Once Upon A Remembrance
Grace Brannigan
Women Of Strength Time Travel Trilogy, #1
Questor Books
August 10, 2012
275 pages
Amazon | Smashwords
RBM’s Disclaimer

Once Upon a Remembrance: Book 1 Women of Strength time travel trilogy: Photographer Isabeau Remington travels to 1894 Virgina and falls in love with a man she must ultimately leave behind when she returns to her own time…but things are not always as they seem.

Modern day photographer Isabeau is pulled from the present time and thrust back into the year 1894 in Virginia. She must help save Hawk Morgan, a man threatened by a killer, a man endangered by his own erased memories. Hawk must survive in 1894 so his present day ancestor Pierce Morgan, will be alive in Isabeau’s future.

Isabeau begins to fall in love with Hawk Morgan but with both their future’s uncertain and a killer on the loose, neither one of them may have a tomorrow to look forward to.

Excerpt:
copyright 2012

Isabeau bolted upright. Gazing at the room, she was unprepared for the sight of barren surroundings in the morning light. It was cold but there was no kindling or wood in the fireplace. She would have to see about getting wood to warm the room because of course there was no thermostat or central heating.
With a groan she dropped back to the mattress. The blanket scratched her cheek, so she turned, lying on her back, staring glumly at ceiling cracks no longer concealed by a kind lamplight.
Rising from the bed, she walked over to the window, trying to straighten out the dress she had unintentionally slept in all night. It was sadly wrinkled. Her hair was curling in some places, flattened in others. She pushed a hand through the curls, attempting smooth it out so it didn’t stick up oddly. There was no other course but to wet it and start over, either that or tie her hair up.
The sun shone on the gardens below, and now with daylight she could see the gorgeous gardens, trees, shrubs, flowering bushes and garden paths throughout. Incredibly beautiful and leading to the river beyond. When she originally arrived at Hawk’s Den with Leif it had been raining so hard she had not even seen the gardens or the river.
The day appeared to hold enormous promise. On that thought she threw open the windows, inhaling the scent of dew laden grass, hearing the singing and chirp of the birds outside her window.
Running her palms over her face and still attempting to finger comb her wildly curling hair, Isabeau went still, recalling the previous day’s events.
Malry. Belva, Hawk’s deeply disturbed aunt.
Hawk Morgan.
Closing the window, she moved to the bureau, picking up the hand mirror. Idly, she smoothed down the hair sticking up at the back of her head. Her shoulder length hair curled wildly about her face. She knew without mousse and a hair dryer there was nothing to be done with it but let it have its way. She pushed several blonde locks off her forehead, studying her slightly tilted eyes and generous mouth. She had her mother’s straight short nose but her mom always said the rest of her face was purely her father. The father she loved dearly but whom she had never and probably would never meet.
She felt strange, looking at her face in the mirror. It felt almost as if it were not her face, but a mask. She wished she had her mother to talk to, to ask advice. Her mom would be able to help her understand what was going on. She and her mother had always been very close.
Isabeau heard voices outside. Moving to stand beside the window once again she looked down into the yard below. She saw Hawk first, followed by his aunt, with Maize in the rear, a basket of cut red roses hanging from her arm. They stopped beside a small, irregularly shaped pool flanked by masses of gloriously flowering shrubs.
Belva’s small frame was dwarfed by Hawk. Isabeau thought the older woman appeared calmer this morning. Her pale grey shirtwaist and matching skirt looked quite fashionable with its rows of ruffled material along the skirt hemline. Even her hair was tidily dressed into a bun on the top of her head. Isabeau touched her own hair. She would have to borrow some pins or combs. Perhaps she could twist it and pin it in place.
The trio followed a stone path leading away from the house, leaving Isabeau to wonder at the ill fate which seemed to have befallen Hawk’s aunt. And then of course there was the attack on Hawk that caused him to have amnesia and the near fatal incident at the docks. How long could he survive a killer’s determination?
As if sensing her presence, Hawk suddenly lifted his head and stared directly at her window. A frisson of warmth tingled its way down her neck and back, causing her head to shake slightly with the intensity of it.
Breathing deeply, Isabeau lifted a hand, watched him incline his head, then turn and follow the others down the path. After a moment, the lawns below were empty, the only evidence of anyone having been there the darker footsteps on the dew kissed grass.
Seizing the opportunity, Isabeau quickly washed up, then hastened to her door. Catching her toe on the bare wood floor, she retrieved her own shoes beside the door. Slipping them on her bare feet, she drew back the bolt and slipped quietly into the hallway. Maize had said Hawk’s room was down the hall from hers. Would there be anything in there that would give her any clues? She didn’t know but it was worth a look around.
Isabeau tried several doors, but the rooms appeared unused until she came to the last one down the hall. She stood a moment in the aperture, uneasy that she was intruding where she had no business. Her brain, always on the rational side, stepped in to justify her actions. She needed to check all possibilities to find a way back to her own time.
Although not as sparsely furnished as her own room, Hawk’s room was comfortable and very masculine. The focal point, without question, was the bed. It was huge, of some dark wood, the posts carved with great detail, testimony to a bygone, opulent era. Certainly, the rest of the house gave no hint of similar luxury, yet he was the master of the house, his room would reflect something more than the other rooms she reasoned. Realizing the bed looked familiar Isabeau thought it might be the same one she’d seen in her room when she and Leif came to Hawk’s Den. The mixing of the past and present was getting more confusing.
Isabeau walked over to a large armoire constructed of a dark, burnished wood. She opened one door and looked through it, pushing aside the jackets, shirts and trousers that had been neatly arranged inside. Closing the door, she made her way around the room and stopped before a small bureau. She quickly opened drawers, rifling through the contents, looking for a clue, yet not knowing what she was looking for. She moved to the bedside stand, then tensed when she thought she heard a footstep.
Silence.
With shaking fingers, Isabeau pulled open the small drawer. Inside lay a smooth, leather-bound book, enclosed by a slim gold mesh band with a square green stone. It looked like an emerald, but rougher. Gingerly, she touched it and the stone felt warm to her touch and for a brief second it seemed to have a bright glow.
A door creaked open. “Can I help you find something?” Hawk asked her.

Author Grace Brannigan

About The Author:
Grace Brannigan lives in the Catskill Mountains. She has been writing in one format or another as long as she can remember. She has made her books in various genre available as an indie author since the 1990′s. She’s a swing dancer and artist, painting custom shoes or barn murals and loves to hike in the mountains where she lives.

Grace writes about strong women facing life altering issues and the men who love them. Her Women of Character series are 4 stand alone contemporary romances: Echoes from the Past, Once and Always, Heartstealer and Wishing on a Rodeo Moon, all available as ebook at Smashwords and Kindle.

The Women of Strength series is a paranormal/time travel trilogy, Once Upon a Remembrance, Book 1, out now! Book 2 Soulmates Through Time (coming late 2012) and Book 3 Treasure So Rare (coming in 2013).

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