Righting Time from beginning
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For Honor ->>>
Righting Time ->>>
Out of Phase ->>>
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- "Best stories and best written books I
have read in several years."
Mark Myers - storyteller - Ohio
- "Kat's really good at creating characters
you care about almost instantly." - Hillary Campbell
- "Absolutely loved it!
Your books are some of the most well-written that I have read. Your
ability to maintain complex plots and provide a true flavor of Europe
is amazing. Your character development is outstanding." - Linda
- "I enjoyed it so much I read it
twice." - Joe Sinnapan
- "What a compelling story."
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in my opinion, and that is a compliment.' - Michiel Brongers
- Selected by Las Vegas Green Valley High School for 2006 Reading Incentive
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Book 3 of By Honor Bound
by Kat Jaske
terrible mistake by time travelers is slowly destroying their history.
Can they convince the musketeers of seventeenth-century France to
travel forward in time and help them capture the displaced villain?
Mon Dieu! Can this young
lady write! An unforgettable adventure fiction so exuberant,
so unexpected that it leaves even the most jaded reader breathless
for more. . . . fast-paced, swashbuckling book replete with humor,
charm and valor extraordinaire. Five-star
reviewed For Honor.
Panic did no good; that point had been vividly
driven home to her by harsh experience over the course of her ten
years—unofficially—with the Guild of History and Time
Observation. Before long, the time fluctuations would manifest and
the true time—her time or her present—likely would be
inextricably altered. Right now, there was still some infinitesimal
window of opportunity to try for correction and containment.
“Find me the date of the first time fluctuation
in the timeline and pinpoint the locale on the main screen.”
Jala took refuge in decisiveness. Daryl nodded and did so swiftly.
. . .
“Old-world France?” Jala questioned,
and Daryl nodded as the woman came close to the screen.
“France in 1641, eight hundred and seventy-three
years ago, to be exact,” Daryl enlightened his companions.
Jala punched a button and another section of the screen leaped to
life. United States of America, 2060. Those dates were linked. Linked
very closely. . . .
At the same moment, Keith and Jala lifted their
heads and an understanding look flashed between them. “Something
or someone from 1640 or 1641 was thrust forward to the year 2060,”
they said together.
Jala let her jaw go slack. She twirled the chair and dashed for
the time chamber. “Let’s go, gentlemen, to just before
the time disturbance in 1641. We’ve got some musketeers to
find before everything we know ceases to exist.”. . . No more
time to debate alternatives.
The three dashed—only sparing a moment to grab one final
parcel—into the chamber, and Jala twirled several knobs and
pressed a sequence of buttons. The trio vanished. They might never
have existed—just as the control room no longer existed and
never would unless they set time right. Time may have been and was
resilient, but even the main timeline could not stand up to such
massive tinkering as this Konrad had launched.
“And what have you done to earn such ire from such a young
woman?” Tonie appeared mildly amused by the man.
“I tried to force her to marry me. I shot one of her oldest
and dearest friends down in cold blood and killed him.” He
didn’t even pause for breath as he listed his catalog of worthy
“I betrayed my own brother. And I shot her lover in front
of her eyes. A pity Frederick William wouldn’t give up on
the man or he would have died. As it was it took him months to recover.
I guess you could say the woman has a personal vendetta against
me. Will there be anything else, madame?” he concluded with
a practiced politeness.
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More Selected Excerpts
“We are not from your time. We are from very far in your future—more
than eight hundred, closer to nine hundred years to be more precise.”
Already the musketeers were trading looks that plainly told them they
thought Keith was lying through his teeth or fit for the madhouse.
“There has been a big disturbance in the time continuum that sent
a man we know as Herzog Konrad into the twenty-first century, where he
wreaked so much havoc that the entire timeline was drastically changed.
We came back here to obtain your help to find the man and stop him from
destroying the future of this entire world.” Keith ran out of words
Cynthia’s eyes traveled briefly over six gentlemen and two women
all rigged out in loose fitting, almost white, tunics and variants of
buff breeches, or were those culottes?
Of course, the most ludicrous touches were the soft leather boots and
basket hilt, highly polished swords that hung at the sides of five members
of the mismatched group. Frankly, the misfits would have been more at
place on a stage getting ready to do a shipwreck scene for a seventeenth-century
film, especially the large one with a goatee and the gaudy sash tied around
At that moment Keith stepped forward from the group into the light, and
Cynthia recognized the man as the leader of the Guild of History and Time
Observation. “We need your help. The field has mutated.” Keith
minced no words, using the language of his own time.
“You are mine and I yours, chérie,” he said and then
just held her closely to him for a long time as if he were trying to reassure
them both, trying to capture the moment, knowing that more than likely
they’d soon be at odds again. At odds over what was said, what was
done, not done . . . what had been left unsaid. And worst of all, neither
of them would know how they had slipped back into that hostility, nor
even really why.
Athos’ abrupt voice cut through the conversation, putting an end
to all other conversation. Despite the centuries, he had not lost his
touch; he was still a man who commanded respect, allegiance, and inspired
people to follow him. “That,” he gestured, “is who we’re
looking for. That is Konrad. I suggest we get to this Washington, D.C.,
before Konrad leaves.”