A Midsummer Night's Romp

The Art of Stealing Time

A
TIME
THIEF
NOVEL

“I highly recommend this book for the humor, the romance, and the wild ride it takes us on.”

—Cocktails and Books

“[MacAlister is] still a brilliant writer, funny, fast, silly, and completely irreverent. . . . Her sassy wit and crazy characters will still entertain her fans.”

—Bitten by Books

“Great. . . . If you enjoy a delightful combination of humor and character-driven stories, MacAlister's latest is a must-have.”

—
RT Book Reviews

“A laugh-out-loud mix of modern and medieval times, full of nonstop action and unforgettable characters . . . very entertaining and endearing!”

—Harlequin Junkie

Time Thief

A
T
IME
THIEF
NOVEL

“If you enjoy a good murder mystery mixed with familial betrayal, the otherworld, and a romance, then this is the book for you.”

—Dark Faerie Tales

“Silly, sassy, and salacious—Katie MacAlister . . . gets up to her usual tricks in this comical paranormal romance.”

—The Urban Book Thief

It's All Greek to Me

“This author delivers again with yet another steamy, sexy read with humorous situations, dialogue, and characters. The plot is fast-paced and fun, typical of MacAlister's novels. The characters are impossible not to like. The hiccups in their relationship only serve to make the reader root harder for them. The events range from amusing to steamy to serious. The reader can't be bored with MacAlister's novel.”

—Fresh Fiction

“A fun and sexy read.”

—The Season

“A wonderful lighthearted romantic romp as a kick-butt American Amazon and a hunky Greek find love. Filled with humor; fans will laugh with the zaniness of Harry meets Yacky.”

—
Midwest Book Review

“Katie MacAlister sizzles with this upbeat and funny summer romance. . . . MacAlister's dialogue is fast-paced and entertaining. . . . Her characters are interesting and her heroes are always attractive/intriguing . . . a good fun, fast summer read.”

—Books with Benefits

“Fabulous banter between the main characters. . . . Katie MacAlister's got a breezy, fun writing style that keeps me reading.”

—Book Binge

Sparks Fly

A
NOVEL
OF
T
HE
LIGHT
DRAGONS

“Once again I was drawn into the wondrous world of this author's dragons and hated leaving once their story was told. I loved this visit and cannot wait for the next book to see just what new adventures lie in wait for these dragons.”

—Love Romances & More

“Fast-paced . . . an entertaining read and a fine addition to MacAlister's dragon series.”

—Bookshelf Bombshells

“Balanced by a well-organized plot and MacAlister's trademark humor.”

—
Publishers Weekly

The Unbearable Lightness of Dragons

A
NOVEL
OF
THE
LIGHT
DRAGONS

“Laugh-out-loud moments . . . a welcome addition.”

—
Publishers Weekly

“[Katie MacAlister is] a gifted humorous paranormal author.”

—
RT Book Reviews

“MacAlister continues with her witty and fun style.”

—Bookshelf Bombshells

A Tale of Two Vampires

A
DARK
ONES
NOVEL

“A roller coaster of giggles, chortles, and even some guffaws. In other words, it is a lighthearted and fun read.”

—The Reading Cafe

Much Ado About Vampires

A
DARK
ONES
N
OVEL

“A humorous take on the dark and demonic.”

—
USA Today

“Once again this author has done a wonderful job. I was sucked into the world of Dark Ones right from the start and was taken on a fantastic ride. This book is full of witty dialogue and great romance, making it one that should not be missed.”

—Fresh Fiction

“An extremely appealing hero. If you enjoy a fast-paced paranormal romance laced with witty prose and dialogue, you might like to give
Much Ado About Vampires
a try.”

—azcentral.com

“I cannot get enough of the warmth of Ms. MacAlister's books. They're the paranormal romance equivalent of soul food.”

—Errant Dreams Reviews

CONTEMPORARY
ROMANCE
S

Matchmaker in Wonderland Romances

THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING ALICE

 

IT'S ALL GREEK TO ME

BLOW ME DOWN

HARD DAY'S KNIGHT

THE CORSET DIARIES

MEN IN KILTS

PARANORMAL
ROM
ANCES

Time Thief Novels

THE ART OF STEALING TIME

TIME THIEF

Dark Ones Novels

A TALE OF TWO VAMPIRES

MUCH ADO ABOUT VAMPIRES

IN THE COMPANY OF VAMPIRES

CONFESSIONS OF A VAMPIRE'S GIRLFRIEND

CROUCHING VAMPIRE, HIDDEN FANG

ZEN AND THE ART OF VAMPIRES

Novels of the Light Dragons

SPARKS FLY

THE UNBEARABLE LIGHTNESS OF DRAGONS

LOVE IN THE TIME OF DRAGONS

Novels of the Silver Dragons

ME AND MY SHADOW

UP IN SMOKE

PLAYING WITH FIRE

Aisling Grey, Guardian, Novels

HOLY SMOKES

LIGHT MY FIRE

FIRE ME UP

YOU SLAY ME

 

STEAMED

THE LAST OF THE RED-HOT VAMPIRES

EVEN VAMPIRES GET THE BLUES

SIGNET SELECT

Published by the Penguin Group

Penguin Group (USA) LLC, 375 Hudson Street,

New York, New York 10014

USA | Canada | UK | Ireland | Australia | New Zealand | India | South Africa | China

penguin.com

A Penguin Random House Company

First published by Signet Select, an imprint of New American Library,

a division of Penguin Group (USA) LLC

Copyright © Katie MacAlister, 2015

Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

SIGNET SELECT and logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) LLC.

ISBN 978-0-698-16915-9

PUBLISHER'S NOTE

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Many, many thanks to my adorable and extremely patient agent, Michelle Grajkowski, who despite my never naming a character Honey Grajkowski still keeps me sane when the world around me goes nutso-cuckoo. Not only is she a fabulous agent, charming as all get-out, and cute as a button, she makes a heck of a male pirate. Yarr, my
dumpling!

“I
get that Gunner is an amateur archaeologist. But why is an archaeology reality TV show coming to the castle?”

Gunner Ainslie made a face at his sister-in-law. “‘Amateur' is a bit rough, Alice. I took a degree in archaeology, after all.”

She looked even more confused. “Then why are you a photographer now instead of an archaeologist?”

“Because he didn't want to be a burden to the estate like all my other siblings,” his brother Elliott, the current Baron Ainslie, answered, giving his wife a squeeze. “Or so he said. Frankly, I think it was a cover so he could take pictures of unclothed women.”

“My job, as you very well know, is about as far from taking pictures of nude women as you can get,” Gunner said with dignity, ignoring the way that Alice, sitting on the arm of Elliott's chair, leaned over to whisper
something into his ear. Gunner kept speaking. “Old decaying buildings aren't particularly sexy, but they can be lucrative in the right developer's hands, and yes, dear sister-in-law, Elliott is absolutely correct that I wanted a job that would allow me to support myself. Archaeology, while fascinating, isn't a profession known for money. In fact, it's damned hard to even make a living from it, let alone thrive.”

“I got that,” Alice said, reluctantly pulling her attention away from Elliott and back to Gunner. Since the two had been married for only a few months, Gunner was prepared to give them a little leeway as far as displays of affection went. “But why did you call in your archaeology buddies in the first place? Yes, the tower in this castle you call home fell down, but there's nothing there that screams archaeology, is there?”

“We wouldn't know if there was,” Elliott answered. “Not until the rubble is cleared away, that is.”

“Crop marks are the answer to your question, Alice.” Gunner gave her a smile that immediately had Elliott pulling her down onto his lap. Gunner grinned inwardly, never failing to find amusement in how jealous his brother had become. “During the summer, here in England, it's possible to see areas where archaeology exists, because the crops grow differently when stone walls or ditches are beneath the topsoil. The drought this summer made it clear that the remains of some large structures were beneath the surface of the estate's pastures, so I called a friend who works for the county archaeology office, and he passed on the news to the Claud-Marie Archaeology people.”

“Speaking of which, who are these Claud-Marie people? You said they're some kind of archaeology company, but you also just said no one makes money in the
old-buried-stuff business. How does this company survive if that's the case? They don't work with a university, do they?”

“No, they're privately funded by a number of companies. Adam—my friend who now works for the county—volunteers now and again for the CMA, and told them about our crop lines. We were actually already on their list of potential sites to visit in the future when the television studio contacted them.”

“And the TV show joined forces with them . . . why?” Alice asked, her brow wrinkling in puzzlement.

Gunner shrugged. “That, I don't know, beyond the fact that they want to make a monthlong TV show about an archaeology dig.”

“And they offered us money for it,” Elliott said quickly. “Lots of money. Which, as you know, my dear wife, despite my lofty title and thriving career as a novelist, we desperately need before our castle falls further down around our heads.”

“I like lots of money,” Alice said approvingly. “Even if it means digging up the pastures a bit. The tourists who come to visit the castle might like it, too. Do you think we should have some new brochures printed up that describe what's going on?”

“That would be a bit premature, since we don't know what, if anything, will be found at the dig site,” Gunner pointed out.

“Yes, but a TV show will be filming while the dig is going on. People love to watch that sort of thing. Maybe we should have some new merchandise for the gift shop made up with archaeology stuff on it. Hm.”

Alice, who had taken wonderfully to the business side of Ainslie Castle's tourist programs, was clearly getting caught up in considering a whole new range of products,
and scooted off Elliott's lap to take a position behind his laptop. Before long, she was busily typing up some notes to herself.

Gunner smiled, grateful his new sister-in-law had taken up the challenge of her husband's impoverished family. Given how many of them there were—the late baron and his wife had had two children of their own and adopted nine others—helping the family over the hump of insolvency was no small feat. But it was Alice's greater intention—the one to see them all happily married—that gave Gunner pause.

“Are you sure you're going to be able to cope with the TV crew while we're gone?” Elliott asked Gunner. “With the family making its yearly exodus to their various holiday destinations, there will be no one here but you to deal with any problems.”

“It'll be fine. I'll be back from Portugal before they start, and Cressy will be here by then.”

“Oh, that's right—your daughter is coming for the summer.” Alice looked up from the laptop. “I'm excited to meet her. She's seventeen, right?”

“Yes.”

“So she'll probably be boy-mad, and indulging in
all
the drama,” Alice said, nodding.

“Actually, she's not. Cressy is a bit . . .” He paused, trying to find the words to explain his daughter's particular joie de vivre. “She's a bit enthusiastic about things. No drama in the sense of door slamming and pouts, just lots of running around, and everything is either
super awesome
or
dead grotty
. There's no in-between with Cressy. Her mother claims she's immature, but I prefer to think of her as unsophisticated and excitable.”

“Well, she sounds adorable, nonetheless, although I have to say that you're the last person I'd have expected would have a seventeen-year-old daughter. You're so . . .” Alice stopped, suddenly looking guilty.

“Dashing?” Gunner supplied. “Debonair?”

“A bit of a dawg, actually.”

Elliott gave a short bark of laughter. “Truer words were never spoken, my dear.”

“On the contrary,” Gunner protested. “I would say just the opposite. I am not a dawg, assuming you mean that in the sense of a man who prowls his way through women.”

“Oh?” Elliott's brow rose. “Let us examine the last few women with whom you associated yourself romantically. You were with them how long?”

Alice raised her eyebrows. “I don't know about the others, because I've been here less than six months, but the last one—wasn't her name Charity?—she lasted a whole three days. And Anna Louise, that American lady—you remember her, Elliott; she's the one who was here for one of the Ainslie Castle Experience weekends—she hung in there for a whole ten days before Gunner gave her the heave-ho.”

“She had to leave,” Gunner said with a frown at both of them. “I didn't tell her to go; she had travel plans elsewhere.”

“Uh-huh. And if she hadn't, would you have asked her to stay on longer?”

Gunner made a sharp gesture with his hand. “That's neither here nor there.”

“He wouldn't have,” Elliott told his wife.

“Totally a dawg. But in a nice way,” Alice added.

Gunner sighed. “Just because I'm not a fan of long-term relationships doesn't mean I'm misogynistic. I like women. Women like me. We like each other in a mutually satisfying way, and when that satisfaction ceases to be mutual, we part. Amicably.”

“I will give you that,” Elliott said, considering his brother. “None of your exes is vindictive or bitter. You
do seem to have a knack for picking women who are just as transitory relationship-wise as you are.”

“There's nothing wrong with embracing a lack of responsibility,” Gunner said, getting to his feet and gathering up his camera. “Not everyone can be the worrywart you are, El. Are you clear on the situation with the dig now, Alice? If so, I've got to get ready for my trip to Spain and Portugal.”

“As clear as I'll ever be.” Alice's attention was clearly focused back on the laptop. “I'm just going to add a little something to the castle's Web site about the TV show filming here.”

“Since you two will be off to the States on Elliott's book tour and delayed honeymoon before I return home, I'll give you a bon voyage now.” Gunner embraced Alice, and patted Elliott on the back. “Have fun, and stay safe.”

“Likewise,” Elliott said, turning a smile on his wife. “Don't call unless something dire happens. I fully intend to give Alice the honeymoon she deserves.”

“I'm sure nothing more exciting will happen beyond finding some Roman ruins beneath the pasture,” Gunner predicted, an excellent example of why he would never be called psychic in any understanding of the word.