Review
Wonderfully Romantic Story The author takes us immediately to the heart of her story with Dean, the captivating movie star and Tricia his savior. This is a wonderfully romantic story. Modern and revealing!
--Anastasia, Reviewer from Ghostwriter Literary Review
"The characters were believable, as was the setting, and Dean's transformation is remarkable. I would recommend At The Stroke of Midnight to all time travel devotees." --Mary, Reviewer for Bitten By Books ****1/2
"I was drawn into Tricia's struggle to save Dean's life, because she knows that their lives are somehow entwined. Dean is a likeable playboy, who deserves redemption." --Mystique Books Review ****1/2 A Unique Time Travel with Interesting Characters and Unexpected Twist
"Karen Michelle Nutt is a remarkable writer, who will impress any reader, by creating such vivid and lively characters, which compliments a cleverly designed plot." --A Fascinating and Delightful Journey Back In Time --Amy J. Ramsey, Reviewer for Ramsey's Reviews, Midwestern Reviews/TCM Reviews
"Not only does the story grab you at the beginning, but the reader is thrown back in the 70s and goes along for the ride. Can you dig it?"
--"This is a groovy tale of time and fate!" Ruth Schaller, PNR Paranormal Reviews
From the Inside Flap
Tricia was startled awake by a loud popping sound followed by screams. She catapulted out of the chair expecting to have to take cover. Fear was replaced by confusion. The last thing she remembered was watching Dean's final performance. She looked around the crowded room wondering how she slept through the caretaker setting up for the seventies costume party. The men had long hair and side burns and the women wore dark eye shadow, flowered tops and suede boots. Tricia deducted the popping sound came from someone uncorking a champagne bottle. A woman in a tight short skirt and go-go boots was trying to pour the bubbly into two flute glasses. "Hey, do you need a beer?" "What?" She turned, seeing the Corona inches from her face before she looked up. "No, I'm ..." Her eyes widened. "I must be dreaming. Dean McCloud?" His cocky grin spread across his face. How he loved these parties, women throwing themselves at him as if he were a god. This one was cute even in her odd attire. He loved the way her wild curls framed her pixie-like face. Tricia was convinced she was still asleep, only she never dreamt with this much clarity. "Dean?" "That's me, Baby." She looked around her, taking in the subtle differences that made the home seem more...McCloud-like, was all she could come up with for now. Dean sat down in the chair and snaked out a hand, grabbing her arm and pulling her onto his lap. Her arms went around his neck, but that was simply preservation. It was not meant as a come on. Dean obviously thought otherwise. He smiled his eyes taking in every feature before his gaze landed on her lips. She knew the moment he decided to kiss her, his eyes turned a shade darker, and his eyelids closed halfway. Her heart pounded in her chest. She prayed if this was a dream she wouldn't wake up. Dean McCloud was going to kiss her. Dean was enchanted by the little pixie. She seemed skittish, innocent, so unlike the other women who threw themselves at his feet. He wanted a small taste of her before he let her go. His lips came coaxingly down on hers with tantalizing persuasion, surprisingly she didn't object. The pleasure was like sweet agony as she met his caress, as if she had been waiting for him. He took more. Tricia relished in the way his tongue traced the fullness of her lips before slipping between them. While he tasted her, she clung to him. She wanted the kiss to go on forever as passion inched through her veins. She was kissing Dean McCloud, the man she dreamt about, with the contagious smile and polished moves. His hands moved to her waist holding her close. That felt too good. Her mind screamed it couldn't be happening. The man died over three decades ago, she thought as reality came hurtling down on her. She pushed him away, breaking contact as if his lips had suddenly burned her. A shadow of annoyance crossed his face until he saw the panic rioting within her gaze. He hadn't meant to scare her. Dean's fingers lightly caressed her arm. "Don't fly away little chick. I won't hurt you." This was a private party among friends to celebrate the wrap up the last episode of TheLong Trail. Dean wondered who brought her. Tricia couldn't help herself. She had to know if he was real. She touched Dean's face his ears, his nose, which caused him to chuckle. When her fingers touched his mouth, he took hold of her wrist halting her. He tried to reclaim her lips but she moved her head to the side and his kiss landed on her cheek. He pulled back to look at her. She tasted wonderful, like strawberries, all sweet. He wanted her, but he had enough ethics not to pursue this one. She screamed of commitment and he wasn't offering. "Chickie, I need to tend to my other guests." His fingers twirled a honeysuckle-colored curl before he gently removed her from his lap and stood. Since she looked like she was about to pass out, Dean placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her so that she fell easily into the chair he had just vacated. She looked up at him with those big amber-colored eyes. Man, she was one foxy lady. He cupped her chin, gliding his thumb over her lips that were still swollen from his touch. He was tempted to take from her again, but then his gaze found hers and he knew it would be too much. He casually stepped back and melted away to join the others who were making bets on how many shots of whiskey Fred Mack could take before he fell on his face. Tricia sat there not moving for a full minute. Forget that she had miraculously traveled back in time and was thoroughly kissed. She glanced around the edge of the chair to see Dean throwing his head back with a roaring laugh. The phenomenon was Dean McCloud was alive.
--This text refers to the
Kindle Edition
edition.
