Bring Back Time (Searching Through Time Book 1)

Book summary

Bookworm Amber Stone finds herself and her colleagues transported back to Medieval times, tasked with retrieving powerful talismans for a tyrannical king. As they navigate mythical dangers with a diverse group of allies, Amber’s courage and resourcefulness are put to the test. Will they succeed and return home safely?

BRING BACK TIME is a thrilling time travel romance set in a medieval, magical world.

Excerpt from Bring Back Time (Searching Through Time Book 1)

The hideous ogre picked up a craggy boulder and threw it with all his might across the lake. It landed with a gigantic splash, causing an arc of water to shoot upwards and large waves to ripple outwards. In the centre of the lake, a robed figure watched with horror. Perched in a wooden boat, they frantically rowed away from the monster who had murder on its mind. For the unfortunate woman, there was to be no escape; a swell of water lifted the flimsy boat into the air where it hung suspended before crashing down. Battered from side to side, the young woman let go of the oars, grabbing onto the flimsy handrail. She emitted a terrified scream as the boat rocked wildly. As she was tossed around like a ragdoll, her fingers slipped, her nails breaking against the wood. Another crashing wave hurled her out of the boat and into the air. With her arms and legs flailing, she closed her eyes as the water rushed towards her. This is how I’m going to die, she thought with despair. Seconds later her body hit the water, and she fell into the murky darkness.

It was so cold beneath the surface, and yet, a feeling of peace enveloped her as she surrendered to the powerful force of the lake. There was nothing living amongst the mud and reeds. No fish, not even algae survived down here. She was all alone, heading towards an eternal rest, and all she could think about was her family; the thousands of tears her mother would cry, how her father would wail and beat his chest with grief, how she’d never hear her little sister singing again and never feel the sun’s rays on her rosy cheeks. Darkness was all that remained. A watery grave that even an animal didn’t deserve. Hers would be a sorrowful death that family and friends would whisper about for years. Suddenly, she felt a tug on her arm, and she was rising upwards, her legs flailing. Opening her eyes, she squinted at the golden light surrounding her. It scorched away the darkness, and she knew she was no longer alone. A man with flowing hair and bright eyes swam around her. Staring at her curiously, he gathered her in his arms, and all she could do was cling to him as he shot gracefully through the water. And as they broke through the surface of the lake, the woman knew he was more than her saviour; he was her soulmate, her one true love. He was her destiny…

Amber exhaled a shaky breath and clutched the hardback novel to her chest. Her tear-filled eyes slid to the left, and for a few confused seconds, she wondered where she was. She had been so immersed in the fictitious world of fantasy romance she had almost missed her stop. Luckily there was a stream of people waiting to alight from the bus. She watched them through the dirt-encrusted window, commuters hurrying to reach their places of work in central Birmingham.

‘After you,’ a man dressed in a long mac motioned for her to join the line of departure. She smiled and rose to her feet, wincing as the numbing pain of pins and needles shot up her left leg.

‘Thank you,’ she managed through gritted teeth. Amber’s neck prickled with perspiration. Her dear enochlophobia was back, commonly known as the fear of packed spaces. It frequently reared its head, especially when on public transport. She inhaled deeply, focussing on a lady wearing a red anorak, and tried to recall what other quick-fix solutions the calming YouTube channel she intermittently visited advised.

As she counted backwards from fifty in her head, desperately willing the line in front of her to start moving, the man in the brown mac tapped her on the shoulder.

‘You forgot your book,’ he said. His smile revealed a set of dazzling white teeth which looked like they had been cosmetically enhanced. Close up, he looked to be in his late fifties. There were lines around his eyes and mouth and his hair was a startling unnatural looking black colour.

‘Oh.’ Amber’s hand shot out to reclaim her precious book from the stranger. ‘Thank you.’

She turned back to face the front, biting her lip as he continued to talk. Good manners forced her to turn to face him.

‘My wife loves reading. Our house is full of books. She prefers paperbacks, of course, refuses to let me buy her a Kindle. Which do you prefer?’ He cocked an eyebrow.

‘I like either I guess.’ Amber shrugged her shoulders, warming to chatting about her favourite hobby. ‘Kindles are good to take on holiday, but I love the feel and smell of a real book. This one,’ she tapped the front of the hardback, ‘is a signed copy from Jasmine Drake.’

‘No way! The fantasy author?’ The man’s eyes lit up.

‘Yep. She did a book signing in Waterstones, here in Birmingham.’ Amber shivered as she remembered that particular Saturday, standing in the queue being soaked by freezing rain. A sweet elderly couple had given her a cup of coffee from their flask and told her all about their romance, which had begun after the end of World War Two. By the time Amber had reached the top of the line, she had two new friends who had invited her to partake of afternoon tea with them at their house later. Amber had politely declined, telling them she was meeting her boyfriend in an hour. They had been intrigued to learn that herself and George had been childhood sweethearts, both born on Valentine’s Day and still together at the mutual age of twenty-four.

‘What was she like? Jasmine.’ The man’s question filled the silence which had descended.

‘Lovely.’ Amber blinked. ‘Down to earth, warm, friendly.’

‘She’s a stunner too,’ the man added eagerly. ‘Up there with my other celebrity crushes.’ He chuckled and took his phone from his coat pocket. ‘This one’s my favourite though.’ A picture of Jennifer Lawrence flashed on his iPhone. ‘A total babe, don’t you think? Man, I loved her in The Hunger Games, I’ve seen it five times now. Have you watched it?’

Amber felt her concentration slipping away from the conversation. She wondered whether George had enjoyed his weekend with his friends. Amber had missed him, they usually spent Saturdays with the local walking club, before enjoying a movie at home, with a takeaway. But, after George’s friend had teased them about being too attached, he had agreed to a lad’s only weekend. Amber hadn’t heard from him since Saturday afternoon. She was concerned that he hadn’t messaged her and had been kept awake by awful visions of him lying drunk in a ditch somewhere.

‘Yes?’ The mac guy was staring at her expectantly, waiting for an answer.

‘Erm,’ Amber shook her head to clear her mind of her sweetheart. ‘The Hunger Games? I have watched it. They’re okay if you like dystopian entertainment. Personally, I prefer, historical fantasy.’

‘Oh sure,’ the man nodded enthusiastically, ‘J R Tolkien ismy favourite author. Love all that magic and sword fighting stuff.’

To Amber’s relief, the queue was starting to move. The harassed-looking bus driver was shouting apologies to the commuters. Apparently, some teenager had been caught graffitiing and there had been a ruckus.

‘Well, good to meet you,’ Amber had just registered that he had an American accent. ‘You have a nice day.’

‘You too.’ Amber returned the smile and turned around just in time for a baby, on the woman’s shoulder facing her, to projectile vomit all over her smart, white jacket.

‘Ugh.’ Amber staggered off the bus, mopping at the yellow stain on her clothing, which was already starting to crust and smelled awful. The mother and her offspring had disappeared amongst the crowd, leaving Amber feeling highly irate that she had received no apology. Her phone beeped in her pocket, and she fumbled to pull it out. It slipped from her perspiring fingers, clattering on the floor, and as she was bending to retrieve it, a youth on an electric scooter whizzed past, almost knocking her into the kerb.

‘Get off the pavement, you idiot,’ Amber shouted and was given an extremely rude two-fingered response.

Amber hated the journey to her workplace. Every day was the same stuffy overcrowded bus ride, and then she risked her life trying to navigate the busy roads of inner-city Birmingham. Even the pavements weren’t safe due to the rise in those ridiculous, supposedly environmentally friendly contraptions. She thought it might be illegal for scooters to be ridden on the pavements, but where was a police officer when you needed one?

Smoothing down her wild black curls, Amber waited for the pelican crossing to turn green and then hobbled across on her new wedges. The High Street was busy, the shops were just opening, and there were hordes of people outside Marks and Spencer, eager to grab a bargain in their spring sales. She was seriously considering nipping in herself and purchasing some flat heels. Fashion wedges looked very pretty on the shop mannequins, but they were totally uncomfortable to wear on a practical day-to-day basis. A glance at her watch informed her that it was quarter to nine, which left her no time to do anything other than hurry down the road and into Chapel Avenue.

Baynam Solicitors was stationed in the middle of a blossom tree-lined street. It was a fancy area, similar to the posher parts of London. The buildings were regal looking with marble pillars and gold letterboxes. Most of the other establishments were other law firms too, apart from a small scruffy-looking food outlet at the end, which had a billboard flapping outside proclaiming a two-for-one offer on all of their kebabs. A miserable, geriatric solicitor from one of the other firms in the street had tried to get it shut down, reporting it to environmental health for causing a supposed rat infestation along the street. They tried to blame the Turkish proprietor, who was affectionately known as Delicious Dev by the legal secretaries who frequented the place. Blessed with a hunky physique and Arabian-style good looks meant most of the women and quite a few of the men were willing to overlook any ongoing vermin problems.

Amber lifted the latch on the iron railing and pushed open the gate. It banged behind her, disturbing the local stray cat who was curled up on a bed of pink blossom. She keyed in the door code and waited for the door to click open.

Once inside, she headed straight for the cloakroom, shrugging off her soiled cotton jacket.

‘Good morning, Amber,’ Doris the receptionist said. peeping her head around the door frame. ‘Did you have a nice weekend?’

‘Yes, thank you. Did you?’ They chatted for a few minutes about trivia before Doris was called back to her desk by the ringing of the telephone. Amber went up a short flight of stairs to an open-plan office where the other staff were situated. On the left side of the room were the offices of the two solicitors, Mr Baynam Senior and Mr Baynam Junior. In the centre of the room were two desks: hers and Jenna’s. Jenna was also a legal secretary, who, being tri-lingual, dealt with the international cases. As colleagues went, Jenna was likeable; bubbly and warm. She was also, in Amber’s opinion, irresponsible. Especially on a Monday morning, when the weekend excesses kept her in bed. She usually surfaced about ten o’clock, breezing into the office without a care in the world and seemingly oblivious to the disapproving eyes of Mr Baynam Senior. She did as little work as possible and often had extended boozy lunches. Amber, in comparison, was always diligent and conscientious. The thought of Jenna’s reckless behaviour made Amber shudder with unease. Amber prided herself as being mature and sensible and always strove to conduct herself in a responsible, professional manner.