Time & Again is part two of a continuing story that began with Until Time Do Us Part.
After months of working like a woman possessed, Nika Morris kept her promise. Coleman House is finished. It’s gorgeous. Spectacular. Brilliant.
It’s breaking her heart.
Because once the new owners move in, she’ll be cut off from the time portal to 1909, where she met and fell in love with Eli Coleman. Now stranded in her own time, she’s waited months for the key to reappear in its hiding place. Only it hasn’t. Which means Eli must have believed the terrible things she was accused of.
Back in 1909, Eli is stunned at his best friend’s deathbed confession of a shocking betrayal. Nika—his Daisy, his time-traveling wonder—was innocent. Once he finds the key, he wastes no time stepping through the portal, determined to make things right.
But the moment Eli stumbles into her shiny, noisy, confusing future, he realizes reconciliation won’t be simple. There is more than one emotional bridge to rebuild before he and Nika can return to the time their love was born—and live their destiny out to the fullest.
Hello, my name is Marina Sardarova. Stella May is my pen name (or my alter ego). In many regards, we are very different, even though she is me. She’s more daring, braver and self-assured; she knows exactly what she wants. She writes because she loves it and because she has stories inside of her. She never listens when people tell her she cannot do something simply because it’s impossible. She believes in herself. In short- she’s a much better version of myself. I was born in the sixties of the last century in a country that doesn’t exist anymore: the former Soviet Union. However, I am not Russian–I’m Armenian and proud of my heritage. Literature and music are my two great passions. My maternal grandparents were both professional singers; my father was a jazz guitarist. My brother and I both finished musical colleges. I graduated from a Conservatory (or Music Academy) with a diploma in musicology. When I was a child, I dreamed of becoming a concert pianist. Or an artist. Or even a famous poet. I was practicing piano for hours, sketching and writing some plays and poetry. And, of course, reading books. I don’t remember myself without a book. Ever. My aunt had a huge home library that was my absolutely most favorite place on earth. I had a very happy childhood indeed! When I moved to the United States, to a country where everything was so different (including language), I quickly realized that I needed to learn English more than I needed to eat. Because while I could easily survive on water and bread, I absolutely refused to live without books. And so, I taught myself English (with the help of children’s books and cartoons), and my dear neighbor, Mrs. Foster (God rest her beautiful soul). She truly believed I understood whatever she was saying, so she’d engage me in a long conversation whenever she could, and demanded (in her own patient and kind way) a response. She left me no choice. As soon as I was able to read books (with a dictionary at first), my life became whole again. And the absolutely crazy idea of writing started to slowly emerge from somewhere within. I began to write in secret, penning a few sentences here and there, using my son’s discarded, half-used notebooks. When my husband brought home our very first computer, a chunky heavyweight Compaq, I discovered Microsoft Works (how many people still remember that program?). Of course, he purchased it for business purposes, with the silly notion that I would learn spreadsheets and accounting . . . poor misguided soul. Instead, I spent every free moment in front of my beloved computer learning to type, writing my heart away. I guess that’s when Stella May first started to emerge. She didn’t have her own name yet, or her own identity. She was still hiding behind me, unsure and hesitant. Then, one night, I saw in my dream a very young woman, almost a girl, who was standing in the middle of a crowd, clutching a baby. She was skinny, badly dressed and scared. She had green eyes and curly red hair, and her name was Natasha. She was at the JFK airport. Somehow, I knew that. I also knew that the baby wasn’t hers. Above her head I saw a banner: Welcome to the United States of America. And that’s how the idea of Rostoff saga (Once & Forever ) came to me. And that’s when Stella May was born. It took me twenty years, between raising my son and running a business with my husband, to bring this story to life. In 2018, after many unsuccessful attempts to submit my book to a traditional publisher, I split my first book into three parts (my son’s brilliant idea), and self-published it as the separate books: The Children, The Parents, and The Lovers. I sold more than 1100 copies. After I said good-bye to the Rostoffs, I almost had postpartum depression (ha-ha) until I started to play with the idea of past-lives remembrances and dreams. I decided to read more on the subject . . . and the idea of Rhapsody in Dreams came to life. This time around, I deliberately chose to self-pub
I am mystified. The story is engaging. Much of the writing is excellent. But just as the reader begins to feel that wonderful sense of being immersed, she is jerked out of her reverie by spelling errors, or strange grammatical errors that sound as though the author has a foreign accent. The author praises her editor and her proof reader. But this book should never have been published as is. As a fellow author, I know how hard it is to avoid errors before a book publishes. I had six proofreaders read mine. I have marked many of the errors in this book in case the author ever requested them to correct. If the errors were corrected - and with a bit more polishing in the form of certain edits, removing redundancies, for example - this book could become a best seller.
I really liked the story and the characters for Time and Again and also the first book. However, the poor grammar and misspellings were a real problem. Both of these books need to be proofread and edited for errors.
Again, this book was rather hard to get through with all the non-proofread words. Someone needs to edit these book and republish. Now, for the story, as in any good time travel experience the author kept me on my toes. Wanting to know the rest of the story is the only reason I read this 2nd book. Will I read book 3? Not sure.