I don’t usually hop around a book as I write it. The story unfolds for me just like it does for the reader, from start to finish. However, when my sister and I wrote Jacq’s Warlord, we only had the opening of the story done before I had the final scene complete inside my head. Endings can be as important as beginnings. I hope you enjoy the ending of our one and only time-travel novel. It always makes me cry. 🙂
“…Set in the time and in the battles fought as Henry takes the English throne, the combination of battle action and sexy romance makes this story a standout.”
5 Stars, Just Erotic Romance
“…if you are looking for a book full of action, adventure and lots of humor I recommend that you suspend your disbelief and find yourself drawn into the vibrantly portrayed world of JACQ’S WARLORD…”
4 Crystals, Erotic Escapades
With proportions that would make Xena weep, Jacqueline Frazier despairs of ever finding a lover she can’t intimidate. Until the day she ignores an itty-bitty warning regarding the use of a family heirloom, and finds herself swept off her feet by a knight in not so shining armor, back to the twelfth century. Forced to accept the protection and sexual attentions of the overbearing, beast of a man, Rufus of Rathburn, Jacq struggles to find her place in the past while searching for a way back to the future. In the meantime, she aids Rufus’s war cause with a little 21st century ingenuity. Nothing like shaking up the warlord with lessons in bomb-making, guerilla tactics, and the Joys of Sex.
At first unwilling, and downright ungrateful, Rufus begins to see merit in Jacq’s odd ways. Through Jacq’s eccentricities and willfulness, Rufus learns she is a woman to be reckoned with, not to mention she is a lusty handful in bed. Will his admiration of her cunning, strength and uninhibited sexuality grow into a love that breaks the barriers of time? And will their love be strong enough for Jacq to plot a different future in the past?
Tom Frazier moved restlessly through the rooms of the two-story house he’d shared with his daughter. The past week had been the longest of his life—even more terrible than the time he’d returned to the States to bury his wife. Jacq’s dramatic abduction and ultimate disappearance had made national news. Despite all the hype, not a single viable clue surfaced leading to her whereabouts. Worse, it was anyone’s guess whether she was still alive.
In his heart, Tom believed Jacq’s spirit was invincible. While investigators began to lose hope of finding her, Tom’s conviction grew stronger. Patience and consideration of even the tiniest lead would bring her back.
If only he hadn’t arrived late at the Faire. If only he’d been there for Jacq. The sea of emergency vehicles and news vans had been his first clue something was terribly wrong. All entrances and exits to the fairgrounds had been sealed off by the police who were interviewing as many witnesses as they could before they scattered.
Tom had been turned away, but the need to assure himself Jacq was unharmed led him around the perimeter to the workers’ entrance, an area not as closely observed. He’d slipped through the fence and run to the storyteller’s stage. Yellow crime scene tape confirmed the sick feeling growing inside him even before he heard the details from the young officer standing guard over the area.
Tom’s nightmare grew grimmer as witnesses were released to go home and the last of the forensics team packed their tools and left the grounds. Tom himself had spoken to many of Jacq’s friends, but they couldn’t shed any more light on the mystery. Everyone shared the same disbelieving horror. How could something like this happen to one of them?
How could a rider dressed in full armor, carrying a struggling woman, disappear so completely? But beyond the spectators who had watched the performance and, at first, had believed the abduction was just a part of the act, no one had seen them anywhere else within or outside the fairgrounds. Witnesses’ reports had become more exaggerated with each telling. Many claimed they had simply vanished into the fog that had suddenly enveloped the stage.
Even more odd was the ancient artifact found at the foot of the stage. Spectators said the man in armor threw down a blood-encrusted shield before whisking Jacq from the stage. It appeared to be an authentic relic from the Middle Ages. The FBI had sent it to their lab for a more analysis of its origins.
Beyond posting a reward for information leading to her return and papering Atlanta with Jacq’s picture, Tom could do little more than wait by the telephone. He wandered aimlessly into the living room and sat down on the edge of the sofa. The house was so still, almost like it too was waiting for Jacq to breeze through the door.
In his mind he saw her everywhere, and he drove himself crazy thinking that sometimes, if he just listened close enough, he could almost hear her speaking.
A wave of despair swept over him and he leaned forward unable to hold back the sobs. His body shook with the force of his grief, his eyes streaming. When he ran out of tears, he clasped his hands together and did something he thought he’d forgotten how to do. He prayed. Read the rest of this entry »
