They always say, “Be careful what you wish for.”

I wish I had been careful.

I could’ve easily sold my time travel machine for billions and walked away. Instead, I opened the Taylor Travel Group, where I take the elite on vacations into history, to a time and place of their choice.

But when a big-time movie studio hired my company, I sold my soul.

What was supposed to be a few days of method actor immersion in nineteenth-century London went horribly awry. Now America’s hottest starlet is dead, and Jack the Ripper is on the loose in modern day Los Angeles. And it’s all my fault.

I was careless enough to let history’s most ruthless serial killer slip out of the past. Am I smart enough to match wits with him and send him packing before he vanishes forever?