Monday, January 30, 2012

Celebrating ONCE AGAIN a new YA release by Amy Durham

  We're celebrating today with YA author Amy Durham on her release Once Again (the Sky Cove Series).

Amy, I’m so thrilled to have you on my blog today. And tickled to be one of your first blog interviews to publicize your first Young Adult release :

With the book's release and another book started in the series, how does it feel to see Once Again on the cyber shelves of  Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and Smashwords ?

It’s really kind of surreal. I’ve been writing and pursuing this for almost 9 years, and at times it seemed like it would never happen.  Actually seeing my book and my name on the “cyber shelves” is crazy exciting! Also very exciting is the support and enthusiasm of my friends and family. So many of them have congratulated me, helped spread the word, and even bought the book. Those people… like YOU… who’ve helped make this dream a reality… I’ll never be able to say “thank you” adequately.

Please share the blurb with us so other readers can get a feel for what the book is about.

Reincarnation sucks! Unless it comes with a cute guy. That’s what sixteen year-old Layla Bradford discovers when she moves to Sky Cove, Maine, a small-town she thought was ordinary, but turns out to be an episode of “Cold Case” on steroids.

Layla doesn’t want to fit in; she wants to blend in and stay out of the spotlight. But the spotlight is where she winds up when she catches the eye of school cross-country star and all-around-nice-guy Lucas Ellis. She quickly learns there’s more at stake than high school reputations when she and Lucas discover they are the reincarnations of a young married couple from the mid-1800s who suffered a horrible tragedy at the hands of a madman who was never brought to justice. After a series of frightening visions show Layla and Lucas glimpses of their past-lives, they realize that the villain of their previous existence has also been reincarnated, in the form of a fellow high school student who targets them with teenage pranks that soon turn dangerous. As they grow closer, will Layla and Lucas be able to uncover the truth in time to stop the same tragedy from unfolding once again?

Tell us a little about your journey from Music Teacher to Published Author.

I’ve wanted to be a writer since I was 11, even before I discovered my musical abilities. Even though I studied music in college and went on to become a music teacher, I never stopped wanting to write, and in the back of my mind was always the thought that “someday” I would do it. When I was 29, just before my second child was born, I decided that if I kept saying “someday”, it was never going to happen. So, I joined a writer’s organization, began networking with other authors, and most importantly, really studying and learning about the craft of writing fiction.  That was almost 9 years ago, and while I’m still a music teacher, it’s very cool to be able to add “published author” to the list of hats I wear!

What has been your biggest challenge writing?

Making time for writing is always a challenge, since I have a full-time job and a family of 5!  But I’ve learned that I can always find the time, because writing is important to me. Fortunately, my husband and my three boys are supportive and understanding, and if I need some quiet moments, they don’t blink if I hide in the bedroom or plug in my headphones and turn the music up!

Having already read Once Again I’m waiting impatiently for the next book. Do you want to share just a hint about where the other books of the Sky Cove Series is going from here? 

The next book is titled Once and For All.  It follows two secondary characters from Once Again, as they encounter their own reincarnation mystery. These two characters not only deal with the drama and danger of their reincarnation, but also an ancient curse that has never been broken.

I know you have your own blog and I know the readers here will be interested in that. Please share links to your blog and website if you’d like. I’m sure the readers will want to keep tabs on what you’re up to and when the next book will be released.

Absolutely! I love connecting with readers and book-enthusiasts!  You can find me online at the following places:

Twitter: @Amy_Durham

Feel free to stop by and strike up a conversation!

Thanks Teresa, for having me here today, and for being one of my biggest “cheerleaders”!

You're completely welcome. I am thrilled to have you. I'm looking forward to hearing big things from the book and the others in your series!!

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Timeless by Teresa J. Reasor Excerpt 6


This is the 6th excerpt from the book. I'm still waiting for my proof, I hope to get it tomorrow!!
Read on,
Teresa J. Reasor

The deeper she drew Regan into the trance, the tighter Quinn’s shoulder muscles knotted. The depth of her trance during her first dive in Loch Maree had been life threatening. What if she should go so deep the hypnotist couldn’t bring her back? Was that possible? God, why hadn’t they discussed this more?

“Your eye lids are growing heavy, so heavy you can’t keep them open. So heavy you have to let them close.”

Regan’s dark lashes fluttered then lay still against her cheeks. Her breathing appeared shallow, and her skin pale against the darkness of her hair and brows.

An air current circulated around the room, cool and moist, and with it the scent of herbs, sage and rosemary. Dr. Reinhart frowned and glanced in Quinn’s direction.

Chill bumps rose on Quinn’s forearms. His heart began to pound against his ribs. There was more than hypnosis at work in the room. He swallowed back his anxiety. “Ask Regan the questions she gave you.”

“But I haven’t taken her back, yet.”


Quinn jerked in surprise at the sound of a woman’s voice interrupting their conversation. It was Regan speaking, but her vocal tone sounded huskier, and she’d rolled the R in a brogue she didn’t speak.

Dr. Reinhart’s gasp jerked Quinn’s attention to Regan’s face.

Her eyes were open, the irises no longer dark blue but a blue-green in color. Was that a trick of the candlelight? She focused on him with such intensity it sent a chill coursing down his body.

She spoke in a rush. The Gaelic syntax she used fell on his ears like strange familiar music. She repeated the question and he captured the rhythm of her words.

“Braden how is it you are here?” she asked.

Though he had spoken Gaelic all his life, the unusual cadence of her words gave him pause. Would his grasp of the language be up to the task? He drew a deep breath. He’d been a part of Braden, was a part of the man. He knew how he felt and thought. His familiarity through his dreams would help him. He could do this. “To see you, Coira, and to ask you some questions.”

“Of what would you ask me?”

“Are you well?”


“And the bairn?”

Her smile sprang free radiant with joy. Though Regan never touched her stomach, she moved her hand as though to caress a rounded tummy. “Aye, the babe is growing.”

“When do you expect him, Coira?”

“You know ’tis due the first of November.”

So he had been right. They still had time.

“What the hell is going on here?” Dr. Reinhart asked. Her features, powder pale, appeared stiff with control. A twitch worried one eye. The cool, moist air looped around the room, brushed her hair, and caused it to move against her cheek like tiny fingers. She jerked and pushed it aside. Her expression tightened with anxiety as her gaze darted around the room.

Quinn waved, motioning for her to keep her voice down. “You said you didn’t believe in past lives, but Regan has one. That’s what’s going on here. Part of that life is in the room with us.”

Her features stiffened. “That’s impossible.”

“It isn’t.” Quinn turned back to Regan. “How long have I been away?”

“Five full moons have passed since you left. I am so pleased to see you. You are well?” She reached for him and Quinn shifted his chair close to hold her hands. How would Braden greet her after so long a time apart? He bent his head to kiss her hands.

“Aye, I am well. But I have dreamed of you and the babe often. One dream disturbed me. When your time comes, if I am not there, I dinna wish you to allow Nathrach or Ross to be alone with the bairn. Keep the midwife close to you and the babe.”

Her features settled into solemn lines. “Has my gift become a part of yours, Braden?”

So Braden too had a gift. “Aye, mayhap a wee bit.” The trust, the love he read in her expression tweaked his guilt. “’Tis truly afraid for you I am, Coira. And the bairn.”

“Aye, I can see that. What place is this? Where are we?” she asked looking about. “This is a dream, is it not?”

“Aye ‘tis a dream. And ’tis a grand house. But the place doesn’t matter. The future is what is important. Your future and the babe’s.”

“Have you become a wizard now? A soothsayer of what is to come?”

“Aye, in this I have.” He paused. “The stones will play a part in that, too.”

“As we have both known they would.” Acceptance and grief flickered across her face.

“We dinna have to accept it, Coira. There are actions we may take to prevent what is to come. You can go away from the area until I return.”

“Would you have me return to Uist after all that happened there?”

Quinn revisited dream images of force fires and threats breathed against her. Were those from Uist? “No. Is there not some place you can be safe, Coira?”

“Only within the circle. The others are afraid of the power there.”

“But not Ross.”

“Nay, he is not afraid. Of late he has been more open to the ways of the old ones.”

Her tone triggered an urgent protective need. If they were to save the bairn she had to know she couldn’t trust him. “You must be wary of him. Keep yourself and the bairn safe at all costs, Coira. Trust no one.”

I'd love for you to comment.
Teresa R.

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Timeless 5th Excerpt


Here's the 5th installment from Timeless.  Hope you enjoy it.  Please leave a comment and let me know what you think.

The guard shack was actually a small building set above the site. Lights shined out the two windows on the eastern face of the structure. Regan stopped as she spied Kennedy sitting in a chair before a desk reading a book.
“Well that’s a relief,” she said on a sigh as the tight band of anxiety tying her stomach into knots released.
“Let’s leave him to his book and go back and open the wine.”
“Or we could go down and see what effect, if any, the lightning had on the monoliths. The strikes have to screw with the magnetic field of the stones?”
“Have you not tested it yet?” he asked, his tone laced with surprised.
“They’ve kept me busy analyzing the data from our dive and helping in the preservation lab for the last few days.” It had more to do with liability for her injury than the need for her help in those areas.
“We could go down and see if they register any type of magnetic qualities now that the lightning has passed,” he suggested.
“We didn’t bring anything to test it with.”
Quinn withdrew a pocketknife from his jeans. “If they’re magnetic this will stick to the side of a stone. It won’t be scientific, but we’ll be able to tell if the lightning charge has had an effect.”
The crunch of the gravel beneath their feet had a soggy sound. The rain stopped as they reached the scaffolding and Regan lowered the umbrella and folded it into its compact form.
Quinn caught her hand as they strolled through the arch of the first monoliths. The air felt waterlogged, almost muggy, and smelt like the loch.
He paused by the second stone, the one that had received a direct strike, and touched it with his pocketknife. The metal adhered to the stone as though glued there.
“I’ll be damned.” He pulled free the blade and replaced it several times.
Curious to see if all the monoliths were affected or just a few, she tugged at his hand and they strolled around the henge in a counter clockwise direction. In a random pattern, they stopped at several stones to test them. Each showed the same magnetic ability.
“I’ve never seen anythin’ like this,” Quinn said.
“Neither have I.”
She paused before the stone she’d been working on before her dive. Hannah had finished removing the algae. The flashlight’s illumination made the hieroglyphs look as though they writhed upon the face of the stone.
“I haven’t looked at the markings up close. They appear alive somehow,” Quinn said as he rested his hand on the side of the stone and rubbed his fingers over it.
“Alive. That’s a good way to put it.” Regan touched one deep groove in the center of the monolith. Warmth seared her fingertips and the stone latched onto her skin with the ferocity of a hungry leech. A shudder, soul deep raced through her system as prickles of fear and power raced through her system.
“Quinn—“ His name was jerked from her, a plea and a warning. But it was too late.
Light blazed between the monoliths bathing Quinn’s tall form in fire. 

Teresa J. Reasor 

Monday, January 23, 2012

Excerpt 4 Timelss by Teresa J. Reasor

Timeless the print edition will be released in a few weeks.My Galley Proof is on its way!!! I'll post a picture when it gets here. Hope you enjoy this excerpt.
Teresa R.  

Regan retraced her steps and kneeled before the altar to run a quick questing touch over the base. A thin seam became evident four inches from the edge. She fluttered the bristles of her brush over it and a crack where the stones met became visible. It was constructed like a box, just as she had thought, not a single thick block of stone. Had it been built that way just to hold the weight of the top? Or was it a burial chamber for some important person? If they opened it, would they find Coira or Braden inside?

She pushed away the thought. The couple was too alive for her to think of them interned inside the altar. She began cleaning the face of the structure from the bottom up. Where normal Ogham was usually carved along the edge of a stone, these were incised into the face of the slab, just like the others. Who had done all this? It would have taken years of dedicated determination to cover each block with words in an obscure written language that spoke volumes but hid their true meaning.

“How does it work Coira?” she murmured as she cleaned away the brownish gray residue with circular swipes of the brush dipped in the soapy water. Sticking the brush into the bucket to soak, she wiped the residue away with a sponge. She removed her glove and ran her fingers over the grooves of the inscription that ran down the center of the stone.

Power. The word came to her like a whispered.

Fear wove through every fiber of her body, turning her muscles to sludge.  Dear God was she becoming unhinged like her mother had been? Was all this just in her mind. Tears burnt her eyes and she used her sleeve to cover her face blocking out the stone before her.

Her wrist ached. “It wasn’t all in her mind. The burn on her wrist was a real thing. Could someone’s mind cause a real physical injury?

She lowered her arm. It wasn’t just in her imagination or a figment of a mind suddenly demented.  This was real.  Every muscle tensed as she placed her hand on the stone again.


Her breath left her in a whoosh and her heart beat so hard it was almost painful.

Whose power? What kind of power?

The desire to run leapt through her driving her to her feet. Muscles, cramped from being in one position too long, protested.

Her attention swung toward the scaffold. Should she signal Hannah to get the boys to tow her back in?

A cluster of people stood on the scaffolding.  She recognized Dr. Fraser and his wife but the two men with them were too distant for her to identify. All four paused before the stone she had partially cleaned the day before. As she watched, Hannah pointed out to the altar. The group turned and one of the men stepped to the edge of the platform and shaded his eyes against the glare of the midday sun.

Dr. Fraser cupped his hands around his mouth and called to Regan. “Come in, Miss Stanhope. Mr. Nicodemus wishes to meet you.”

“Shit.” She raised her hand in a halfhearted wave. Leaving the bucket where she had placed it, she started the step, slide, rhythm that had gotten her out to the stone.

Six or seven steps away from the altar, the ground suddenly gave way, and she went knee deep into the mud. The surface she stood on felt spongy and unstable. A long drawn out creaking noise came from beneath her followed by a snap. She threw herself forward grappling at the muddy ground for a handhold. Water, brackish and cold folded around her and ran into the rubber waders, weighting her down, dragging her deeper. A cry of fear broke from her and she dug her fingers into the ground trying to hold on. A shout sounded from across the dig site. The rope around her waist tightened and yanked her grip free. She gasped one desperate breath as black water covered her head.

Sunday, January 22, 2012

Timeless Excerpt 3

Timeless will be available in print in a couple of weeks. It's a big book 610 pages.

Regan studied the two women from Ireland. They had naturally gravitated toward one another, both being from the Green Isle. As they greeted the rest of the group, their brogue fell on the ear with a softer music, but no less rich a cadence than the Scots one flying about the room. Regan nodded a greeting and glanced toward the small stage where the high clear notes of a flute captured her attention.
Surprised, her brows rose as she recognized Quinn Douglas. With his lids partially lowered over his green gaze and his lips pursed to blow into the instrument, there was a singular concentration on his face that brought a flutter to the pit of her stomach. A scruffy five o’clock shadow darkened his jaw and chin. His collar lay open leaving a dusting of dark chest hair visible along his collarbone. There was a raw, dark sexuality about the man that triggered an innate response inside her. Every time she looked at him, she felt hot and needy.
Was it only the lingering effects of the dream? Vision. How could she have dreamed about a man she had yet to meet? Having been intent on just surviving the afternoon before, her feelings had been pushed aside as the experience unfolded. Now, after having time to think about it, analyze it, her hands grew clammy, and her heart raced every time she allowed her mind to even tap the subject.
Was she growing as delusional as her real mother?  The drugs she’d been addicted to had caused her ranting and raving. Hadn’t it?
But what if the next time she physically touched the stones, something similar happened? What if it hadn’t been a dream? The idea clogged her throat with anxiety making it hard for her to breathe.
She was a scientist. It couldn’t be real. She’d had nitrogen induced hallucination. Her depth could have created the conditions conducive to the situation, or her gas mix may have been off. That’s all it had been. It had to be.
Applause drew her back to the present. Sheary nudged her arm and Regan turned her head to see the girl’s hazel eyes squinting with laughter. “Has the sight of all that manly muscle toying with his instrument put you into a sexual fantasy induced coma, Regan?”
She blinked and her eyes traveled from Sheary’s wide smile back to the stage, where Quinn was putting aside his flute, in a long case and joining his brothers at a table close by. The rest of the musicians, a trio with fiddle, keyboard, and guitar started another song. Lord, had she been staring at Quinn all this time?
“Actually, I believe between the three of them, there’s enough testosterone there to put us all under.” Helen winked at her. “Even the brother grim has something worthy of a few heart palpitations.”
“The brother grim?” Regan asked.
She leaned her arms on the table flashing a small bit of cleavage. “The oldest. Quinn. I’ve been here three days and never seen him smile. He’s always serious and all business. Now the two younger ones are open to a bit of fun. They bought us drinks the first night we arrived here.”
Regan folded a napkin to act as a coaster, salted it, and slid it beneath her glass. He had smiled at her that first morning they had spent together. And been angry and biting, as well. “Logan and Rob do seem a little more laid back.” But not much of a challenge. Regan shook her head at the thought. Since when had she needed any more challenges in her life than she already had? 

Hope you enjoyed the excerpt.  I'd love to hear your comments.
Teresa Reasor

Saturday, January 21, 2012

Timeless Excerpt 2

The is the second excerpt from Timeless.

Braden led her beneath the crossbar spanning a narrow path between two of the stones. Atop the limestone altar in the center of the site set her basket, the long stems of several plants sticking over the sides. The edge of her tartan shawl, bunched beside it, fluttered in the breeze. Braden paused in the shade of one of the slabs, a sudden wary tension in his stance.
Warm moist air looped around them. A prickling sensation fluttered over Coira’s skin as though a lightning strike had just dispersed. The smell of smoke lingered on the breeze. Braden’s grasp tightened upon her hand, holding her at his side.
More curious than alarmed, she ran a soothing hand down his arm. “Be at ease. There is nothing to fear in this place.”
She closed her eyes and embraced the power that lingered on the air like mist. Pulling away from Braden’s grasp, she walked clockwise along the edge of the circle. A low hum traveled through the bottoms of her feet to the top of her head, the vibration intensifying as she neared one particular stone. The Ogham designs carved into the pillar writhed black, against the reddish light the setting sun painted upon the slab’s surface.
The air grew still and weighted with moisture. She tasted it, like dew, on her tongue. Her skin grew damp. The sound of the wind, the movement of the trees, her own breathing, ceased. Her ears felt full as if she had climbed a tall peak and needed to swallow to clear them. What was about here?
“Coira—” Braden spoke behind her, his tone taut with wariness.
An area, head high, on the block wavered like something live wrestled within it. A bulge appeared pulsing, panting, as if the stone were giving birth. A shape thrust forward. Coira staggered back in surprise and fear, a startled cry torn from her.
Shoulders bowed, the figure stretched its neck back as though attempting to relieve the cramped pain of release. The head turned. A strange oval structure covering the top third of the face, a round disk covered the mouth with a black piece as thick as an eel attached to it. For a moment, the form retained the gray color of the limestone in which it was imbedded, and then the stone slid away like liquid leaving the flesh exposed. The features were feminine, her head, neck, and shoulders encased in something gray-black as a seal’s pelt. With a wiggle, and a sound like the release of suction, a single arm and hand flopped free reaching toward her.
The pale blue eyes that gazed at her from behind the strange mask reflected her same horror and fear. The wide cheek bones, the dark slash of her brows, the narrow bridge of her nose, mirrored hers in exact detail, and for a moment Coira thought she gazed at her own image.
With a twisting movement, the woman tried to break free of the stone, her chest heaving in and out as she attempted to breathe. Coira’s eyes stung with tears of pity. She could not stand aside and watch her die. She had to pull her free. Coira reached up to grasp the hand extended toward her.
“Nay!” Braden bellowed.
A current passed through Coira’s fingers and a force, invisible but strong, looped around her wrist like a rope and pulled. Fear lanced through her, bone deep. She braced her feet and leaned back, fighting against the power that sucked her forward against her will. As she looked up, the hand above her reached out like a black claw to grab her.

Hope you enjoyed the excerpt. I'd love to hear from you.
Teresa J. Reasor

Friday, January 20, 2012

Timeless Excerpt 1

For the next week I'll be posting excerpts from my latest release, Timeless. I hope you'll tune in each day and check them out.
The water made the structure appear to lean toward her. Dwarfed by the dam’s looming height, she struggled to suppress her cloying claustrophobia. She swung her dive light back and forth searching for any sign of Henry. The ground gave way to a long downward slope. She drifted, following the deep ruts cut into the bank.

At the sudden inexplicable increase in the water temperature, she hesitated. It didn’t feel like a natural current, but warmer, like a hot spring. Had the seal along the wrists and ankles of her dry suit broken, she would be experiencing the chill of the water, not a surge of warmth. For a moment, the circle of illumination her dive light provided seemed to expand as some of the sediment cleared. Worry brought a hollow emptiness to the pit of her stomach. Where was Henry?
She couldn’t search any longer. She’d secure an emergency line, release her buoy, and follow it up. And hope and pray Henry had already surfaced. She looked below for something on which to fasten her line.
Just beneath her, white PVC pipes delineated a grid around the site. Nearly all the squares blocked in showed signs of digging. In the center of the underwater dig, a long, rectangular object, gray-black in color, lay on its side in the mud. It appeared that the hieroglyphs marking the surface of those already recovered were absent on this one. That couldn’t be right.
Regan swam down and rested a gloved hand on the block. A cloud of sediment kicked up obscuring visibility, but the deep recessed edge of a design became evident beneath her fingertips. Her satisfied sound forced bubbles from her mouthpiece past her ear.
Water and mud sealed off the stones protected by the cofferdam above ground. And until the scaffolding was completed, she could only view them from a distance. But these she could touch. And what could it hurt?
Regan pulled loose her glove and tucked it beneath her weight belt. The water temperature seemed warmer than when she had entered the loch. The pitted surface of the rock felt slick and slimy.
The sensation of warmth intensified to a prickly static that tingled almost painfully against her bare skin. She tried to lift her hand and break the contact, but her palm felt welded to the top of the stone. Fear bit into her, sharp as an eel’s teeth. Pinpricks traveled, with liquid speed up her arm to her shoulder and across her chest. Was she having a heart attack? Was she experiencing an embolism?
Burning heat raced to the rest of her extremities. A current of power surged like electricity through her entire body. Energy hummed along her nerve endings like a dance of fire until it reached her groin. Regan groaned as an orgasm hit her with such intensity she bowed her back. Jets of sensation rolled outward from the very depths of her body. She remained locked to the stone, yet she was projected someplace else as well. In an instant, her consciousness splintered.

Thanks for reading!!!
Teresa Reasor

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Monumental Discovery Made in Scottish Loch


 Monumental Discovery Made in Scottish Loch
 Byline by Teresa J. Reasor

            Thousands of years ago great glaciers clawed their way across the northwest regions of Scotland before gasping their last shuddering breath near Inverness. Their agonizing journey gouged out a place of such raw powerful beauty it catches your breath and refuses to relinquish it. In the valley squeezed between rocky naked peaks lies Loch Maree.
            It is in the deep cold depths of the loch a discovery is made, a henge similar to the great monolithic circle on the Salisbury Plain. But unlike Stonehenge, these monoliths are etched with an ancient Celtic language called Ogham.
            Such a find draws the interest of billionaire Sebastian Nicodemus and for ten long years he urges the Scottish government to accept his patronage to uncover the stones and study them. Early in 2011 they decide to take him up on the offer. 
            Ill with pancreatic cancer, Nicodemus has researched the henge and discovered some obscure texts that hint at the healing power of the stones. Having exhausted the options of modern medicine and desperate to be cured, he pours his money into uncovering the henge and learning its secrets.
            A cofferdam is constructed to seal off the site and the water pumped out. The stone circle tastes the air for the first time in nearly seven hundred years. 
            Archaeologists from all over the world come to study its language, age and purpose.  It is here Regan Stanhope and six other brilliant archaeology students, chosen from a list of over two hundred, come to study and learn. 
             And others, like Quinn Douglas and his team of salty Saturation Divers, come to help reconstruct the site as it was three thousand years before.
            Thus begins the story of TIMELESS a Paranormal Romantic Suspense set in Loch Maree, Scotland in the year 2011.

Monday, January 9, 2012


January 13, 2012 my novel Timeless will be available on Amazon and at Barnes and Noble in e-book format.  I just wanted to share this with everyone.  This book has been a three year journey but it was worth it. I believe everyone will be as thrilled with the story as I am. I got to really stretch my creative muscles with this one.  It is a Paranormal Romantic Suspense.

Here's the blurb:
Archaeology student, Regan Stanhope, lands the chance of a lifetime when she’s chosen to work on a summer dig in Loch Maree, Scotland. The ancient monoliths hidden beneath the loch are the most important discovery since Stonehenge. And for seven hundred years, they have been waiting—for her.

Saturation diver Quinn Douglas is contracted to recover some of the megaliths from the loch’s bottom. The job will breathe life into the struggling salvage business he and his brothers are building. But from the moment he arrives, Quinn is plagued by dreams and feelings from a past he did not live. Or did he?

Regan and Quinn are drawn to each other as they research the monoliths and the reason behind their shared visions. But both sense something mystical at work, delving into their minds, manipulating their emotions. And when they finally discover the monoliths’ extraordinary secret, they know they must seal them away from those who are desperate to unlock their power. Even if it means remaining caught in a timeless struggle between the past and present forever.

I got so attached to the characters in this one, I cried for two days after finishing it.
Hope everyone who reads it feels the same.

Teresa Reasor