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Welcome to the tour for the New Adult Historical Paranormal The Keys of the Watchmen by Kathleen C. Perrin.

The Keys of the Watchmen by Kathleen C. Perrin


Katelyn Michaels plans on hating every moment of her visit to Mont Saint Michel with her father’s new French wife. Once there, she is confused when she experiences sensations of déjà vu and hears voices as she and her younger brother explore the medieval village and abbey.When the oddly-dressed but alluring Nicolas slips Katelyn a strange medallion, she is whisked back through time with him to the 15th century where her Watchmen hosts tell her she is the only hope to save Mont Saint Michel from the invading English armies. Even worse, she learns those armies are led by a fallen angel intent on learning the mount’s closely-guarded secret.

Katelyn is torn by feelings of anger at being taken back in time, inadequacy at finding a modern solution for a medieval problem, and responsibility for the mount’s starving inhabitants. She is also perturbed by her surprising attraction to the ill-tempered Nicolas. Will she stay to learn why she was chosen by the Archangel Michael and find a way to save his mount?

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••Excerpt  from

The Keys of the Watchmen


Kathleen C. Perrin

Chapter 19


SURPRISINGLY, I SLEPT last night. I mean, who knew that a lumpy pallet full of who-knows-what-kind-of-stuffing would send me into la-la land after the day from hell I’d just survived. But nonetheless it did, after I figured out how to use the chamber pot (yuck)! Thank heavens I had tissue in my backpack. I guess there’s something to be said for the power of shock and awe to send a body into survival mode.

Anyway, I don’t even remember dreaming. Of course when I woke up, I had that inevitable moment of thinking I was dreaming. But no. It was all true. I had somehow traveled back in time to 1424 and I was sleeping in a poor excuse of a bed in an unheated house in Mont Saint Michel’s medieval village. Only this really was medieval. Alas, no modern bathroom here. Honestly, I think that reality was harder than dealing with the fact that I’d magically time-traveled. I mean, it’s all fine and good when the movies portray time travel in such a romantic and nostalgic way, but guess what guys? There’s no bathroom! Nothing romantic about that. I don’t want to be graphic, but let’s be honest, shall we?

When I woke up, I pulled back the heavy curtains from around my bed and had a staring contest with the chamber pot. Frankly, the contest didn’t last that long. The chamber pot won. I didn’t see that I had much choice in the matter.

After that battle was over, I pulled out my travel toothbrush and toothpaste and did my best to brush away six hundred years of gunk from my mouth with saliva as my only aid. I say six hundred years because the last time I brushed my teeth was yesterday morning, and wasn’t that nearly six hundred years away? Okay, so maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration. It hadn’t really been six hundred years since I’d brushed my teeth, but it sure felt like it. They’d mysteriously grown a velvet covering. Hey, just like my bed curtains.

I had no idea what time it was but the hints of brightness breaking through the slits in the window shutters were enough to give light to the room and let me know it was morning.  I also had no idea what month it was, but it definitely wasn’t summer because it was cold, but not cold enough to see my breath.

I pulled my shoes and socks on because the wooden floorboards were not only freezing, but I didn’t trust them not to have slivers. I tiptoed to the window, trying to avoid making the floorboards squeak because I wasn’t ready to face my . . . let’s see what should I call them? “Hosts” sounds so lovely and civilized, like being invited to stay at a Victorian manor for the weekend à la Jane Austen. But this wasn’t exactly Netherfield and I wasn’t Elizabeth Bennet. The word “captors” didn’t fit either so I decided to go ahead and refer to them as Watchmen. That’s who they said they were. Anyway, I wasn’t ready to face the two Watchmen below so I tried to be as quiet as possible.

Kathleen C. Perrin holds Bachelor’s degrees from Brigham Young University in French and Humanities, and graduated summa cum laude. She is a certified French-to-English translator. While completing her education, Kathleen met and married a dashing young Frenchman. They have spent years investigating the mysteries and beauties of his native country, and have a cottage in Brittany. For a ten-year period they took tourists to Mont Saint Michel, where she served as tour guide.Kathleen has lived in Utah, New York City, France, and for eight years in French Polynesia. She has worked professionally as a language and music teacher, translator, interpreter and writer. She has published several non-fiction articles, academic papers, and a religious history about Tahiti.

Traveling and learning about new countries and cultures is a passion for Kathleen, but her latest passion is sharing the mysteries of France through her fiction.

The Perrins have three children, and currently reside in Utah.

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