Guest - Red L. Jameson

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Guest - Red L. Jameson

Good morning! Author Red L. Jameson has a great post on Time Travel for us. Which would you do? Go forward or backward? I skipped the answer altogether in my ALTERED DESTINY and went...sideways though the heroine didn't realize that at first. Time is a great tool for us writers. 


Time Travelers
By Red L. Jameson

Time travel . . . we’ve been telling stories about it for a long, long time. As soon as we began to film movies and television shows, we’ve been interested in wanting to know more about the past and the future. The longest running science-fiction TV show is Doctor Who, which is also based upon time travel. And it’s understood why time travel is so fascinating. When glimpsing into our shared human past, who among us hasn’t wondered what it would be like back then? When contemplating the future, we all wonder what will be in store for us. Even in our minds, meditation experts encourage us to think of only the present moment. Why? Because our minds run amuck with thoughts of what we just did or what we’re supposed to be doing. We can’t help but think of the past and future and often have a hard time paying attention to what’s right in front of us.

You know what? I think it’s perfectly okay to contemplate about our future and our past. And I’m not just saying that because I’m an historian. Nor am I saying that because I’m a writer of time travel. I think in order to make better decisions now, we often need to look back, think of what we did and either replicate it, if we were successful, or try to avoid the same problem. Also, when I need to make a really big decision, I often wonder what the me ten years from now would do. So, looking ahead and behind can be greatly beneficial on a personal level.

But on a grander level . . . have you ever thought about going back in time? Did you know in 1901 two academics were at the Palace of Versailles when they thought they saw Queen Marie Antoinette and her attendants? The two academics did not think they saw ghosts. They wondered if they had slipped back in time. They knew intimate details about the former queen that only someone who had been there would know. Okay. Okay. You probably noticed that the women were academics? Yes, they were well-researched historians. They probably knew well the details of the former queen and wrote about it in a way that would attract more attention to their recently published book. But have you seen the Charlie Chaplin movie, The Circus, made in 1928? You should check it out for the woman who walks by a zebra, appearing to be talking on a cell phone. It’s not the best of footage, and maybe she’s not really holding a cell phone. However, you should definitely watch a documentary about factory workers from Massachusetts in 1938. Again, a woman walks through the crowd, holding, what looks like, a cell phone. (I’ll leave the link below.) This one freaked me out, because she really is holding something to her ear that looks like a modern-day cell phone.

Or maybe you want to see the future? In 1935 a British wing commander flew around a cow field turned airstrip over Drem, Scotland. Upon first inspection, it was vacant and obviously still needing construction. A rainstorm hampered the commander’s plans to return home, but upon flying over Drem again, he saw that the airstrip was sunny, finished, and had airplanes the likes he’d never seen before. Four years later, the Royal Air Force began making planes exactly like what that commander had seen.  

Spooked yet? I know I was when I’d discovered an odd article documenting cell phones in the past—way past, as in there was no such thing at that time. In my Glimpse Time-Travel Series, I have muses and special cell phones helping the mortals shuttled through time. And I couldn’t help but wonder, especially as I saw a 1938 woman appear to hold a cell phone, what if the muses I’m writing about aren’t so . . . imaginary?

(Here’s the link for more about time travel happening all around us )

I’d love to know what your favorite era might be? Do you want to go back in time? Or maybe fly to the future?
Thank you so much for having me on your blog, Lynda! Wishing everyone a great day!

Highlander of Mine

Book Two of the Glimpse Time Travel Series

Trickster muse sisters, Clio and Erato, kidnap genealogist Fleur Anpao and dump her in the seventeenth century. Even though Fleur has never been to Scotland, let alone the Highlands, and feels like a modern-day fish out of an ancient loch, the muses have a plan. What it is remains to be ambiguous—they are mischievous muses, after all, and can’t just tell her. Though the logical genealogist wants nothing more than to return home, there’s something about this time and rough land that feels somehow familiar. And there’s something about Duncan MacKay—so strong, so brutally handsome, and so distracting.

As a mercenary for long years, Duncan has seen many things. But never in his life has he seen the likes of Fleur: more beautiful than any woman he could have imagined. It doesn’t matter she insists she’s from another time, or that she’s too far out of reach for a common man like him. He’s drawn to her intelligence and wicked sense of humor. However, Cromwell’s reign threatens anarchy, clan rivalries reach a peak, and a laird’s younger brother vies for her attention. He can hardly protect her from his county’s bedlam, let alone convince her he’s the better man. And if he does, will the bonny time traveler stay with him?

Making matters worse, a god wreaks havoc, or has fun as he calls it, with Clio and Erato’s mortals. The two firecracker time stewards might have to set down their margaritas for this glimpse!

Looking over his shoulder, he saw the crowd of recruits still far off.
Laird MacKay had asked for Duncan by name to help train the new troops, since the laird’s brother, Rory, was new to the captaincy. New to military life in general. Duncan had been the obvious choice because he’d been a soldier then a soldier of fortune, for a decade and a-half. And now was the time when Himself needed soldiers. Ah, hell, was there ever a time when soldiers wouldn’t be needed? After Cromwell had burnt through Scotland, the chiefs and lairds kept speaking of revenge. Reciprocity, they’d said. What the hell did they know if they hadn’t lost one of their own, say, a younger brother with sparkling mischievous green eyes? 
Jesus Christ, what was wrong with him for thinking such things again?
He shook his head, startled upon seeing orange flames from the corner of his eye. After a second look, he realized he was standing less than ten feet from a small fire right at the entrance of the cave, wondering how he couldn’t have seen it when he first arrived. But it was the sight beyond the sparks that entranced him, sitting so still he thought mayhap she was a statue. But eventually one side of her full pink lips curled up in a . . . Jesus, what a smile.
“Hi,” she said. Her voice was melodious and fluid, as if she’d just woken.
It seemed to take him an eternity, but finally he said, “Hello.”
“It’s probably illegal to have this fire, huh?”
Fire? What fire? All he could do was stare at her. He’d never seen a woman so beautiful in all his life. She was dressed in black, yet nothing like he’d ever seen before. But she—her—Lord Almighty, from her blackest black hair to her tiny nose and those full pink lips, she was wildly exotic. Her eyes shone back at him, sparkling like onyx. As much as she wore black, even her dark coloring, she glowed as if she were made from heaven’s own light.
Mayhap she was an angel.
“Am I in big trouble for the fire?”
He had to shake himself to gain access to some part of his mind that could function and speak.
“Nay.” Brilliant. He sounded just this side of idiotic.
God, then she did it again. She smiled. It widened and brightened, and Duncan felt his solar plexus explode with something he’d thought long dead.
“You seem . . . cold. Want to join me?”
Before he could even think, he was walking toward her. He sat right beside her too, not even a thought about circumstances or consequences, just staring. Couldn’t be helped. Couldn’t stop himself if he’d wanted to. And, oh, how he didn’t want to.
She kept her eyes on him, her smile shifting to warm and welcoming. For a long moment she searched his face, then glanced about his linen shirt. He’d forgotten he was drenched. With a quick glance, he noticed his goose bumps and nipples peaking out from his nearly translucent white shirt. He may as well have been naked from the waist up. Thank the Lord, his brown, heavy plaid was thick and didn’t reveal as much. That was when he realized he sat cross-legged, as she did. Oh, her legs. Yet again he couldn’t stop from staring at her long limbs, clad in black shiny trews that left precious little to the imagination.
“I’m Fleur. Fleur Anpoa.”
Pretty name. He almost let the words trip out of his mouth, as though he was a bumbling lad. “Duncan,” was all he could stammer. Aye, that was much better.
“You live around here, Duncan?” Her accent was lovely—definitely not Scottish, from the Highlands or the Low, but not quite English either.
“Aye.” Damn it all, say something more. Helpless, he gazed at her, while she looked deeply into his eyes.
She smiled widely and arched a perfect black brow. “Not a man of many words, hmm?”
Well, if she were in his head, and already he knew a part of her was, then she would know his mind was amuck with too many words, too many . . . feelings. No, that wasn’t quite right. Of his sentiments he felt only two—curiosity, and an animalistic sense he knew only during battle. But this—this was different. This wasn’t mere desire, for he knew what that felt like. This other feeling was magnetic and too powerful for him to make much sense of. All he knew was he wanted to sit with her for the next eon or so.

Where you can find Highlander of Mine:
Barnes & Noble – 
And other retail book sellers

Bio for Red:

As a military historian by day, sometimes Red does feel a bit clandestine when she writes romance at night. No one knows that while she researches heroes of the past and present, she uses everything for her characters in her books. Her secret's been safe . . . until now.

She lives in Montana with her family and far too many animals but never enough books.

She loves her readers, so please feel free to contact her at

You can find Red L. Jameson at . . .
Amazon Author Page:

Lynda Again --

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Have a Blessed day!

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