Showing posts with label Scottish Highlands. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Scottish Highlands. Show all posts

Monday, September 26, 2016

Medieval Monday with Ruth A. Casie

After taking a break for the late summer days, Medieval Monday is back. Our theme this month is travel and I have the perfect excerpt for you from my new story, THE MAXWELL GHOST featured in the novella anthology, Once Upon a Haunted Castle. Traitors, deception, murders and ghosts run rampant at The Maxwell’s Caerlaverock Castle. Jamie Maxwell Collins, a man of reality not magic, serves Lord Herbert in exchange for his own farm.  Laura Reynolds, Lord Herbert's distant cousin comes to the castle to solve the murders and put the ghost to rest. The two, long-time friends find their destinies intertwined with hidden passions, but all is in jeopardy when Laura becomes the murderer’s next target. Jamie will find he needs some ghostly assistance to save Laura and declare his love.
Here, Jamie is bringing Laura to Caerlaverock Castle. On their journey they are attacked by reivers. I hope you enjoy this excerpt.
Excerpt from The Maxwell Ghost:
He and Laura were targets in the swift moving water. He needed to get farther downstream, away from the marshland. He cursed himself for worrying about her propriety rather than her safety.
The sound of splashing from up river grew closer.
“Wrap your arms around my waist and try not to lose your seat.”
They reached the far bank and raced along the river, the raiders not far behind.
“You need to let me down,” she yelled at him in the wind. “You can go faster without me.”
“Keep down,” he said between clenched teeth and pulled his sword. They raced on, the land a blur as they flew by.
The spray of water from his horse’s pounding hooves turned into small clouds of dust as they came out of the marshland into the meadow. His horse couldn’t maintain this speed much longer. They reached the area where the river dog-legged to the right. A dense fog hung low in the forest. Jamie let loose his battle cry then veered into the woods.
They raced on. Out of the mist his men charged and dashed past them set to do battle with the reivers close behind them.
Jamie and Laura raced on. Laura glanced over his shoulder.
“Rider behind us.” Jamie urged his horse on faster. If they didn’t stop soon, the poor animal would collapse.
Another glance. The man was gaining ground. Think, she told herself. Sunlight bounced off Jamie’s sword. Could it work? It had to.
“Put your sword on your left shoulder then make a quick half-turn to your left and face the rider. Don’t stop, charge,” Laura said as she lay as close to his horse as possible to give Jamie more room to maneuver.
“Don’t look. It’s not going to be a pretty sight.”
She closed her eyes tight.
Jamie followed her instructions. The sound of the horse’s hooves echoed in her head as he completed the maneuver and his horse sprang forward. With the full weight of the charging horse behind his sword, he hit the raider in the chest. The man fell to the ground. His disembodied head rolled somewhere in the mist.
Jamie turned his horse again and continued into the woods. Laura sat up. The trees sped by. She began to panic at the tall hedge row that loomed in front of them.
Their direction didn’t waver. Rather than slow down, the animal gathered speed. Jamie crushed her in front of him and held her head against his chest.
“I won’t let anything happen to you. Hold me.”
The sensation of flying through the air frightened and exhilarated her at the same time. For a moment, her heart stopped. How they landed without the horse falling or them being thrown was beyond her, but they did.
The horse slowed to a halt, lathered and blowing hard. His men were soon with them.
Buy Links: Amazon/Kindle, iBook, BN, KOBO   

Friday, July 22, 2016

Books, Chocolate and Wine with Madeline Martin

Sit back and relax. We’ve made it to Friday. Here in the Northeast, it’s going to be hot, very hot. What better way to spend a few minutes with something icy cold and a good read? Today my guest is Madeline Martin, an online friend I met in San Diego at RWA’s National Conference. We had a great time. I know you’ll love her story.
What Readers Want to Hear from Madeline Martin
I confess I always get a little stumped when I need to come up with a fresh idea for a blog post. And so I turn to my readers (you guys always have the best ideas). For this particular post, it was suggested I describe my beginning to end writing process, including where ideas stem from, time frames, etc.
Every one of my books is borne of a single idea or thought. It could be something that pops in my head from a memory, or it could be a lyric in a song or poem that snags my attention. For example, Grey or Blue by Jaymay had the lyrics “I can’t stop staring at your mouth without wondering how it tastes” which spawned a scene between Celia and Alec in Enchantment of a Highlander.
From that one idea, my subconscious grabs it and starts spinning, filling in scenes and places and who the people are. These are usually high stare off into space times for me. LOL But while it seem like I’m just zoning out, I have a whole world blossoming to life in my head.
From there I put together a brief outline of the beginning to end with main points/scenes I know I want to incorporate. Characters names and descriptions usually correlate with what personality they have or how they sometimes just show up in my head. This idea/character building is my favorite part of the writing process – before writer’s block can tickle at my ideas or edits can crush me down. This is the part of the story making process where I fling wide my arms and dance through an open field, where the sky doesn’t even feel like it can limit the possibilities crowding my thoughts. This is where I feel the story start to breathe in me, when the emotions of the characters tie into my heart and their souls become a piece of mine. Pure and simple, it’s magic. (I’m actually smiling as I describe this LOL)
Once my characters and plot are detailed out (ummm…for the most part), I write. I’m the most productive when I do writing sprints with friends. That means we both plan on writing for 30 minutes (from our own homes) and text each other when that 30 minutes is over to report the amount of words we’ve written. It’s fun competition that forces me in my seat and writing full steam ahead.
I do work a full time job and don’t like write while the minions are awake. This means I wake up at 4:30 to write and do a lot of work after they go to bed. As a result of my limited time, it takes about four months to write an entire full length novel.
I write using Scrivener, which is a writing program where I can break my scenes down and title them (which makes editing easier), I can also attach pictures of the cast of characters and scenery. One of the important features for me is the sidebar panel which allows me to make notes to myself. I use these for editing comments to address later rather than going back and editing. (For example: As of chapter 13, the sidekick has a scar on his cheek for a reason – go to previous chapters to add this detail) This keeps the self-editing process from being so painful.
Once the story is written, I plunge into my personal edits I’ve noted on the side, as well as a friend’s edits who helps me as I go (and she is a total Godsend!). Once that’s done, I do a final read through and edit what sounds right.
After edits, it goes to beta readers for their feedback, corrections are made. Then on to my editor with my publisher. I usually do two rounds of edits, then another two or three rounds of copy edits, then the final read through goes through my Momma, who can catch a typo like nobody’s business. And then, it is FINALLY done and the process can start over again.
I think the hardest part about writing a book is the allure of the next book. There are always new ideas tugging at my attention and trying to lure me off course.
I confess that working a full time job while writing, especially with having young children, is very difficult. I seldom have free time for me and I always feel like I’m working. Some days I get really overwhelmed when I look at my to do list (promo takes up a ridiculous amount of time), but then I just look toward the first item and press on. It is a lot of work, but I don’t regret one second of it and I wouldn’t give it up for the world. Writing is my love and publishing books is my dream, and I consider myself lucky to have been embraced by such passion.
Love is the most potent of remedies.
The sweeping historical romance that began with DECEPTION OF A HIGHLANDER, and continued with POSSESSION OF A HIGHLANDER, reaches its dazzling conclusion in this scorcher set on the Scottish plains.
Alec MacLean returns home after a decade to find his recently deceased father has let his inheritance fall to ruin. As the new laird, it’s Alec’s responsibility to rebuild the castle and restore the lands. He must also regain the people’s trust after having abandoned them so long ago, a feat not easily done when he fears he’s plagued with the same darkness as his father.
Celia escaped the North Berwick witch trials at a young age, surviving because of the sacrifice of her beloved caretaker. She’s made a life for herself in the wilds of Scotland where no laird rules, a life where she heals for coin, a life without love so she can never feel the hurt of loss again.
When the new laird comes back to claim his land, his determination to restore order threatens everything Celia has worked so hard to gain, especially with the undeniable attraction sizzling between them. Together, they will face all challenges, from the tangle of their own damaged pasts to the fire-fueled witch hunts sweeping the Isle of Mull. Together, they will find that the best way to overcome darkness and war is through the undeniable light of love.
Reviews of Enchantment of a Highlander:
“…an enchanting series conclusion.” -Publishers Weekly
“…filled with interesting characters and is an enjoyable read.” -RT Book Reviews
Excerpt from Enchantment of a Highlander
Celia had known the man was nobility by his fine dress, but she hadn’t expected him to be Laird MacLean. Nor had she expected the son of the former laird to be so just, so powerful.
So dangerous.
The law did little good from what she’d seen, from what she’d experienced. Innocents were sacrificed under the guise of ‘law’.
A scratch sounded at the base of the door where the wind mewled. Celia pulled the latch and held the door wide enough for the red fox to slink inside before bolting it shut once more.
“Is he gone now, Ruadh?”
The fox stared up at her with his golden eyes and flicked his bushy tail in aggravation.
“Good riddance to that one.” She tossed the remaining thread into the fire and watched the remnants of the laird’s blood sizzle and curl into ash. “For the time being we are safe.”
She glanced at the door once more. Her skin still tingled where he had touched her. Unwanted, a thrill wound down her spine and blossomed in goosebumps across her skin.
He would be back and she would need to keep her secrets locked away, the way she had managed to do thus far.
Her life depended on it.
About the Author
Madeline Martin lives in Jacksonville, Florida with her two daughters (AKA OldestMinion and YoungestMinion). All shenanigans are detailed regularly on Twitter and on Facebook.
She graduated from Flagler College with a degree in Business Administration and works for corporate America. Her hobbies include rock climbing, running, doing crazy races (like Mud Runs and Color Runs) and just about anything exciting she can do without getting nauseous. She's also a history fan after having lived in Europe for over a decade, and enjoys traveling overseas whenever she can. Her favorite place to visit thus far: Scotland.
Author Contact information
*Email questions should be sent to: MadelineMartin@Ymail.com
Social Media Links:
Author Facebook
Author Twitter: @MadelineMMartin

Monday, February 9, 2015

Medieval Monday with Ashley York

The Bruised Thistle

Iseabail MacNaughton, the orphaned daughter of a Scottish laird, is forced to flee her home and seek assistance against her lecherous uncle who has usurped her family’s land. When she meets Seumas, a strong and valiant mercenary, she cannot help wondering if he could be the one to stand with her again her uncle. But with a price on her head and enemies on all sides, her trust is not something she can afford to give lightly…
Seumas MacDonell is a man wounded in body and soul, driven by guilt. When he rescues Iseabail from one of his own men, he cannot deny the attraction he feels for her, despite the wound that left him unable to act on it. In the hope of finding redemption for his sins, he agrees to help Iseabail…but will his feeling for her prove to be the ultimate obstacle to his salvation?
***
To find out more about Ashley York and her books check out her blog
Buy LinksAmazon, Barnes & NobleKobo, and Apple

Excerpt: The Bruised Thistle
“Methinks ye wish to place a curse on me with that look of yers… What is yer name?”
Though she jumped at the sound of his voice, she could not help watching as he poured water from a pitcher to a bowl sitting on the table beside the fire. Mesmerized by the motion and the play of firelight over his expansive chest, she did not notice right away when he stopped his movements. She met his eyes. Her heart beat faster and that strange heat centered in her belly again.
He quirked a brow. “I asked ye a question and I expect an answer…or do ye not know how to act with yer betters?”
Her better? Though she seethed inside, Iseabail bit her tongue before she gave herself away. If he but knew how much land her clan called their own…
Nay, Iseabail. Remember the part you play here.
Lowering her eyes, she quietly answered him. “Forgive me, m’lord. I forget myself.” Unsure what else the charade called for, she curtseyed slightly.
“Yer name?” He still didn’t move. His brows were raised in expectation yet again.
“My name is Iseabail.”
He nodded, apparently appeased. “And my name is Seumas.”
His face settled into a slight smile and he continued with his washing. His muscles flexed as he rubbed across his chest and down his arms, scrubbing the soap into lather then rinsing it clean until his skin glistened. When he finished, he reached for the cloth beside him but turned his face to her.
She exhaled slowly.
“Come here, Iseabail.”
His tone was coaxing, as if speaking to a newly harnessed foal. She took the few steps toward him. When he reached for her face, she tensed and her mouth went dry. He was no better than her uncle, after all, and disappointment washed over her. She glanced down, steeling herself for the imminent assault, before facing him. His hand stopped just short of her face. Their eyes met and she could tell he was insulted by his tight lips and furrowed brow.
He wiped her cheek with a wet finger. “Ye’re filthy,” he said with disgust. “Make use of my water and be quick about it.” Seumas walked away, rubbing his hands dry.
***
Next Medieval Monday my featured author is Mary Morgan with her latest release.