Only Time Will Tell

Release date: September 29, 2014
Only Time Will TellLife has held nothing but pain and guilt for Susannah Walsh since her children died in an accident and her marriage fell apart. When a friend offers her a vacation house in Maine for some relaxation, she thinks it’s the perfect chance to escape from her grim reality—for good.

But fate has other plans for Susannah. Shortly after she reaches the retreat, she’s attacked and knocked unconscious, only to wake in the bed of a handsome but unfriendly stranger. As it turns out, her troubles have just begun, for the year is 1905…

Adrian Sinclair doesn’t know what to make of the distressed woman he saved from a raging storm. Her speech and clothing are odd, her behavior is very impertinent, and most peculiarly, she claims to be from the future. But when his withdrawn son, Corey, quickly bonds with the woman, he agrees to let her stay at his family’s estate.

As Susannah gets to know the Sinclairs, she finds herself passionately attracted to Adrian and powerfully drawn to Corey. Can a woman with no future change her fate in the past? Or will BUY NOWthe dangerous secrets lurking at Blue Hill Manor turn deadly?

by Suzanne Hoos

Paranormal
Sensuality Level: Sensual

Author Bio:
Suzanne calls central New Jersey her home, where she lives with her husband, Gary, and their three cats – Scout, Emme, and Simba.

 

An excerpt from Only Time Will Tell:

“Are you awake, miss?”

A ferocious throbbing made Susannah moan. What was going on? Her body hurt. Her head hurt. Even her ears, eyes, and hair hurt.

“Miss?”

Susannah opened her eyes halfway.

“Miss, you have to awaken.”

Whoever was hovering sounded tiny and frightened. It was a woman. A young woman.

Susannah pried her tongue from the roof of her mouth. “Who’s there?” She rolled onto her side. Her head was about to burst. She prayed it would. It’d be better than dealing with this vicious headache. Again, she tried to open her eyes.

The sweet scent of roses overwhelmed her. Oh, Christ, I’m dead. This is my funeral. I did it. I really did it. Then who was this person speaking to her? An angel?

A shadowy figure hovered just outside her line of sight. “Please wake up, miss. You’ve been asleep for nearly two days.”

Susannah scrunched up her face. What was she talking about? Asleep? If she had been asleep, like this girl was babbling about, the extended rest certainly hadn’t relaxed her. “Who are you?”

“The housekeeper, miss. My name’s Colleen.”

Housekeeper? Faye never said anything about a housekeeper. Well, at least her memory wasn’t gone. She remembered Faye. She moved her hands to feel around her. She was on a bed. What happened? The last thing she recalled was entering the Rubins’ Maine vacation house. Did she have an accident? Was she in a hospital?

She slid into a sitting position.

“It’s gloomy outside, but I can pull open the drapes if you’d like.”

Susannah massaged her neck and moved her head slowly from side to side. “Yes, I’d like.”

She leaned back and was immediately swallowed up by the softest pillows. She couldn’t be in a hospital. Not with these pillows. She had to be in the Rubins’ house.

Faye certainly knew how to pamper her guests. Still, who was this stranger? She knew she should have been more frightened, but curiosity won out.

Colleen parted the curtains on one window. “Not much light, but enough to see by.” She rushed to the second window and did the same.

Susannah groaned.

“Too much? I can close ’em again.”

“No, it’s my head. I must have hit it on something.”

“Don’t know much about that.”

Susannah blinked several times until her sight became stronger and clearer. A loud rumble caught her attention as the sound burrowed deep in her head. “Is that thunder?”

“Yes, miss. For the past two days, storms have been brewing.”

A sudden spark of lightning lit the room. Susannah jumped, and her heart thumped wildly. She remembered the day as sunny and warm. No rain in the forecast.

“I’ll make it brighter so you can see,” Colleen said. The girl fiddled with an old-fashioned oil lamp by the bed. Oil lamp?

Susannah frowned. Maybe the storm knocked out the power. Why not use a flashlight? A generator? Her skin prickled. Something wasn’t right. Soon, a flame burned inside the bell-shaped glass, casting light and shadows about the room.

“There. That’s better. Now, you must be on your way, miss.”

On my way? Didn’t she just get here? Where was here? Not knowing what else to do, Susannah studied her surroundings, trying to make sense of something senseless. The large room was crammed with the dark, ornate, and highly polished wood furnishings. There were several dressers of various heights, a massive wardrobe, and, of course, the bed she was lying in. A white sheer canopy attached to the four tall bedposts kick-started a bit of claustrophobia in her. Susannah’s eyes narrowed. Had her friend redecorated? This was so far from her taste. This was the work of some crazed Victorian-era designer, not casual, laid-back Faye Rubin.

Perched on a small table by the lamp was a large crystal vase filled with the largest bouquet of red roses Susannah had ever seen. Beautiful, yes, but their perfume was so strong. This was the scent that had greeted her upon waking. So overpowering. She scrunched up her nose. All right, she wasn’t dead. This wasn’t her funeral. Still …

Her gaze swept across the room and stopped at the young woman standing by the undraped window. She wore a white dust cap on her head. Her dark gray dress covered every inch of her slight body, from her neck to the long sleeves to the hem that hit the floor. It looked like some kind of costume.

All right, Faye. Joke’s over. “Where am I? What is this place? I’m supposed to be in Wiscasset.”

Colleen nodded and bit her lower lip. “You are, miss.”

Susannah frowned. “In Maine.”

“Yes, miss. Wiscasset, Maine.”

Again, Susannah looked around, her nerves taut with attention. “This isn’t the Rubins’ house, is it?”

“Sorry, miss. I don’t know what ‘Rubins’ are, but I can assure that if you don’t get out of that bed, Mr. Sinclair will be very angry.