Book Title: A Rip in the Veil
Series: The Graham Saga
Author: Anna Belfrage
Publication Date: Originally, 2012, however the new, re-edited model January 2023
Publisher: Timelight Press
Page Length: 370
Genre: Historical Fiction, Time Travel Romance
A Rip in the Veil
By Anna Belfrage
Blurb:
On a muggy August day in 2002 Alex Lind disappears. On an equally stifling August day in 1658, Matthew Graham finds her on a Scottish moor. Life won’t ever be the identical for Alex – or for Matthew.
Alexandra Lind is thrown three centuries backwards in time to land at the ft of escaped convict Matthew Graham.
Matthew doesn’t know what to make of this unusual girl who has seemingly fallen from the skies—what’s she, a witch?
Alex is satisfied the tall, gaunt man is a few type of hermit, an oddball, however she rapidly realises the odd one out is she, not he.
Catapulted from a lifetime of trendy consolation, Alex grapples along with her new existence, additional sophisticated by the dawning realization that somebody from her time has adopted her right here—and not precisely to increase a serving to hand.
Potential compensation for this brutal shift in destiny comes in the form of Matthew, a person she ought to by no means have met, not when she was born three centuries after him. But Matthew comes with baggage of his personal and from time to time his previous threatens them each. At occasions Alex finds all of it excessively thrilling, longing for the structured life she used to have.
How will she ever get again? And extra importantly, does she actually wish to?
Buy Links:
This title is on the market to learn on #KindleUnlimited.
Universal Link: http://myBook.to/ARIV1
Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B071VP9V5F
Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B071VP9V5F
Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B071VP9V5F
Amazon AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B071VP9V5F
Author Bio:
Anna Belfrage
Had Anna been allowed to decide on, she’d have turn out to be a time-traveller. As this was unattainable, she grew to become a monetary skilled with two absorbing pursuits: historical past and writing. Anna has authored the acclaimed time travelling collection The Graham Saga, set in seventeenth century Scotland and Maryland, in addition to the equally acclaimed medieval collection The King’s Greatest Enemy which is about in 14th century England.
Anna has additionally revealed The Wanderer, a fast-paced modern romantic suspense trilogy with paranormal and time-slip substances.
Her Castilian Heart is the third in her “Castilian” collection, a stand-alone sequel to her September 2020 launch, His Castilian Hawk. Set in opposition to the issues of Edward I’s invasion of Wales, His Castilian Hawk is a narrative of loyalty, integrity—and love. In the second instalment, The Castilian Pomegranate, we journey with the protagonists to the advanced political world of medieval Spain. This newest launch finds our protagonists again in England—not essentially any safer than the wilds of Spain!
Anna has additionally authored The Whirlpools of Time in which she returns to the world of time journey. Join Duncan and the considerably reluctant time-traveller Erin on their adventures by the Scottish Highlands simply as the first Jacobite revolt is about to blow up!
All of Anna’s books have been awarded the IndieBRAG Medallion, she has a number of Historical Novel Society Editor’s Choices, and one among her books received the HNS Indie Award in 2015. She can also be the proud recipient of varied Reader’s Favorite medals in addition to having received numerous Gold, Silver and Bronze Coffee Pot Book Club awards.
Find out extra about Anna, her books and get pleasure from her eclectic historic weblog on her web site, www.annabelfrage.com
Social Media Links:
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Amazon Author Page: http://Author.to/ABG
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/writer/present/6449528.Anna_Belfrage
Book Excerpt:
Excerpt 1 – in which Matthew Graham encounters an odd, concussed girl on an empty moor
Matthew Graham stumbled to his ft. Sweetest Lord! The repeated thunderclaps had thrown him to the floor, close to on knocking him mindless. Still, all the things appeared to be in working order, though he tasted blood in his mouth.
He turned his withstand the rain, relieved that the unusual warmth of the previous couple of days had damaged. The air nonetheless smelled of mud and an excessive amount of solar, however now there was the contemporary scent of water as effectively, of damp earth and moist bracken. He rubbed at his wrists, operating fingers over the seen scars that ringed each of them. Home, he was residence, and weeks of trying over his shoulder as he made his approach north, had been over. Here he was protected, capable of soften into the moors and fells of Scotland in order to make him troublesome to catch. It virtually made him smile. Almost.
He regarded about for his few belongings, settled his roll on his shoulder and stood for some time, taking his bearings. Further up the hillside he made out a darker splotch in opposition to the drenched slopes. A cave, little question small and damp, however much better than spending an evening on the soaked floor.
He got here to a cease at the sound of birds. Large and black, they flapped and cawed, bickering over one thing that was mendacity additional down the slope. A useless sheep? One chicken landed on the floor, there was a piercing shriek—most positively human—and Matthew lengthened his stride, yelling at the corbies to be gone.
A girl; on her entrance, with one arm trapped under her, the different prolonged by her aspect. He crouched, not fairly certain what to do. She was in a nasty approach, one foot scorched round the ankle and right down to her toes. On her brow there was an unsightly contusion, blood trickling sluggishly from it.
From the approach her breath hitched, every inhalation interrupted by a protesting whimper, he suspected she will need to have landed on her ribs. He regarded down at the highway, measured the distance along with his eyes. Had she been thrown this far by the thunderstorm? He couldn’t consider another motive for a lass to be mendacity right here in the heather, on their lonesome.
Alone? The thought introduced him up quick, and he spent a few tense moments inspecting what he may see of the hillside for her doable companions. Nothing. He chewed his lip. A girl travelling on her personal was most uncommon, and right here, on the empty moor with miles and miles to the closest farm, it was not solely uncommon, it was puzzling – as was her entire look. He studied her legs; what was she sporting? The girl uttered a low, guttural sound. Her head rose a half-inch or so from the floor, the eyes opened. Bright blue eyes tried to focus earlier than closing once more.
“Can you stand, then?” He shook her shoulder. Her eyes snapped open, a wrinkle showing between her brows. The girl lifted her head and stared at him, a sob escaping her when she drew in a deep breath.
“Oh, shit!” she stated.
Matthew retreated.
She blinked. “At least it isn’t orange,” she stated, waving her hand in the route of his shirt.
Orange? He tilted his head.
“You know,” she went on, giving him a faint smile. “Like those Hare Krishna people.”
He had no thought what she was speaking about, however nodded all the identical. Her gaze lingered on his breeches, his naked shins and ft, handed over his belongings, returned to his breeches and fastened on his shirt.
“Who are you?”
He had no intention of telling her that, a minimum of not but, so as an alternative he mumbled one thing unintelligible. Despite an odd accent, the girl spoke adequate English, not Scots, however what did she imply along with her remark relating to his shirt? And why was she gaping at him as if she’d by no means seen a usually dressed man earlier than? To be truthful, he did look considerably worse for put on. The shirt was previous, and the breeches had been the ones he’d stolen from the drover a number of weeks again, however a minimum of each clothes had been entire and fairly clear. The girl sat up too quick, groaned and clutched at her ribs. She vomited, standing on all fours.
“Jesus,” she stated, making him frown at her careless use of our Lord’s title. “What’s happened to me?”
“It looks as if you were struck by lightning.”
She stared down at the burnt foot, turned her head to the aspect and retched.
“My shoes,” she stated, “where are my shoes?”
“Not here.”
She struggled to sit down up. “I think I remember, so much noise, so much light, and then I was flat on my face.”
He nodded and helped her to face, one arm around her waist to maintain her upright. She leaned in opposition to him and was sick throughout their ft.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered afterwards. “I couldn’t help it.”
“No matter, but we have to get out of this rain. You’re cold, and need to lie down. Up there.” He jerked his head in the route of the cave.
“Maybe we should call for help.” She slid her hand right into a slit in her unusual breeches.
“Here?” He virtually laughed. Who would hear them? And moreover, he had no intention of doing something to draw consideration. He studied the brilliant crimson object she’d pulled out.
“It’s brand new,” she stated, catching his look.
“Ah,” he nodded, eyes on the shiny metallic casing. A wee enamelled field, however what is likely to be the goal of it? She glanced down at the object and made a face.
“Stuff never works when you really need it, does it?” She shoved it again out of sight.
With his assist, she limped her approach up the hillside, and by the time they’d reached the cave she was trembling with the effort. He lowered her to sit down, and she mumbled her thanks.
“Were you on the road as well?”
“Aye.” He couldn’t cease gazing her legs. No shift, no masking skirts, solely these unusual lengthy breeches, hugging tight round well-shaped thighs and a spherical, robust arse. Christ in His glory! He hadn’t been this near a girl in a number of years, and his blood raced by him, making him sick comfy and elated at the identical time. Where was she from, to decorate in such an conceited vogue? He’d belt any girl of his earlier than permitting her to so expose herself.
“What?” she demanded. “Do I look strange? Am I green all over?”
He muffled fun. “You look very strange, but nay, you’re not green”
“Well, thank heavens for that, I would have hated being turned into a frog or something.”
“A frog?” He shook his head. “You don’t look like any frog I’ve seen.”
A smile flickered over her face, held for a heartbeat or two earlier than changing into a grimace. She raised a hand to her brow.
“My head; it’s killing me.” She closed her eyes.
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