Isabelle has long loved and cared for the dilapidated Victorian house on the hill. So when she decides to cast a spell to give her sexual expertise and the perfect mate, what better place to go than her beloved Victorian-a house of dubious reputation. But she learns all too soon that it pays to be specific in spell-casting. Everything she's asked for is hers...back in 1901. Oh, and one more thing-she forgot to ask to keep them.
The woman of his dreams sifts through Daniel's grasp like the fine grains of salt sprinkled on his floor. He's known a few spell-casters in time, but for a cautious man to dare something so...impossible...well, it wouldn't be the first time his mother considered having him committed. With the help of friends, he sets out to do the impossible-go to Isabelle. A feat seemingly doomed by calendar quirks.
Would the Fates be so cruel to keep them apart-like the Sun who always chases the Moon? Only the mercurial grandfather clock holding court in the Victorian can tell...if anybody would bother to listen...
The woman of his dreams sifts through Daniel's grasp like the fine grains of salt sprinkled on his floor. He's known a few spell-casters in time, but for a cautious man to dare something so...impossible...well, it wouldn't be the first time his mother considered having him committed. With the help of friends, he sets out to do the impossible-go to Isabelle. A feat seemingly doomed by calendar quirks.
Would the Fates be so cruel to keep them apart-like the Sun who always chases the Moon? Only the mercurial grandfather clock holding court in the Victorian can tell...if anybody would bother to listen...
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