On Tour with Prism Book Tours
In the gripping conclusion to The Blue Bells Chronicles, just as Shawn is steadily regaining all he feared he had lost forever—his career, his son, and even Amy’s heart—he learns of MacDougall’s vengeance against Niall, for the act Shawn himself committed. He wrestles with a prophecy and an ancient letter that never changes, a letter that details the fate of his own son, if he cannot stop it—and possibly the fate of the world itself, as he learns of Simon Beaumont’s plan to use his knowledge of the future to destroy it.
Shawn’s selfishness once cost him everything. His newfound selflessness may do the same.
Other Books in the Series
About the Author
Laura Vosika is the author of the beloved series, The Blue Bells Chronicles, a tale of time travel, action and adventure, romance and redemption, ranging across modern and medieval Scotland. She runs Gabriel’s Horn Press, and is active in poetry as a member of the League of Minnesota Poets, routinely performing at local open mics. She has appeared in The Star Tribune, and on WCCO and Channel 12, and hosted Books and Brews with Laura Vosika on AM 950.
He mentioned it as we entered his foyer. “By the way, I put in a pool.” A pool in the yard, I thought, a small pool or a hot tub on the deck. But this—this is beyond what anyone would conceive from, “by the way, I put in a pool.”
I stand on the terrace where Shawn loved to barbecue. Black velvet sky shows overhead. Starlight shines down—but now it pours through a glass ceiling. I catch my breath as I take it in—on my right, a room like a medieval castle vault; stone walls with Gothic arches at intervals, alternating between windows of leaded glass and stone niches framing….“Sconces,” I breathe. “You put in sconces.”
“They’re electric,” he says defensively. And then, with the child-like joy I loved, the innocent joy that made me believe his public self was the facade: “You like it?”
“It’s incredible.” The brand new medieval walls enclose a long, narrow pool, rippling blue in the soft yellow light; Olympic length, but twisting like a stream. It connects to a smaller pool, a foot higher, that stretches back to the house, below the terrace.
“That’s the hot tub.” Shawn’s voice bursts with pride—and a plea for approval. I’ve never understood why Shawn, holding the adulation of the whole world, craves my approval.
“It’s beautiful,” I say. Moving down the stone stairs, my hand on a wrought iron rail, I see the trickle of water flowing down the terrace wall to the hot tub below. My eyes travel over the potted plants scattered around the slate deck. At the bottom of the stairs, I see the far wall. I stare, speechless.
Here, Shawn’s worlds collide. Medieval stone meets soaring glass, letting in night sky and thousands of twinkling stars. A bridge—a stone bridge!—arches over the pool to a veranda with a white wrought iron bench and potted plants.
“You can have breakfast there!” Eagerness fills his voice.
“Breakfast?” My thoughts jumble. I don’t live here.
“I want this to be yours,” he says.
“But…” Is he asking me to marry him? I was having dinner with Angus last night. I’m not sure I should have agreed to this. I walk along the pool, toward the glass wall, the bridge and veranda.
Shawn trails an inch behind. “You can read there, or play your violin!” he says. “Can you imagine filming in here? The acoustics are incredible!”
I nod. Yes, his voice resonates, his bass voice that always touched me deep inside. I stop at the bridge, running my fingertips over the rough white stones of the stanchion, and turn to him. “Why?”
“To swim.” He grins. “Why else would you build a pool?”
Of course. But—why so elaborate?
Because he’s Shawn, I tell myself. Because he can.
Because his mind creates music so beautiful it sweeps the world. His physical creation could be no less, and for just a moment, amidst the trickling waterfall and mist rising off the hot tub, the stone walls and airy glass, with starlight shining in, I’m swept into his soul, and I know I was right, in what I saw in him that first year. A craving for beauty fills his every cell and bursts from him, and I’m sinking into that beauty, falling more deeply in love than I’ve ever been, even as I wrestle with leaving Angus.
But my brain protests! There’s something I’m missing. And suddenly, I know. It’s the speed with which it happened. My eyebrows furrow. Why this instead of the fountain he wanted out front? The ground is still half-frozen—it must have cost ten times what it had to, to do it now, to do it so fast.
“You don’t like it?” He sounds crestfallen.
“I love it!” I turn to him, eyes alight. “It’s incredible, but…why the rush?” My eyes fall on a door, in the wall that was the back of his garage.
He laughs, takes my hands, pulling me into a spin, and suddenly, we’re swaying, his cheek pressed to my hair. He’s humming Moonlight Serenade, his humming reverberating in my own chest. He’s just evaded—and distracted me from whatever is in that room. And it’s working.
Bri’s Book Nook
Among the Reads
Two Points of Interest
Hearts & Scribbles
Rockin’ Book Reviews
Andi’s Book Reviews
Becky on Books
Stacking My Book Shelves!
Teatime and Books
– l winner will receive a print copy of Blue Bells of Scotland (book one in the series) and a Team Shawn or Team Angus t-shirt (US only)
– 1 winner will receive an ebook of Blue Bells of Scotland (open internationally)
– Ends June 27th