Micah John drifts through life relying on his ability to count cards in the seedy underbelly of
He sure the hell doesn’t have time for a woman claiming to be from 1794.
Henrietta Knapp is trying to wrap her brain around the fact that she’s out of her time. A bolt of lightning has brought her more than two hundred twenty years forward. Why? She doesn’t know. Not until Micah John appears.
As mistrust and fear drain away, Micah John and Etta find a love that outshines the bad and the ugly. But will they be given the chance to hold onto a happy ever after, or will the lightning strike again?
BUY LINKS:
Lightening zapped
overhead, charging the atmosphere. After
one more deep drag he tossed the cigarette down and crushed it under the sole
of his shoe. Suddenly, the hair on his
arms stood up, electrified as the air became thin, but not like it had felt
suffocating in Beaumont ’s
grip. No, this time everything pulled
and stretched and flattened, all at the same time. His lungs compressed, his nostrils flattened,
and a buzz roared in his brain. He cried
out from the sharp pain and slammed his hands over his ears, trying to block
out the weird distortion that was turning his insides to mush. He looked up and
realized he was under an electricity pylon and the hum from the volts grew
louder and louder, making him wonder if his eardrums had busted. A second later, lightening hit, causing the
thing to explode with a tremendous boom which had him flying back to land in an
ungraceful heap. Thousands of sparks
cascaded down upon him, and he flinched at the small brush burns.
And then all was
still.
The hum was gone,
but then so were all the lights. Quiet
descended and he pushed himself up to glance around. No traffic lights, no street lights,
nothing. He stood, not sure what to do,
because something was different.
Everything was…off.
A whimper had him
twirling around, searching through the darkness of the alley, but he couldn’t
make anything out. So he walked over to
his car, opened the door, clicked on the battery, and turned on the
lights.
A girl.
She hovered
against the wall, eyes wider than they should be. Blue maybe, or green. It was obvious she was terrified by the
rigidity in which she stood there. He
didn’t blame her one bit. The damn exploding
transformer had scared the shit out of him too.
“It’s okay,” he
called out. “It was just lightening.”
She didn’t say a
word, just stared at him like he was some sort of monster. He gave a self deprecating snort. Maybe he was.
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