by Libby Drew
Paradox Lost
By Libby Drew
Time-travel tour guide Reegan McNamara’s job—taking eager tourists to whenever they want to go—is usually a breeze. A trip back to 2020 to watch a world-changing speech seems no different, until a woman runs away from his tour group before the jump home. Now her tycoon husband is demanding her safe return—or Reegan will lose more than just his job.
P.I. Saul Kildare’s business is running on borrowed time. Due to a messy break with the police, he can’t get a referral to save his life. When an enigmatic stranger bangs on his door one night and promises a windfall for a missing-person case, it seems too good to be true. But the two men have an immediate connection, and Saul can’t pass up the chance to spend more time with Reegan, even if he’s clearly hiding something.
Saul knows he shouldn’t trust Reegan, and Reegan knows he can’t get involved with Saul. But as their attraction evolves into feelings neither can deny, will they have the strength to take a leap of faith—together?
84,000 words
Dear Reader,
Happy 2014! You know, I love futuristic romance, and I swear it wasn’t that long ago that I was reading books in the genre that used years like 2014 and 2015 to indicate a time that seemed really far out. Of course, I suppose I’ll be saying something similar twenty years from now, when it’s 2035. (And isn’t that a weird thought?) As it happens, in the lineup this month we have both a futuristic romance and a hero who travels from the future, and both give a unique look into a future that’s actually a little further out.
I love the premise of Libby Drew’s time-travel male/male romance, Paradox Lost, in which a time-travel guide who takes clients to “whenever” must travel back to 2020 and enlist the aid of a PI to find a missing client. And in PJ Schnyder’s Fighting Kat, Kat and Rygard go deep undercover, posing as gladiators. In the interstellar arena, it’s all about who’s the strongest predator…
I mentioned futuristic romance, but how about a trip to the past in Jeannie Ruesch’s historical romantic suspense, Cloaked in Danger. Aria Whitney’s life has taken her from the sands of Egypt to the ballrooms of London, but when her father goes missing, can the handsome earl with a dark secret help her find him, or will a dangerous scandal threaten both their lives?
In Mistress by Magick, Laura Navarre concludes her fallen angel Magick Trilogy, a riveting historical fantasy romance trilogy set in Tudor times. Also wrapping up a trilogy this month is Fiona Lowe. In Runaway Groom, the third book in the Wedding Fever trilogy, can a Harley-riding Aussie guy on the road trip of his life allow an uptight and disgraced lawyer to steal his heart? The first two books, Saved by the Bride and Picture Perfect Wedding, are now available, as well.
Debut author Anna Richland delivers First to Burn, the first book in her Immortal Vikings series with a hero straight from the time of Beowulf. Wulf Wardsen is an elite soldier whose very existence breaks all the rules—and he’s deep in the military zone of Afghanistan with an army doctor determined to do everything by the book. Meanwhile, Cindy Spencer Pape brings back her very popular steampunk romance series, The Gaslight Chronicles, with the latest installment, Ashes & Alchemy.
This January, Heather Long delivers the start of a new series of contemporary romances. If you like your romance a little on the crazy, cracktastic side, this book is sure to please. Cinderella had her fairy godmother and Princess Mia had her grandmother, but Alyx—she gets a software magnate who knows that in his world, Some Like It Royal. And speaking of cracktastic, Kelsey Browning has another installment in her steamy Texas Nights series. Roxanne Eberly wants nothing more than to make her lingerie store a success. Enter up-and-coming attorney Jamie Wright, who’s all tangled up in Roxanne’s life…and her lingerie…in Running the Red Light. If you want to start from the beginning, pick up Personal Assets!
Mystery fans will be glad to welcome another installment from Jean Harrington in her Murders by Design series. In Rooms to Die For, when interior designer Deva Dunne finds a body hanging from a balcony in the gorgeous Naples Design Mall, she soon learns she’s caught up in a mall drug bust gone viral.
We’re thrilled to offer a large lineup of debut authors this month, in addition to Anna Richland. Joining us with books in the new-adult, erotic romance and contemporary genres are a new group of incredibly talented authors we’re proud to welcome to Carina Press. Elia Winters debuts with erotic romance Purely Professional. When a journalist explores the submissive side of her sexuality with her Dominant neighbor, she must confront what these encounters mean for her own sexual identity, her career and her budding relationship.
Three debut authors bring new-adult offerings to Carina Press. Danube Adele proves the new-adult genre is more than just contemporary romance in Quicksilver Dreams. One moment Taylor was just a regular girl working two jobs to pay her bills, and the next, she was reading minds, dreamwalking and being saved from bad guys by her sexy neighbor, Ryder Langston. In Tell Me When by Stina Lindenblatt, college freshman Amber Scott begrudgingly lets Marcus Reid into her life, but she didn’t expect the king of hookups would share his painful past. And Kristine Wyllys brings us the first of two steamy, dark-edged stories full of action, vivid storytelling and emotional intensity. Don’t miss Wild Ones.
Our last debut author, Rhonda Shaw, caught me by surprise with her book, The Changeup. People who know my sports tastes know I don’t normally go in for baseball. And those who know my reading tastes know I don’t usually go for an older heroine/younger man set-up. But Rhonda’s story hooked me from the start and I’m pleased to be releasing her first book this month. I hope you enjoy this contemporary sports romance as much as I did, and perhaps find a new book boyfriend in sweet and sexy pitching phenom Chase Patton!
I’m not one for making New Year’s resolutions, but I will make one—we’ll continue to strive to bring you a variety of fantastic books from authors who deliver stories that you’ll want to talk about. Thank you for joining us for another year of publishing at Carina Press—we’ll do our absolute best to make it an amazing one!
We love to hear from readers, and you can email us your thoughts, comments and questions to [email protected]. You can also interact with Carina Press staff and authors on our blog, Twitter stream and Facebook fan page.
Happy reading!
~Angela James
Executive Editor, Carina Press
www.carinapress.com
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Dedication
To the beloved librarians of my childhood.
One believed the only useless books were those that
were never written.
Another assured me anything is possible if
I want it to be.
Thank you for teaching me to think for myself.
Acknowledgments
Heartfelt gratitude to my editor, Deb Nemeth, as always, for her invaluable advice, and this time in particular for her patience.
I must also express my thanks to Saritza Hernandez, whose skill set goes far beyond that of a mild-mannered literary agent. I’m beginning to suspect she might be a superhero in disguise.
And heaps of love to Betsy, whose feedback and support kept me going during dark times.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Fi
ve
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
About the Author
Copyright
Chapter One
The two-way mirror separated them by a mere six inches.
Reegan watched the woman apply a layer of dusky mauve gloss, blot her lips on a wadded-up tissue, then bare her teeth like a horse while she hitched up her stockings one-handed. Her nails were perfectly rounded with a bright red poly-sheen, a two-hundred dollar manicure, though the tips looked gnawed. And nobody’s skin glowed like that unless they enjoyed weekly skin tox-cleanses. Those cost a pretty penny too. Double if a gal had a thing for moon-mud over the regular earthbound kind.
His gaze dropped to her feet. The ugly brown pumps looked brand new. Not a scuff to be seen. Too bad they were two sizes too big. She swam in the suit jacket, too, the sleeves brushing her knuckles. Some getup. She looked like a homeless Barbie doll. He’d seen better disguises on paparazzi-dodging celebrities. “What’s with the rich blonde trying to look like a suburban housewife?” he asked over his shoulder.
Maxie gnawed on the end of his Cuban cigar. “Which rich blonde?” He peered around Reegan in time to catch the woman reposition her left breast inside her push-up bra. He snapped his tobacco stained fingers. “If that bitch has money, then I’m the President.”
“You are the president.”
“Of the country, smart-ass.” Maxie returned to his masticated cigar and the stack of wrinkled applications on his desk. “You’ve got fifteen tourists on this jaunt. And before you start complaining, remember you need to be kissing my ass for the next five hundred years if you want to keep this job.”
“I remember,” Reegan said to the plate glass. The lady stared back, and even though she was only seeing her own reflection, the directness unnerved him. He took note of the dilated eyes and quivering chin. She looked scared. And very familiar. He peered closely at her face, waiting for his memory to cough up her name. He knew this woman from somewhere. The spell broke as she flipped back her full, ruffled sleeves and covered her eyes. Suddenly, she was a stranger. Just another tourist nervous about the jaunt. Her shoulders lifted on a sigh he couldn’t hear, and she tried smiling into the mirror, pink lips stretching back over perfect teeth. Reegan shook his head.
“You listening?” Maxie thumped a fist on the stack of paper. “I’m not going over this twice.”
“Have you ever needed to go over anything twice with me before?” Reegan turned away from the window when the woman did. She joined the other tourists waiting, and he collapsed into the rickety chair in front of Maxie’s desk.
Maxie’s watery eyes drifted over Reegan’s threadbare khaki pants and dusty boots. “Can’t you dress like a professional for once?”
“A professional what?”
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about.” Maxie stabbed the limp cigar in Reegan’s face, then dropped it in the shallow glass bowl next to his coffee mug. Sludgy black stains obscured most of the red letters, so that Blast in the Past Tours looked like baby gibberish. “You’re out there representing this company, McNamara. These are classy people. They expect class, especially with the price they’re paying. Not a guide who looks like he’s taking them on an African safari.”
“It’s early twenty-first-century America. African safari isn’t a stretch.” He jabbed a thumb toward the two-way mirror over his shoulder. “Look at these people, Maxie. They could travel to any point in the past. There are a million other more interesting jaunts in the guidebook. Instead, they decide they need to see this? A presidential speech.”
“Not just any presidential speech. The Jabalia Accord. A peace treaty that’s still in effect today. Crank McAfee’s got the highest approval ratings of any president before or since. People love him. Hell, he’s a hero.”
Maxie wasn’t telling Reegan anything he didn’t know. Crank had been Reegan’s hero since learning about him in the third grade. And now, instead of being able to enjoy the jaunt, he’d be babysitting tourists. Damn them all. “It’s a pathetic choice to spend funds on.”
“If it’s so pathetic, why’d you volunteer?” Maxie’s beady eyes bore into his. “This is good stuff. It sells tours. What’s your problem? You’re supposed to be the intellectual here. The one who turns his nose up at the adventure packages. Why are you hating on the pretentious snobs all of a sudden?”
Denying it would mean enduring a lecture on personal gain versus the fiscal needs of the company. Maxie loved the speech. Reegan bet he recited it to his dogs.
Reegan didn’t hate the snobs. But when he’d submitted the proposal for this jaunt, he was thinking he’d get a half a dozen takers, leaving him with plenty of opportunity to soak up the experience for himself. Instead the website had been flooded by a wave of interested political history buffs. Maxie could talk about haters all day, but leaving Reegan to keep track of fifteen tourists in a crowd of almost two million took vindictiveness to a new level.
Blast in the Past Time Travel Tours was top dog in D.C. because Reegan and Maxie made a good team, despite their personal differences. Maxie was a master on the operations side. Reegan brought education and experience to the mix. He knew the city’s history. He’d been told he had a nice smile, a distinctive voice. Infusing a tour with unique details was his specialty.
His stint at Blast in the Past had turned him into a star, in time-loop travel circles anyway. Though the outfit’s success boiled down to something far more basic than celebrated Lead Guide and savvy CEO. Reegan played the whore and Maxie pimped him out. Like a Hollywood marriage, it had worked only so long.
“Fifteen is too many to keep track of in a crowd the size we’re walking into, and you know it.” Reegan twisted around, craning his neck for a view of the jaunt room. “Can I put them on leashes?”
“I don’t care. Use handcuffs. Charm them with your witty jokes. Fuck anyone over the age of eighteen. Who gives a shit? Just bring them back happy.” Maxie stood, hefting his stomach onto the desk in order to lean into Reegan’s space. “And safe.”
Reegan swallowed an animalistic urge to bite Maxie’s nose off his fleshy face. “You got it, boss.”
“If I lose any more money, you’re finished. It doesn’t even have to be your fault. It could be the janitor’s fault. It could be my goddamn goldfish. Whatever. If our balance sheet takes another hit this year, you’ll be back to recording history lessons for the cyberschools. Talking about this shit instead of seeing it. Capiche?”
Reegan eyed the fish circling the tank on Maxie’s desk. “How could I forget? You remind me often enough.”
The chair creaked as Maxie leaned back, linking his fingers behind his head. “So I’m being a prick. Can you blame me?”
No. One moment of inattention had cost them a half-year’s profit and a decade of friendship. That was what Reegan told himself, although the truth was more complex. He’d been slacking off. Not doing his job, and in this business that couldn’t happen. “I can blame you for bringing it up ten times a day.”
“I don’t want another lawsuit because one of our trips ended up ruining someone’s life.”
It’d been a Civil War jaunt. Supposedly safe. By the time Reegan had noticed the girl missing, the damage had been done. Even modern medical technology couldn’t completely erase the scarring caused by the shrapnel. Her screams haunted his dreams. Firing up the portal still brought on a bout of nausea, even a year later.
He’d refused to lead wartime
jaunts after that. Historian, his degree said. Not soldier. Not hero. It might as well have said incompetent recreant. Which was why, in the great tradition of all cowards, he’d never taken public responsibility for the incident.
Maxie’s lawyers had insisted on that detail. Something about liability clauses. Reegan didn’t know anything about the law. He’d been hired to handle the people, at least in theory.
Grimacing, he scratched his stubbled cheeks. “I’ll get them back safe. All fifteen.”
Maxie scooped up his soggy cigar. “Music to my ears.”
*
Reegan stood outside the jaunt room, forehead pressed to the door. Losing his job might not kill him, but it would lead to thoughts of high places and long drops.
They made jokes around the place about the time-travel junkies. The ones who sold their possessions and themselves in order to finance trips into the past. Reegan was no better. He’d tasted—he’d feasted for nine years—and now he couldn’t go without. If it meant kissing Maxie’s shoes, or blowing him in the john, Reegan knew he’d do it. The thought didn’t crush his self-esteem in the slightest. The mighty really had fallen.
He pushed through the door into the jaunt room, wrinkling his nose at the stagnant air. Fifteen bodies tipped it from cozy to stifling. In contrast to the sleek, lily-white rooms most travel companies used, the jaunt rooms at Blast in the Past boasted faded Oriental rugs, real wood furniture polished to gleaming brightness, and several overstuffed black leather sofas. A wet bar complete with crystal decanters drew Reegan’s eye. It always paid to know which people in the group were going to puke after the jaunt. Four men stood around it now, each nursing tumblers of amber liquid.