If you love history as much as me, then you will love this series. It is a wild romp through the ancient world of Alexander the Great with a modern day time traveling journalist. Yes, you read that right. This series has everything – romance, intrigue, time travel, and loads of history. Jennifer Macaire has done her research and has written a wonderful historical series with a twist.
Check out the guest post she wrote for Eclectic Evelyn Here.
that that believes her road in life was paved by her parents’
fortune. After winning a prestigious award, she is selected to travel
through time and interview a historical figure. Choosing her
childhood hero, Alexander the Great,
she voyages back in time for less than a day to interview a man whose
legend has survived to the present day. He mistakes her for
Persephone, goddess of the dead, and kidnaps her. Stranded in the
past, cold and aloof Ashley has to learn to befriend, to trust…and
Diana Gabaldon, Jodi Taylor, and Diana Norman will enjoy this saga.
will love this story. The same heart-wrenching trials and
tribulations that she puts her characters through happen within this
gripping tale.” Lynda Warnock
the research was incredible.” Karen King, author.
engrossing!!!!” Amazon reviewer.
historical piece than a romance, there is more than enough heat
between Alexander and Ashley to keep the pages smoldering.”
descriptive scenes of the cities, the landscape and life in the vast
and growing empire of Alexander the Great in 333 – 330 BC.”
pace, the dialogue was witty and entertaining and the beautiful
descriptions of ancient lands entice you into accompanying them on
Alexander’s quest to conquer the world.” Goodreads
Alexander couldn’t get over it. My itchy linen robe had been the very finest quality, thanks to the machine that wove it, but my shoes had been a dismal failure and he was disappointed in the god’s choice of footwear.
I tried to explain that the gods had nothing to do with my sandals but fell asleep in the middle of my sentence. It wasn’t that important anyway, I thought.
There was a new pair of sandals on the rug the next morning. They fitted perfectly. My old ones had disappeared, and I didn’t find out where they’d gone until I went into the village and passed by the temple. There, on the altar, were my sandals.
Fresh flowers, a bowl of warm milk, and a small snail made of clay surrounded them. A young girl in temple robes sat next to them murmuring a prayer. I tried to speak to her in Greek, but she didn’t understand me. I pursed my lips and went to find Nassar. Maybe he could explain.
Nassar was writing a letter for a tough-looking soldier. They were both sitting on a mat made of reeds, and every once in a while Nassar would throw his pen away and break off a reed. He would sharpen it quickly with his teeth and I realized with a small start that his front teeth had been carefully cut at a bias to trim reeds into pens. It was interesting and I resolved to have him explain how it was done. He dipped the reed into a little clay pot of ink and wrote on a rather cheap piece of papyrus. A dozen rolled-up letters were lying beside him, each one flattened and sealed with a blob of wax. He’d been busy all morning. When he finished the letter he rolled it up, tied it with a piece of grass and sealed it with hard wax. Then he flattened the whole thing with his fist, wrote the address on the outside, and placed it on top of the pile.
“Next?” he called out in his nasal voice.
“Good morning, Nassar,” I said as I approached.
He held his arms up in a stiff salute and then bowed, touching his forehead to the mat. “Hail Demeter’s daughter,” he intoned.
“Don’t do that!” I was upset. “Who told you that, anyway?”
“Oh, everyone knows,” he said smugly.
“Well, I’d like you to come to the temple with me to see about a pair of shoes,” I said.
“Oh! The Sacred Sandals! I should be honored! May I touch them, oh daughter of Demeter?”
I closed my eyes and counted to ten. “They aren’t sacred sandals,” I said. “And of course you can touch them. There’s been a mistake.”
“They weren’t your sandals? The captain of the guards took them to the shoemaker early this morning to have a copy made in leather and gave the originals to the temple. It is not a coincidence that the goddess of the harvest, Demeter, guards this town. It was why you were sent here. Now that Iskander has rescued you, the harvest is sure to be fantastic this year.”
“But isn’t the village protected by Ishtar?”
“It was, but it’s becoming Hellenicised. Now it has adopted Demeter, goddess of the harvest, because of what Iskander said last night in his speech.”
“His speech? What did he say?”
“You should have asked me to translate,” he said, reproach in his voice. “He said he was glad to be there and that he hoped the play would be entertaining, that he and his soldiers were very happy in the village, and he was honored everyone had made them feel so welcome, and how the two cultures would complement each other.” Nassar took a deep breath, like a swimmer, and plunged in again. “He said that the gods of Greece were stronger than our gods so we’d do well to adopt theirs. He said you had been sent as a sign and that he’d saved you from Hades himself, so Demeter would forever be grateful. He said that as a goddess you would personally see to the welfare of the village.” He finished in a rush and smiled at me. “I’m no longer an atheist,” he said proudly. “I believe in you. Why, if I want, I can actually touch your sandals.”
I closed my eyes again and waited for the wave of pain that was sure to come. Pretending to be a goddess must rate among the three top reasons for erasing a Time-traveling journalist. After a few seconds I opened one eye, then the other. Nothing had happened. I was still sitting in front of Nassar, and he was watching me with a rapt expression on his narrow, rat-like face.
“Did your mother speak to you?” he whispered, his eyes wide.
“No. No, she didn’t. Excuse me, Nassar, but I think I’ll just go lie down. I have to think about all this.” I stood up, shivering with disquiet, and walked back to the tent where Alexander was having a game of dice with a tall man I recognized as the village priest. I wondered if I could sneak away, but they turned and saw me.
“Oh! There you are!” cried Alexander, standing up and holding out his arms. “I was worried. Did you find your new shoes? Yes, I see you did. The village priest has come to thank you for your sandals. In exchange, he has agreed to forsake all virgin sacrifices. Isn’t that wonderful? Your mother will be thrilled.”
“I’m sure she will be,” I said with the utmost truthfulness. Then I went into the tent and collapsed.
her hero Alexander the Great, she never thought she would end up
Alexander’s looming death, Ashley considers the unthinkable: how to
save them and whether she dares to cheat Fate?
and Alexander continue their sensuous and passionate journey through
Fate and save Alexander and her children, even if it brings the gates
of time crashing down.
her time. She must, however, convince Alexander to abandon his crown
and his kingdom.
tells Alexander he must go to the Land of Ice and Snow, so they leave
their home in Alexandria and head north, to Gaul.
wants Paul, and the druids have raised an army to capture him. In the
heart of winter, in ancient Gaul, a terrible sacrifice is made to
Persephone, goddess of the Underworld – and Ashley finds herself
taking part in a deadly ceremony.
The snow was nearly all trampled away by the night’s festivities. Most people had left, but a few remained. They were now packing their belongings and getting ready to leave. Spirals of smoke from campfires looked like blue tissue-paper streamers reaching for the sky. The snow had been turned to muddy slush on the paths. I walked down to the river’s edge and stripped off my dirty cloak. I looked at the blood caked on it, then I tossed it into the river and watched as the swift water took it away. I shivered.
‘That was a strange thing to do.’ Alexander looked at me from across the river, where he’d been standing beneath the trees.
‘I don’t want it any more. It was covered in blood.’
‘So was Paul, but I washed it off.’
I didn’t smile. There was nothing to smile about. I was tired and unhappy. My stomach hurt, my head ached, and I didn’t know what I felt any more. Alexander walked over the bridge and took my hand.
‘I’ll help you bathe,’ he said softly. I just nodded.
There was a crude bathhouse near the stream. In it stood a tub of hot water. Alexander had anticipated my every move. I climbed in. When I’d washed my skin and hair, I took a small birch twig and brushed my teeth. Then I dressed in the clean clothes he’d brought for me.
Alexander had been silent, sitting in the corner, but now he spoke in an odd voice. ‘What did you do last night in the cave?’
My hands, I saw, were steady now. I held them out in front of me and frowned. Then I let them fall to my sides, and said, ‘what do you think happened?’
‘I would prefer you to tell me.’ He spoke evenly. There was nothing in his voice to hint at what he felt.
I started to laugh. It was a low laugh that shook me. An embarrassed laugh, because I was not proud of myself. ‘I’ll tell you what happened,’ I said, wiping tears out of my eyes. The laughter had turned sour suddenly. ‘I got drunk on the ceremonial wine, and I made love with the Roman’s wife. I didn’t want anyone to die, and a man was killed in front of me while looking straight at me with a smile on his face. And then they ate him.’
‘What?’ Alexander sounded shocked. I didn’t know what he was ‘what-ing’ about. The fact I made love to a woman, the fact Anoramix smiled at me, or that he’d been eaten.
‘What “what”?’ I asked crossly.
‘They ate him?’
chocolate, and plays a mean game of golf. She grew up in upstate New
York, Samoa, and the Virgin Islands. She graduated from St Peter and
Paul High School in St Thomas and moved to NYC where she modeled for
five years for Elite. She went to France and met her husband at the
polo club. All that is true. But she mostly likes to make up stories..
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