and a large portrait of an older gentleman in a white curly wig hung on the oak panels over it.
Turning to the right, she lifted her head a bit in order to see over the back of the sofa. A large, heavy, ornately carved desk, which was covered with papers, sat near a back wall containing more bookcases. A real inkstand rested on top of the desk, and next to it, several quill pens. An old clock ticked forlornly from the wall behind the desk. She couldn’t see the entryway into the room—it must be behind her—but the distant strains of a violin and the low murmurings of conversation drifted in from somewhere close by.
She closed her eyes. If the furnishings were any indication, she was in Regency England. For real. It’d worked. It had actually worked.
The man shifted beneath her, but didn’t relax his grip. Eliza’s eyes flew open again as the enormity of the situation hit her. She was trapped in the arms of a duke. A duke her friend Cat created for her. An authentic Regency duke.