Angela- It’s a medieval time travel romance that throws a
modern woman who likes to have everything planned out into the middle of
Madog’s Rebellion of 1294 in Wales. The first quarter of the book takes place
in Castell y Bere, a now-ruined former Welsh castle. The hero is half-Norman
half-Welsh and is a bit bitter, but is really a sweetheart. I enjoy writing in
this subgenre because I feel like my two major strengths are my modern voice
and my love of history, so I’m able to have at least one character bringing that
modern voice and perspective to explore and reveal the past through that
character’s eyes. It’s not the only subgenre I write. I’ve published a
steampunk romance, and my current project is more mainstream. I also have a
historical mystery that I might be putting out soon. My first publication was
actually a contemporary paranormal geek romance
Nancy- When did you start writing toward publication?
Angela- I would say I really started working with that in
mind in early 2010. I’d written 2 books by then and some Jane Austen fan
fiction, but it wasn’t until that second book came out of me, that I thought I
had something to pursue publication with. That book ended up being by debut
novel release, Must Love Breeches.
Nancy- Having achieved your goal to be a published
author, what is the most rewarding thing?
Angela- Interacting with readers and hearing them talk about which books they loved and why. Especially when they get the themes and what I was trying to convey. Hearing I kept someone up all night? Gold!
Nancy- Please Share three fun facts about you that most people don’t know.
1) I rebuilt a carburetor once in my old ’67 Karmann Ghia
2)
I drove a car in a former President’s motorcade (I won’t say which one)
3)
I once knitted a whole sweater for a college crush and I never gave it to him
Nancy- What’s next for you?
Angela- I’m about to start drafting Must Love Kilts, which will be book 3 in my Must Love Time Travel series
BOOK
BLURB
Trapped in the wrong time, she needs a knight in
shining armor, but this damsel in distress might be the real savior.
A damsel in distress...
With a day planner attached to her hip, the last
thing Katy Tolson wants is a romance that threatens her well-ordered life.
She's set to marry the safe--but bland--guy, but something's not quite...right.
A careless wish thrusts her through time into medieval Wales and into the arms
of...
A knight in somewhat shining armor...
Sir Robert Beucol, half-Norman and half-Welsh, lives
with the shame of his father's treason and vows to reclaim his family's
holdings and thereby his honor. To prove himself to his king, he must be more
Norman than a full-blooded Norman. What better way to show loyalty than to
fight his mother's people? He has no desire to be sidetracked by the mysterious
wench with pink toenails, peculiar habits, and passion smoldering behind her
cool, collected exterior.
A rebellion that challenges both...
The Welsh uprising fits perfectly into Robert’s
plans. Katy’s on the other hand? That’s a no. As they embark on a perilous
journey through the heart of Wales, each passionate encounter pulls them closer
together, but farther from their goals. When everything they value is at stake,
can they save each other and their love?
Excerpt
Excerpt
from Chapter 3 – Meets the hero
Katy slowly closed her eyes, let the cool ground soak into
her hands and butt, let the uncomfortable pebbles make themselves known. She
counted to three and opened her eyes.
Intact castle wall? Still there.
A frantic fluttering whipped through her chest and choked
her throat. “No, no, no!”
Her whole body shaking, she pushed up on a nearby rock and
stood. She tugged on her coat’s zipper and yanked it up to her neck. She gazed
at the castle.
No freaking way. Intact castle walls soared skyward, not
stumpy, crumbling stone courses pockmarked with bird’s nests and tufts of
grass. She whipped around. No deck steps arching over the once-ruined entrance.
She shoved her hand into her coat pocket.
Dread curdled in her stomach.
Shit. No case.
Oh God. The case worked. The case transported her back in
time. Just like it had with Isabelle. Sweat bloomed on her skin in the chilly
air, overheating her in her winter coat.
But she hadn’t made a wish. Had she? Then her whispered
words of a moment ago came back to her: What should I do, Isabelle? I wish I
knew why I’m not as happy as I should be.
Shit. Shit. Shit. She
spun around and raked her gaze along the hillside. This crazy-ass,
zapped-back-in-time thing could all be fixed with a quick wish.
But...she dared not move. Getting turned around and missing
it because she was searching in the wrong spot would suck. Big time.
She scrutinized the ravine, keeping her breathing steady. If
she didn’t panic, everything would be okay. Just a little blip she could laugh
about—to herself—later, and get a spike of adrenaline thinking of her narrow
escape. Yep. Mm-hmm. The guy line securing the thin veneer of her control
strained and creaked.
Okay. She’d come along that path, and had, oh God, made that
wish on the stupid case. Smooth, Katy. Then the queasiness. And a gust of wind.
She’d started sliding down the incline and...flung out her stupid-ass hands.
With the case probably sailing away.
So, with the right hand doing the flinging... She charged up
the hill and inched along its edge, on the lookout for a shiny glint of silver.
An odd, pounding noise sounded behind her, and the ground
vibrated slightly. What could...? Oh God, no. She wheeled around, her pulse
beating frantically, and yep, the hugest, scariest war horse she’d ever seen
galloped straight for her. She assumed it was a war horse, well, because it was
so...large, and it had...Jiminy Cricket, it had chainmail on it. And, of
course, some guy on its back, with chainmail and some kind of tunic, as well as
a clothes-iron-shaped shield and friggin’ sword.
Her muscles tightened, shivered, and she almost—swear to
God—peed herself.
She scrambled down the ravine. Find the case. Find the
case. And the scary man on horse would be gone. She slipped and landed on
her ass, sliding the rest of the way, her hands scraping and stinging on the
rocks.
The horse stopped above her, snorting loudly. She scowled
over her shoulder—was she about to get skewered? Cuz she’d want to know. Not
that she could do much against a muscle-bound, medieval guy bent on running her
through with a sword. Or worse. Except find that case. She had maybe twelve
feet of distance on him.
He lifted his helmet free with two mail-clad hands, the
clang of metal against metal loud, and let it fall to suspend from a chain at
his belt. Helmet removal was a good sign, wasn’t it? At least it wasn’t sword
removal. The early afternoon sun shone from behind him. She couldn’t see his
face.
Gibberish popped from the dark shape. Coupled with his arm
pointing away from the castle.
Er, what the hell kind of language was that?
Fear and a bit of oh-shit-what’s-happening slithering
through her, she rose and faced him. “What?” Peering right and left with only
her eyes, she searched for the stupid case. Her only salvation.
He cocked his head and spouted more nonsense. Slower, sure,
but still nonsense. She edged back and continued to search the ground, pebbles
clicking against rock as her shoes scattered them downhill.
More gibberish, but it grew closer. She looked up. He’d
dismounted and was stomping down the hill.
Oh, hell no.
She sprinted along the ravine, praying she’d see her case
but knowing she probably wouldn’t. Blood pounded in her ears, as jarring as her
frantic footfalls along the hard ground. She sucked in short gasps of air as
his steps drew closer. C’mon, all those gym sessions had to count for
something.
A strong arm clamped around her waist, yanked her back
against a solid wall of chainmail-covered man, and lifted. She slid down his
body until his forearm nudged the underside of her breasts. She instantly
stilled, breathing still panicked, because she’d read enough romance novels,
and damned if she’d be one of those annoying heroines who got all feisty
unprovoked. Pissing off someone who hadn’t yet hurt her would be epically
stupid.
He inhaled sharply. Melodic, darkly-rich words vibrated from
his chest to fill her ear, his warm breath sending chills across her skin. She
could hear the question in them, but not knowing what he so softly demanded,
she remained frozen.
She’d need any ally she could get, because yeah, she’d gone
and wished herself back in time. All because she’d second-guessed her plans.
He grunted and marched up the hill, easily carrying her
against him. At the top, he whistled and...his horse came to him. Of course.
Then he draped her in front of a saddle like none she’d ever seen, jumped on,
and galloped across the rocky terrain. But not before she saw her case, winking
in the sun as they passed.
“Hey— Wait! Shit.”
Oh, crap, this was not comfortable. She clamped her
jaw tight, afraid she’d bite her tongue with all the jouncing. Brief flashes of
scenery and activity stuttered by. Flash—a white flower between two rocks.
Flash—a cluster of colorfully clothed people. Flash—a woman with two children,
one on her hip. Flash—a man driving a donkey laden with baskets. And all, all
of them, hurrying. Hurrying in the same direction, into the castle. Behind its
walls.
That
couldn’t be good.
How can my readers buy your book?
Readers can go to my book page HERE
Check out my book trailer HERE
Buy Links…
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Angela
Quarles is a geek girl romance writer whose works includes Must Love
Breeches, a time
travel romance, and Beer & Groping in Las Vegas, a geek romantic comedy in
novelette form. She has a B.A. in Anthropology and International Studies with a
minor in German from Emory University, and a Masters in Heritage Preservation
from Georgia State University. She currently resides in a historic house in the
beautiful and quirky town of Mobile, AL. You can find more information about Angela Quarles
here:
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