Deep Echoes Web of Echoes Book 1 by Melody Ash Genre: Time Travel Adventure
She’s a no-holds- barred, kick-butt, don’t-cover-the-ugly-parts archaeologist. History wants to teach her a lesson. The journey begins with a backpack and lip gloss. Caitlin Benoit finds her blood quickened by a new, intriguing site. An initial exploration leads to the discovery of a mysterious river rock with peculiar etchings. Puzzled, she breaks all the rules to examine the stone closer. When she brushes away the dirt, 2017 folds away to leave Caitlin standing in pre-Civil War Charleston. As she tries to work out how she time traveled to 1859, Caitlin learns the terrifying risk she poses even while she tries to return home. Add to Goodreads Amazon * Apple * B&N * Google * Kobo
Northern Echoes Web of Echoes Book 2
She’s a no-holds- barred, kick-butt, don’t-cover-the-ugly-parts archaeologist. History wants to teach her a lesson.Adventures are launched with a parlor and a sword. Caitlin Benoit assumed the next destination would be her time, her world. Instead, the stone thrusts her further into the past and onto a different continent. Now in 1831 England, she’s discovered by William, the Duke of Lancaster. By sheer luck, he’s willing to allow her into his manor. While she fights to gain a footing in this new time, Caitlin discovers the stone also ripped John from Charleston. Everything she thought she knew about how the stone worked is false, and neither of them understand how to escape the grip of the past. As they work to uncover the mystery of the stone, an acquaintance of the Duke plots an intricate scheme certain to destroy them all. She and John must solve the puzzle, in an unknown amount of time, or risk getting stuck–or buried–in 1831. Add to Goodreads Amazon * Apple * B&N * Kobo
Sunken Echoes Web of Echoes Book 3
She’s a no-holds- barred, kick-butt, don’t-cover-the-ugly-parts archaeologist. History wants to teach her a lesson.Discovery has an hourglass and a necklace. Caitlin lands hard on the decks of an infamous ship–with only 24 hours before it sinks, and John is missing. Trapped in 1912 on the Titanic, sand is slipping through the hourglass as she tries to jump ship before it plunges to the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. She meets Elizabeth, a woman with valuable knowledge about time travel and how it works. Yet nothing is ever easy, and her new friend’s memory proves to be unreliable. As Caitlin searches for John, the grains of time slip away. She must put the pieces together, or she’ll find herself in lying in a cursed grave at the bottom of the ocean. **Only .99 cents!!**Add to Goodreads Amazon * Apple * B&N * Kobo
Melody grew up loving the endless possibilities fantasy and Sci-Fi held between their pages or played on the big screen. At age ten, she picked up a pencil and began coming up with stories of her own that toyed with other worlds and the mysteries of this one. When she’s not delving into the worlds created by words, she’s digging into Ghiradelli chocolates and creating memories with her families. Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads
Chapter One
The French Chateau rose into view, first with its vibrant blue slate rooftop, then the limestone
exterior, a graceful contrast of color breaking through the vibrant green of the North Carolina forests.
A hidden treasure now exposed for world review. Caitlin Benoit’s pace slowed, her long legs basking
in the rays of the warm southern sun. Other visitors hurried past her, more concerned with getting
inside the house than enjoying the view or understanding the history of a Gilded Age estate. She
tussled the thick curls she’d inherited from her father—dark brown like his, highlighted by her
mother’s gold, Caucasian coloring. Anyone’s quick glance would see a woman with a healthy, year-
round tan. She’d inherited that from both parents—a good mix of her mother’s European ancestors
and her father’s African roots. And she was equally proud of both sides of her heritage as it helped
shape and define her passion for research and exploration into the past.
But, she reminded herself, this visit to the Biltmore Estate wasn’t work. This was a vacation. A break
from exploring a history in slave trade around the world in all its ugly incarnations. This was a break,
and, she thought with a sigh, one much needed.
Caitlin stepped into the heavy foot traffic and followed other tourists to the front of the chateau. As
she edged closer to the house, her phone rang, and Caitlin rolled her eyes. Just an afternoon to
herself—it couldn’t be that much to ask. Should have left the device in the car.
She pulled the phone from a pocket and glanced at the name; a soft smiled played across her lips.
“Hey, Sean. You’re lucky I like you.”
He chuckled. “I knew that, but why?’
She pressed a finger against one ear to drown out the surrounding voices and laughter. “I’m getting
ready to go inside the Biltmore Estate. When the phone rang, I was ready to wring the neck of
whoever was interrupting my vacation.” Caitlin smiled sweetly at a man who’d turned around with a
raised brow. As he turned and returned his attention to his family, she shook her head. People could
be so nosey.
“Biltmore, huh?” Sean asked. “How do you feel about a side trip?”
Caitlin stepped out of line, nodded to the people behind her. “Side trip? Why would I do that?”
“I found something you might be interested in.”
Her stomach did the familiar flip any new discovery brought with it. Even after ten years of working in
the field, new sites still made her blood race. “Oh?”
To make matters worse, she could hear the smile through the phone. Sean knew he had her
undivided attention. “A local builder was clearing ground for a new factory, found the remains of
what appears to be slave shacks.”
The flips erupted into a full-on explosion. “Has an archaeological team been called in yet?”
“Yeah. You.”
She laughed. They’d graduated college at the same time and, along with another friend, Jenny,
formed a team quickly respected by the archaeological community. Friends, colleagues, and, she
liked to think, one of the best teams in the business. They grew together, made mistakes together,
polished their skills together, understood how each other worked. Her team. The best there was.
“I like that. Where are you?” Caitlin asked.
“Just north of Charleston. Should be about a four-hour drive from where you are.”
She nodded, glanced at the Biltmore Estate with a passing shade of disappointment, then turned
and headed back down the driveway. The vacation didn’t have to be canceled, just postponed. “I’m
far too predictable. You knew I’d come running.”
“Predictable is not a word I’d use to describe Caitlin Benoit, but in this case, I had a pretty good
hunch. But just in case you need further incentive, the shacks aren’t all that was found.”
“I’m already on my way. You don’t have to play dirty.”
He laughed. “I found a stone. Looks like Hoodoo symbols are carved into it.”
She trotted the rest of the way to the car. A stone with writing meant a gold mine to treasure
seekers. If word got out, she’d never make it on time. “Was it pulled from the site already?”
“No, it’s waiting for you.”
“Has it been made public yet?”
“You know me better than that, Caitlin. Don’t worry. The whole site has been taped off. You have
first dibs, so don’t kill yourself getting here.”
As he finished the sentence, Caitlin’s foot was already stomping against the pedal, tires screeching
from the parking space as other visitors to Biltmore stared at her in wonder. “You take all the fun out
of everything.”
“Someone has to. I’ll see you in a couple hours.”
“You said it would take about four to get to you.”
“Right. And the way you drive, it’ll be two.”
Caitlin said goodbye and ended the call, cranked up the volume on a favorite mix of songs spanning
three decades, and turned onto I-26 East. She settled in the seat, ready for the ride through the
Carolina mountains. Her mind raced over the possibilities. A carved stone found at the site of slave
shack remains. Hoodoo and Voodoo were both widely practiced religions among early slaves, both
faiths a thick blend of Christian beliefs blended with African rituals. The stone wasn’t a big surprise.
Simple tools of their faith, like a rock, were easy to hide from the plantation masters who didn’t want
their workforce dabbling in what would have been seen as witchcraft. A rock in the corner of a
house? Who would look twice at that?
“But every find tells a bigger story.” Caitlin pressed harder on the pedal, the Jeep barely twitching in
response. What remained of the Antebellum South had been romanticized, the best of the slave
quarters far less characteristic of what many were forced to live in. Brick houses with well-
constructed walls and fireplaces were not commonplace, and the more characteristic wooden
structures long since destroyed.
Studying this period of American history always placed Caitlin in an odd juxtaposition between the
two separate histories that coursed through her veins and shared her heart. Maybe that was why it
captivated her so much.
To travel back in time, to see the histories merge into one clumsy choreographed dance.
“I’d have to be invisible, but it’d be interesting.” She looked across the rich jade forests lining either
side of the highway. “But since that’s not a possibility, I’ll keep digging.”
After all, digging was what she was meant to do.
Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway! a Rafflecopter giveaway
