Many people obsess over their past, but no one more than I. Perchance it’s because, as a man out of time, I left behind so much of it unlived.
If that makes little sense, consider that I’m a time traveler. Although the backdrop for my story is time travel and alternate realities, the underlying theme is a more human one—of love lost, another love found only to be lost, and of a decision, the result of a single regret brought about by the realization that my self-professed courage to never risk my heart to love was instead cowardice, to rectify a wrong in a life filled with myriad regrets. You may judge me, as it is man’s nature to judge others, or discount my story as the ravings of a lunatic mind or simply the fiction of an overactive imagination—but before you do, I ask that you read on to the end, and then ask yourself if you would have acted any differently.
When I said nothing, Ecstasy leaned over and kissed me, softly but with purpose; I felt the weight of her breasts, the points of their nipples against my chest, her hand gently caressing the inside of my thigh. I recalled the vision of a few minutes ago: A woman undressing in shadows—mottled light from between window blinds set to motion by a gasp of early summer night air, slashes of luminosity split rounded breast, hip’s parabola.
My own gasp whispered to the darkness as my desire responded to hers.
“In January's Thaw
, J. Conrad Guest gives us an unforgettable adventure seen through the cracked lens of our broken present and an all-too-possible, what-if past. Full of intrigue, romance and scathing social commentary, it is both an ambitious novel and an exciting, page-turning imaginative quest for that which is beautiful and true.” —Rachael Perry, author of How to Fly