Bestselling romance writer Hayden Lane has never been so obsessed with one of her fictional heroes before so entranced that she barely notices when her fiancé breaks their engagement. Desperate to discover more about him, she visits a psychic who tells har that in a past life, Hayden was Lady de Grey, a promiscuous woman of Edwardian England whose ghost is said to haunt her husband's home. Warned not to investigate further, Hayden is more intrigued than ever and can't resist being subject to a hypnotist's magic. But the trick goes wrong, and instead of merely remembering her past as Lady de Grey, Hayden is living it right down to her too-tight corset. Now, Hayden will discover quite a different story about a woman history considered a trollop, a spectacular, brooding man, and the rapturous love that would be hers if she dared open her heart to the most mysterious adventure of all....
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December 31, 1993
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Excerpt from Remembrance by Jude Deveraux
New York City
You can't be happy in this life because of what happened in your past lives.
What would you think if someone said that to you? You'd think, "It's hopeless, why bother trying." Right? Or would you think, "The woman telling me this is crazy and I'd better get me and all my worldly goods out of here?"
Or would you be like me and think, "A story! Everyone's into time travel now and nobody's doing past lives, so maybe I can ask a lot of questions and make a story from this lady's answers."
This last is what I thought when I first met Nora because I am a writer inside and out. There isn't one molecule of me that isn't geared toward, How can I use this in a story?
People are always asking me how I came to be a writer. I'd like to have an answer that would please them. I'd like to say that I was walking through a meadow full of tiny blue flowers when a beautiful woman in a silver dress appeared and bopped me on the head with her wand. She had a golden voice and said, "I am giving you the gift of writing. Go forth and write."
Sometimes I think that people want to hear that I was "chosen," rather like a prophet. But you know, whenever you read about prophets, they always cry to God, "Oh Lord, why me?" Sometimes I think being "chosen" isn't a gift, it's a curse.