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    One Scottish Lass: A Regency Time Travel Romance Novella
    One Scottish Lass: A Regency Time Travel Romance Novella
    One Scottish Lass: A Regency Time Travel Romance Novella
    Ebook82 pages1 hour

    One Scottish Lass: A Regency Time Travel Romance Novella

    By Lisa Shea

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    About this ebook

    Samhain. All Hallows' Eve. The most mystical night of the year. The time when the veil between the worlds became perilously thin. And with a full moon overhead, this awesome power reaches its climactic height.

    Sorcha had no time for mystical nonsense - there were enough challenges in navigating the mine-field of her mother's vicious temper and the most important event of her young life. For, at long last, she had left Edinburgh to see the world. She and her mother were visiting the elegant city of Bath. Sorcha was wearing the finest dress she'd seen - and she was stepping into a life she'd only dreamt of.

    But when Johnny's eyes meet hers, and jealous rivals vow revenge, that delicate layer between what is and what once was rips. It shreds like the fragile thread of one's life.

    One Scottish Lass is the first novella in the regency time travel romance trilogy. The second novella in the series is A Time Apart. The first two novellas end in cliffhangers, while the third provides a happy ending. The series then will continue in another trilogy - those will be coming out over the coming weeks. These stories are teen-friendly with no explicit language, violence, or intimacy. All proceeds benefit battered women's shelters. Note that for those who prefer reading books in all-in-one form, each trio of novellas will also be compiled as a completed box set once all three are done. It just means you have to be patient and wait for me to finish writing all of them :). For those who prefer to read along as I write, and offer suggestions for me to shape the plot, these novellas are here for your enjoyment! Either way, I'd love to hear your feedback on the storyline and characters.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherLisa Shea
    Release dateSep 13, 2014
    ISBN9781311798114
    One Scottish Lass: A Regency Time Travel Romance Novella
    Author

    Lisa Shea

    I love writing in a variety of genres. I currently have over 300 books published in all lengths from full 500+ page novels down to short stories. I love writing series. Some are with unconnected characters, like the 14 full-length medieval novels with a sword being passed from heroine to heroine. Some have connected characters, like the 31 mini-mysteries featuring a detective in Salem, Massachusetts. All of my books are written "clean" with no explicit intimacy, no harsh language, and no explicit violence. All are suitable for teens and up.For a full listing of my books please visit:http://www.lisashea.com/lisabase/writing/gettingyourbookpublished/lisalibrary.html

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      Book preview

      One Scottish Lass - Lisa Shea

      One Scottish Lass

      A Regency Time Travel Romance Novella

      Book 1

      Lisa Shea

      Copyright © 2014 by Lisa Shea / Minerva Webworks LLC

      All rights reserved.

      Cover design by Lisa Shea

      Book design by Lisa Shea

      No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

      This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

      Visit my website at www.LisaShea.com

      ASIN B00NK3IACE

      ~ v5 ~

      Believe.

      One Scottish Lass

      Chapter 1

      England, 1802

      "Dreams do come true,

      If we only wish hard enough.

      You can have anything in life

      If you will sacrifice everything else for it."

      -- James Matthew Barrie, Scottish author of Peter Pan

      Sorcha made what must have been the hundredth attempt to tuck her flame-red hair back into its bun, then frantically raced to catch up to her mother on the moonlit street of Bath. Her mother’s elegant, ivory dress shone beneath the stars, resplendent with its delicate embroidery and moonstones. Sorcha’s own dress was certainly the finest she had ever worn, but not nearly as stunning. Her mother would never allow her own entrance to be outdone by anyone – least of all her own daughter.

      Her mother turned, her coal-black eyes drilling into Sorcha through the crisp October air. Her voice was a hiss. Don’t run, she snapped. A lady never runs. And did you actually wear your pearl earrings and necklace? I explicitly told you to wear the moonstone.

      Sorcha’s hand went automatically to her throat. The jewelry set had been her grandmother’s and was her most prized possession. Och, but mum –

      Her mother’s hand flashed high and nearly descended on her. Sorcha knew it was only her mother’s fear that her daughter might enter the party with a large mark on her face that shielded her from harm.

      Her mother’s voice became laced with ice. "If I hear you use the word och just once tonight, I swear, I will whip your behind so severely that you will not be able to sit for a month."

      Sorcha pressed her lips tight. Her mother barely believed in exercise; she spent most of each day shut up in her library, the curtains pulled tight, carefully applying creams and unguents to preserve her beauty. The one time she seemed to relish physical activity was when she selected a hickory switch and beat Sorcha for her latest infraction.

      Her mother was careful. The blows were always on the rear. Heaven forbid her daughter was marred in any public way which might interfere with a profitable marriage.

      Her mother’s arm snaked forward and a vise-tight grip clamped around Sorcha’s wrist. Sorcha bit back the cry of pain. She knew better than to agitate her mother tonight. Not when her mother had been planning this trip for months. Tonight was the culmination of intense effort, and if even the slightest thing went wrong, Sorcha knew she would pay dearly for it.

      Her mother’s voice drilled into her ear, echoing Sorcha’s thoughts. If you do one thing to ruin our time at Master Davenport’s birthday celebration, I swear you will regret it.

      Her mother straightened up again, her dark brown hair perfectly elegant, as always, within its carefully constructed bun. Her moonstone earrings dangled just so from either side of her china-smooth face. People often told her that she looked like Sorcha’s older sister. These were the only times that Sorcha’s presence made her mother smile.

      The pair continued down the row-house-lined street. It was fairly early, yet. A variety of citizenry were returning from a dinner, heading off to a show, or simply enjoying the night air. An elegant horse-and-carriage passed them, the driver looking smart in his black suit. Sorcha soaked in the sights. There was nothing like this back in her native Scotland.

      Sorcha’s mother paid them no mind. She had a single-minded focus on the path ahead of them. She barely glanced around as she approached the next intersection, took a right, and then plowed on through the night.

      Sorcha’s eyes went wide as they approached the next home. Crouched against a long, stone staircase was an emaciated man, huddled in ragged clothing against the sharp cold. Sorcha’s instinct was to go to him, to see if she could help in some way. He reminded her all too keenly of the poor crofters and dispossessed back in Scotland, driven out of their farms and lands by the British.

      She almost took a step toward the shivering wretch.

      One glance at her mother, though, and she knew she did not have that luxury. Sorcha’s mother made a wide circle around the man, glaring down at him in disdain. Sorcha bit her lip and hurried to stay behind her.

      Another block, another turn, and at last the destination row house was ahead. It was the largest along the block, of course, double-width, a full three stories high with elegant iron

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