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A pick 'n' mix genre author. "I'm not greedy. I just like variety."

Wednesday, 14 November 2012

Feature: Some Enchanted Waltz: A time travel romance by Lily Silver

Some Enchanted Waltz: A Time Travel Romance
by Lily Silver

When a violent storm spawns power outages, radio DJ Tara O’Neill must keep broadcasting severe warnings to local residents without electrical power. As the storm intensifies and dead air devours the airwaves, Tara must reboot the transmitter to get back on the air. Lightning strikes as Tara reboots the system, hurtling her through time.

Lord Dillon needs a bride, immediately, to escape his enemy’s snare. He has always respected the Fairy Race. As a boy, he played with them in the secret glen and was warned that one day he would be called upon to shelter one of their own who has lost her way among mortals.

Tara appears just when he needs her, a strange woman with no memory; a wounded woman needing his protection. A beguiling woman with fey features and a strange tattoo of fairy wings across her back . . . 

Memories collide with terrifying dreams of being kidnapped by a Darkling Fey Prince, making Tara uncertain of her true origins. Has she been sent to Adrian as he insists to save him from some disastrous fate? As they journey to Dublin, little does Tara realize her husband’s business there is rebellion. The United Irishmen are set to seize the government and free Ireland from English rule.

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No wallet. Ah, but that would make things too simple, wouldn’t it? 
No wallet meant no driver’s license, no clue as to her home address. No credit cards and no money. Her khaki cargo pants and lace camisole top were folded neatly in the drawer, having been washed by the staff of this odd hotel.
She picked up her phone with her bandaged hands and pressed the ON button. Nothing. No bars, no signal, not even a welcome screen. Her battery must be dead.  If she couldn’t even get it to turn on it meant she’d been here more than a few hours. Darn, if she had a cheaper phone instead of this model with the expensive data package that sucked the batteries like a vampire emptying a crack addict, she’d still have battery power. Without a charger, she was screwed and it wasn’t likely they’d have one here that would work with her phone. 
Given her weakness and confusion, Tara had to have been here for a few days instead of hours.  Her iPod still worked, for all the good that did. She could listen to Meatloaf, Madonna and Motley Crue while trying to find her way home. If her phone worked, she’d have GPS capabilities so she could figure out where she was, and at the very least she could send a text message.
And who would she send it to? Would she recognize the names listed in her contact list?  That was the scary part. Tara was lost, like in the popular reality TV shows where the contestants were dropped off in a strange land and had to find their way back home first to win a million bucks. Unlike the people on the show, she was stranded, with no instructions, contacts, money and no freaking idea of who to call to pick her up and take her to the airport. At least on the reality shows they were given detailed instructions.
She searched the drawers of the ornate desk. There was no phone in her room and no phone book. None of the hotel literature one would expect to find in a place like this. She couldn’t even call a taxi. Even if she had a phone her speech was too garbled to be understood. The hotel maid didn’t understand her so she wouldn’t get far trying to call anyone.
Texting. Now that was a different matter. Or Email. Yes, that would work, if she could get to a computer. Tara wiggled the tips of her fingers, peeping out from the heavy linen bandages swaddled over her hands. Her fingers were still pretty numb and stiff, but she could probably pull off the hunt and peck method. They had to at least have a computer in the lobby. All hotels had them in lobbies now.
“Welcome to the Hotel California,” the Eagles song echoed in her mind. “You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.”
Not Hotel California, but Hotel Ireland. She learned that when she tried to question the maid who delivered her breakfast tray. She could only manage the word ‘where’ amid her garbled speech. The maid informed her she was a guest at Glengarra Castle overlooking the Bay of Bantry in County Cork, Ireland. At least they spoke English here--sort of. It was hard to understand Maggie’s accent and her queer way of phrasing things.
Terror didn’t begin to explain the gnawing in her gut as her eyes darted about the stately room filled with antique furnishings. Geez, there wasn’t even a television. Usually they were hidden in the wardrobe closet in the fancier hotels. Her wardrobe closet was empty save her few belongings.
Fear was making her queasy. Tara didn’t want to vomit again, because she’d have to use that quaint porcelain pot under the bed to throw up in because no one seemed to understand her request to be taken to the restroom. There wasn’t a bathroom attached to her room, which, while odd was logical in an ancient building such as this. The hotel owners wouldn’t want to risk losing their Historic Registry standing by knocking down walls and drilling holes through stone floors to install modern plumbing in every guest room. Still, a phone would be nice so she could ring room service.
Definitely not a five star experience here, despite the rich furnishings.
Fatigued from her trek across the room in search of a phone, Tara returned to the bed. She clutched the velvet coverlet in her bandaged hands, ignoring the tears stinging her eyes. So, she was stuck in a hotel somewhere in Ireland with no memory of how she came to be here. And no credit card.  Damn. They’d be kicking her out of here real soon. 
As Tara sat clutching the covers and worrying about the hotel concierge demanding payment for this lavish Irish holiday, there was a sharp rat-a-tat-tat at the door.
Oh, God, here it comes, she though, steeling herself for the confrontation.
 A tall, dark haired man of about thirty entered the room. His clothing was odd, like he’d just stepped off the stage set of a costume drama. Ignoring his peculiar clothing, she focused on his face. A peculiar feeling of déjà’ vu swept over her as she gazed into his steel gray eyes. Was he the hotel manager or the tour guide? Did he know her?
The young maid, Maggie, followed behind him as if he were royalty. 
 “Tara, you’re awake at last. Cora tells me that you are upset. What is it you need, my dear?” His tone was reassuring, kind. He didn’t seem upset about the hotel bill.
His elegant dark brows drew together.  “I don’t recognize that word.” He said in a rich Irish brogue that tantalized her overworked senses.  
With supreme effort, she lifted her bandaged hand to imitate holding a cell phone to her head, the baby finger pointed at her mouth, thumb at her ear; something so simple, so universal, yet completely beyond these people. She pretended to push buttons on her bandaged palm with her forefinger, then held the imaginary phone up to her ear again, forcing out the word, “H--h-h-helloooo” while the trio peered at her in silence.
The old maid snorted like a worn out nag. “Keeps doing that, sir. I’m guessing the lass is all about in her head.”
“That will be enough.” The man chastened. “Take Maggie and be gone with you.”
“Yes, Milord.” The two females chimed, each bobbed a curtsy to him and then dutifully vacating the room. 
Tara gaped at him with confusion.  You must be kidding me?  Seriously--Milord?  What was this, an episode of Masterpiece Theater?
“Forgive Cora.” The enchanting stranger said. “Her tongue is as sharp as an adder’s. She means no disrespect to you or your kind.” He remained at the foot of the bed, observing her with a fascination she found thrilling and a little bit eerie.
My kind? What did that mean, precisely? Tourist? Grad Student? American?
Tara studied him. He looked like a movie star or a cover model for a romance novel; tall, muscular, with an aura of authority and determination. He had jet black hair that swirled about his head in lush waves like an elegant swathe. It was longer in the back, secured with a black bow, a queue, she realized, as the term came to her easily. Men wore longer hair tied back with black ribbons in the 18th century, she knew that, too, as if by rote.
Damn, where did all this knowledge come from, when she couldn’t even remember her own name or where she came from? Did she know this dude?
She gazed into his alluring, steel gray eyes. Nothing. Not a clue.
“I am Viscount Dillon. You may call me Adrian.” He sat down on the bed beside her as he said in a quiet, reverent tone, “I know you were sent to me by Tuath an Danaan. Our destinies are entwined. I am pleased to honor the old promise by sheltering you in my home and protecting you from the schemes of mortal men. And I am honored, Dear Tara, that you have agreed to come here to be my fairy bride.”

~ * ~


Lily Silver lives in Northeastern Wisconsin in a lovely old Victorian house with her husband, their German Shepherd and three charming cats. Lily studied history and humanistic studies at UW-Green Bay and has degrees in both disciplines. She loves to read historical romance, so it seemed only natural that she would turn to writing them. When not writing, Lily can be found in her art studio painting watercolors or behind a camera as she is an avid nature photographer.

Lily has published two full length historical fiction novels to date {Dark Hero: A Gothic Romance  & Some Enchanted Waltz; A Time Travel Romance) and one contemporary romance {The Rock Star Next Door}. She is currently working on the sequel to Dark Hero, Book Two of the Reluctant Heroes Series, Bright Scoundrel, which will be released in mid December.  Lily also has published a free historical/paranormal romance in serial form on her website. 

The Gypsy’s Curse can be found in weekly instalments at http://lilysilver.webs.com/

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** Competition is closed! **

Lily Silver would like to give away one digital copy of "Some Enchanted Waltz" to a lucky commenter. Yep, all you have to do to be in with a chance of winning a copy of her time travel romance is leave a comment with your email address, and on November 21st Lily will pick a winner. Good luck!


  1. Hi Lily,
    Your book sounds fascinating.
    I can't wait to see what happens next!

  2. Thanks Lynda,
    I'm glad you stopped by.

  3. I just finished Some Enchanted Waltz a few days ago and really enjoyed it!

  4. Oh, Thanks Stacey! Glad to hear you were pleasantly entertained. That's why we write, isn't it.

  5. I have to say this book sounds awesome, Lily. I am definitely adding it to my wishlist.

    Thanks for coming over and sharing an excerpt! :-)