The best time travel novels from Next Chapter [March 2023]
Time travel is a popular concept in fiction, allowing characters to explore different eras and potentially alter the course of history. The time travel fiction book genre has been around for decades, with some of the earliest examples including H.G. Wells' "The Time Machine" and Mark Twain's "A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court".
In time travel fiction, the protagonist typically has a way to travel through time, whether it's through a machine, magic, or some other means. They may travel to the past, future, or alternate timelines, and must navigate the consequences of their actions. Some books focus on the technical aspects of time travel, while others explore the psychological effects of experiencing different eras.
One popular subgenre within time travel fiction is the "time loop" story, in which the protagonist is trapped in a repeating cycle of events. Examples of this include "Groundhog Day" and "The Edge of Tomorrow". Overall, the time travel fiction genre offers endless possibilities for exploring history, alternate realities, and the impact of our actions.
Below, you’ll find some of our time travel novels as of March 2023. If you enjoy one of the stories below, please don’t forget to leave the author a review! Don’t agree with our choices? Please leave a comment and let us know your favorite :)
Novels featured on this page
Alternate Purpose by Christopher Coates
Book excerpt
Devin’s dark blue Mustang crept along the icy winter road. The snow fell thick and heavy, making visibility nearly impossible. It had been storming all night, and now in the early morning it was getting warmer and the roads were slippery.
Sawyer sat in the passenger seat, excited for what the day promised to bring. Both boys were home from college on their Christmas break and were headed to meet some friends they hadn’t seen since the end of summer.
Devin and Sawyer had been attending different schools for the last two and a half years, but when they got together their bond was as close as ever. They looked forward to sharing their college adventures when they had the chance to catch up. This time was no different. Last night, the boys had been up until 2:00 a.m. hanging out, eating pizza, and talking about all they had been doing. Sawyer made sure to ask was how things were going with Devin and his girlfriend, Britany. It sounded like their relationship was getting serious.
They’d reluctantly stopped their discussion and gone to bed when they realized how late it had become. The boys had to be up early because they had plans to meet six other high school friends for breakfast. They were now heading to Malcolm Daniele’s house. Before changing careers, Malcolm’s dad had spent many years as a chef, and he always loved to put on a big feast for his son and his friends.
The boys became aware of movement just ahead to the right. With the snow falling it was hard to tell exactly what they saw, but it looked like a floating human head. Then the white-clad person lunged at the Mustang. Both boys jumped, and Devin fought to keep the car under control and avoid hitting this person.
“Watch out!” Sawyer said.
Storm Portal (Quantum Touch Book 1) by Michael R. Stern
Book excerpt
AS THE KIDS LEFT, Ashley scurried down the hallway and through the crowd of book bags. “Where have you been?” he asked.
Johnny Clayton overheard and answered for me. “Mr. Gilbert, you gotta go in there and see. It’s really cool. We just met Robert E. Lee. Mr. R, how did you do that?” Ashley glanced at Johnny, bemused, and turned to me. So, I guessed, he hadn’t seen much when he looked in.
“I looked for you after last period. Your room was empty.”
“I saw you look in the window. Dinner will be the most interesting meal you’ll have this week, I promise. I’ll tell you later.”
“Tell me what?”
“You’re not going to believe this. I’m not sure I do.”
“WHAT are you talking about?” He sounded exasperated. He didn’t understand. I knew I didn’t.
“Too much to tell. Later.” Looking through the window, I said, “Room looks like it always does.”
Ashley asked, “And you were expecting something different? What did Johnny mean about meeting Robert E. Lee?”
“Ash, I really don’t know what happened, but, yeah, we met Robert E. Lee on the day after he surrendered. I’ll tell you the whole story, but later. I have to get through the rest of the day first.”
As Ash walked away, I twisted the doorknob, again feeling a tingle. I stepped through and saw a large building with a Ford sign across the top. Before I could see more, a club rushed my vision, collided with my cheek, and knocked me backwards. I hit the floor with a groan, and Ashley ran back to help me up. He stopped laughing when he saw blood dripping down my face.
“Are you okay? What happened?”
With students gathering around me, I said I didn’t know. “I must have tripped and hit my face on something.” Fran Lawrence handed me a tissue.
“You need to go to the nurse, Mr. R. You have a gash on your cheek. And it’s starting to swell.”
Ashley took over. “One of you, go to the cafeteria and get some ice in a cup. And ask for a dish towel, a clean one.” He pulled my hand away. “Stay put, Fritz. Will someone go get Ms. Wharton? Tell her what happened.”
I tried to stand but Ashley held me down. Now surrounded by my class and his, I told him to let me move to a wall, so I could sit up. All the while, I kept thinking about what I had so briefly seen.
The ice arrived first, followed shortly by Nurse Wharton and the principal. Just what I need.
“What happened, Mr. Russell? Are you okay? Why are all you students standing around? Get to your classes.” I told him the students were mine and Ashley’s and we had told them to stay. “Well then, that’s okay I guess, but what happened?
The Ka by Mary Deal
Book excerpt
Archaeology student Chione has vivid dreams about the discovery of an opulent tomb. After the founder Dr. Withers walked through the doorway in a huff. His average build was slightly stooped. His suit jacket flapped open at his sides. “Good morning, everyone,” he said in a voice that took command and stopped cold anything that might be going on. He dropped his briefcase onto the tabletop and motioned for Chione to sit in the seat closest to him. Then he took his seat opposite Aaron at the other end of the long table.
No one spoke. They waited eagerly to hear about the excavation site. Due to flight delays and other snafus, he had not had time to deliver a final briefing before the team departed to Egypt. Dr. Withers pulled at his mustache and made eye contact with each person over bifocals. He took a good look at Randy who sat sweating profusely. Aaron glared at Randy and gritted his teeth as the muscles in his jowls tightened.
“Aaron,” Dr. Withers said suddenly. “Give me a recap of things on your end.”
Aaron flipped through a few sheets of his notepad. The margins of the pages were covered with random crosshatches. When had the articulate Aaron Ashby begun the messy habit of doodling? “Only a recap?” he asked.
“That's all I've got time for. I want to hear your report and mentally,” he said, motioning toward his temple, “put the pieces together.”
“Well,” Aaron said. “If our find had garnered the type of publicity we anticipated, we'd have been assured of additional grants to help fund this project.” Others in the group could not contain their disappointment and slipped snide glances in Randy's direction. “Other than those already on board,” Aaron said, looking doubtful, “most professionals in our field have voiced an unequivocal disinterest.”
“Disinterest?” Dr. Withers asked, grabbing the edge of the table with both hands. “Dis… interest? Even the biggies back east?”
“Especially the biggies. The rumors, sir. They don't like the rumors about Chione's dreams, let alone believe in her abilities overall.”
“When the hell did that get out?”
Aaron stared straight into Dr. Withers’ eyes and would not disclose the rest. It would not be his style to inform on Randy regardless of personal disgust for the man. Finally, Aaron shrugged. “After Clifford and his contacts managed to pull this find in our direction, we were getting flooded with offers for funding.” He shook his head. “However, the upside is that after the leak, the ones who are with us now, regardless of rumor, will be unequivocally supportive.”
Dr. Withers’ lips tightened. His deflated expression changed to that of a person conjuring retribution. “The press, what are they saying?”
“Making light of the paranormal, I'm afraid.”
Angenga: The Disappearance Of Time by John Broughton
Book excerpt
Little Carlton 870 AD
Rick’s eyes flickered open; to his relief, all traces of the headache and dizziness from moments before had gone. The squawking of raptors captured his attention and he switched his gaze from the weed-infested turf – whose solidity had lately comforted him – to the sky, half-expecting scavengers to be circling over his prone body. A rapid glance told him he was wrong. The cries were coming from over a rise, but to check them out, he had first to stand. For the moment, though, the small effort of straightening restored the sensation of vertigo. Giddily, his eyes strained over the gently rising ground and for a second he doubted his sanity.
Where previously the re-enactors had erected three wooden huts now stood an entire village of houses of different sizes. Was that a hall near the centre? Could they have created a whole settlement in the time he had lost consciousness? But the buildings showed no signs of newness, far from it; the reed-thatched roofs had a weathered aspect. The re-enactment roofing had been made of turf, for sure. How to explain this transformation? His mind rejected the only solution that would make sense. Remembering Occam’s razor – the problem-solving principle from philosophy that the simplest solution tends to be the correct one – as he walked with trepidation toward the village, he told himself that these were the Dark Ages.
He wanted proof of the impossible, but drawing nearer, every perception contradicted his rational mind. Red kites scavenged along the trampled earth road and voices with the cadence of Old English reached him.
Shortly, he met a man carrying a bale of straw on his shoulder.
“Good day to you, Rinc.”
Rinc? He’s speaking in Old English!
“Good day to you too, friend.”
“Have you heard the news? I have returned from the coast by the Salt fleet.”
“Nay, good man, I have not.” In an instant he was slipping, effortlessly, into the vernacular.
The tall, broad-shouldered ceorl set down his bale with a sigh and fixed Rick with sorrowful blue eyes.
“The Great Heathen Army landed in East Anglia and King Edmund marched to resist them. But Ivarr the Boneless captured the King and gave him to his archers as a target. When they’d had their sport, they beheaded him.” The ceorl’s voice quavered, “May God save us from the fury of the Norsemen!”
“Where are the Vikings now?” His thoughts were a tumult.
“In the Fens. The people fled to Medshamstead Abbey, but they are all slaughtered and the Abbey destroyed. The last reports are of the raiders changing direction, the Lord be praised! The sailors argue among themselves about the accounts but they all agree there has been a battle. As to who won it...I know not. Anyhow, I must away.”
They exchanged farewells, and Rick watched the man stride away with the sort of confidence in his step that Rick lacked.
Now he had proof the impossible had occurred. He knew not how, but here he found himself, in body and mind, in the Dark Ages. He drew on his studies and recalled the martyrdom of King Edmund in AD 870. In a mysterious way, he, Rick Hughes, had sped back eleven hundred and forty-six years into the past! His stomach tightened at the thought as the implications drove home. He lacked preparation for ninth-century life. As a pacifist – soft and intellectual, he could not even wield a sword. There was so much he had taken for granted in twenty-first century England; he would have to forgo electrical devices, gas, rapid transport, an endless list.
Panic set in. Would he ever find a way home? Then came an awful realisation. That man knew him! He had called him Rinc but Rick did not know the ceorl. What could that mean? Did he belong here? Only one way to find out. He breathed deeply but wished he hadn’t – that was another thing he would miss, a decent sanitary system with sewers. Thank goodness he didn’t need medicines. Striding in among the houses, he smiled at a woman in a faded yellow dress and white headscarf, who called out “Greetings, Rinc.”
He waved and moved on with determination, fascinated by the sights, smells and sounds of the Saxon settlement. This was superior to any re-enactment: for better or for worse, it was the real thing. Without a clear sense of purpose or direction, he supposed the largest building, maybe the village hall, was attracting him. He did not reach this construction because a familiar face emerged from a doorway three houses or fifty yards away – did they measure in yards in 870? – before he arrived.
Tears In The Fabric Of Time by Stuart G. Yates
Book excerpt
From her partial hiding place, Ana stood and stared and watched the driver pull out a small, flat device. She could hear his voice, spitting out words, sounding terrified, his arms gesticulating wildly until at last, chest heaving, he stopped and put the device into his pocket, hand shaking. Slowly, he went back to the vehicle and slumped near the rear wheel. Ana wanted to take her chance, run to the sewer and get away, but knew she couldn't, sensing something very wrong was happening. To confirm her fears, she turned her head skywards and saw blue streaks slicing through the cloud. For all her life, Ana had never seen blue skies and, when she listened to the stories from old family friends, she dismissed them as fanciful. But now they were here, and despite their beauty her sense of dread increased. So, she waited.
They came, swooping across her vision like a horde of demons. Flashing lights, squawking sirens, men in uniform disgorging from low, sleek-looking and noisy vehicles, rushing to the driver to help him to his feet. Other uniformed men spilled out of a large, blue thing, rear doors screaming on hinges, men with guns. She knew they were guns because even though the vehicles were unlike the great hulking, stinking things she was used to, these guns were not – a fact which terrified her even more.
The men stretched a barrier around the entrance to the drain, drawn from a roll and made from an unusual bright yellow material that seemed to glow. Ana couldn't read the words, but they obviously spelt a warning. One man, together with a woman not in uniform, stooped over the remains of the militiaman's body and talked quickly. More voices, this time from others who were dressed in different-coloured uniforms, arriving from a large white vehicle with a blue flashing light spinning on the roof. Heated conversations followed and soon the militiaman was put into a sort of bag by these other people and placed in the back of a white vehicle, which sped off.
Flashes of light blazed briefly from a small black box the man in a jacket used to point towards the scene whilst the woman made notes in a small book. More conversation between them until, after an eternity, they clambered into their vehicles and moved away.
A few more men in uniforms mingled about before they gradually began to drift away in various directions, leaving the manhole cover open, the yellow tape still in place. And the blood.
Ana waited until quiet fell over the scene. All that remained of the incident was the huge monolith which had hit the militiaman. She crept forward and chanced a look from around the corner of the wall. No one moved, the area empty, silence deafening. From being a kaleidoscope of movement and shouting and colours flashing, nothing now stirred. She felt hours had passed since the accident, and yet since it happened, time seemed to have accelerated, so much happening in so short a space of time. One moment being pursued through the sewers, the next standing here, alone.
Kingmaker And The Scribe by Connie L. Beckett
Book excerpt
Chara’s time comes as the season of rains begins and the moon is fat. “Audax,” she says nudging me in the night. “Go with speed and get the old woman, the one who delivers women of their babies.” She moans softly and clutches her belly.
Quickly, I pull on my tunic and scurry through the wet maze of lanes to the house where the midwife lives. I rap beside the gate, “Come quick,” I shout, “my wife births a child.”
“Wait,” a rough voice answers and I hear grumbling too soft to distinguish the words. Finally, she exits into the dim light of the moon through the clouds. The midwife is stooped and her mouth sunken with the loss of teeth. Slowly, slowly she shuffles toward me. I practically dance with the need to return to my wife.
“This is your firstborn?” she croaks.
“Yes,” I say and point down the lane toward my home. It has begun to rain again, but still, that does not hurry the old woman.
Instead of following me, as I expect, she weaves in the opposite direction.
“This way,” I instruct her, but she pays me no mind. Chara and Eboni were the ones who arranged this matter and I wish they were here to make the woman listen.
“Awake,” she shouts into the courtyard of a neighboring house. “Another comes.”
This is good, I believe. I am not confident in the skill of this woman.
“And bring the oil,” she commands, again into the doorway.
“Coming,” another woman tells her and leaves the dark of her home.
At least this one appears healthier with a back still straight. She carries a jug, holding it up so the old woman can see.
We return, slowly, slowly. I take quick steps and then turn to watch as the women, the young supporting the old, coming behind me.
“His first?” asks the younger.
“First,” confirms the older.
“The first comes slow,” the younger tells me. “Not until the new day arrives, most likely.”
There you have it - the best time travel novels from Next Chapter in 03/2023. We hope you enjoy the stories - and if you do, please leave a comment below, or a review in Goodreads or your favorite store. It would mean a lot to us!
Praesent id libero id metus varius consectetur ac eget diam. Nulla felis nunc, consequat laoreet lacus id.