Today I have Ryan Jo Summers and a teaser from her book “Shimmers of Stardust”. 


   Civil War hero turned outlaw, Logan Riley, is hanged in 1869. He survives, traveling through time, until he is found by modern day anthropologist, Dr. McKenzie Lynne. Hired by team of physicists, she soon learns real fate they have in mind for him and takes him and runs.

    Now, pursued by obsessed physicists and the military, they race across deserts and mountains of AZ and NM. If they get caught, it’s a lifetime of imprisonment and tests for him and probably worse for her. But staying free means forever on the run, hunted and homeless.

    Running and hiding, hunted like criminals, McKenzie and Logan also discover attraction and love blooming like desert flowers. Kenzie’s strong Christian faith works to convict Logan of his past crimes better then the hangman’s noose had. As their affections grow and their pursuers close in, their love will face the harshest test of all—Christian morals against nineteenth century outlaw justice.

Now on to some more, here is an excerpt.

(Kenzie is reading a story to her nieces, unbeknownst to her, Logan is out in the hall, listening)

“Oh, Aunt Kenzie, it sounds like Mr. Logan. Is he your knight?”

            Taken aback, she stilled. He was an outlaw, a renegade, a time traveler. He was many things. But a noble knight? He had no castle. No home for that matter. “No,” she answered them. “It’s just a story. Logan is simply a friend of mine.” Hollow, she thought, the words sounded hollow even to her. But the children seemed to accept them. Satisfied, they nestled into the pillows, waiting for the kiss they knew was coming.

              Bending over them, she gave each one a gentle kiss on the forehead, brushing their blond locks out of the way. “Good night, dear ones, I will see you in the morning.” Moving to the door, she turned off the light, reaching for the door. “Sweet dreams.”

                Entering the hall, she bumped into Logan. Startled, her hand flew to her chest as his work roughened hands reached out to steady her, his eyes twinkling in the dim light, his smile big.

                “You tell a right fine story, Kenzie,” he said softly. “I liked it powerful well. Thank you.” Releasing her, he held her hand, lifting it up to kiss the back of it. “You did say the knight kissed the girl?” he asked, lights dancing in his eyes.

                “You heard the whole thing?” she asked, aware of the butterflies taking off inside her. Suddenly she felt light headed and wished impetuously he would hold her again. She leaned against the wall for support, fingers pressing to the solid surface.

                Wordlessly he nodded, slowly releasing her hand. “My horse was brown, not silver,” he finally said. “And I do not talk funny.”

                “What are you doing up here?”

                “Taking a walk?” he suggested, eyes dancing in merriment. “Haley allowed I would hear a good yarn if I came up in time. Reckon she was right.”

                What had made Haley make such a suggestion? she wondered.

                “Also reckon I’ll be beholding to her for telling me that.”

                “I’m sure she’ll soon forget about it,” Kenzie said, breathless despite herself.

                “I won’t.” He leaned closer, where she could smell the coffee on his breath from not long ago.

                “Logan,” his name tumbled from her lips unbidden. Feeling her eyes round in shock, she could only stare at him. “Please don’t misunderstand me.”

                His smile was wide, his voice husky. “Darlin’, I am no knight, no saint, and no hero.”

                “Wh…What are you then?”

                His eyes darkened and he leaned even closer to her, mere inches between them. “A man who has been asleep for a long time.” Suddenly, then, as if he had overstepped his bounds and knew it, he backed up. Face flushing, he touched two fingers to an imaginary hat brim.

                “Ma’am,” he murmured thickly, backing up, marching down the stairs.

                Kenzie leaned back against the closed door again, not sure when she had leaned forward, hand back to her thudding chest. She closed her eyes, willing her breathing to slow down and her trembling to stop. She felt as shaky as a tree in the wind. What if he had kissed her again?


BIO:bio pic burgendy - Copy (1)

 Ryan Jo Summers is a free lance writer and novelist. Raised in Michigan, she was a book fanatic from a young age. She wrote her first book, complete with illustrations, at the age of ten. From that early start, she has always had pen to paper. She comes from a family line of poets and songwriters, so writing is a natural path to travel.


When not writing, or working at her daytime job, she loves spending time with her menagerie of pets–finned, feathered and furry. She also enjoys getting together with friends, travel, reading, cooking, word find puzzles, nature, houseplants and painting—just about everything. Painting, writing poems and baking are forms of stress relief and therapy to work through times of sorrow.


Ryan lives in Western North Carolina where the vast mountain-scape provides both endless beauty and inspiration.


Readers can connect and follow Ryan at, on her blog at and at her author page on Facebook. She also has author profiles on and