One hundred years apart

One hundred years apart

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Mon, Jul 3, 2023
Duas melhores amigas veem-se separadas por um período de 100 anos após tocarem naquilo que não deviam. Brigitte uma jovem sem cor ou ambição é enviada para 1850 e lá terá que arranjar uma maneira de comunicar com Lyla, a sua amiga apaixonada pelo mundo que fica presa em 1950. Serão elas capazes de voltar para o presente sem alterarem a história como a conhecemos?
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Featured on @HistoricalFiction @NARomance 🥇2023 Rose Gold Awards 🥇Literary Book Awards Story of Edith&Andre: "O'Lady Liberty divine! For thee alone, my life I'd resign: I beseech all to carve thy name so fair, On my tombstone, for all to stare." "This is a love poem for me?" Edith couldn't help muttering resignedly. But what else could she do? Her lover was a stoic little leader! Every time she complained that he was always working tirelessly, Andre would smile and whisper in her ear, "Have you not heard? 'A revolutionary only finds rest in his grave'." It seemed like an ominous omen when he ultimately had neither a grave nor a tombstone. The only thing Andre left her was a small notebook with a red cover. The front page was inscribed with neatly written words: Love, Compassion, Liberty. The final pages remained blank, but at the very end was a small line of pencil writing, already smudged and faded. Each letter was bold and alive, revealing the profound happiness and fervor of the writer: "Liberty is the right to love and to be loved." Story of Fiona: Little Fiona always thought that she lived in a world entirely separated from those wealthy girls, until this barefooted waif became a little Marchioness overnight. She had two fathers, one grand and handsome like a god, the other short and frail like a reed. They believed in completely different philosophies - the latter left her mired in poverty and shame, while the former pulled her into a heaven full of dignity and glory. Fiona chose one and abandoned the other. She felt she lacked nothing: beauty, wealth, honour, and love. Until she met that angel in the scarlet dress again. A century later, the old soldier who ended Fiona's life recalled her in his memoir: "I felt that old lady was a blaze of fire. I aimed at her, shot, and she fell. But bullets could never snuff out flames." What romantic entanglements will fate weave for these noble souls?

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