 Where the Stork Flies Genre: Time Travel Novel Rating: PG-13 A Pennsylvania librarian, a 19th century Polish peasant, and a wisecracking medieval queen join forces to fulfill a mission from the Black Madonna of Czestochowa. What could possibly go wrong? Buy Links: Bookshop.org https://bit.ly/3hUs3iq Amazon https://amzn.to/3rMnCL7 Barnes and Noble https://bit.ly/3aNtNqW QR Code https://bit.ly/3hUs3iq Excerpt from Chapter One: The winter Regina arrived, I had a lot on my mind. My part-time job at the public library was going nowhere. My husband had left me over a crazy misunderstanding, and our 19-year-old daughter, who had always favored him, blamed me and followed him out the door. Lonely and confused by the turn my life had taken, I stumbled into the kitchen that morning and found the back door standing open, letting in a few flakes of snow. Get a grip. I slammed the door closed. A whimper came from behind me. I whirled around to see an old woman in a long brown skirt, loose white blouse, and a muslin headscarf. She stood beside my kitchen table, shivering. A scream escaped my throat and then hers, both of us yelling like a crazy banshee duet. “Who the hell are you?” She jumped back, knocking over a chair. Selene, my old gray kitty, meowed loudly and ran from the room. “What do you want?” I shouted as she scuttled over to a corner, clutching a piece of cheese. Her wide eyes looked so terrified I felt for a second as if I were the intruder, not she. Her face was wrinkled parchment and her hair around the edges of her headscarf was gray, but her round cheeks, those small brown eyes above a long straight nose: I had seen them before. On my grandmother’s face. A woman who raised me from the age of ten. A woman who had died over thirty years before. It was her. And not her. A queasy little wave traveled through my stomach. “Who are you?” I said again, my voice shaking. I wondered if she was some sort of hallucination brought on by lack of sleep. My hands groped for the back of a chair. She licked dry lips and held out both trembling hands, still clutching the cheese. “Przepraszam, Pani, she pleaded. “Prosze mi wybaczyc!” A wash of pity flooded my heart. Her voice was soft and hoarse, and though I didn’t understand her words, I knew their rhythm, the pattern of her sentence, the rise and fall and cadence. She spoke Polish like my Babcia, and my mind responded with words from my childhood to ask what she was doing. “Co ty robisz?” The old woman’s lips trembled. Pop over to my Ally Shields blog for a Character Interview with the main character in this novel, Kat Kowalski: |
AuthorJ L Buck writes in the mystery genre, currenty enthralled with Regency-era England. She is multi-published in paranormal 
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