Tag Archives: paranormal

An Interview with Kathryn Hills, Author of HELLFIRE AND HANDBASKETS

21 Thursday Jun 2018

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I’m thrilled to have my fellow author and dear friend, Kathryn Hills, here with me today. Like me, she loves romance, mystery, and things that go bump in the night! We’re celebrating her recent release of Hellfire and Handbaskets (A Time Traveler’s Journey, Book 2), and I can’t wait to read it!

Welcome, Kathryn. Let’s get this interview started!

 

At what age did you write your first story? I’m a late bloomer when it comes to story-writing. Haunting Highland House – A Time Traveler’s Journey was my first writing endeavor aside from college and career projects. I spent many years in the technology sector, writing much of that time. However, my past life wasn’t nearly as much fun as writing romance.

I read Haunting Highland House and loved it! Which genre was the first to hook you? Definitely romance! I’ve been a fan since my teen years. Expanding, I’ll say I love historicals, especially those with Gothic and/or paranormal/time-travel twists.

So do I! What’s your favorite part of the writing process? I enjoy writing most. Although, as a dedicated history junky, research is a close second. (Outlining? Please…help me!) My books are set in New England, which makes it easy to traipse around historic homes, grand hotels, graveyards, and haunted locations. All in the name of “research,” of course.

To be sure, New England is a treasure trove of such things! Of all the settings you’ve used (or created!) for your books, which is your favorite? The setting for Haunting Highland House is my favorite because it was inspired by a real place – Highfield Hall in Falmouth, Massachusetts. I share the story on my website.

https://www.kathrynhills.com/single-post/2016/10/09/When-an-Old-House-Becomes-a-Central-Character

The gist? An unexpected visit to a Victorian-era mansion on Cape Cod inspired me to embark on a writing career. My imagination sparked with the history and beauty of the place, creating characters and a love story that spans centuries. And books! Readers return to my favorite haunted house in Book 2.

Have you ever dreamed about a character you created? Not a character as much as an essential element of a story. Rune stones! However, I will say there are odd synchronicities when I write. Fictional places and dates I create, falling perfectly in line with historic locations and events. Spooky. I LOVE it!

Cool! That happens with my writing too, and I love it! If you could travel any time and place, when and where would that be? Great question, and one I enjoy exploring with friends (typically, over wine). Now…if we had a magic rune stone we could go anywhere or when, but if I must choose… Thebes, Egypt, around 1923, when English archaeologist Howard Carter discovered the sealed burial chamber of Tutankhamen.

OMG! I would’ve LOVED to be present at that discovery!  How amazing would it be to actually meet Howard Carter? Sigh…

Okay.  Let’s learn some of your favorite things.

Sound: Ocean surf or crickets

Eye color: In a hero? Gray…like Robert Pennington’s. Or maybe warm whiskey-amber…like Rick Hauser’s. Haha I’m torn.

Song: Too many to choose, yet I’m inspired by music. How about I give you a song that fits this latest book, Hellfire and Handbaskets? “How We Operate” by the British rock band, Gomez. It’s a great representation of how Dr. Rick Hauser—an Army medic veteran—views his relationship with heroine, Amelia Pennington. Here’s a link to the band’s music video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6SOGwuJARHc

Cuisine: Tex-Mex or BBQ

Cookie: Chocolate Chip

Tea or coffee? Dunkin Donuts Iced Coffee. This New England gal runs on Dunkins!

Cake or pie? Either, just make it chocolate.

Halloween or Christmas? Oh, jeez… Both, again. Autumn and Halloween are my jam. I LOVE FALL!! Yet my entire home switches over to twinkling lights and Christmas magic come mid-November.

Nancy Drew or Sherlock Holmes? Sherlock…with a side of Sam and Dean 😉

Yes, Sam and Dean from Supernatural are awesome! Jane Austen or the Bronte sisters? I’ll say Jane, because of her humor.

A mortal, vampire, ghost, or fae for a lover? Vampire. Is my dark side showing?

LOL. English gent, Scottish highlander, European count, or all-American guy? Must I choose? That’s the beauty of “book boyfriends,” after all. 😊

Nope. No need to choose. You can have it all! Thanks so much for joining me today, Kathryn. And now, here’s a little more about Hellfire and Handbaskets:

It’s hell in the ER, but Army veteran Dr. Rick Hauser wouldn’t work anywhere else. The hardened combat medic thinks he’s seen it all. Until she storms into his life.

Amelia Pennington is not just a pretty face. She’s a time-traveler. A medical student from 1895, forced to flee a madman. She’s been in trouble before, but this time everything she loves is at risk. Can a reluctant hero be the key she’s searching for?

What’s left of Hauser’s heart is still on the battlefield. Last thing he needs is to get tangled up with a mystery woman. But when he finds Amelia on the streets, he ignores the warning shots firing off in his head and takes her home. In less than twenty-four hours, she’s upended his self-protected world. Even his dog, Rocky, is in love.

Here’s a peek inside the pages:

Hauser looked up from his work station. The blonde from the waiting room was in the ER corridor, looking crazed. Without thinking, he headed straight for her.

She rushed forward when she saw him and threw herself at his feet. “Please, Doctor, help me.”

Rick grabbed her under the arms and hauled her back to standing. She looped around his waist before he could stop her.

“Security,” someone else yelled.

An alarm code sounded.

“I got this,” Rick relayed. He captured her face and made her look at him. Wild blue eyes shot from side to side. “Hey. Eyes on me. Only me. There ya go.” His voice calmed when she complied. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“Please,” she begged in a low tone meant only for his ears. “Something dreadful happened in the tunnels.”

He recognized it then, the ghost of real trauma. She’d been through something bad. “All right. You’re safe with me.” He relaxed his hold and felt her tremble in his arms. Her head came to rest against his chest. With a ragged sigh, she nestled into him.

A shudder of unfamiliar emotion shot through him. He hadn’t held a woman in years. Heck, he hadn’t even been this close to another human unless they were injured or dying.

“Tell me your name,” he insisted. Still, he held her.

Bo Peep felt good. Damn good. Slim but strong, all curves and sweet, sexy woman pressed full against him. Rick’s sex-starved body surged to life as if he’d been hit with paddles. Her blonde head rose, and she met his stare. Trust had replaced the fear. When she moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, his resolve took a nosedive.

Sweet Jesus, what the hell? Rick cleared his throat and untangled himself from her. “I can’t help unless you work with me. What’s your name? I’m Hauser. I mean…Dr. Rick Hauser.”

She stood straight. “Amelia Pennington, and I need your help, Doctor.” Her voice had turned steady. Steadier than his.

“That’s why I’m here. Tell me what happened.”

“There’s a man,” she began. Her gaze snapped to those entering alongside them.

Rick held up one hand to stay the guards, twitching to haul her away. “What happened with the man?”

She didn’t answer. Her laser focus remained on the others.

“Well then, Amelia Pennington…” He took her hand and drew her back to him. “You sure know how to make an entrance. But security is gonna need to ask you a few questions before I can help.”

“No…” she moaned.

“Yes,” he commanded.

She looked to the other men again, appearing to size them up. With surprising strength, she shoved Rick and darted past the guards. And she fled into the night as if the devil himself chased after her.

A bit more about Kathryn:

The rich history and many mysteries of New England are the perfect backdrop for Kathryn’s books. Winding roads lined by old stone walls, forgotten cemeteries, grand homes with shadowy pasts… All sparks for her imagination. Whether it’s a quaint seaside town or the vibrant city of Boston, it’s easy for this “hauntingly romantic” author to envision the past mingling with the present.

Taking it further—to have her characters experience the past or present, opposite to “when” they belong—is the fun part. No surprise, some of Kathryn’s favorite stories involve time travel. And ghosts! Sprinkle in some magic, and you’re off on a great adventure.

When not writing, she’s exploring history and taking photographs of the beautiful landscape that surrounds her. Kathryn shares her colonial home with those she loves most—her wonderful husband, daughter, and three crazy dogs.

Where you can find her and her books:

Website: www.kathrynhills.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorKathrynHills

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorKathrynH @AuthorKathrynH

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/kathrynhillsaut/boards/

The Wild Rose Press Author Page: http://catalog.thewildrosepress.com/2221_kathryn-hills

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Kathryn-Hills/e/B01LBDCVVU

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15860681.Kathryn_Hills

 

Salem Con 4

15 Sunday Apr 2018

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Yesterday, I spent the whole day at Salem Con, a paranormal conference here in Salem, Massachusetts.  Because I’ve experienced the paranormal and written about it (in fiction and nonfiction) all my life, it was wonderful to meet with like-minded people for a day of lectures, soulful discussion, and just plain fun!  I got to meet the experts and had some wonderful conversations, particularly with Elizabeth Saint, Nick Groff, and Grant Wilson.  Just a great day!  🙂

Phantasmic Friday ~ Week Four

27 Friday Oct 2017

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Welcome to the last Phantasmic Friday of October. Halloween is less than a week away, and I’m loving it! I love the Yuletide too, which is probably why my second medieval romance, Soul of the Wolf, is set in December of 1101. It’s also the season in which today’s true ghost story begins.

Christmas of 1992 found me packing for Sweden, where I would study for the next six months under a Swedish Institute scholarship. At the time, which was long before I met my husband, my Swedish-American boyfriend arranged for me to stay in his grandmother’s empty house in Stockholm for the week leading up to nyårsafton (New Year’s Eve). It was a small, quaint dwelling with numerous knick-knacks and—as I would soon discover—a tragic past.

The bedroom where I slept opened onto an alcove, above which the trap door to the attic was poised. My first night, I woke with a start…to darkness and an acute sense of someone hovering in the alcove. The space was alive with creaking floorboards and a bluish light.

A flashlight? An intruder?

My heart pounded. I shifted in bed to gain a better view.

No one was there. Or so it seemed.

I slid out of bed and tiptoed around the house, just to be sure I was alone. The doors were locked, and by the time I climbed back into bed, the strange light was gone. I fluffed up my pillow and rearranged the bedcovers.

Then a scraping, scratching sound filled the alcove. Had rats infested the attic?

A sudden rush of emotions slammed into me. Despair. Dread. Distress. Not mine but another’s.

Every night brought the same experience: the light, the sounds, and the mood. When the phenomena ceased, I sought sleep again, but as you can imagine, it took a while before I drifted off.

Months later, I learned the truth. My boyfriend’s uncle had committed suicide years before. He’d hung himself in the alcove, not ten feet from where I slept. If I’d known that at the time, I would’ve tried to help him move on. I hope he has since found peace.

I’ve enjoyed sharing some of my paranormal experiences with you this month. Believe it or not, they’re just the tip of the iceberg! Not surprisingly, the supernatural finds its way into almost everything I write. Check out My Books for more information.

Wishing everyone a safe and fun Halloween!

Phantasmic Friday ~ Week Two

13 Friday Oct 2017

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It’s Friday the 13th!  We’re nearly halfway through October, and Salem, Massachusetts is abuzz with all things Halloween.  Needless to say, I’m in my element and excited for another Phantasmic Friday.  So get cozy and read on for more adventures from my “paranormal past.”  🙂

As a little girl, I believed anything was possible. Truth be told, I still believe it. Perhaps the magic of that conviction links three uncommon events which happened in a common place: the living room of my childhood home.

On the first occasion, I was ten, and my older brother and his friend, Carl, invited me to play hide-and-seek. Carl was the first “seeker,” and once he started counting, I scampered to the living room and crouched behind a chair.

I’m invisible, I thought. I’m part of this chair.

I repeated those phrases in my mind again and again, then held my breath as Carl entered the room. He searched the entire area, but when he reached my hiding place, he merely glanced behind the chair, then dashed off to another room.

When at last the hunt was over, we plopped onto the living room couch. He turned to me with knitted brow.

“Where in heck were you?”

“The living room,” I said.

His face transformed into a mask of shock. “I checked the whole room. There’s no way you were in here.”

The fact he hadn’t seen me was strange, but my reply was even stranger. “How do you know? Maybe the molecules of my body changed to make me invisible. Maybe there are doorways we don’t know about. That wall right there could’ve opened up to let me pass through.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “What are you? A ghost?”

Well, yes…in a way. If ghosts are earthbound spirits with unfinished business, I suppose we all qualify; we’re just attached to physical bodies at the moment.

A few weeks later, the second event occurred. My little brother and I were sitting on his bedroom floor rolling a ball back and forth. At one point, he went for gold, and the ball whisked past me and out the open door to the living room. I jumped to my feet and hurried to retrieve it, but it was nowhere in sight.

My brother was close on my heels. “Where is it?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know, but it has to be somewhere.”

We began a search that left no corner unchecked, no cushion unturned. Then we investigated the surrounding rooms, only to come up empty-handed.

Was it an example of what parapsychologists call “apportation”? Or the possible result of a portal? Your guess is as good as mine, but we never did find that ball. It was just gone.

Fourteen years later, I was home from college, and because my parents were away, my little brother and I had the run of the house. Naturally, he threw a party, which involved loud music and a lot of beer. I holed up in my room for the duration, and around 1:00 a.m., the house emptied. My brother turned off the living room stereo and cleaned up. Then we went to bed.

I was just dozing off when a blast of heavy metal music jolted me awake. Without a thought for my glasses, I bounded out of bed, down the hall, and into the living room.

I glared at the blurry figure illuminated by the blaring stereo. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Unmoving, my brother stared at me.

“Answer me!” I shouted. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” He turned down the music.

With a huff, I made a dismissive gesture. “Whatever. Just shut that off. I’m going back to bed.”

Silence clipped the music as I turned toward the hall. Then I took a step forward…

“Jude, who are you talking to?”

I whirled around. My brother stood way over in the dining room, but he should’ve been five paces to my right.

He flicked on the light switch and joined me in the living room. “I thought you were asleep. Why did you turn on the music?”

“It wasn’t me. I thought you did it.”

He shook his head and lifted a hand to his stomach. “I was throwing up in Mom and Dad’s bathroom.”

On the opposite side of the house.

I frowned, wishing I’d worn my glasses. The figure in front of the stereo had looked fuzzy, but it had my brother’s height, build, and thick, shoulder-length hair. It also sported his boxer shorts.

My brother saw it too, though from a distance that made the figure appear even blurrier than how I’d seen it. So what happened?

Bilocation, a phenomenon supported by quantum physics which I’ve experienced in a variety of ways since.  History is peppered with stories of doppelgangers, including doubles of Elizabeth I, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, and Percy Bysse Shelley, to name only a few. It’s a strange, beautiful world we live in, and I wouldn’t have it any other way!

If you enjoyed reading the true account above, check out My Books.  Whether I’m writing fact or fiction, the supernatural always finds a home in my work. Happy Friday the 13th!

An Interview with Mary Morgan, Author of QUEST OF A WARRIOR

16 Wednesday Aug 2017

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A warm welcome to Mary Morgan!  Congrats on your new release, Quest of a Warrior!  It’s getting rave reviews, and I wish you great success with it.  Now, let’s get this interview started!

At what age did you write your first story? Around the age of ten. Prior to that, I was writing short poems about my pets.

Which genre was the first to hook you? Historical Fiction.

What was your first published book? Dragon Knight’s Sword

What’s your favorite part of the writing process? Brainstorming? Research? Outlining? Writing? Editing? Research and outlining the story. I’m obsessed with finding historical details—no matter how small—to fit into my stories.

Those historical details are so important! I also love doing research and outlines for my books. What are you working on now? Currently, I have two projects. In pre-galley edits with a Dragon Knights novella, scheduled for release near the holidays. It’s centered around Fiona’s brother, Desmond O’Quinlan. Fiona is the heroine from Dragon Knight’s Axe, and you were introduced to all of her brothers in that story. In addition, I’m writing the second Fenian Warrior, Rory MacGregor’s story called Oath of a Warrior.

Of all the settings you’ve used (or created!) for your books, which is your favorite? Why? Without a doubt, Urquhart Castle in Scotland! I’ve dreamt of this place for decades and was fortunate to explore the ruins this summer. I’ve always been drawn to the beauty and mystery of Urquhart and of course, Loch Ness. That day will remain etched within my soul.

I know the feeling, that tug on your soul which is undeniable. I also visited Urquhart, back when I studied in Aberdeen. The ruins and loch are the stuff of dreams! Speaking of which, have you ever dreamed about a character you created? No. Yet, Angus MacKay (hero and oldest brother from Dragon Knight’s Shield) did approach me at Urquhart. It was a surreal moment—one where I was all alone in this small stone enclosure, glancing outward at the loch through an arched window. He told me, “Ye have told our tale well.”

Very cool! If you could have a conversation with anyone—dead or alive—who would it be? The great Irish King, Brian Boru (941-1014) of Ireland. Brian led the Irish to the peak of their Golden Age—from poetry, arts, saints, and scholars. A remarkable man.

I’ve long admired Brian Boru, too! If you could travel to any time and place, when and where would that be? Kensington Palace. June 20, 1837, the morning Victoria was told she had become queen. A pivotal point in British history. She was young and sheltered. Yet, Victoria proved them all wrong with her strength and determination.

That would be amazing to witness! If you could step inside any book or series and live there for a week, which would you choose? My own—the Dragon Knights of Urquhart!

If a fairy godmother appeared and offered you one thing—anything at all—what would you request? To heal all those in great pain.

I share that desire.  Now, it’s time to learn some of your favorites!

Sound: Babies laughter
Eye color: Green
Foreign language (whether or not you speak it!): Gaelic
Song: The Celts by Enya
Book: I have many favorites, so I can’t limit it to one, lol! “The Lion of Ireland” by Morgan Llywelyn. “The Mists of Avalon” by Marion Zimmer Bradley. “Outlander” by Diana Gabaldon.  (Ooh! The Mists of Avalon! I have that book in English and Swedish.)
Movie: Braveheart
TV show: The Highlander (Adrian Paul). It’s an old series, but remains my favorite.
Cuisine: Italian
Cookie: Shortbread
US location: Pacific Northwest (Love!)
Foreign location: Scotland and Ireland (Double love!)

And finally, list your preference from the following choices:

Tea or coffee? Both!
Cake or pie? Pie
Halloween or Christmas? Christmas
Nancy Drew or Sherlock Holmes? Nancy Drew
Jane Austen or the Brontë sisters? Jane Austen
A mortal, vampire, ghost, or fae for a lover? Vampire
English gent, Scottish highlander, European count, or all-American guy? Scottish Highlander

A little about Quest of a Warrior

“You met them in the Order of the Dragon Knights. Now, journey to the realm of the Fae and witness their legends!”

Fenian Warrior, Conn MacRoich has traveled the earth for thousands of years, guarding the realm between mortal and Fae. His deeds are legendary. Yet, one mistake will force him on a journey to fix a broken time-line. However, on Conn’s quest, he must face a human female who will eventually bring this ancient warrior to his knees.

When Ivy O’Callaghan inherits her uncle’s estate, she never imagines there will be more secrets to unravel, including the one she hides from the world. With the help of a mysterious stranger, she learns to trust and step out of the shadows. However, nothing prepares Ivy when she learns Conn’s true identity.

As the loom of fate weaves a thread around the lovers from two different worlds, will the sacrifices they make lead them to love? Or will their secrets destroy and separate them forever?

A peek between the pages

“Intoxication can unleash the beast within a Fae.” ~ Chronicles of the Fae

Conn fought the bolt of desire spearing a path throughout his body. Her touch spoke volumes—an invitation to taste. Never had he longed to kiss a human like this wee lass. His heart beat loudly, and he found himself unable to move. She was a Goddess of the moonlight. It danced off her face and hair, and he trembled before her. Ivy’s fingers traced down his cheek and across his lips. He was helpless to contain the growl that escaped from his mouth.

The rush of passion overtook him, and Conn slammed the door on his mind. Grasping Ivy around the waist, he hoisted her up on top of the bridge. Her lips parted on a sigh, and he lowered his mouth to feast on something he dared not take. The first brush of her soft lips against his own ignited a hunger he could no longer contain. Taking her moan deep into him, Conn glorified in the sensation of her mouth—one filled with a honeyed sweetness.

The Fae warrior became just a man for the first time. Something primal burst within him. Emotions he had never felt left him dizzy, spiraling to a physical plane. He craved them all. His lips seared a course down her neck, to her throat, and then recaptured the velvet warmth of her mouth.

Where to purchase Quest of a Warrior

AMAZON: https://www.amazon.com/Quest-Warrior-Legends-Fenian-Warriors-ebook/dp/B072HPBMDM/
Barnes&Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/quest-of-a-warrior-mary-morgan/1126404360/
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/quest-of-a-warrior

More about Mary

Award-winning Scottish paranormal romance author, Mary Morgan, resides in Northern California, with her own knight in shining armor. However, during her travels to Scotland, England, and Ireland, she left a part of her soul in one of these countries and vows to return.

Mary’s passion for books started at an early age along with an overactive imagination. She spent far too much time daydreaming and was told quite often to remove her head from the clouds. It wasn’t until the closure of Borders Books where Mary worked that she found her true calling–writing romance. Now, the worlds she created in her mind are coming to life within her stories.

Where to find Mary

WEBSITE: http://www.marymorganauthor.com
BLOG: http://www.marymorganauthor.com/blog
TWITTER: http://twitter.com/m_morganauthor
FACEBOOK AUTHOR PAGE: https://www.facebook.com/MaryMorganAuthor/
FACEBOOK: http://www.facebook.com/mary.morgan.564
GOODREADS: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8271002.Mary_Morgan
AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE: http://www.amazon.com/Mary-Morgan/e/B00KPE3NWI/
PINTEREST: http://www.pinterest.com/marymorgan50/
INSTAGRAM: https://www.instagram.com/marymorgan2/
BOOKBUB: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/mary-morgan

Thanks so much for joining me today, Mary.  All the best with your new release!

The Cauldron Stirred – Giveaway!

31 Monday Jul 2017

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I’m doing a giveaway of my new release, The Cauldron Stirred, on Goodreads.  Enter now through August 15, and you could win one of two signed copies.  If you love Ireland, fantasy, the paranormal, romance, mystery, or all of the above, you might want to check it out.

Good luck to all who enter!  🙂

A little about The Cauldron Stirred:

Ashling Donoghue never dreamed moving to Ireland would rock her perception of reality and plunge her into a mystery that brings legend to life.

At seventeen, she’s never had a boyfriend, but she feels an immediate connection to Aengus Breasal, the son of the wealthy Irishman who’s invited her family to stay at his Killarney estate.  For the first time in her life, a guy she likes seems attracted to her.

But Aengus is secretive, with good reason.  He and his family are the Tuatha Dé Danann, ageless, mythical guardians adept at shifting between this reality and the magical dimension known as the Otherworld.  Evil forces from that world threaten the Breasals, the Donoghues, and all of Ireland.  Ashling must open her heart, face her fears, and embrace a destiny greater than she could ever have imagined.

Impetus Toward Ireland

22 Saturday Jul 2017

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One night in the summer before my senior year of high school, I kicked off my bedcovers with a vengeance. I snatched my glasses from the nightstand and glared at the ticking clock.

1:00 a.m. and all was NOT well.

I’d fidgeted for almost two hours, and sleep remained a stranger. Rolling my eyes, I abandoned my bed, then slunk through the house and out the back door.

Humidity hugged my skin like a second aura. With a sigh, I pushed up the sleeves of my nightgown and scanned the backyard. Spanish moss dangled from the oak trees. Moonlight touched the pool. Frogs croaked their hardest, but the sharp drone of crickets stole the show.

“Why am I so restless?” I asked aloud. “How can you yearn for something you can’t even name?”

As though sharing a private joke, the stars above winked.

The night held no answers; the mosquitoes showed no mercy. So I stole back into the house to worship the miracle of air conditioning and find something to read.

In the living room, I searched the shelves until my gaze locked on a book I’d never seen: Ireland – A Picture Book to Remember Her By. I grabbed it and settled on the velvet couch.

From the moment I opened the book, I changed. Waves of emotion rushed over me: love, sorrow, and strangest of all, homesickness. Gratitude flooded my heart and mind, for this was what I’d sought. I turned each page with reverence, melding my being with the images thereon.

It was crazy. I was born and raised in blazingly hot, equatorial Florida, about as far from Ireland and its blissfully cool climate as you can get. Before that night, I’d never considered the Emerald Isle. Not once. Now my whole life seemed to have led me to the discovery that I was somehow linked to that distant land.

Desire and will swelled within me, and I squeezed the book to my chest. I knew what I must do.

I jumped up and raced to my sleeping parents’ bedroom. “Mom! Dad!”

My father grunted, but my mother bolted upright in bed. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to tell you my decision. I’m going to Ireland.”

She squinted. “What, tonight?”

“No, but soon. I have to go.”

Dad rolled over. A rumble of complaint sounded, either from his throat or his stomach.

Mom glanced at the clock, then sank back onto her pillow. “Fine. But let’s talk about it in the morning, okay?”

When morning arrived, I did more than talk. Truth be told, I ate far too many donuts, but I must’ve burned off the calories during my impassioned plea. It was Ireland or bust! My unsuspecting parents didn’t know what to make of my new obsession, but Dad informed me my great-grandfather had emigrated from Ireland in 1914. How this fact escaped my notice for 17 years is beyond me, but now that I knew of my Irish heritage, I was unstoppable.

My grandfather had the address of our Irish cousins in County Kilkenny, and I obtained it faster than you can say Éirinn go Brách. Soon after, I became pen pals with one of the cousins, and we exchanged letters, photos, and even a phone call over the next 10 months.

My enthusiasm for Ireland was contagious, and by senior graduation, three round-trip plane tickets waited on my parents’ desk. The Three Musketeers—Mom, Dad, and I—were bound for Shannon Airport.

Excitement forbade sleep on the long flight over, so after we’d shuffled through customs, traded dollars for pounds, and procured our rental car, we drove straight to our bed-and-breakfast in the village of Bunratty and took a nap. When I awoke hours later, Mom informed me I’d spoken Irish in my sleep.

My instincts implored me to pay attention. From the moment I stepped foot on Irish soil, I felt I’d come home. This was no shallow sentiment; it was a gut reaction, a reunion with a piece of my soul.

Ireland’s landscape was as gorgeous as its people were gracious, but my response to its beauty seemed greatest in Killarney. There, while bouncing in the back of a jaunting car, I became one with my surroundings. The cool wind caressed my cheeks and whipped my long, blonde hair into a wild mass which would’ve made any banshee proud. Low-hanging, purple clouds harmonized with rippling lakes, and the gentle slope of mountains accompanied them. Flowering bushes, rustling trees, and fertile soil moist with promise completed the symphony. Each note had perfect pitch. Every phrase was pure magic.

When our driver reined in his horse, my parents jumped from the carriage, eager to tour Muckross House. I shared their enthusiasm but was so caught up in nature’s melody I didn’t want the ride to end. Still, history summoned me, so I followed their lead and strode toward the house.

Abruptly, I hesitated. The lake to my right seemed familiar. The adjacent parkland beckoned, but I had to resist its pull. With our jam-packed schedule, an amble through the woods was out of the question.

Years later, I would explore those woods and discover a surprising piece to add to my life’s puzzle. Once again that night, Mom heard me speaking Irish in my sleep.

In my latest release, The Cauldron Stirred, seventeen-year-old Ashling Donoghue has a similar experience. And she not only visits Killarney, but gets to live there. Ah, the magic of fiction!

Amazon https://amzn.com/B072C1CG5D

Barnes & Noble https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-cauldron-s…/1126456384…

The Wild Rose Press https://catalog.thewildrosepress.com/…/5134-the-cauldron-st…

My Path to Motherhood, Part Three

27 Saturday May 2017

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Boys in NICU 001At 5:00 a.m. on the morning of June 3rd, I sat bolt upright in bed.  I hadn’t moved that fast in months, but I had good reason.  Niagara Falls gushed between my legs.

I shook Dan awake.  “I think my water broke.”  I slid off the bed and waddled to the bathroom.

He followed me.  “I can’t believe it.  Six weeks early!”

I shook my head.  “This shouldn’t be happening.”  Then a strange calm settled over me.  “No.  It is happening, so it’s meant to be.  We’ve got calls to make.  The doctor, our parents…”

All at once, the Reiki Master’s words came back to me.  Whoever this is, he’s going to be present at the birth.  Actually, a lot of spirits are.  I don’t know why, but it’s like they’re crowding around, vying for the chance to be there.

No wonder!

We made it to Nantucket Cottage Hospital, and the staff there organized an ambulance to the airport.  By the time it arrived, minor contractions had begun.  One paramedic started timing them, while another strapped me onto a stretcher.

I grimaced.  “I’m sorry you guys have to move me while I’m so heavy.”

The paramedics exchanged grins.  “That’s our job,” one said.

In the space of 15 minutes, they wheeled me into an ambulance and onto a plane.  Then we were in the air.

When we reached the mainland, a second ambulance stood at the ready.  The original paramedics wished me well, and the new team took over.  I felt like we were playing some bizarre game of musical medics, but there was nothing to do but go with the flow.

During the 40-minute ride to Beth Israel, Dan rode in front with the driver.  The paramedic on my left seemed determined to keep me calm and struck up a conversation.

“Were you shocked when the doctor said you were having twins?” he asked.

“No.  I already knew.  There were signs, and I’d had a dream about it.”

He smiled.  “You sound a lot like my wife!”

By the time we arrived at the hospital, we were chatting away like old friends.  Then new hands whisked me onto an elevator, along a maze of corridors, and into the long-awaited hospital room.

My doctor was away—en route to Nantucket, believe it or not—but his colleagues stepped in.  They gave me magnesium sulfate to stop the contractions, hoping to buy another 48 hours.  Their primary concern was the boys’ lungs.

“Every minute counts when you’re dealing with premature birth,” they told me.

Everyone expected the magnesium to work.  Translation:  no epidural!  It actually lengthened my labor, and by mid-afternoon, the contractions were brutal.  First one pain gripped me, then another slammed it home.  Over and over again.

One nurse gaped at the monitor.  “I’ve never seen this before.  It’s like double contractions.”

Dan squeezed my hand.  “Well, you are having twins.”

The “twin peaks” went on for hours until just before 6:00 p.m.  At that point, the doctor discovered my cervix had dilated from three centimeters to ten in as many minutes.  The babies wanted out, and nothing in this world was going to stop them.

The nurse who’d refused me pain medication all day gave me a nod.  “I guess you really were in labor.”

You think?!

If the pain hadn’t been so severe, I might’ve laughed, but there wasn’t time.  Connor’s butt was lodged in my cervix, which meant an immediate C-section.

Dan was bustled out of the room and into sterile attire (complete with blue shower cap and booties), and I was rushed into surgery.  Once again, I apologized to the staff for my hefty frame as they hoisted me onto the operating table.

“Don’t you worry,” one of them said.  “We do this all the time, and we’ve moved bigger patients than you.”

I took his word for it and buckled under the force of a new contraction.  Time was of the essence, so an anesthesiologist gave me a spinal, which mercifully removed all sensation from the abdomen down.  Then I met the surgeon in a “hi and good-bye” fashion, and Dan was at my side.

Soon after, a tiny cry rang out.  It was Connor, and the fact that he’d been able to cry boded well for his lungs.  One minute later, it was Geoffrey’s turn to rage against the light, and he did so with utter abandon.

They weighed 3 lbs. 6 oz. and 3 lbs. 9 oz. respectively.  Dan cut their umbilical cords, while I lay like a slug on the table.  Even so, the nurses tried to include me.  They held the babies where I could see them for five seconds, then bundled them off to the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU).

Our family had just doubled, and incredible as it seemed, Dan and I were parents.  We were totally responsible for two new lives whose tiny bodies and delicate features were perfectly formed.  They were indeed identical, to each other and to the faces I’d seen in my dream.

Rewind half an hour and travel to Florida.  My parents, who’d been with us in spirit and prayed all day for the babies’ safety, went out to dinner.

A short while into their meal, a toddler at the next table let out a single cry.  He’d been calm and well-behaved before then, and his cry sounded more like an infant’s.

Comprehension seized my mom.  One of the babies was just born.

She asked my dad to check his watch.  It was 6:15 p.m.

One minute later, the same child emitted a second cry, which also resembled an infant’s.  Dad glanced at his watch again.  It read 6:16 p.m.

Mom had no doubts.  “There goes the second one.”

The toddler kept quiet for the rest of the meal.  First thing after dinner, Mom called Dan on his cell phone, and he confirmed the twins had arrived.

“What time were they born?” she asked.

His answer came as no surprise.  “6:15 and 6:16.”

What did surprise us all was a related phenomenon.  Three women who were knitting blankets for the boys stayed up most of the previous night to complete them.  Even though the due date was six weeks away, a sense of urgency compelled them to finish the job.

Everyone and everything is connected.  The events surrounding the boys’ births erased any doubts we still harbored on the subject.

We have a release date!

18 Thursday May 2017

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I just learned the release date for The Cauldron Stirred, the first book in my Guardians of Erin series:  July 21, 2017!  If you’re wondering what it’s about, here’s the scoop:

Ashling Donoghue never dreamed moving to Ireland would rock her perception of reality and plunge her into a mystery that brings legend to life.

At seventeen, she’s never had a boyfriend, but she feels an immediate connection to Aengus Breasal, the son of the wealthy Irishman who’s invited her family to stay at his Killarney estate. For the first time in her life, a guy she likes seems attracted to her.

But Aengus is secretive, with good reason. He and his family are the Tuatha Dé Danann, ageless, mythical guardians adept at shifting between this reality and the magical dimension known as the Otherworld. Evil forces from that world threaten the Breasals, the Donoghues, and all of Ireland. Ashling must open her heart, face her fears, and embrace a destiny greater than she could ever have imagined.