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Madeline Baker/Amanda Ashley
Home of Romance Author
Madeline Baker/Amanda Ashley
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In The Works. . . . .Untitled Work-in-progress Prologue His favorite lair was in the remains of a castle that had been built only a few years before he had been turned. He came back every thirty years or so, whenever the noise and the smell and the busyness of modern life became more than he could bear. He much preferred the life he had once known, before the advent of cell phones and iPods, a time when life had been slower, simpler. There had been a beauty to those days long gone, a grace that was missing now. An innocence that could not be restored, and sorely missed. But Wolfram Castle remained, exactly the same as it had always been. It was an impressive structure, rectangular with round turrets at three corners and a high, arched entrance. Battlements edged the flat roof. A barbican surrounded the building. The single entrance, flanked by two towers, faced the rising sun. Stone steps, many of them broken, led to the imposing entrance. The outbuildings, save for a large stable in sore need of a new roof, had been destroyed long since. The ground floor of the castle housed the kitchen and storerooms; the main hall occupied the first floor, along with several smaller rooms, including a garderobe and a bathing chamber, as well as quarters in the rear that had once housed the servants. The chambers on the upper floor had been used exclusively by the Wolfram family. Drake had purchased the castle and the surrounding acreage from Thomas Wolfram, the last of the Wolfram line, over four hundred years ago. In this day of malls and superstores and housing tracts, holding on to the land had been no easy task, but a good lawyer, and a bit of supernatural magic, had ensured that the castle, the ground it sat on, and the meadow below, would be his as long as he lived. Standing in the pouring rain, Drake ran his hand over one of the ancient walls. Even though the castle was inanimate, he felt a kinship with it, for they had both endured much in the course of their long existence. He had survived angry villagers eager to burn him alive; the king’s guards, who had desired his head on a pike; pious minions of the Church who had hoped to redeem his soul before they drove a sharp wooden stake through his heart; mercenaries who wanted to sell vials of his blood to the highest bidder. The castle had been ravaged by fire and flood, pummeled by rain and hail, struck by lightning, buried in an avalanche, and yet both he and the castle remained, still strong and nearly indestructible. On rare occasions, he had thought of tearing the place down and building something more contemporary, but it had been a favorite retreat of his for centuries. Destroying the castle would be like destroying a part of himself. He grunted softly. Maybe ending his existence wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Perhaps he would find peace in true death. He might even find forgiveness. At the least, he would find an end to his hellish thirst, to the loneliness that could never be assuaged by brief encounters with nameless women. An end to watching the rest of the world change and develop while he remained forever the same. Best of all, it would put an end to what was expected of him. He gazed into the distance. Dark clouds hovered low in the sky, spitting rain and lightning. Save for the castle, there was nothing here but forest as far as the eye could see. Several years ago, a small town had sprung up some forty miles away. A movie company had used the town as the background for a horror movie that had, to everyone’s surprise, become a worldwide phenomenon. During the summer, tourists came from all over the world to take pictures and pretend, for a day or two, that they were part of that world. He shook his head. He had little interest in movies, but the tourists who wandered through Romania looking for Dracula made for easy pickings. The rain would keep most of them inside on a night like this, but there were always an adventurous few who were willing to brave the elements in search of excitement. He smiled inwardly as the hunger rose up within him, and with it, the urge to hunt. Any tourists out looking for a thrill tonight would find more than they bargained for. Chapter 1 Elena Knightsbridge paused outside the back door, her gaze drawn to the gray stone castle at the top of the hill. No one knew exactly how old the castle was, only that it has been passed down from one generation to another. No one had lived there for as long as anyone could remember. From time to time, developers had come, hoping to buy the land, tear down the castle, and build a theme park, but the land was held in perpetuity to the heirs of Thomas Wolfram. There were those who said Wolfram Castle was haunted, that ghosts wandered the long dark halls. There were other tales as well, scary stories of witches and warlocks, of demons and dragons, whispered in the dark of night. There were other stories, too, of girls who had been lured into the castle in days gone by, never to be seen or heard from again. Her uncle insisted that stories of devil worship and witchcraft were foolish, and that the girls had been employed at the castle as hired help. Whether any or all of the old stories were true or not, there was something about the castle that repelled visitors. A haunted castle was nothing compared to the hell her life had become since her parents were killed in a car accident ten years ago, when she was nine, and she had been sent here, to this nothing little town in Transylvania to live with her father’s sister and family. With a shake of her head, Elena bent over the laundry basket and began hanging the clothes on the line. Her uncle was such a skinflint, he refused to buy a new dryer. Times were hard, he said, they didn’t have money for silly things like dryers. He had money for whiskey, though. She supposed, if the washing machine broke, she’d be pounding the laundry on rocks in the river. Her workload load had doubled since her Aunt Harriett passed away and her cousin, Lucinda, left home. Caring for the house, doing the washing and the cooking and the mending, tending to the chickens, and milking the cows, left little time for anything else. The only bright spot was that her uncle, who was now the chief of police, was rarely home these days. Truly a blessing. He had made her uncomfortable for as long as she could remember. She hated the way he called her “my little cabbage,” the way he smiled at her, the way he found excuses to touch her. He had grown bolder since Lucinda ran off with one of the neighbor boys. Her uncle’s touches had become more intimate, and more frequent. It was all Elena could do not to cringe when he caressed her hair or stroked her cheek. His conversation was laced with double entendres. Lately, Elena wanted to hide whenever he was in the house. The way he looked at her, like a hungry wolf contemplating its next meal, made her skin crawl. One night, during dinner, he had reminded her that he was her uncle by marriage and not by blood. Last night, she had awakened to find him standing by her bed, staring down at her. Though she had no experience with men, every instinct she possessed had warned her that she was in danger. Lucinda had made veiled references to abuses by her father, hinting that he was doing vile things. Elena hadn’t wanted to believe it. Things like that only happened to other people. These days, Elena wondered if Lucinda had been telling the truth. If that was why she had run away from home. Elena looked out the window, a shiver of unease skating down her spine when she saw her uncle staggering up the street. She needed to get away from here, but where could she go? Walking to the next town was out of the question. It was many miles away, across a large river. She had no car, no cash, no one she could turn to for help. # Elena was acutely aware of her uncle’s repeated glances in her direction at dinner that night. Though the table was large, he insisted she sit close beside him. She flinched when his arm brushed against hers, gagged at the smell of his whiskey-sour breath. “How old are you now, Elena?” he asked. “Almost twenty.” “Far past the time when a young woman should be wed. Do none of the young men in town appeal to you?” “No, sir.” He nodded, looking pleased, and then thoughtful. “Perhaps you would prefer an older man? One with experience, if you know what I mean?” She swallowed hard, her heart pounding. “No, sir.” “It’s been five months since Lucinda ran off. It isn’t proper for the two of us to continue living together without a chaperone.” He laughed, a mean, ugly sound. “People might get the wrong idea.” Elena clenched her hands in her lap, sorely afraid she knew what was coming, and dreading it. “I think we should marry.” He nodded, as though pleased with the idea. “I need an heir, someone to carry on the family name.” She stared at him, mute with horror. Smiling, he took hold of her arm and drew her closer. “You’d give me a son, wouldn’t you?” She tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip on her arm, his pudgy fingers digging into her skin to hold her fast. And then he leaned forward and kissed her. Eyes wide with revulsion, she fought down the urge to vomit as his tongue plunged into her mouth. Tonight, she thought when he released her. Tonight she would make her escape. The castle on the hill was a good distance away. Old and run-down, with no electricity or modern conveniences, it would be the last place anyone would look for her - if she could just find the courage needed to go inside. Better to face the ghosts in Wolfram Castle, she thought as she got ready for bed that night, than to endure another moment in her uncle’s presence. It was well after midnight when tiptoed into the kitchen. Since she hadn’t been shopping in almost a week, there was little in the refrigerator, but waiting another day was out of the question. She dropped a few apples and a doughnut into a sack and slipped out the back door. It seemed as if the night closed in around her as she hurried up the hill toward Wolfram Castle. She was half-way there before it occurred to her to wonder if she would even be able to get inside. For all she knew, the place was locked up tighter than banker Bramwell’s vault. A sudden, wayward wind lifted the hair from her shoulders and sent a flurry of dry leaves skittering across her path. Dark clouds gathered overhead, shutting out the moon and stars. The wind grew colder, stronger, causing the trees to sway and the tall grass to wave as it howled across the land. An omen? Shivering, Elena lowered her head and drew her coat closer around her shoulders as thunder rumbled overhead. Continuing on, she realized the castle was as lot further away than it looked. She paused several times to catch her breath, wondering if she would ever make it to the top of the hill. The clouds unleashed their burden just as she reached the castle door. Taking a deep breath, she reached for the latch, blew out a sigh of relief when, with a creak loud enough to wake the dead, the heavy wooden door swung open. Hurrying inside, she closed the door, shutting out the wind and the rain, and then she stood there, her heart pounding with the realization that it was pitch black inside and that she’d forgotten to bring a flashlight. But at least she was away from her Uncle. With one hand outstretched, she moved across the floor, a soft cry of pain rising in her throat when she bumped into something. Exploring with her free hand, she discovered it was a high-backed sofa. It was late and she was tired. She dropped her food sack on the floor, then stretched out on the sofa, her coat spread over her. No matter what tomorrow held, she was safe from her uncle’s repulsive advances tonight. # Drake paused when he reached the castle door, his preternatural senses alerting him to the fact that there was a human female inside. A human who was either very brave, he thought with a wry grin, or very foolish. The castle possessed an aura that kept most people at bay. Few dared to come here in the light of day; no one came here after dark. Materializing inside the great hall, Drake moved unerringly toward the high-backed sofa in front of the hearth, his nostrils filling with the combined scents of lavender soap, peppermint toothpaste, and salty perspiration tinged with fear. And over all, the intoxicating scent of woman. He stared down at the sleeping female. She was a comely lass, with sun-tanned skin, delicately arched black brows, and a mass of long ebony hair that fell in soft waves over the sofa cushions and down her slight shoulders. He frowned. Who the devil was she and what the bloody hell was she doing here? He considered tossing her out on her lovely arse. He considered leaving her on the sofa. In the end, he lifted her into his arms. She stirred as he started up the stairs. Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing a pair of velvet brown eyes. Before she could scream, he trapped her gaze with his. Summoning his preternatural power, he lulled her back to sleep. With a shake of his head, Drake continued up the stairs and into the lord’s chamber. After removing her t-shirt, khaki shorts and hiking shoes, he tucked her under the thick blankets in the big four-poster bed. He glanced at the hearth and a fire sprang to life. He needed neither the light nor the warmth; he could see perfectly fine in the dark, was impervious to the cold. But there was a chance the woman would awaken during the night. He gazed down at her for several long moments, admiring the unblemished smoothness of her skin, the sweep of long sooty lashes against her cheeks, the pale pink of her lips. Unable to resist, he lifted a lock of her hair. Thick and silky soft, it curled around his fingers as though it had a life of its own. He felt the first stirrings of desire as he inhaled the fragrance of warm fresh blood flowing sweetly through her veins. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, he gathered her into his arms, then lowered his head to the curve of her throat. He tasted her with his tongue and then with his teeth. She was incredibly sweet. Having satisfied his curiosity and his thirst, he headed for the lair hidden behind one of the tapestries in the great hall. He smiled as he drifted into oblivion. For the first time in centuries, he had something to look forward to when darkness again covered the land. Chapter 2 Alfred Broderick frowned when he entered the dining room. The table had not been laid. His breakfast tea was not at his place, nor was his newspaper. There was no fire in the hearth, no noise or scent of food coming from the kitchen. And no Elena standing at the stove. Where was the girl? Thinking perhaps she had overslept, he went down the hall to her room and knocked lightly on the door. “Elena?” When there was no answer, he rapped again, harder this time. And when there was still no reply, he opened the door and stepped into the room. The bed, neatly made, was empty. Moving into the room, he went through the dresser drawers, peered into the closet. As far as he could tell, all of her clothes were there, so she couldn’t have gone far, but the question remained? Where was she? He checked the other rooms, then went outside, but she was no where to be found. Rubbing a thoughtful hand over his jaw, he returned to the house. Had she run off with one of the village twits? That seemed unlikely. Just last night, he had asked if she had taken a liking to any of the young studs and her reply had been a resounding “no”. Had his declaration that he intended to make her his wife frightened her off? He shook his head. That was ridiculous. He was a wealthy man in his prime, respected for his wisdom and power by those in the town. Any woman worth her salt would be proud to bear his name. Hunger rumbled in his stomach. Not one to prepare his own meals, Alfred put on his coat and left the house. He would breakfast at Honeymead Inn and then he would ask if any of the townspeople had seen Elena. Though he was affluent, she was not. She had nothing to call her own, only what he had given her. Alfred was a man who knew what he wanted, and he wanted Elena for his bride. And so it would be. She was but a woman and his ward. Like it or not, she would do as he commanded or suffer the consequences. Possible 3rd Everlasting book UNTITLED Chapter 1 Sitting behind the wheel of his car, Alex O’Donnell stared out the side window at the vampire’s lair and wondered what the hell he was doing there. Which was a silly thing to be wondering. He was there because he was a vampire hunter and there was a hefty reward for the head of the vampire resting inside the house. The thing was, thanks to another hefty reward – this one for helping to save the life of the Master of the West Coast vampires - Alex really didn’t need the money. But what the heck, a man had to do something to pass the time, and hunting vampires was the only thing he knew. Of course, now that he had met a few vampires up close and personal, and since his sister, Daisy, had recently joined the ranks of the undead, he tended to view vampires in a whole new light. There had been a time when he saw them as wholly evil, soulless creatures that were beyond redemption. But Daisy wasn’t some mindless killing machine that fed on the blood of innocents, and neither was her husband, Erik Delacourt. Even the feared Master of the West Coast vampires, Rhys Costain, had proved to have an unexpected streak of humanity. So, Alex mused again, what was he doing here? He glanced at the backpack on the passenger seat. It contained several sharp wooden stakes, a heavy mallet, a long-handled, silver-bladed knife, and a couple of bottles of holy water - all standard tools of the trade to bring down the Undead. He had never felt any guilt at send the Undead to meet their Maker. The majority of vampires looked on the human race as nothing more than a steady food supply. His younger brother, Brandon, had been killed by a vampire not long ago. Like Daisy, Brandon hadn’t had the stomach for destroying vampires. They had both been in the family business, but instead of taking heads, they had taken blood and sold it on the Internet. The small amount taken didn’t do the vampires any harm and, in fact, most of them never realized their blood had been harvested. It was a dangerous though profitable business. But then, anything to do with vampires was dangerous. Which was why, in a moment of weakness on his honeymoon, Alex had promised Paula he would give up hunting and find a new line of work. It was a promise he deeply regretted. Hunting was all he knew. He was good at it. He enjoyed it. Ridding the world of the undead, one monster at a time. That had been his goal and his motto. And then Paula had wormed that promise out of him. One last kill and he’d be Alex O’Donnell, ex-vampire hunter. A glance at the sky told him there was only about an hour of daylight left. It was now or never, he thought, because only a fool hunted vampires after the sun went down. With a sigh of exasperation, Alex grabbed his backpack and got out of the car. If he was going to do what he had come for, he had best get to it. # Paula was in the kitchen fixing dinner when he got home. “I thought I’d cook tonight,” she said with a smile of welcome. “I hope you don’t mind.” “Of course not.” Alex took a seat at the kitchen table. He usually made dinner. Daisy had always kidded him that he fixed enough food to feed a family of six whenever he cooked, and she was right. But, what the heck, he liked to cook. “I bought some new curtains for the nursery today,” Paula said. “Great.” Alex leaned back in the chair, one arm draped over the top, as he watched her bustle around the kitchen, taking the butter from the fridge, setting the table, turning the steaks in the broiler. Theirs was an odd pairing. Not long ago, Paula had been engaged to his brother. After Brandon’s death, Alex and Paula had spent a lot of time together. While consoling each other, they had become friends and then lovers, two lost souls looking for solace. And now she was pregnant with his child. Alex blew out a breath. They had married after knowing each other only a few months. Once the first flush of being newlyweds had worn off, Alex realized their marriage had been a mistake. Until Paula got pregnant, they’d had nothing in common other than their grief over Brandon’s death. Over dinner, Paula told him about her day and then asked him about his. It was the question he had been dreading. He didn’t want to lie to her but he didn’t know what else to do. “I went job hunting,” he said, not meeting her gaze. “Oh? Did you have any luck?” “No. I’m not really qualified for anything.” “Maybe you should go back to school and take some college classes.” “Yeah, maybe I’ll do that. Dinner was great,” he said, pushing away from the table. “I’m gonna go call Daisy.” “Give her and Erik my best.” “Yeah, I will.” Going into his office, Alex dropped into the chair behind his desk and punched in his sister’s cell phone number. She answered on the second ring. “Alex! Hi!” “Hey, Daisy Mae, how’s it going?” “Wonderful! I love Italy! It’s so beautiful. I’m trying to convince Erik that we should move here, or at least buy a villa. “Sounds great.” “I’m so glad you called. We’re leaving in a few minutes for some island off the coast of Xx. It’s away off the beaten path. No hotels, no running water, no toilets, no phone service, just bamboo huts. But Erik says it’s beautiful, lots of mountains and waterfalls and a live volcano. I don’t know how long we’ll be there, but why don’t you and Paula come join us in Italy when we get back? It’ll be fun. We haven’t been to Naples yet.” “No, I don’t think so.” “Why not? Is something wrong?” “Not something. Everything.” “I’m listening.” “I don’t know where to start.” “Well, the beginning is always a good place.” Alex slumped back in his chair and propped his feet on a corner of the desk. “The long and the short of it is, I never should have married Paula. She’s all into opera and the theater and politics. Politics! I’m not even sure who’s president.” “Alex…” “It was a mistake. Hell, I was drunk the night I proposed and so was she. Neither one of us was thinking straight.” “I’m sorry, Alex. I’m sure if you give it some time…I mean, it’s only been a few months. Couples need time to adjust to each other. And there’s the baby…” “Yeah, the baby.” Paula had used the baby as leverage to get his promise to give up hunting. “She hates what I do. Not that I can blame her. It’s my own damn fault for not telling her about it before we got married.” “Alex, listen to me. I’ve seen the two of you together. I think you’re just nervous about settling down and you’re letting it get to you.” “Maybe you’re right.” “I know you’ll be a wonderful father. Just think! A baby in the family!” Alex couldn’t blame Daisy for being excited about becoming an aunt. She would never have a child of her own, since vampires couldn’t reproduce. He stared at the framed wedding picture on the desk next to the computer monitor. “She tries to hide it, but I know she isn’t happy, either. I’m not Brandon, and I never will be,” he said with a sigh. “And that’s the biggest problem of all.” Alex couldn’t sleep that night. After tossing and turning for an hour, he slipped out of bed, pulled on his jeans and a t-shirt, and left the house, hoping a good long drive would clear his head. Tomorrow, the good Lord willing, he would try to be the kind of husband Paula deserved, the kind of man his child would be proud of. POSSIBLE SEQUEL TO DEAD PERFECT...NO TITLE Prologue The dream came every day and it was always the same. And even as it unfolded, never changing, Jim Hewitt wished that was all it was, a dream…. He followed the vampire and the woman home, intent on destroying the one and rescuing the other. And he had come so close. Armed with a bottle of holy water and a sharp wooden stake, he had attacked the vampire as they arrived home. The holy water had done its job, burning the vampire’s face, giving Hewitt the window of opportunity he needed to drive the stake into the vampire’s back. He hollered at Shannah to run away as he twisted the stake in Ronan’s back. The scent of fresh hot blood wafted through the night. But Shannah didn’t run away. With a scream of rage, she grabbed him by the arm. Startled, he glanced at her. “What are you doing?” “Stopping you!” She yanked his hand away from the stake, her fingers curling around his wrist in a grip like iron. “Are you crazy?” Hewitt exclaimed. “He’s a vampire!” “Yes,” she said, baring her fangs. “And so am I.” Startled, he could only stare at her, and then he lashed out as fear and fury swept through him. She laughed as he struggled in vain to free himself from her hold. nd then she trapped his gaze with hers. “Stop fighting me,” she commanded. Unable to resist the preternatural power in her voice, his arms fell limply to his sides. Helpless to move, he watched her drop to her knees beside the vampire and pull the stake from his back. A torrent of dark red blood flowed from the nasty wound. And then the vampire sat up and uttered the most chilling words Jim Hewitt had ever heard. “Bring him to me.” The nightmare grew worse even from that point on. Shannah released him from her spell and dragged him effortlessly toward the wounded vampire. Fear spiraled through Hewitt as he gazed into the vampire’s blood-red eyes. “I warned you,” the vampire said. “You should have listened.” Hewitt struggled in vain as the vampire’s fangs sank into his throat. For a time, he seemed to be drifting between this world and the next. And then, as from far away, he heard the vampire’s voice. “Listen to me. You have only a few minutes to make up your mind. Do you want to live or die?” Hewitt stared up into the vampire’s face. How could he be expected to make such a decision? He was a vampire hunter. How could he choose between death or spending the rest of his existence as a vampire? “Your time is running out,” Ronan said curtly. “Make your choice!” “Live.” Hewitt forced the word from the depths of his soul. “I want…to live.” With a feral cry, the vampire bit into his own wrist. “Then drink,” he said, and his voice was like sandpaper over steel. Hewitt grimaced as dark red blood – vampire blood - dripped from the wound in the vampire’s wrist into his mouth. He choked down the first taste, hating what he was doing, hating the creature who had brought him to this. And then, to his amazement, he latched onto the vampire’s arm with both hands, drinking eagerly, afraid the vampire would make him stop. How could something so repulsive taste so good? “Damn you!” he said hoarsely, and then he pulled the vampire’s wrist to his mouth again and took his first step into another life. Chapter 1 Jim Hewitt jackknifed into a sitting position, the dream still fresh in his mind. Not for the first time, he wondered why he was plagued with the same dream every day. He was a vampire now, and everyone knew that vampires didn’t dream. If he lived to be a hundred, he would never forget the horror of waking that first night and realizing it hadn’t been a dream. Even now, a month and a half later, he sometimes woke feeling lost, disoriented. He was supposed to hunt and destroy vampires, not hide from the hunters. As he did every night on waking, he cursed the vampire who had turned him although, to be honest, he had no one to blame but himself. If he had left the damned, blood-sucking creature alone, none of this would have happened. He blew out a sigh. He had hunted vampires his whole adult life, had thought he knew all there was to know about them. Just proved how wrong a man could be, he thought bitterly, and once again, he cursed Ronan for turning him and then leaving him. A sire was supposed to stay with his fledgling for at least a year, help him adjust to his new life, teach him how to hunt, how to find shelter, how to defend himself, if need be. A sire wasn’t supposed to abandon those he turned. Hewitt swore softly. Sure, he knew about hunting vampires. He knew how to find them, how to immobile them, how to destroy them. What he didn’t know was how to be one. “Dammit!” He hadn’t only lost his humanity, he had lost his family as well as the few friends he’d had. There was just no way in hell his old acquaintances, mostly hunters, would accept him as he was now. Not that he’d had that many friends. Being a hunter hadn’t allowed him the luxury of staying in one place long enough to really get to know anyone. From time to time, he had thought about contacting Carl Overstreet. Not that he and Overstreet had been friends, exactly, but they had shared some hairy moments. Overstreet was a reporter. He had written a series of articles titled “Vampires Among Us ~ Truth or Legend?” for a national magazine. He had met Overstreet in a bar one night where they had struck up an alliance of sorts. Jim had been hunting a vampire. Overstreet wanted a chance to interview the vampire before Jim took his head. Overstreet had gotten his interview and quit the field. Hewitt raked his fingers through his hair. If only he had done the same. All text on this page Copyright Madeline Baker 2008/2009/2010 |
ExcerptsIn The Works
What I'm working on now Coming Soon
LOVE'S SERENADE
2-book anthology Amanda's Vampire Romances
NIGHT'S PLEASURE
Sequel to Night's Master NIGHT'S MASTER
Sequel to Night's Touch DEAD PERFECT
Vampire Romance NIGHT'S TOUCH
Sequel to Night's Kiss DESIRE AFTER DARK
Sequel to After Sundown AFTER SUNDOWN
Sequel to Shades of Gray SUNLIGHT, MOONLIGHT
Alien/Vampire Cerridwen Press
Time Travel
Signet Historical Romances
Leisure Historical Romance Series
RECKLESS EMBRACE
Includes covers and cover copy for Reckless Heart, Reckless Love and Reckless Desire Futuristic
Leisure Historical Romance
CHASE THE WIND
Sequel to Apache Runaway COMANCHE FLAME
The first book I wrote Fantasy
Anthologies
Anthologies
After Twilight Stroke of Midnight Midnight Pleasures The Mammoth Book of Vampire Romance The Mammoth Book of Time Travel Romance Paradise |
