By now you should know that my next book, The Librarian, releases June 17th. I'm excited and eager to release this book to you all. I've been working on the idea for this book for going on three years now. The idea of this book came to me when I was at a book signing in northern New Jersey. There was something about the small book store that screamed, "Write a book about me!" On the drive home I concocted The Librarian. I knew exactly who the characters were and what their purpose would be, but what was hard was the timeline. I had to do a lot of research on Jack Ridgewell's era. That meant learning about Victorian era and how they did everything from eating, dating and dressing. Ultimately I am more than please with how the book turned out. I think you'll all fall in love with Jack and Emmeline; at least I hope so.
For now here is a small snippet from the book that I hope get's you wanting to read more.
xoxo,
Christy
The Librarian excerpt
© Christy Sloat
****
I spent the rest of the day filing paperwork for the funding
process and preparing to open the library doors on Monday morning. I told Rose
and Becca to spread the word. Tarryn had decided to move her smaller items in
already, and she was asleep by nine the same night. It didn’t seem strange to
me that I had a roommate; instead it made me feel comfortable. I never lived
alone before, and I would feel lonely otherwise. Tarryn was quiet, but I knew
in time she’d get used to me and I’d get used to her. We just needed to get to
know each other first.
Once I was done with the paperwork, I filed the books that
were left on the shelf from when Gram was still here. As I placed the classic
books on the correct shelves, I felt a longing to finish reading my mysterious
book in my nook.
So, instead of going to bed at a decent hour, I climbed into
my cozy space and picked the book back up. I didn’t open it right away. Instead
I inspected the outside for any sort of title. I found nothing of the sort. I
flipped to the title page once more, trying to find my place, and that’s when I
saw the word on the page. It was just a simple “The” typed out on the once
blank title page. I ran my finger across it and realized it was printed in ink
as if the press had done it. I was sure the night before it was blank, but then
again, I was sure my dream about being with a man was real. So I wasn’t really
a reliable source at the moment.
I found the spot where I ended with a dog-eared page. I
absolutely hated doing this to the book and didn’t remember it at all. I
usually had a nice bookmark, but this seemed to be the only thing to mark the
page before I had fallen asleep. Running my fingers across the crease at the
corner of the page, I settled back and started reading.
I woke up once again face down, this time I was in grass. I
blinked my eyes and felt the blades of grass tickling my nose and lips. I
pulled myself up and took a deep breath. I looked around and saw the fields
upon which I had dreamt of the night before. I was back in England. I was
dreaming the same dream. How odd.
There were times when
I had thought I had the same dream over and over again, to only find out that
it was my mind playing tricks on me. This was no mistake. I was, once again, in
the same place.
“Emmeline, are you all right?” I looked up and blocked the
sun from my eyes. The man from before was standing in front of me. “You … you disappeared.
It happened so fast that I fear I cannot explain to you how it happened. Now
you’re here once again.” He sounded really confused and, to put it lightly, so
was I.
This dream felt way too real. It was exactly like before. So
real and tangible that I couldn’t explain it even if I tried.
“I … I don’t know how I’m here again,” I mumbled.
He reached out to steady me as I swayed to the side. “You’ve
been gone for days. I worried I was going mad, that your presence was one of my
imaginings. I dared not to speak a word to anyone about it. I have to admit,
Emmeline, I’ve been going slightly crazed since I saw you last.”
His hair was disheveled and he had grown a slight beard that
only enhanced the sexiness of his strong jawline. His deep set blue-green eyes
looked weary, and for that I felt awful.
My sudden disappearance had made him fall apart, that was
apparent.
“I’ll tell you, I feel like I’m going crazy too. Trust me,”
I admitted. “Can we sit somewhere? Out of the sun?”
“Of course.”
He held my arm and led me to a tree in the center of the
field. Once underneath the large tree, I felt instantly better. I looked down
at my clothes and saw that I was, once again, in my own clothes. This time a
little better than before. I was wearing yoga pants and an old T-shirt.
“I can’t explain how or why I’m here. Hell, I don’t even
know your name, but I’m here again and I’m beginning to think that this isn’t a
dream. That I’m really here, with you,” I said as I touched his arm. “I’m not
from … here.”
I didn’t know how to explain it to him, but I did the best
any girl who was somehow traveling through time could. I didn’t have answers or
explanations, but I had a gut feeling.
“I’m from a different time as you. As you can tell by my
lovely clothing, I’m not from 1893.”
He placed his fingers
on my lips, stopping me, while shaking his head.
“This isn’t right, Emmeline. Trickery at a time like this
isn’t fair,” he said as he stood up fast. “I am leaving soon. I shall not have
you doing this to me.”
My mouth fell open in shock and I stood. “Do something to you? Listen here, buddy, I didn’t ask
for this. I sat down to read a book and then boom, I’m stuck in England with a stranger.”
I pointed at myself. “Look at me. Do I really look like I
belong here?”
He looked at my clothing and up to my hair, and I could see
his cheeks redden.
“You are dressed very indecent, I suppose. No woman I’ve
ever met wears trousers. Nor do they wear clothing that fitting.”
I laughed. He thought this
was indecent, he should see some of the dresses I had worn to parties. They
were nothing like the dresses he was used to seeing on a woman. We absolutely
didn’t dress ladylike anymore. My sexy little black dress that currently hung
in my closet would definitely shock some of the people of this era for sure.
“I don’t know why I’m here. I’m absolutely not trying to, I
don’t know, hurt you or anything. I don’t know how to go home.” I slumped back
against the tree. “I wish that I could prove to you that I’m not lying to you,
but I cannot. You’ll have to just believe me, I guess.” It was as simple as
that. He could either believe this bat-shit crazy explanation or not. One way
or another, I didn’t care. I just wanted to go home.
“I don’t know why, Emmeline, but I feel as if I should say
that I do believe you.” He ran a hand through his thick hair, mussing it up. “I
just don’t know how else to explain your abrupt presence. One minute you are
here and the next you’re disappearing into thin air. I read many books on
fiction, so I suppose it could be
true.”
“Well, I may know someone who knows something. She works for
the lucky bastard that owns that house,” I told him pointing to the house where
Nancy was the last time I saw her. She was probably cooking something again for
her master.
He smiled. “That house?”
“Yes. Her name is Nancy.”
“Ah. Nancy. And who is this Nancy woman you speak of?” He
continued to smile as if this was a joke, but I ignored it.
“She’s a cook. I met her on my last visit here,” I
explained. “She’s not the nicest person I’ve ever met, but I think she has some
answers.”
“I must argue that Miss Nancy is more than a cook. She’s
also the lady upon with which I trust my household while I’m gone. She’s more
of an aunt than a housekeeper,” he said as he took my hand in his. “It’s very
nice to finally introduce myself to you, Emmeline Bailey. I’m Jack Ridgewell or
you may just call me the lucky bastard.”
