Tamara Ledbetter, dumped by her arrogant husband, travels to Cornwall, England to research her ancestors. A trip first planned with her soon-to-be ex. In a neglected cemetery, she scrapes two fallen headstones together to read the one beneath, faints, and wakes up in 1789. Certain she’s caught up in a reenactment, she fast discovers she’s in the year of the French Revolution, grain riots in England, miners out of work, and she’s mistrusted by the young farmer, Colum Polwhele, who’s come to her aid. Can a sassy San Francisco gal survive in this primitive time where women have few rights? Could she fall for Colum, a man active in underhanded dealings that involve stolen grain, or will she struggle to return to her own time before danger stalks them both?
Approaching a fallen headstone, Tamara bent, brushed away dirt, and swore the name Trembeth was etched in the mossy granite. But the years were difficult to decipher. Another stone appeared to be buried beneath this one.
She kneeled and strained to move the top stone, scratching her fingers. The wind swirled her hair again. She blew strands from her mouth and continued to scrape the top stone across the bottom to jar it off, the sound strident. Her arm muscles started to ache. A burning smell reached her nostrils, and she glanced up.
Suddenly, she grew lightheaded. Dampness soaked through the skirt where her knees pressed the earth. The ground trembled beneath her. An earthquake, in Cornwall
Nausea bubbled up inside. The church and churchyard shimmered around her, like an out of focus photograph. She tried to pull back her hands, but they seemed glued in place. Stifling a cry, she felt what seemed an electric shock pierce along her spine. She grew dizzier, her heart pounding, and then crumpled over like a rag doll into the moist grass.
Diane lives with her husband in western Pennsylvania.
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