Paula Quinn

of the year by RT Book Reviews and every one of her books from the Children of the Mist series have garnered Top Picks from RT Book Reviews. Check out her series, Hearts of the Highlands featuring the brave, romantic MacPhersons on Amazon now! Also, look for her new time-travel series Echoes In Time coming soon!

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Uncaged welcomes Paula Quinn

Welcome to Uncaged! Your latest novel, Echo of Roses releases in May and is the first in a series. Can you tell readers more about this book and the series in general?

I absolutely adored writing Echo of Roses. Some books just want to be written. You know what I mean? I found this picture some years ago of Travis Fimmel in armor. It was a movie promo. It looked ghostly and haunting and brought my muse to life. I fell in love with the photo. I even made it my home screen on my phone, and it’s still there after I finished his book. I called the character Nicholas. I knew he wasn’t a Highlander. His tale would be a time-travel romance, so he had to wait. And he did, for six years.

When I was finally given the opportunity to write my time-travel series, Echoes In Time, I was thrilled. Nicholas would finally have his story. When I looked at that picture I saw a fifteenth century knight being seen through the eyes twenty-first century woman. She’s called Kes, but Nicholas prefers to call her by her full name, which is Kestrel because it’s different and odd, like her. I knew their story would be fun to write, and it was. Their dialog was such a pleasure that I loved when they were together almost as much as they finally did. Their love happens in the time of England’s War of the Roses, between the two Plantagenet branches, the House of Lancaster and the House of York’s fight for the throne.

Here’s the blurb about the book, which I happen to love.

After receiving a dragon brooch from a distant great aunt, twenty-first century historian Kestrel Lancaster finds herself in fifteenth century England. Smack in the middle of a war. Like…in the middle of a blood and guts spewing, heads flying around her war. With six armored men riding toward her, bloody swords raised high in the air, horrified looks on their faces, there isn’t time to think. Only to scream. But like a dream, a dark knight rides into the fray and saves her from them all. When she realizes where and when she is, she doesn’t know whether to thank him for keeping her alive or curse him for it.

Sir Nicholas de Marre has seen many things in his years as military commander for the House of York, but he has never seen a woman appear right before his eyes—and in the middle of the battlefield. Without thinking, he kills the Lancaster bastards closing in on her. Thankfully for her he is able to fight with her deafening screams behind him. He saves her from certain death, not knowing if she is mad, or he is, and carries her to safety.

That’s his first mistake. The second is showing her mercy when he finds out she’s a Lancaster. But this odd woman who takes pictures with imaginary phones and teaches Cook to make cupcakes is easy to fall for, and before long, the heart of York’s champion is captured by a Lancaster.

England’s throne is about to change. The House of Tudor will reign, and the War of the Roses will finally be won with the intimacy of a kiss, the tenderness in a touch, and love that will echo through time.

The series is something I’ve always wanted to do. So far, there are three books in the series. Book 2 is Echoes of Abandon and book 3 is The Warrior’s Echo. They all feature different characters who will be transported to different centuries when they rub a brooch they inherit and speak the name Pendragon. Interwoven into the stories will be characters who will come together in the series finale, when the last hero will finally be found.

You have written too many books to mention, do you have a favorite character from your books?

I love all of them, but there are several who stand out. Callum MacGregor and his sister Maggie from Laird of the Mist, Ashton and his tiny friend, Shara from The Beloved…Oh gosh, nope! I love them all. They’re like my kids!

What are you working on next that you can tell us about?

I’m working on book 2 in the series, Echoes of Abandon. This time, we have a twenty-first century NYC detective sent back to eighteen century England, and the stately home of the Duke of Croydon and his beautiful daughter, who also happens to be a thief. Can I just say now that I just want to take this hero by the hair and kiss his throat! Ok, gather yourself.

What is the most difficult scene for you to write? What is the easiest?

Sex scenes are the most difficult—most of the time. The sex scenes in my dragon books were fun to write!

The easiest would have to be anything involving a lot of raw emotion. I love it.

What are you looking forward to doing when the pandemic is over that you haven’t been able to do?

Mostly, seeing my sister. I also love going to the movies, and out to eat in a restaurant, so that’s what I’m looking forward to doing.

What was the first book that made you laugh and/ or cry?

The Lions of Al-Rassan by Guy Gavriel Kay. I had to stop reading just to cry my eyes out. He’s also my favorite author :) Many books have made me laugh. Too many to name.

What are some things you like to do to relax when you aren’t writing or working?

I love to go to our neighborhood park. It’s gorgeous for a city park. Lots of trees. I love trees. I enjoy feeding the sparrows at said park, and enjoying a Starbucks iced coffee with my daughter or my brother. I’m a Bible reader and an art journeyer. Sometimes I combine the two.

If you could have one all-year season, which would it be and why?

Oh, Spring without a doubt! I love when the trees are green and the flowers are bursting with color. The weather is perfect too!

How many hours a day do you write? On average, how long does it take to write a full novel?

It depends on the day. Some days I write long than others. Usually, I start at 9:30am, take an hour for lunch, then back from 3 to 6, dinner and more writing until 9:30pm. It takes me four months to write a novel, sometimes five.

Do you prefer ebooks, audiobooks or physical books? Are you reading anything now?

I love physical books. There’s just nothing like holding a book and smelling the pages. I also love ebooks because they sell more :) And if the narrator is right, I could listen all day. Speaking of the right narrator and listening all day, you HAVE to hear Sean Patrick Hopkins narrate Heart of Ashes, Shadows, and Stone! I guarantee you will swoon.

What would you like to say to fans, and where can they follow you?

I like o thank everyone who has picked up a copy of one of my books! And a hug if you reviewed it! It means a lot to us all.

Enjoy an excerpt from Echo of Roses

Echo of Roses Paula Quinn Ancient Worlds/Time Travel Releases May 18

After receiving a dragon brooch from a distant great aunt, twenty-first century historian Kestrel Lancaster finds herself in fifteenth century England. Smack in the middle of a war. Like…in the middle of a blood and guts spewing, heads flying around her war. With six armored men riding toward her, bloody swords raised high in the air, horrified looks on their faces, there isn’t time to think. Only to scream. But like a dream, a dark knight rides into the fray and saves her from them all. When she realizes where and when she is, she doesn’t know whether to thank him for keeping her alive or curse him for it.

Sir Nicholas de Marre has seen many things in his years as military commander for the House of York, but he has never seen a woman appear right before his eyes—and in the middle of the battlefield. Without thinking, he kills the Lancaster bastards closing in on her. Thankfully for her he is able to fight with her deafening screams behind him. He saves her from certain death, not knowing if she is mad, or he is, and carries her to safety.

That’s his first mistake. The second is showing her mercy when he finds out she’s a Lancaster. But this odd woman who takes pictures with imaginary phones and teaches Cook to make cupcakes is easy to fall for, and before long, the heart of York’s champion is captured by a Lancaster.

England’s throne is about to change. The House of Tudor will reign, and the War of the Roses will finally be won with the intimacy of a kiss, the tenderness in a touch, and love that will echo through time.

Excerpt

Nicholas de Marre, Earl of Scarborough barely dodged a swipe that would have killed him. The bloody blade sliced a thin cut along his cheekbone. His opponent should be quite proud of himself, for rarely did anyone make him bleed on the battlefield. If they had, it wasn’t because Nicholas was distracted.

Nothing distracted him while he fought. It was what made him so deadly. But he’d never seen a woman appear as if right out of the air just a few feet away from him. For, she was not there one moment, and the next, she was. She was dressed…he didn’t know how to describe her clothes. There was no time to examine them further. Or to ponder why her huge anguished gaze made his chest feel odd. He had to kill his way to get to her. She was terrified and screaming, holding her hands to her ears. When the Reds moved toward her with intentions on killing her, he rode into the fray and fought and killed for her.

She finally stopped screaming because she fainted. He had to dismount and pick her up. He wasn’t sure if she was solid form or a vapor that would dissipate when he touched her. She was solid.

to his horse. He heaved her over the side of the saddle and fought two more men on foot. He disposed of them with full, air-slicing power, killing them both.

He was tired. His arms were aching. He could hardly breathe. He had a few moments to tear out of his armor and leave it where it fell from his body, piece by piece. His heart thundered and his breath stalled when another man came upon him.

Without his armor, he felt lighter, almost weightless. He swung with both hands and the victim’s head flew from his body.

The battle was almost over. The Reds were retreating. With his path cleared, Nicholas leaped to his saddle and left the field with the woman in his arms.

He rode home to his fortress in Scarborough. What else was he to do with her? The fighting was over for now. His side had won. He wasn’t surprised. The White forces were trained well—by him. He didn’t celebrate with them though. The woman had nothing to do with it. He wasn’t here to make friends. He never had been. He was here to keep the House of York firmly seated on the throne. But it wasn’t. Not since King Edward died and his brother, Richard ruled. For two years Nicholas fought for a man he hated and a house he loved.

He looked down at the woman beginning to stir in his arms. Where had she come from? What were the strange clothes she was wearing? What kind of magic was at work here? Surely, she would be accused of being a witch. Was she? Ordinarily, Nicholas didn’t believe in such things, but he saw her appear from nothing with his own eyes.

She was beautiful enough to be a witch. Her thick, glossy waves fell in loose waves around her face and hung a little past her shoulders. Her nose was small and her lips full and shapely. But hell her eyes hypnotized him. They were large deep-set, vivid blue beautiful, terrified eyes. She had secrets. She wasn’t from around here. He would have remembered her if he’d seen her before. What had he done? What was she doing bouncing up and down in his arms while he rode home as if she were a prize? Why had he fought to save… her lush, black lashes were separating, revealing oceans as fathomless as the seas, and bluer. So blue.

“What…?” she choked out.

Her eyes, opening wider, mesmerized him.

“Where am I?” she shrieked, breaking the spell. “What’s happening?”

He put aside her beauty and hardened his gaze. “You are in England. Why don’t you know that?” He wanted to study her further, but she bolted up in his lap and almost fell. The terror in her eyes and in her trembling lips appeared authentic. She was a madwoman then. That’s why she wore such odd attire.

But how did she come out of the air?

“This isn’t…this can’t be happening. I don’t…I don’t live in England.”

He guessed as much since she spoke with a tone and inflection he’d never heard before. It wasn’t French or Spanish, or Scottish or middle eastern. “Where do you live?

“New York.

“New York?”

“Please, you have to help me.”

“What’s new about it?” he demanded. “And what’s wrong with the York we have now?” His voice sliced sharper than any sword, but it had no effect on her.

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“What…what year is it?” she asked as if her thoughts were a thousand leagues away.

His expression darkened. He didn’t like being made to look a fool. “It’s the year of our lord, fourteen hundred and eighty-five. Who are you?” he demanded. “Where did you come from?” “Stop the horse!”

She had grown quite hysterical. Her hands were shaking when she brought them her mouth.

Nicholas brought his mount to a halt. He didn’t need this bother in his life. He had battles to fight to keep the York name alive. When he wasn’t fighting, he had all the issues at home to deal with. Namely, his cousin Reg, Reg’s wife, Adele, Adele’s maid Margaret, and Reg and Adele’s four children William, Eddie, Kate, and Andrew. They were enough to make Nicholas swear off having children if he ever married.

“Let me get off! she shouted again. “I have to get back!”

“Back to where?” he put to her, for she looked as if she knew.

“Home.” Her eyes filled with water and appeared like the color between heaven and the sea. “I have to find a way home.”

“Where?” Why was he asking? He had duties to see to at his own home. Mayhap after that. But no! He wouldn’t keep her with him for so long. Not another person in his castle. He should have realized it on the battlefield, before he took her, but he was covered in blood and exhausted. He hadn’t been thinking straight.

“Not where,” she muttered. “When.”

He arched a brow. Should he help her dismount? “When?” He gave her a hard stare. “What does that mean?” “The year of our Lord,” she corrected, wide-eyed, “Two thousand and nineteen.”

He wanted to laugh, but someone else’s affliction was no laughing matter. He groaned instead. He hadn’t meant to do so as loud as he had. But what the hell was he supposed to think?

He frightened her. She pulled away and tried to slide from the saddle. He didn’t want her to fall so he hooked his arm under hers and lowered her down. He shouldn’t leave her.

But he didn’t want to coddle a mad woman—and he certainly didn’t want to bring one home.

“Farewell then,” he said and nodded to her.

She said nothing but looked around. She appeared faint. He closed his eyes.

“I don’t belong here,” she sobbed.

He opened his eyes and set them on her. “But here is where you are.”

“No! No. I don’t want to be here because you see, I know how crappy medieval times were. There’s… there’s no Advil. No antibiotics. My phone—” She looked at him with a whole new horror in her eyes. “My parents, my brother, my friends.” She began to walk.

He kept his horse at a slow pace beside her. “Are you certain you were not hit over the head, Miss? Your family might not be gone. They might be close by.” “Look—”

He did, expecting that she might be about to show him how she had done it. How she’d come from the air.

“I know this is difficult to believe. I can’t believe it and it’s happening to me. But I…I got some letter in the mail this morning from a law firm telling me to go to their office in midtown. I got there and it was all very sketchy, but, you know, I went in…”

What in the name of all that was holy was she saying? It couldn’t be a different language. Some words were familiar to him. Some were not. Mail? Office? Sketchy? What did it mean?

“…and it changed and looked brand new all of a sudden. I felt funny. Like, tingly, and then I was here… on the battlefield.”

What had changed? What was she saying?

She started up crying again. What was he to do with her? He couldn’t leave her. She was very pleasing to the eyes. Her odd, blue trousers fit her long legs and shapely derriere quite nicely. She wouldn’t last the night with all these Lancasters about. She’d be raped before morning.

“Come on, then, Miss,” he grumbled. He held his hand down to her. She refused it. Very well then. He flicked his reigns and rode away.

Pity she was out of her head. He was glad she didn’t want to go with him. He couldn’t help her.

What the hell was Advil and antibiotics anyway?

MAGGI A nd ERSE n

AUSA TODAY bestselling author, Maggi Andersen has over 40 books and novellas published. The wonderful works of Georgette Heyer, Jane Austen, Mary Jo Putney, and Eloisa James fostered Maggi’s love of the Regency era.

Maggi holds a BA in English and Master of Arts Degree in Creative Writing. She lives in Australia, in the beautiful Dandenong ranges, and supports the RSPCA. Animals often feature in her books.

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