                                                                                                    SynopsisHenley Reynolds is a romantic adventure novelist living in downtown Chicago.  Writing adventures too unbelievable to have herself, less content living these daring journeys and knowing love only through her characters deciding to attempt finding her own.  Getting away from the city’s cold winter has her traveling to a destination yet to find its way into her books; Bermuda or more specifically, the Bermuda Triangle.  Joining a privately chartered yacht, one day into her search for ‘relaxation and adventure’ finds her knocked off the stern into Caribbean waters through no fault of her own.  Discovered just before succumbing to exhaustion and slipping below the water, it becomes apparent her rescuers are privateering pirates in 1812.  Quickly stumbling upon more excitement than even the writer could conceive, Henley is thrust into events where she is sailing the sea to places she only writes about.   
In the center of a quest for Pierre Laffite’s silver, only beginning the privateers and her as well as Laffite on a search for salvaged treasure from a Spanish treasure galleon based on her knowledge of where it sank.  Never regretting her effort to save Captain West’s ship and privateering position by claiming to be his wife, or needing to see it through so the marriage document could be provided.  Unable to share why she possesses the accurate information no woman in this century should; West’s suspicion Henley is a spy for Spain cuts deep, albeit understandable.  When Pierre appears asking her where his silver is, then joining forces and sailing the same ship abruptly finds her in a dilemma never even writing about.  Drawn down a path from dancing with pirates and being aboard when the privateers take their next ship, meeting up with Napoleon sympathizers; to finding herself after salvaged bounty in the limestone caves of Nassau with Pierre and Jean Laffite.  Believing she finally chanced upon what was penned and always sought she discovers herself caught up and lost in more than just time, for more than one heart is at stake.  Not knowing or able to write the ending to this epic tale unearths adventure and risk, where falling in love will cost her more than the loyalty to any of the characters she creates.   

The author Amy Marcoski

Discovering and falling in love with the freedom of writing at 12, she hasn’t stopped; believing ‘there’s nothing quite as adventurous as a blank page.’  Her prowess with words creates characters so real they leap off the page, entangling her readers where they fall in love with the imagined; legendary romantasy where anything is possible and can happen, certainly does when she puts pen to paper.  Her first series consists of 5 books, including a prequel.  The Timeless Pyrate plot develops through the first introducing us to unforgettable characters and their adventures, coaxing us to fall in love and leave the boundaries of time or reality in our wake.  

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Exerpt...

“I have to go and your quarters are too far,” she said in lowered voice.  Not concealing his hearty laugh, observing her face quickly reassuring her.  “Not laughing at you, th’ way y’ said it,” and still shaking his head confining his amusement to a subdued chuckle.  He motioned her to come closer, so leaning towards the handsome pirating privateer with the captivating silver gaze.  She awaited what appeared would be some whispered secret; “Look across th’ floor, see th’ wall an’ hallway?” he asked.  Henley nodded turning to see where he pointed.  “It’s th’ second door on th’ left,” he told her quirking curved mouth when she whirled her head back only inches from his face.  “Oh!” she sighed exasperated pushing her chair back and standing.  Unmoving for a moment collecting herself and looking to where he had indicated; then with a quick overall glance at the table she gestured.  “I’ll be back.  Somebody be so kind as to have my mug refilled,” starting to make her way.  The chuckles and laugh she knew was Jace reached her; facing away from the table not concealing the flash of teeth reflecting her mood.  Crossing some type of dance floor, she almost bumped into a couple moving across it in time with the piano and violin she hadn’t noticed.  Second door on the left, repeating as she walked down the short hallway; pleasantly surprised when she saw the door saying ‘senorita’ noting the other said ‘hombre.’  Apparently 1812 wasn’t as primitive as she thought.  
Feeling much better when she exited the hallway a hand grabbed her forearm in a cruel grip.  Her eyes widened and narrowed in the same motion as she turned to the tall dark Spanish stranger with the lewd grin.  “Care for a dance?” slurring his words.  Frowning her first thought was, it’s only about four, really?  But then she was pulling as he tried to drag her towards the floor she crossed moments ago.  Feeling resistance and turning back to her, his face shrank from mirth to a frown so quickly Henley was genuinely scared when abruptly the strong arm slipped around her waist pulling her forward and to the side.  Simultaneously she felt the mouth through the hair before her ear; “Dance with me Henley,” the low male voice murmured, immediately evoking the shiver down her neck.  She was pulled and swung in the same movement, her feet stepping quickly to keep up; only when she was hanging on by the tips of the larger hands could she see it was West.  Her heart dropped while thudding pleasantly; eyes drawn to that infectious askew curved mouth, and she would be willing to wager that silver gaze just flashed at her.  It was automatic giving deep reflection of the look, knowing the tingle down her neck still felt was because of his sensual voice.  					All too aware of the fast-paced violin and the fact that there were three other couples on the floor with them; in the next breath he swung her close sliding strong arm around her waist holding her close while inclining his head.  “I thought it looked like y’ needed rescuing again love,” his mouth quirking in amusement.  Gripping his forearms tightly not knowing what her feet were doing; following the lead of this man who was looking at her like she didn’t remember being looked at before.  “Hombre,” came an angry voice right behind her.  “The lady and me were going to dance,” came slightly slurred words from the voice she remembered.  Her eyes were fixed on West’s as they rose to look behind her narrowing.  Without warning Ethan’s hand moved to her lower back and she felt pressure as he pulled her closer locking his arm about her.
“Ella esta` conmigo,” West said smoothly while she watched his face take on that no nonsense appearance she already had glimpses of.  The man shook his head and looked disgusted, mumbling something incoherent but turned to saunter off in the direction of the long bar.  Henley’s eyes widened a little at hearing the fluent Spanish roll off his tongue.   Focusing back on her his expression softened, flashing a smile.  “What did you say?” she asked, wondering momentarily if she didn’t speak loud enough for he leaned close for her to speak again.  Repeating the question thinking this must be reality for she could not remember her heart ever pounding like this with anybody else.  West tossed his head back in a laugh before spinning her away from him and catching her back flush, dipping his head.  “I told him she’s with me,” that infectious look she was growing familiar with crossing his mouth.  

“I need another anyone else?” Henley only had a couple drinks over the course of time here at the tavern since Flynn brought her the first early afternoon; her mind still processing but now she didn’t care; wanting to relax and not think about anything.  Nobody wanted one, so she turned to the bar to get herself a refill.  West watched her go giving Beau who was closest to her the casual gesture meaning watch her.  Sebastian did just that, seeing her walk half-way down to an opening at the long counter and lean against it; turning back to the men.She wasn’t nervous leaning against the bar, after everything she had been through in the last couple weeks there didn’t seem anything that would startle her anymore.  The barkeep; a big man stood before her; offering the grin leaning on the bar top without a word and raising brow.  He had seen this woman with Sonora’s crew, having every intention of treating her right.  After ordering she leaned against the counter listening to the guitar behind her; the man leaned directly next to her brushing shoulder enough to be noticeable, taking her by surprise.  Glancing to her side increased heartbeat; muscular forearms with rolled sleeves leaned on the bar counter.  That was not what held her gaze, it was the silver rings on two fingers of each hand.  Abruptly breath caught in her throat and it was hard to swallow.  All at once the mug was set before her.  “You’re fine,” the barman told her with a friendly look and wave.  She nodded thanks smiling at the man, but Henley didn’t move.  Her eyes now locked on the arms, the hands directly next to her.  Gripping her refilled mug, she was about to turn when the familiar husky undertone stopped her.   “Where’s my silver che`ri?” 