 Tuesday, December 25, 2007 My Wish...  My wish for you on this special day: Appreciate, cherish and enjoy what's good in your life and let go of the rest. I hope you and yours have a magical holiday and a wonderful new year! Happy Reading! Best, Eden Robins www.edenrobins.com 
Sunday, December 23, 2007  I am stealing in quietly to wish all my Cerridwen Author friends a Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays and a Happy and Prosperous New Year with many sales. I'm posting the cover of Isabell's Story, a historical romance, releasing on December 27th. It's the sequel to Isabelle's Diary, a contemporary romance, released on September 6th. The Isabelle books are both set in and around Llandrindod Wells, Wales an old spa town. Isabelle's Story, 1896 - 1900, when the spa was a magnet for the wealthy to come and take the waters. It fell out of favour when sea bathing became the latest health fad. I can't imagine why. If you have ever tried to swim or paddle your feet in the seas around Britain you will retreat quickly. The water is COLD. I had my picture taken awhile back while I stood ankle deep in the sea at Iona, the sacred isle. The water was crystal clear. But my Iona story is for another time and another place. Anita
Friday, December 21, 2007  The stone was the size of a large man’s fist. Tamarilla, princess of the fairies, touched the fiery emerald in passing as she fluttered back and forth, her feet not touching the floor. Incandescent sparks of light flashed from her wings as they twitched in agitation. “The Future Stone has belonged to the women of my family for generations to prophesy and to foretell their lover,” the princess told a wizened old woman sitting against a masonry wall. “Zan, the prince of elves, is only marrying me to get his hands on my stone. To unite the kingdoms, my father is going along with it.” Tamarilla stopped pacing and stared wistfully at the flawless emerald, yearning for a vision of a young and handsome leman. With a heavy sigh, she straightened her shoulders and put away the dreams of youth. Her lips, likened by many to rose petals, thinned into a straight line. “Zan will not use it for good, can’t my father see this?” Her heart thudded against the wispy confines of the gown she wore, as if it would tear free of her body and fly away from the restrictions of royalty. She sighed at the fanciful thought then turned to the old woman. “I know my destiny is to marry Zan, that I will never have true love. I have foreseen it in the stone. I accept it. With royalty comes responsibility. But how do I protect the stone for the women of my family who are to come? Hundreds of years from now my descendants will be mortal. The fairy line will die out. I have seen this too in the stone. Somehow, I must keep it safe for them, safe from Zan.” She knelt beside the woman who, in Tamarilla’s seventeen years of life, had been her nurse, teacher and wisewoman. She put her head in the old woman’s lap. “What shall I do, Nimue?” Nimue touched the glittering strands of hair that fell like sheaths of gold over her faded purple skirt. “Be brave little one and embrace your destiny with dignity. Zan is not a bad elf. But he is a male. And they all have their failings.” The old woman stood and raised the princess to her feet. “Get up child. I will protect the stone for your line.” “How?” “Watch,” the nurse commanded, in a voice she had never used before. Electricity fairly crackled around her. The princess could feel her eyes widen as Nimue stretched out her arms, pointed her long bony fingers at the stone and began to chant: “Stone of light, stone of wealth, May the seed of this child’s future dwell. Only Women of her line May see their true love in their time 6 The Crystal Exception of the spell is this The Chosen’s mate shall know stone’s bliss.” As Nimue chanted a mist began to form in the room, purple and blue swirls of smoke danced through the chamber. The mist thickened. It formed and reformed, swirling faster and faster, until it settled around the stone. Outside, the sky grew dark as a wild green and black storm rolled in. Loud booms of thunder shook the room. A brilliant bolt of lightning shot through the open window. Like a thrown spear, it cut through the purple-blue mist, straight to the emerald. Then all became still. Tamarilla blinked and crossed her arms to control the trembling that shook her body. From outdoors, she heard the tentative chirp of a wren. She glanced at the window, surprised to see sunlight once more pouring through. The black and green fury of the storm magically dissipated, being replaced by fluffy white clouds and a soft blue sky. The purple and blue mist blanketing the room dissolved. The princess looked at the table and froze as fear and shock coursed through her. The Future Stone was gone! In its place sat a green crystal ball. Labels: a paranormal romance Sandra Cox, The Crystal
Thursday, December 20, 2007 Beneath A Christmas Moon was recently released and I’m very happy to say that Blog Talk Radio chose the show with my fellow Cerridwen authors, Eden Robins and Karen McCullough, as one of the “Weekly Best of Blog Talk Radio”. They chose forty shows out of the fourteen hundred that broadcast on their network for the week of December 10th, 2007. If you’d like to listen to the show just click here. I'll be on live tomorrow at 11:00 AM EST and then my next show is January 11th. If you'd like to see the entire schedule it's on my website at melissaa.com. With January right around the corner I’m also finding myself making plans for the New Year regarding my career as a writer, a psychic, and as a horse breeder. Talgorian Prophecy has a release date of February 14th! What a great day to have a new book come out. I’m really excited about it. Have you got projects that are pulling at your attention too? I’m looking forward to taking a few days just to relax and enjoy my family without worrying about work. I hope you all have a wonderful holiday season and that you also find the time to relax with the ones you love. Until next year. Smiles, Melissa Alvarez/Ariana Dupre Beneath A Christmas Moon On Sale Now Visit my website, get a clairvoyant reading or listen to The Reader's Round Table!
Wednesday, December 19, 2007 warm hearts and glowing faces and all that, but everything I can think of comes down to the chorus of coughs around me, the symphony of sneezes, the whalloping wheezes, the hellacious hacking, that sense of impending doom, that I'm not sick but I'm surrounded and my arsenal of health aids are running low ... anyway, I guess that's appropriate for the season too -- along with the decorations and the food and the conviviality, there's the all-too-often cold or flu that makes the planning and shopping and conviviality a big pain in the kazoo. With every festive wrap of a box meant for a loved one, there's the possibility of a less-than-festive wrap of Vicks Vapo-Rub and crumpled tissues that even your loved ones are reluctant to get near. Whether it's because you're stuck inside this time of year, trapped (Note to self: Watch the run-on sentences. If I can't recite the Anyway, too many people are too worried about being cheerful and So relax. Got a chance to go skiing? Don't. Just relax. Yes, the So I'm going to let you go now. Enjoy your holiday! Get some sleep! That is all.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007  Hi everyone. I am shamelessly plugging my latest book from Cerridwen Press, Isabelle's Story. Isabelle Linden penned the diary featured in Isabelle's Diary.Isabelle's Story is a historical romance, 1896-1900. Both of the Isabelle books are set in and around Llandrindod Wells, Wales, an old spa town that once was famously known for its healing waters and spa treatments. The area is beautiful and a great place for hill walking and tramping the moors. The excerpt is the first time Isabelle meets Sir Harry Fairfield - not in favourable circumstances. She is mortified. He is attracted to her. Read on. Isabelle stepped aside when she heard horses coming up behind her. Two beautiful young women elegantly turned out in green velvet riding habits, rode towards her. They cast withering glances at Isabelle and one turned to the other, laughing. “C’est linfirmiere du Spa. Imaginez! Elle se promene toute seule sans chapeau. Elle est affreuse avec cette coiffure.” Her companion nodded. “Et lavez-vous entendu parler? C’et accent Gallois terrible!” Isabelle understood every insulting word and threw her stick at one of the horses, whacking it firmly on the rump. The startled animal reared and took off in a tearing gallop with the girl clinging to the reins. Isabelle burst out laughing. “You should not have done that.” A man’s voice startled her. She spun around to confront him, lost her footing on the muddy path and tumbled down the hill, skidding to an awkward stop when her skirt caught in a patch of thorny blackberry bushes. He vaulted from his horse and slid down the grassy slope after her. “Are you all right? I am sorry. I did not mean to frighten you.” Isabelle scrambled to her feet. Embarrassed and well aware of her muddy, disheveled appearance, she straightened her skirt. “I am quite all right, please join your friends.” She kept her gaze firmly fixed on the ground and waited for him to leave before climbing up to the path. Throwing the stick at the horse had been childish. What if the girl had fallen? Isabelle forced herself to look at him. He smiled, very likely enjoying her predicament. His riding jacket stretched taut over his broad shoulders. Momentarily at a loss for words, Isabelle blinked and stopped staring at him. A lock of auburn hair had fallen across his forehead and laughter lurked in his eyes. Was he laughing at her? “I said, you may go and join your friends, I do not require your assistance.” There. She would not apologize for throwing that stick, let him think what he liked. “But I must know your name. It is not every day I frighten young ladies into falling down hills.” “I am not the least bit frightened and see no reason for you to know my name.” With a haughty toss of her head, she started up the slope only to slide back and flounder awkwardly on her knees. He gripped her arm. “You must allow me.” Isabelle bit her lip, furious at herself for slipping on the wet grass. The steely strength of his arm pressed against her side unnerved her. Feeling light-headed, she accepted his help to the top. “Thank you.” She tugged her arm away and started down the path, desperately trying to hold back tears. “Wait!” He caught her hand. “You still have not told me your name.” He towered over her and for seconds she gazed helplessly into the depths of his dark blue eyes. Her knees trembled. “I am Harry Manderlin.” Isabelle died inside. His mother was her patient at the spa! Why did he wish to know her name? Fearful of some punishment for throwing the stick, she refused to answer. Her behavior might reflect badly on the clinic. “Surely, my name is not important, neither to you nor your friends.” In a rush of anger, she snatched her hand from his and glared defiantly at him. “Please tell them this. Although they find my Welsh accent deplorable, their French accent leaves much to be desired.” She raised her chin. “Vos amies parlent Francais comme des vaches espagnoles. What is more, they have the manners of the gutter!” Blinded by angry tears, she fled down the path. To be seen by such people, looking like a muddy gypsy girl was mortifying. Then to be insulted! She was glad she’d thrown the stick. Glad. As for him, he probably thought helping her up the hill was a great joke, a wonderful story to tell his companions. Harry watched her until she disappeared around a bend in the path and into the shelter of some trees. A rueful smile tipped his lips. She wanted nothing to do with him. He swung into the saddle and cantered up the path. When he caught up with his friends, Sylvia fumed at him. “That girl! That bedraggled, half-witted gypsy hurled a stick at my horse and it very nearly threw me. I hope you spoke sharply to her and gave her a piece of your mind.” “We recognized her.” Mary Anne declared. “She gives treatments at the spa. You must have her dismissed.” “Dismissed, because she was so offended by your rude remarks, she threw a stick at you?” They gaped at him. “She speaks excellent French and suggests you both mind your manners and take lessons to improve your accent.” He did not mention the girl thought they spoke French like Spanish cows. END of scene. I loved writing the Isabelle books. A ghostly encounter on a sunny June morning in Llandrindod Wells changed Sally Carter's life forever. That's from Isabelle's Diary. My book will be ready and waiting for readers on December 27th. Thanks for coming by. Please leave a comment or two. Anita www.anitabirt.com www.anitabirtstoryteller.blogspot.com
Rugby's the Game  Rugby--it's the game down this end of the world. I'm a big fan and decided to put my love of the sport to good use. Lane Gerrard, a professional rugby player and the hero in PLAYING TO WIN, my Cerridwen release coming on 17 Jan 2008 was born. -The game was developed in Rugby, England. Shelley's books featuring rugby: "I don't know much about rugby, but the author captures a fast moving, exciting and sometimes dangerous sport in such a way that I could actually understand it." ~The Romance Studio Adventure into Romance with Shelley Munro Visit Shelley's birthday bash at her blog
Labels: New Zealand, Playing to Win, rugby, Shelley Munro
Sunday, December 16, 2007  Oh, the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful. And if you've no place to go... Come join us for A Christmas Affair to remember starting Monday, December 17th! Come join me, Mary Eason and some of your favorite authors from a variety of genres and publishing houses as we count down to Christmas Eve over on my yahoo site: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/MaryEasonFunandGames Beginning Monday, December 17th and running through Christmas Eve, December 24th we will be counting down the days to Christmas in a most special way. So, please stop by on Monday, December 17th and join me in welcoming Roberta Isleib who writes for Berkley Prime Crime as she kicks the party off. Then be sure to catch each of the following authors on their day to see what fun and games they have in store for us. 18 -- Cindy Spencer Pape – Cerridwen Press, Ellora’s Cave, Wild Rose Press 19 -- Renee Knowles – Siren Publishing 20 -- Marly Mathews – Wild Rose Press, New Concepts Publishing 21 -- Kat Mancos – Samhain Publishing, Red Sage 22 -- Pam Champagne – Samhain Publishing, Wild Rose Press 23 -- Larissa Ione – Samhain Publishing, Bantam Dell, Red Sage 24 -- And be sure to drop by on Christmas Eve as we wrap things up in a spectacular way by hosting a scavenger hunt! http://groups.yahoo.com/group/MaryEasonFunandGames Wishing everyone lots of love this Christmas! Mary Eason -- Samhain Publishing, Cerridwen Press, Wild Rose Press, Whiskey Creek Press
Saturday, December 15, 2007  She’d felt it. Felt death beating at that proud heart. She straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath. “I’ll do what I can. Come back tomorrow morning.” “I stay with my horse.” His voice was flat, his expression grim. “Mr. Wolfe.” “Jack.” “Jack, I don’t share my methods with anyone but Hank.” “I stay with my horse.” His jaw jutted at a determined angle. On a less handsome man, his expression would have been mulish. She raised her own chin. “While I laud your loyalty, I can only hope your pigheadedness doesn’t kill your horse. You can bunk down here in the barn.” “Hank, please take me to the house.” She could feel the stranger’s tension lapping over her in waves. Jack fisted his hands and shoved them in his pockets. “You’d let him die?” “No, Mr. Wolfe, you would.” Her heart went out to the poor creature, but there were some boundaries she couldn’t cross. Tension-layered silence beat between them. “You win.” Bitter defeat coated his handsome features. As he started to walk away, he glanced at her arm, as if expecting to see something on it. For the first time, Maureen saw a flicker of unease cross his chiseled features. He stopped a breath away from her. “I didn’t misunderstand you are Maureen Kelly-Sinclair the healer aren’t you?” “I am.” He knows. Pegasus heaved a hard snorting breath. We are running out of time. Impulsively, she reached over and touched his arm. Like Hank’s it felt warm and comforting, with hard muscles under the skin, muscles at the moment rigid with tension. A quiver ran through him at her touch. He looked both startled and relieved. “Mr. Wolfe…” “Jack.” “Jack, how old is your horse?” “Does it matter?” “Yes. I can’t fight old age. No one can.” “Three.” “I can save him. But I need you to leave, now.” “I don’t like it.” She waited. He gave a heavy sigh, accepting. “I’ll be outside the barn if you need me.” “I’ll have your word on that.” “You have it.” He turned and strode away. The moment she heard the barn door close. She turned to Hank. “Help me inside.” The horse lay on its side. Its eyes closed. “I think all things considered, I’ll lie down too.” Hank helped her down in the hay. She snuggled up against the horse’s back. “You be careful, Marnie.” Pain seared through her, racing down her injured leg and into the amulet. “This horse is too sick to hurt me,” she panted, fighting back the urge to throw up. “You need to go outside and keep an eye on our guest.” Her words slurred, her voice was labored. “I’m staying right here, in case that horse starts coming around. Don’t you worry now,” he spoke in the soothing voice, he reserved for skittish horses. “Nobody’s coming in." * * * * * Jack, leaned against the barn door, and poured coffee from an old silver-colored thermos. He took a sip and grimaced. It was strong as sin. As he watched, the sun peeped up on the eastern horizon, flirting with the night, before it chased the dark away.
A scream of pain erupted from the barn. The cup fell from his hands, slogging hot coffee down his pants leg. Labels: Boji Stones Paranormal Romance, Sandra Cox
Friday, December 14, 2007 Anyway, the main point behind my witty, sensitive post was to check out Facebook if you need some holiday destressing. You can befriend me (search for Heather Hiestand at www.facebook.com and choose the one with the book on her profile) and play all kinds of cute silly games, pet virtual animals and so forth. I have a dragon, myself. Stay sane! Labels: Heather Hiestand Facebook
Thursday, December 13, 2007  Now available from Cerridwen Press ... If you had the power to save the world, what would make you give it up? Physical therapist Sonya Penn, the daughter of super-heroes, gave up her training as a super-hero when her parents were killed in a confrontation with their arch-enemy, Gentleman Geoffrey. She turned away from what would have been her life, trying instead to be a "normal" person, unable to admit her powers to manipulate speed and sound preclude her from ever being normal. Her "ordinary" life comes to an abrupt end when she finds herself attracted to John Arlen, her newest client, and his plans to avenge his father, who was murdered by the son of Gentleman Geoffrey. Drawn to his passion and determination, she agrees to help him in his quest. Sonya finds herself at the crossroads of her destiny: Will she don the uniform she was meant to? Complicating matters is a small thing — someone's trying to kill John. Is it Geoffrey's son, or someone else? Purchase link: Introducing Sonika See AOL's top rated recipes and easy ways to stay in shape for winter.
It's out!  Beneath a Christmas MoonKaren McCullough , Ariana Dupré , Eden Robins Lander's Moon By Eden Robins Free-spirited healer Selena Alvarez has a thing for bad boys. Yet she never imagined spending her Christmas vacation running through a snow-blanketed forest from a violent and abusive boyfriend, or being saved by recluse Lander Paletsos, a hunky shapeshifting immortal with an attitude. Snowbound in Lander's castle in the woods, they soon discover whether a beautiful healer's spirit is enough to mend the heart of a deadly beast. Paradise Designs By Ariana Dupré Tara Simms is determined to create a new beginning for herself this holiday season. She's purchased a new condo on Miami Beach in the ultrachic Paradise Designs Resort and Spa where there is no chance of paranormal activity. She's looking for a new man and thinks that David Blake, the lead realtor at the high-rise, is a good prospect.When Tara sees the spirit of a murdered woman enter her condo she freaks out. David offers his protection and his apartment. Together Tara and David must solve the murder and help the spirit into the light. Vampire's Christmas Carol By Karen McCullough Can Christmas Eve be any more fun? On her way home, Carol's car slides into a ditch in a deserted area. The only available shelter is already occupied…by a vampire.To Michael, Carol is the bait in a trap. In an effort to hold on to his soul, Michael has resisted the urge to drink human blood for almost a century. Now he hovers between human and vampire. If he doesn't drink human blood before the night ends, he'll die. Carol is pure temptation to him, the Christmas present from hell…or heaven. An excerpt from A Vampire's Christmas Carol: A leering smile warped the mouth of the newcomer, showing a nasty, almost gloating sort of amusement. “Who’s your friend, Michael? Looks tasty.” His grin widened, showing long, sharp fangs. Unwilling belief took root inside her and began to grow. This might be an elaborate prank, but she couldn’t see how they’d managed that smoke-mist effect and couldn’t imagine why they’d go to so much trouble. Carol started to really worry when Michael said, “What are you doing here?” and even he sounded concerned. The newcomer’s fangs almost glittered, reflecting the firelight, as he shook his head. “Michael! This is your last night. Why do you think I’m here?” “To continue making my life hell,” Michael answered. “Dear boy, no such thing. You’re throwing away a heaven you barely imagine.” “You’ve already shown me. Our definitions are different.” The creature turned its red gaze her way. “But what’s this? Michael, you’ve been holding out on me. What a sweet little morsel you have here.” “Right,” Michael answered. “And how did you arrange that, anyway, Antoine?” The other vampire shook his head. “How could I have? She’s stranded in a ditch. At least I assume that’s her car down the road?” “You know it is. Go away. You’re not needed here.” “You don’t want my company on your last night on this earth? We’ve always had a special relationship.” “Special in the wrong kind of way,” Michael said. “No, I don’t want you. Get out.” Antoine shrugged and turned her way, though he continued to address his remarks to Michael. “Are you going to drink from her? No? But it’s a shame to waste such a pretty treat. If you don’t want her—“ He took a step in her direction. Almost before she could blink and back away, Michael was there, standing in front of her, facing Antoine. “You’ll have to kill me first.” Surprise spread across Antoine’s face, but it changed rapidly to a sneer. “Ah, ever the gallant.” The words dripped sarcasm. “But it will make it all the more satisfying when you can no longer bear the thirst and the dying and take her yourself. You’ll be mine just as surely then.” “It won’t happen.” “So you say. But you’ve yet to feel the full clawing of the blood-thirst in your gut, as your body fails and craves what will keep it alive. Perhaps it will be more fun to wait around and watch as you lose the fight. I predict it will happen at a couple of hours before dawn. Maybe before, but certainly by then.” “Antoine…” The other vampire laughed, and his form began to dissolve into mist again. “I’ll let you enjoy the illusion of privacy for the moment. But I won’t be far. I’ll hear the screams and come to enjoy watching your surrender. Au revoir, mon galant.” Within moments, he’d broken up into mist and then the cloud itself faded away. Carol drew in a deep breath to steady herself. Why did she feel the danger had lessened? She still stood in the same room with a vampire—a dying and soon-to-be desperate one, according to Antoine. Michael hadn’t denied the truth of the words. “That was…another vampire, wasn’t it?” “Antoine. He made me.” “Made you…a vampire?” “Technically I’m just an undead. You don’t become a true vampire until you’ve drunk human blood. I’ve yet to do so.” “Why? Or rather, why not?” --Happy Reading! Karen McCullough
Wednesday, December 12, 2007 Finally, THE GHOST AND JACOB MOORHEAD is out! I hope people enjoy reading it as much as I had fun writing it. Two others in the series are with my editor and I'm working on the fourth and last. I'll miss those characters when I finish... What I really wanted to say was Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and may your coming year be blessed with all good things and nothing bad. Like most, I'm not at all ready for Christmas and keep telling myself to stop procrastinating. My younger daughter and her family live here, but my elder daughter and her sons will arrive in about a week. I've got to get a move on. I did something new this year. When my mother lived, she always made fruitcake. Yes, I know. I can hear the "bleaghs" loud and clear. The thing is, my husband actually likes fruitcake. So I made some. He's gone through a couple of them, but I think there's still a couple in the fridge. My younger daughter and her family have picked out our tree for this year. They'll be cutting it soon and bringing it in and we'll spend hours decorating it. We don't use commercial trees and a good thing too. My son-in-law likes BIG decorations and they show up on a wild tree where the branches aren't so tight to say nothing of strong enough to hold some things. Whatever holiday you enjoy at this time of year, I hope yours is the best ever... Cheerfully and only a little Scrooge-like Jeanne Savery
Tuesday, December 11, 2007 Yep, yep, yep! Those Sundown Security specialists are a gorgeous crew, but don't mistake good looking for weak. These guys work dangerously hard and play just as hard. And this time, maybe, just maybe, one sexy tough gargoyle may have met his match! I'll keep you posted on my progress with this story. In the meantime, if you're looking for an enchanted read for the holidays, please check out my anthology release, BENEATH A CHRISTMAS MOON, available in e-book on December 13th. My story in this collection, entitled LANDER'S MOON, is about a brave and beautiful healer and the shapeshifting, immortal beast with an attitude who rescues her from an uncertain fate over the holidays. Or, if you want a special tale to hold in your hands don't forget that the second book in my AFTER SUNDOWN series, my dragon tale, SALVATION, is now available in paperback. Until we meet again, I wish you and yours a wonderful, magical, safe and happy holiday! Best, Eden Robins www.edenrobins.com
Sunday, December 09, 2007  We share a release date on December 27! If Not For You is my second romantic suspense for Cerridwen (Your Saving Grace came out in June). All my RS books for CP have a rock 'n' roll song for it's title, and INFY is my "Eric Clapton" book. The heroine, Layla Whitford, has recovered nicely from her divorce years before and has settled into a new life in the Twin Cities in Minnesota. But somebody sends her a letter, which she naturally opens ... only to find that it's addressed to Max Lerner, a businessman she's never met. Since the letter is a threatening one, she turns it into the police. Only to be yelled at by Max for interferring in his life. Max has gotten several letters like this, all threatening to interrupt a merger he's been working on for months. Max knows Layla got the letter on purpose ... it had her address but his name on the envelope. So who wants them to meet and why? What does an ex-hippy war protestor like Layla have in common with an uptight businessman like Max Lerner? And will Max survive the encounter once he meets Layla? Stay tuned and find out {grin} J L
Saturday, December 08, 2007  I haven't posted on the CP authors blog for ages. Too much to do. So little time. I blog frequently on my own blog and the goddesses of storytelling blog. I will change my bad habits and turn up here more often. On December 27th my historical romance, Isabelle's Story, will be released. It's the sequel to Isabelle's Diary, released on September 6th. Isabelle Linden wrote the diary between 1896 and 1900. She lived in Llandrindod Wells, Wales, daughter of the town physician who ruled the family with an iron hand. When she met Sir Harry Fairfield and they fell in love she wrote about their secret meetings in her diary. Their love affair might have ended tragically had it not been for the shepherd who had known Isabelle since she was a "little nipper." His instinct told him something was amiss and he could not pass by. Secrets. A diary. What happened to it? My fourth book with Cerridwen Press, Ring Around The Moon, is a time travel romance, release date, March 27th. I have also been offered a contract for Too Young To Die, a romantic suspense novel. Five books with CP! Anita
Thursday, December 06, 2007 Anita www.anitabirt.com
Wednesday, December 05, 2007 Gunshot Grange is out in a few hours! I wish I was wider awake so I could tell you exciting things about the book. I adored writing it and the first half was completed by the "seat of the pants" method, which means the author has no idea what is coming next so she's just as surprised as the reader! GG is a contemporary Gothic as well, and Gothic romance does have a structure, so those of you who are, for instance, familiar with Jane Eyre will see how I'm faithful to the way a Gothic is put together while also writing a contemporary story of a woman who is looking for some vacation fun and meets up with an intense guy who isn't sure what he's getting but is very intrigued by this forward woman...wow, this is quite a run-on sentence, isn't it. For those of you who like to visualize the hero, for me Rick is David Boreanaz, who you may recognize from Buffy, Angel or currently Bones. Marci for me is the 50s bombshell Jayne Mansfield. But you can imagine anyone you want! Gunshot Grange will be featured on the main page of www.cerridwenpress.com for a week. There will also be an excerpt available tomorrow. Thanks for reading...and good night! Labels: Heather Hiestand Gunshot Grange
Faeries, faeries, and more faeries "Crazy Tuesday," hosted by Rowena Cherry, discussing, of all things, faeries. Intrigued, I actually studied for this; I dragged out reference books I'd bought for classes decades ago and hunted down references I'd bought since then, just because I like reference books. Of course, I discovered at that point that I don't have that many Fortunately, I didn't need it -- since it was a talk show with others I don't know. This is a theory I've only come upon in the past year >Eilis Flynn --
Tuesday, December 04, 2007  He’s concerned about me but not nearly as concerned as he is for his horse. “How will this affect your own healing?” A slight frown marred his brow, his eyes searched hers looking for truth. Her head jerked up and her heart jumped. She and Hank exchanged a startled look. She felt Hank’s grip on her arm tighten. Does he know about me or is it just a casual question. She gave a mental shake of her head. No. How could he? “What do you mean by that, mister?” Hank demanded. The stranger gave him a respectful tilt of his head. “I couldn’t help over hearing your conversation back in the truck.” Maureen stared at him. He must have ears like a cat…or a wolf. He gestured toward the horse standing beside him, his head down, the silver mane falling over his face. “And this is Pegasus. I didn’t catch your name, sir.” “That’s because I didn’t offer it. It’s McHenry. Hank McHenry.” Maureen started to introduce herself. “I’m…” He interrupted, “Miss Maureen Kelly-Sinclair.” He stuck out his hand, “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.” Leaning on Hank, she clasped his hand. His eyes widened and his grip tightened around hers. She dropped his hand. He feels the amulet. Pegasus nickered, a distressed sound, and his knees began to buckle. “Get him in the barn,” she said her voice urgent. She reached over and touched him. “Uh,” The grunt was involuntary before she could bite it off. The animal’s pain shot through her. But she knew her touch brought the animal a small measure of relief. It would at the very least get him in the barn and into a clean stall. Hank’s grip tightened on her. “You’re not up to this, Marnie.” She patted his hand. “I’ve got you, Hank. I’ll be alright,” She turned to the stranger. “Mr. Wolfe take him in the barn and put him in the box stall at the back.” He gave a curt nod, swung open the wide door and grasping the halter walked the horse in. “Come on, ole son, not much further now.” The sweet fresh smell of hay and horses assailed her as they walked into the barn. A red roan stuck his head out of the stall and nickered a greeting. The distance to the end of the barn seemed endless. As Maureen limped beside the shambling horse she leaned more and more on Hank’s wide shoulder. By the time they reached the end stall, Maureen’s breath was coming in short sharp gasps and sweat dewed her skin. Jack threw open the stall door and Pegasus walked in and sank to his knees in the deep hay. “What’s wrong with him?” she asked for forms sake, though she’d known the moment she touched him. “Cancer. The vet, vets,” he corrected himself, “have done everything they can. He can go anytime.” She’d felt it. Felt death beating at that proud heart. She straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath. “I’ll do what I can. Come back tomorrow morning.” “I stay with my horse.” His voice was flat, his expression grim. Labels: Boji Stones Paranormal Romance, Sandra Cox
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