STREET OF DREAMS by Marianne Stephens time travel romance paranormal romance

Mission Impossible describes what Detectives NICK OLSON and EILEEN MURPHY face while chasing escaped fugitives. The easy part? Battling for control of their mission while time traveling from 2039 to 1965 before history’s timeline can be changed. The hardest part? Resisting hidden desire for each other while posing as newlyweds and sharing a heart-shaped bed.

Eileen is chosen for this case because she’s an expert on the era. Attracted to Nick, she fights an overwhelming need to satisfy her passion involving him. To avoid heartaches from her past, she trusts no man.

Nick would prefer to take the case without Eileen tagging along. He can’t deny his attraction to her, but hopes to keep her at arm’s length. Unlucky at love, he swears off meaningful relationships and fears Eileen’s ability to bypass the barriers he’s set up to protect his heart.

A night of passion leaves unanswered questions and heartache while murder, dead-ends, and danger confront them at every turn. Resolved to complete their job, they put their differences aside. Finalizing their case will take instinct, combined skills, and strength.

REVIEWS

"Street of Dreams is a nice story full of suspense, danger, and love. It blended nicely two different eras in time. You totally believed that these characters from the future time traveled. The author did a great job in keeping with the idea that they had to hide the fact they were from the future. The characters of Nick and Eileen were wonderfully written, and their passion fro each other leaped off the pages at you. There was also a good mix of suspense and danger thrown into the mix. I really enjoyed reading this story." --reviewed by LeeAnn, Coffee Time Romance.

"I really enjoyed Street of Dreams by Marianne Stephens. I like this type of time travel novel where the time travel is deliberate and a result of science instead of an accident. Who knows what our future holds, maybe we really will see this type of time travel. Ms. Stephens does an excellent job of setting up the situation where the criminal tries to evade capture by taking advantage of the scientific achievements that allow him to flee to the past. I could image this type of world in the future. I’m also glad she made her police characters smart, determined, and human as they deal with the issues of the time difference and figuring out what the criminal has planned to stop him. The relationship between Nick and Eileen is one big battle of stubbornness, misunderstandings, and misrepresentation from other people. A couple of times, I just wanted to knock their thick skulls together. Come on Nick and Eileen, stop listening to other people and think for yourselves if you want to follow through on your attraction! If you love the conflicts inherent in time travel, a suspenseful story, and want a fun romance; this is a book you will enjoy." --reviewed by Stephanie B, Fallen Angel Reviews.

"Stephens takes readers on a wild ride by sending two police detectives back in time... The details are well thought out, and the main characters are interesting, which makes this a compelling romantic voyage."--4 STARS, HOT, reviewed by Faith V. Smith, Romantic Times.

Detective Nick Olson’s stomach lurched then dropped as his boss mentioned Eileen Murphy’s name. Her plexi-glass cubicle lay two rows behind his. Although she was gorgeous, he wouldn’t change his mind about not wanting to work a case that included her charming company.

Every man in the department held his breath when assignments were doled out. No male detective wanted to be partnered with Eileen, the “Ice Queen”. Avoiding her aloof, standoffish company suited Nick ever since she’d joined the department.

“Look, Captain. I’ll be happy to jump and nab Charger with anyone else, but don’t stick me with her. I don’t need her help on this case. I’m up-to-date on history for that time.”

He sank back into his chair, mentally listing others he’d rather partner with for this assignment if anyone else were needed at all. He came up with every male detective’s name in the office.

Since his divorce and being dumped by an office fling, Nick swore off trusting or working with women. They had their place in his life, but it didn’t include getting chummy at work and doing cases together. He and any woman partnering as a team would mix like oil and water. Neither combination would ever blend well enough to create any productive result.

Captain Alex St. John, the gray-haired head of Kansas City’s Midwest Law Force Division, stared back at him. Anger clouded his normally placid face. Nick cringed. That look couldn’t be encouraging.

“My decision’s final. If you don’t like it, transfer somewhere else. I assign people according to expertise, not personal preferences. Understood?”

“Yeah. Loud and clear.” The same stomach that lurched and dropped moments ago now churned with the formation of knots that kneaded and twisted inside. “When do we leave? And where the hell is she?”

With great reluctance, Nick resigned himself to the job ahead with a partner he’d rather ignore than spend two weeks of case time with, especially during a jump. If they caught the criminal earlier than their allotted assignment time, they’d have a chance to jump back to 2039 without spending fourteen days on-the-job.

He snorted, assuming the case would drag out to its full time. No, he wouldn’t be so lucky. He’d be stuck with “Queen Eileen” the whole damn time.

St. John interrupted Nick’s detouring train of thought. “You still with me, Nick? Daydream on your own time. I believe you asked a question. Murphy’s finishing up that retro-case on the Simpson murders. She cracked it after forty-five years and did it without having to jump.”

Nick had all to do to sound enthusiastic. Grudgingly, he had to admit the woman knew her stuff in that decade and had outperformed many others. Too busy with other jumps, he’d never attempted that case. But other male detectives who’d failed in their attempts to solve the case resented her success.

Eileen was a looker and a real knockout. Her curvaceous body fit perfectly into her uniform. Nick’s male colleagues took bets on whether or not it was actually a second skin. Women didn’t wear those bra things anymore and the underside support panel mandated by designers in every woman’s garment to touch the breasts lifted Murphy’s deliciously.

The sight of her nipples pointing forward through the thin material of her uniform top sent a message of lust straight to his groin. He could imagine the lightly starched fibers rubbing against each nipple. Nick would gratefully substitute his fingertips for a chance to caress those protruding buds.

Too bad Eileen was ice personified. If they didn’t work together, he’d welcome a chance to melt down that exterior and plunge into what had to be a hot, throbbing interior.

“She’s due back at two,” St. John continued. “Call her on her watch communicator and make sure she gets here on time. You guys jump at three. Street Of Dreams owners are setting it up for you. They have someone jumping at one, so you can’t go any sooner.”

He angled himself out of the seat opposite St. John. Checking his watch, he realized he’d have five hours to go through supply and pick up what he’d need to jump into 1965. Then he’d have to sit and twiddle his thumbs until the “Ice Queen” honored him with her presence.

St. John called out to him before Nick could exit through the door. He froze in his tracks and spun back to stare at his boss.

“Be sure to get enough stuff for the both of you. Murphy will have only an hour to get what personal items she’ll need. You get the rest.”

“Right. No problem.” “Queen Eileen” wasn’t even around yet but already he’d been stuck with extra work. “Anything else”?

“Yeah. You two will be going as honeymooners. Make sure you don’t blow your cover.” St. John bellowed with laughter.

Nick eyed him with a “Why me?” stare, wondering if finding another job would be all that difficult. That thought lasted only thirty seconds before sanity took hold. “Any other surprises? Four kids, maybe?”

“Nah, you’re on your honeymoon, remember? Correct me if I’m wrong, but in that time out-of-wedlock kids were a no-no. Nope, just you and Murphy.”

Nick turned and trudged away, never glancing back at his boss. He bypassed his desk, opting for a session at the supply room down the hall. Time to do all the set-up work before his unwanted partner waltzed in and graced him with her presence.

The call on her watch communicator interrupted Eileen as she made her way to the transporter designated to take her back to the office. Juggling her purse, a briefcase, ten ancient file folders and one supersized Café Mocha, she angled her wrist for a better view. She stared at the watch as Nick Olson’s face materialized.

“Did St. John quit? You running the office now?” The man lacked tact. Who did he think he was to issue orders to her?

“No to both stupid questions. Would you believe I miss your pleasant company?”

“I’m running out of patience. What do you want?” Annoyance wormed its way into her rushed question as she shifted her arms for a better grip on everything she carried.

Elation at the prospect of going on her first jump assignment shoved her annoyance aside. Irritation melted away and was replaced by surprise and a rush of adrenaline. Finally, another chance to prove her worth to the department and a jump through Street Of Dreams.

“Then why the hell are you tagging along?” The man forced her irritation level to return but she wouldn’t let him douse her enthusiasm.

“Because, I’ve been around here longer than you and I’ve jumped this house before. I know my way around. And just so there’ll be no misunderstanding, I’m in charge.”

No surprise there. None of the guys in their department ever considered Eileen had been in charge of other cases she’d been on. But this time would be different. She had the expertise Nick lacked. Her knowledge gave her the edge.

She controlled gloating but couldn’t halt a dose of sarcasm entering her tone. “Sure you are. Right up until you run out of ideas and need my help.”

“I know how you can help, but I don’t think you’ll agree,” he drawled in a phony, southern accent.

The man had the nerve to laugh before replying, “I see where your head is. I never mentioned sex.”

Damn. He hadn’t, although she knew what he meant. “Fine, Mr. Nick Pureheart. How can I help?”

Anger tested her control. “In your dreams, Olson. I’m going. St. John’s sending me for a reason. You can drop out if my company’s going to be too stressful for you. I’m sure I can handle everything on my own.”

“This is getting us nowhere. I guess we’re stuck with each other. Get in here and be ready to jump. I already got our stuff.”

“Good. I just have enough time to race in and pick up a few things before we leave. Too bad St. John didn’t give me more time.”

“Yeah, well, he figured I’d do all the work before you showed up. Guess he was right.”

Eileen closed her eyes and mentally counted to ten. Then twenty. To hell with whether or not he was watching. “Look, I have no control over St. John issuing orders when I’m not there. See you at two.”

Eileen dropped her coffee, splashing it onto the ground and spattering her shoes. She turned her attention back to her watch. Nick had already powered off, leaving her staring open-mouthed as she focused on the numbers reappearing.

Eileen pushed a damp curl away from her forehead. Transporters never slid fast enough, at least not when she was running late. She’d closed her last case but never had the chance to relish a victory in solving the two murders that took place in California involving a well-known ex-football player in 1994. That case had stymied detectives for decades.

She’d painstakingly reviewed the decades-old files and presented the motive and suspect with just the right amount of proof to make her case. Even the Crime-Solver computer couldn’t refute her detailed analysis. Too bad the murderer was dead. She so wanted to be the one to put him behind bars, no matter how old the criminal would be.

She pushed aside the urge to continue dwelling on the 1994 case as a more pleasant thought evolved. Jumping to 1965 would put Eileen in the year her grandmother turned fifteen.

The now eighty-nine-year-old woman enjoyed fascinating her grandchildren and great-grandchildren with tales of growing up in the 1960’s. That was part of the reason Eileen had majored in US history from 1960 through 2000. Granny’s detailed stories gave her an edge in class.

She checked the transporter screen in front of her, waiting for the “clear” sign so she could step into her building. Once it did, she raced to the supply room in her still soggy shoes, eager to grab what she’d need then dash to her office.

She imagined her unwilling partner pacing the floor while waiting for her, hoping she’d opt to back out and let him go it alone.

Fat chance, Olson. I’m psyched up and ready for our adventure whether you want me there or not.

Street Of Dreams. The name brought to her mind images of portals meticulously arranged, maintained, and situated in or by houses/buildings. These dwellings resided on one carefully manicured and guarded street as a way to step back into the past.

When the developer first offered the world a chance to slip back through time by entering one of his portals, people rushed to make reservations. Now that the price had quadrupled, most people simply couldn’t afford it.

The rich and famous still made their treks, using their trips as vacations. The most popular portal led to 13331 El Centro, a house near a southern California beach area. Going back to the 1990’s gave visitors a chance to enjoy the sun and fun of a then-western coastline area of the US. After the quake of 2015 when most of the state disappeared into the ocean, no real usable beach area existed anymore.

No matter how enthusiastic Eileen was about jumping for this case, working with Nick would be a nightmare. An arrogant son-of-a-bitch, he’d ignored her on an almost daily basis since she’d joined the department six months earlier. Most of the guys in the department did the same.

Times had changed, but the chauvinistic male attitudes remained alive and kicking in her chosen profession. Testosterone permeated the building, and the “good-old-boy” network shunned females. No matter how hard she worked and proved herself to be competent, hormones got in the way of acceptance.

Damn. She should probably check in with her reluctant partner. Eileen pressed the last-call button on her watch, waiting for Nick to answer.

Wonderful. A man of many words. “I’ll be there in two minutes. Don’t want you to think I’m not coming.”

Eileen tried to remain calm as arguing with him wouldn’t do any good. She decided to answer his sarcastic comment with a pleasant tone in her voice.

This time she chose to forget masking the sound of her voice and let irritation slip into her reply. “Fine. Don’t worry, Olson. I’m on my way.”

She ended the call, reminding herself that long ago she’d given up trying to impress any of her co-workers. Her biggest mistake centered involved her ill-fated date with Joe Kramer, another level four detective who’d sat across from Nick.

He’d expected sex on their first date and when she’d refused, he’d gotten nasty. It had taken some well-placed kicks from Eileen to cool his ardor. He’d trashed her to his buddies in the department, labeling her seductive and cold.

After their fiasco of a date, she’d found out he had a wife, two children, and two previous sexual harassment charges against him. Not wanting to hurt his family, Eileen had kept her mouth closed and endured the taunts and whispered name-calling. Filing a suit would not benefit her as a new member of the force, or Joe’s family.

A month after their date he’d moved out of state, but damage to her chance of being accepted by the others had set in. Eileen ignored her coworkers as they negated her presence. It made for a lonely work environment.

Hence the name “Ice Queen” developed. Sometimes it would be thrown in her face, but only by peers and without the possibility of witnesses. Her superiors displayed respect for her, but she knew promotions were as probable as buying a bottle of French champagne.

Eileen’s taste buds tingled and longed to savor just one sip of any French wine. Since the war in 2020 and the cunningly orchestrated Persian Flea Infestation, those Frenchies couldn’t find two grapes in their whole damn country. A third world country had developed a sophisticated weapon that and pushed France to its economic knees. If the US and its allies hadn’t nuked the turbans immediately after the bugs were released, who could tell where they’d have struck next?

Once inside the supply room, Eileen focused her attention to the present and her upcoming jump. She took a modified 1965 watch from one of the shelves, knowing she’d have to be careful about taking it into the sixties. She programmed it to immediately self-destruct if her personal code wasn’t used and then slipped it on her wrist. No jumper could take the chance of advanced technology getting into the wrong hands in the wrong era.

A suitcase had already been semi-packed for her by the SOD personnel per St. John and Nick’s instructions. After grabbing more items and throwing them into the suitcase, she jogged to her department office.

As she rounded the corner leading to their desk area, Nick came into view. He sat at his desk and drummed his fingers as he studied what she assumed were their operation guides for the assignment.

He epitomized the typical impatient male. With an air of confidence, Eileen imagined he’d probably checked his watch every minute while waiting for her arrival. Even his knee jerked up and down as he tapped his foot on the floor in time with his cadence on his desk.

Handsome with a curly mop of sandy-colored hair, he turned quite a few female heads in the department. Heck, even some of the gay guys sought him out but he was definitely a “ladies’ man”.

Rosalie, a blonde bombshell with a plastic surgeon’s masterpiece job of breast implants to die for, had dated Nick for a few months. Both level four detectives, she’d finally dumped him for a level six stud two floors up, hoping to sleep her way through a few levels.

Although five years younger and with three years less experience, the plan worked as she now outranked Eileen. Maybe I should take some lessons from Rosalie on turning tricks up the ladder to success.

Nick had puzzled Eileen by acting the gentleman. From what Eileen heard through the female employee grapevine, he’d never uttered a word against Rosalie. The blonde would only regale listeners with her side of the story, bemoaning the fact that while he had a great body, his poor performance never made her happy. Seems he couldn’t keep the nympho satisfied, at least according to her version of their affair.

Yep, Eileen noticed his body many times but backed herself far away into a corner. As much as she fantasized about stud service from him, emotional involvement would never work. She could match any sex move or position he named, as long as feelings didn’t get involved.

And so the dilemma. With Nick she feared letting down her guard and opening up her heart. If she gave into her desires, she’d come out on the losing end. That could never happen again.

Eileen kept an inventory on him tucked away deep in her mind: Thirty-three years old, six-feet-two-inches, gorgeous chocolate-brown eyes, muscles rippling under his uniform, lived alone, ever the playboy. But that’s as far as it could go.

Damn if she didn’t sense his presence every time he came near her, whether she saw him coming or not. Somehow Nick sent signals to her body that made it crave him. And that made him a danger to her locked-away heart and soul.

She’d been paired with him twice during mandatory physical combat training. Both times left her heaving and panting for sexual release. Rubbing against him unnerved her to the point of total frustration.

After each session she’d gone to the Male Market, the only times she’d resorted to doing so. Buying stud service…although commonplace and fully acceptable…didn’t sit well with her conservative, Midwest upbringing. Just walking into the place and acquiescing to the needs of her body took pushing aside negative thoughts complete with mental images of her parents’ disapproving stares.

She had to relieve the pent-up passion and the Male Market would suffice. It never replaced her sexual daydreams starring one Nick Olson. Twice Eileen had spent a delicious hour with one of the Male Market’s employees, exploring and acting out her fantasies.

Damn. No other man in the department caused so much as a quiver cascading down her body. Not one of them invaded her dreams or inspired fantasies. It only happened with Nick.

Eileen stopped her rush to his desk, choosing instead to stroll in. Two weeks with him could either be a nightmare or a great case, depending on his outlook. She’d make the best of it. But jumping to his orders and racing in to please his egotistical image of “I’m the one in control” had to be squashed before he got out of hand.

“I’m here. What’s the setup?” Eileen spoke in a businesslike manner and gazed down to where he sat.

Rocking back in his chair, Nick looked at his watch and then raised his head to stare at her. “You’re only half an hour late. Nice start.”

“I already stopped at supply for my stuff. See?” She pointed to a suitcase. “Mrs. Olson is ready to jump.” She gave him an insincere smile.

His eyes raked her body and caused shivers to careen from her head to her toes. “You’re not dressed to jump, little woman.”

Annoyed at his condescending tone, she lashed out, “We can do this the hard way or the easy way. Makes no difference to me. You choose.”

“I’m not your ‘little woman’. I plan to get dressed as soon as we’re done talking. Or should I say, arguing.”

“I thought you were up on the sixties. You’ll be my ‘little woman’ for all onlookers. I’m just getting into character.” He plastered that silly grin on his face again.

Shit. He was right. Grandpa had called grandma that until she put a stop to it in the eighties. Grandma would chew Nick up and down if she’d heard the condescending “Little woman” comment aimed at Eileen. The senior citizen would leave him quaking in his boots and running for cover when she was done with him.

“Yeah, well, when we’re alone, don’t do it. Okay? It’s so demeaning. I’m not little and definitely not your woman.”

He gave her the once over again, spending entirely too much time checking out her chest. “Oh, I know you’re not little, but you’re a woman all right.”

“Nick, my face is up here. Drag your eyes away from my breasts for a moment.”

His countenance changed from teasing to one of anger. Cold, dark eyes locked with hers. “I know where your body parts are. Go get dressed. I’ve got some stupid shirt and eyeglasses to put on. Meet me down by the main transporter in ten minutes. We’ll head over to SOD and they’ll send us and our car on our merry way.”

“Elliot Charger, the now former CEO of Charger Enterprises. Seems he killed two board members, ran off with some Female Market honey named Abby, and took along six million dollars worth of company funds. SOD got one million of that right before he jumped. He signed a promissory note for the rest.”

Eileen made an unladylike snorting sound. “So, I guess we’re after a killer, because that’s change purse pickings for a company like that.”

“You’re not using that time-traveler’s head of yours, are you, ‘Miss 1965 Expert’? Charger can live like a king back then with that measly amount of money.”

Hell. Nick was right. Like all the other men in the department, Nick would use her stupid blunder to benefit himself if she wasn’t careful.

A pounding headache formed at the base of Eileen’s neck. Looks like I’m stuck with another version of my ex-boyfriend, Brian.

Without another word, Eileen swiftly turned and walked away from him. She had to dress and be ready to enter the SOD office.

Their job was already turning into a long, agonizing assignment and trip. And, they hadn’t even left the office yet.