READER'S ROCK LIFESTYLE MAGAZINE VOL 2 ISSUE 4 NOVEMBER 2014 Vol. 1 Issue 7 January 2014 | Page 69

The accidental death of his
beloved wife sent Alex Morgan
into a numbing world of
suppressed grief and rage, eased
only by a profound bond with his
son. Suddenly his life is shattered
again when a chance discovery
propels him into a world gone
horribly, terrifyingly wrong.

nightmare of her own, captured
and facing execution for
freedom-fighting heroics in her
grim, oppressive world. When
Alex rescues the feisty young
rebel, she resists her dangerous
attraction to him - a man who's
clearly crazy, literally in a world
of his own.

Piecing together clues in this new
nightmare, Alex suspects a
colleague of taking a few,
meddling steps back in time,
changing the course of history destroying Alex's family and his
world. Desperately clinging to his
sanity, he searches for any
evidence his young son still
exists.

Bound together first by chance
and desperation, then by growing
purpose, respect, and emotion,
Alex and Jessie must depend on
each other to survive. More than
that, they must find a way to
prevent a terrible crime from
taking place - a crime that
plunged both their worlds into
nightmare - over a hundred years
before. To have a future, they will
have to find their way to the past.

Jessica O'Neil is fighting a

JESSIE swam up drowsily from a
deep, dreamless sleep, a relaxed,
satisfied smile still curving the corners
of her mouth. She stretched
luxuriously and reached for Alex.
Eyes still closed, she frowned at the
rough feel of a heavy wool blanket
next to her skin. What did she need a
blanket for? It was summertime, and
the room was already warm. She
stirred, but instead of Alex's arms
cradling her, she felt the coarse,
lumpy cushion of a pile of burlap
sacks. Jessie opened her eyes,
decided reasonably that she was still
dreaming, and closed them again.
A moment later she came wideawake with a jolt of full-blown panic.
As though still trapped in sleep, she
tried to scream, but her throat closed
and she couldn't make a sound. She
thrashed against the blanket that
tangled around her and gave in to
hysteria.
Then, mercifully, the screams came.
"Alex! Alex! ALEX!"
He seemed to materialize out of
nowhere in the dim light, wrapping
her struggling body in his arms,
pulling her protectively against him.

Her cheek rubbed against coarse,
starched fabric, her hands caught in
straps that seemed to run vertically
up his chest. The strange sensations
increased her confusion and she
struggled frantically to escape. Alex
tightened his hold, letting her flail
against him. He murmured soothing
reassurances into her ear, his voice
hoarse and strained.
"Jessie, it's all right, it's me! I'm here!
You're all right, sweetheart, you're
okay. Listen, Jessie, listen to me.
Settle down, it's all right, it's all right."
Finally his words got through to her.
She sank down against him, her heart
racing like that of a wild creature. Alex
sat on the pile of burlap sacks, leaned
back against the rough stone wall in
the corner of what seemed to be an
old storage cellar, and rocked her
gently. He continued to murmur
soothing words to her, and when she
had calmed enough to listen, he tried
to explain the unexplainable.
"It brought us both, Jessie," he said, a
sort of giddy wonder in his voice.
"One of us must have stumbled on
the program. No matter, it brought us
both."

"What...brought us?" She had no idea
what he was talking about.
He risked easing his hold on her long
enough to tug the device from a
pocket and place it in her hand. She
stared at it without comprehension.
Then, as realization dawned, she
regarded it with awestruck horror.
She gripped his arm with one hand,
clutched the small device with the
other.
"But where, Alex? Where did it bring
us?" Desperately Jessie looked
around again, but the cellar receded
into shadows. She could see only
stacks of crates, barrels, and piled,
dusty sacks. A small, grill-covered
window high on one wall admitted just
the faintest gray shaft of earlymorning light.
Alex shook his head and gently
opened her fist.
"Not where,” he said, and after a long
moment, she hesitantly followed his
rapt gaze to the device's small,
glowing screen. "Not where, Jessie.
When." *
*copyright by Lorrie Farrelly

"Filled with sweet emotion, but also heart wrenching hurt, TERMS OF SURRENDER by Lorrie Farrelly is exactly why I am such a fan of historical fiction!"
"A heart-melting, pulse-racing, beautiful piece of literature."
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