A Pocket in Time

Time Weavers Inc. (Book2 )

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“Wow!! I’m giving it a 5 of 5 because it might be the best time travel romance I read all year.”- awitch Amazon reviewer

Katz Almira’s mission is clear—travel to the past, steal the note that ruins the world, travel back to the present. Easy. She’s the best pickpocket Time Weavers, Inc. has ever had. Posing as a poor widow in Regency London, she convinces her target, Lord John Byron, a man as sexy as he is wealthy, to take her in off the streets. But at her request to keep her hidden, instead of his cushy manor, he allows her to stay in a warehouse full of orphan boys he cares for there.

It’s the perfect place to hide, and bonus, her new roommates can help her find the mysterious note. With John as their pseudo-father, they know what he does every day, and with who. Katz can’t afford any distractions, but she soon finds herself getting attached to the orphans—and John—even helping him plan for their futures.

Each day she spends in the past is another day closer to her deadline, another day closer to returning to her own time, and another day John and this makeshift family get dangerously closer to her heart. But Katz staying in the past would have dire consequences for them all…

Excerpt:

From a distance, Katz wouldn’t have distinguished Lord Byron from any other aristocrat now traversing Regent Street in his top hat and cane, but his telltale limp gave him away. He was broad shouldered but not bulky and definitely tall. She watched him from inside the millinery, planning her exit for just the right moment. Just a little closer.

Pulling open the door, she stepped out of the shop and onto the sidewalk just in time to collide with Lord Byron. “Oh!” She braced herself against his hard chest, slipping her fingers into the pocket of his waistcoat and pilfering the keys inside before he could stumble back from her impact.

Except the lord with the limp had much better balance than she’d expected, and instead of stumbling, he grabbed her wrists as if he wanted to keep her from falling.

Damn. She quickly palmed the keys and let her glove drop to the ground. “Oh dear, my glove.” She hoped she sounded helpless enough. She wasn’t very good at acting like a simpering fool. Even in her own century, she was more independent than half the people she met.

Being a gentleman, of course, he let go of her to assist, and as he bent, she slipped the keys into her reticule. He rose, the slightly soiled glove in hand. “I sincerely apologize, miss. Are you hurt?”

She caught her breath as his cobalt-blue gaze met her own. Intelligent was her first impression. His face was a cross between male model and action movie star. His dark brows, lowered in concern beneath hair as black as her own, gave him a harsher look than she’d expected. He sported a straight nose that ended just above his slightly parted lips. His clean-shaven jaw was to die for. She’d always liked a strong chin on a man, though she preferred a bit of stubble.

“Miss?”

Recalling her role, she set her hand against her chest. “I’m quite fine. May I have my glove?” She should look away as if embarrassed, but she found his face far too enjoyable a view.

He lifted the glove, and she forced herself to look away for a moment to retrieve it. It had served its purpose. Now she needed to move on. It wasn’t as if they wouldn’t meet again…definitely something to look forward to.

“Are you certain you’re unhurt?” His concern seemed a bit over the top, but she was still thinking in the wrong century. It always took a while to adjust to the time period and all the information old Arthur had poured into her head.

She avoided Lord Byron’s gaze by pulling on her glove. “I’m fine. Excuse me.” She barely kept her lips from twitching before she quickly brushed past him.

He immediately fell into step beside her. “Please, allow me to escort you to your destination. It’s the least I can do.”

Actually, that was the last thing she wanted him to do. Didn’t he know a gentleman wasn’t to make conversation with a lady when they hadn’t been properly introduced? She kept her gaze focused on the people walking ahead of her. “Thank you, no.”

As if it had just occurred to him that he was being far too forward, he sighed. “I apologize once again, miss.” And with that, he was no longer next to her as she maneuvered along the busy street.

Allowing herself a small smile, she ducked into an alleyway and picked her way through the stink and trash.

 

Romance inspired by the classics