She went back in time to rescue him.
She never counted on falling in love…
Born Like This
Maizemerized Book 2
by Maggie Blackbird
Genre: Historical Paranormal Time-Travel Romance
She went back in time to rescue him. She never
counted on falling in love…
Alma Whitecrow prefers hunting and fishing with men, not
romancing them. But hearing about the roguishly handsome coureur de
bois, who saved her sister from the Dakota, haunts her thoughts and dreams.
Well-versed in surviving the wilds, Alma resolves to travel to the
mid-eighteenth century, as her sister once did, to save the man from impending
death.
Charlot Baudelaire thumbs his nose at society’s
expectations, content living as a loner, trading with people he calls the Saulters.
If he needs a woman for the night, there is always a willing maiden. What he
doesn’t expect is a spunky and stubborn female warrior to challenge him.
Charlot is not the man Alma dreamed about, and Alma is not
the kind of woman Charlot pursues. But the longer they are together, the more
drawn to each other they become, until Alma faces the biggest decision of her
life. Stay with a man who may never reciprocate her love, or return to her
Ojibway home and bland existence.
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Alma had expected to step into a battle. Reality set in. The only
killing she’d done was animals when hunting with Grandpa. But if she didn’t
shoot, she risked her own life and Theodore’s as she faced six Dakota sporting
arrows.
Theodore growled, waiting for her command.
The Dakota didn’t fire at her, though. They seemed to fire
everywhere else, hollering in a language she couldn’t comprehend. The fear in
their eyes indicated she’d terrified them.
Maybe they assumed she was a ghost when she’d emerged through the
flickering flames.
As the Dakota scattered, she tracked their moccasin footprints, but
one set stood out. Grandpa had told her about the spread of the toes, and these
toes weren’t spread. They came from a person who walked in shoes or boots.
Someone who later in life had switched to the footwear of the Indigenous
people.
She followed the footprints with Theodore beside her, sniffing. She
used the end of her rifle to move aside the thick brush, which was why her
homeland was called the bush at her reserve. There was nothing to call a
forest or woods about Northwestern Ontario.
The thick underbrush kept trying to snag her clothing. Clothing she
longed to remove. When she left home, she’d donned an outfit for a cold
Halloween night. But summer bloomed here. She could remove her jacket since she
had a sweater underneath, and beneath that a tank top.
A groan came about ten feet from her, and she aimed her rifle in the
direction of the sound. She moved through the many twigs and branches but
didn’t spot a blood trail. Whatever lay beneath the berry bush had been hit
there.
Another groan.
Whoever was hurt wasn’t an animal. That was the sound of a human
being. Maybe one of the Dakota?
She edged in closer until she caught the moccasins sticking out,
along with breeches. This wasn’t a Dakota or warrior from the village under
attack.
Her heart held its beat.
Had she found Charlot?
While growing up as a little girl, my family was involved in baseball, so we’d head for the local baseball diamond at The Point (a peninsula on the lake). While my mother sat in the stands to watch, and my father coached the team, me, along with my brother and sisters, along with our cousins, would tear off to the replica fort situated right beside the baseball game happening.
I had no idea at the time that the fort was once a trading post during the fur trade in Canada. Nor did I realize where we played was a big gathering spot for my Ojibway ancestors to meet in the spring to celebrate the Midewiwin. From what I researched, over a thousand of them would gather there to celebrate “seeking the good life.”
I also didn’t understand that the waterways were the “roads” for my people to travel. Most people associate Indigenous people with horses and teepees. That is not so for the Woodlands people who were all about the wigwam and canoe. The French fur traders, and eventually the Voyageurs also traveled these waterways. The lake and river were part of The Voyageurs Highway.
The first explorer through my land was Jacques de Noyon who travelled these waterways as far back as 1688. Then there was Pierre Gaultier de Varennes, sieur de La Vérendrye who established the first fort in my area (the local hospital is named after him). The replica fort came afterward and was rechristened “Fort Frances” after Lady Frances Simpson, the wife of the Governor of the Hudson's Bay Company, George Simpson.
So yes, writing about this area came naturally to me for the Maizemerized series. I wanted to explore my homeland from the Rainy Lake and Rainy River to Lake of the Woods.
Maizemerized Book 1
She’s always been obsessed with her ancestors, and now he’s
offering her a chance to live with them... forever.
Second-year university student Edie Whitecrow gobbles up
each course on Indigenous studies. If only she could experience the lives of
her Anishinaabe ancestors instead of reading about them. On
her way to a Halloween party decked out as a historical Ojibway maiden, she
spies a corn maze in a spot known to be barren.
A scarecrow figure beckons Edie to enter with the enticing
offer of making her biggest wish come true. She jumps at the chance and finds
herself in the past, face to face with the man who haunts her dreams—the
handsome brave Thunder Bear. He claims he’s spent twelve years waiting
for Gitche Manidoo to send her to him.
Life in the eighteenth century isn’t what Edie romanticized
about, though. When her conscience is tested, she must choose between the
modern day or the world of her descendants—where the man she was born for
resides.
What readers
are saying:
“This novel is true to history while still spinning a
lovely tale of love. I highly recommend it to anyone who loves historical and
time travel romances.” –Goodreads Reviewer
“The story had me glued to the pages from start to finish. Loved and recommend
this book.” –B&N Reviewer
“Based on prior reading from the author, I knew this would be a great book. I
had no idea just how much I’d love it.” –BookBub Reviewer
“Once I started reading, I was not putting this book down.” –Goodreads Reviewer
This is one of the best romance novels I’ve ever read in
my entire life. This book will pull you in full force and make you feel so many
different emotions.” –Goodreads Reviewer
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Thunder Bear nodded. “Fire Woman. Is it not an appropriate name? The
flames did not burn you. Fire is your friend. Your spirit guide.”
“I want to be honest.” She wet her plush mouth with the color riper
than raspberries. “I have been educated in the ways of the white men. Where I
come from, we live like white men.”
“I know you do. It is in your speech, your movement, your behavior.”
He reached out and touched her bare arm that possessed delicate strength
beneath the smooth flesh he palmed. “You are here to become what you are meant
to truly be. We will teach you, if you are willing.”
“I am more than willing. In the white man’s world, I am learning
everything about the People. I have studied the People ever since I was a
little girl.”
“I know you have. It is why you came.” He could not resist letting
his palm move along her arm. Beneath the skin he stroked, her slight muscle
flexed.
She wet her lips.
The urge to claim her mouth was a test of his restraint. They’d only
met this morning, and he must go slow. To slide his mouth over hers after just
meeting was not how a warrior conducted himself. Yet, the way she’d drew her
tongue along her lower lip was caressing and licking him beneath his
breechclout. Her innocent gesture might as well have been her nails raking his
backside, her hands boldly exploring his arms, and her breasts melting against
his chest.
She was aptly named, because a fire danced in her sparkling dark
eyes. A fire of desire. A fire of need. A fire flickering with mesmerization in
her gaze touching his face.
He stifled the groan aching to leave his throat.
She seemed to drag her gaze to the dark water. If where they stood
was better lit, he’d probably witness redness on her cheeks.
“What is it?”
Again, she wet her lips. “I… Maybe I should go back?”
A punch seemed to knock his gut. “Return? Now?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I mean the wigwam. Not the…the…”
“The dancing flames?”
She nodded.
Relief loosened the knots of his shoulder muscles. He didn’t believe
in restraining any maiden, but if she had dared to run for where she had come
from, he probably would have tossed her over his shoulder and carted her back
to the camp. Now that he had found what he’d waited twelve years to capture, he
wasn’t letting her go.
Somehow, he had to help her find her courage to survive with them.
She was destined to be here.
An Ojibway from Northwestern Ontario, Maggie
resides in the country with her husband and their fur babies, two beautiful
Alaskan Malamutes. When she’s not writing, she can be found pulling weeds
in the flower beds, mowing the huge lawn, walking the Mals deep in the bush,
teeing up a ball at the golf course, fishing in the boat for walleye, or
sitting on the deck at her sister’s house, making more wonderful memories with
the people she loves most.
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