Living the Dream

Welcome to the last Tuesday Tales post of 2023. It’s been an eventful year. Wishing you all the best in 2024. This week, fittingly enough, our word prompt is END. I still have several weeks’ worth of work on Listen to the Stones yet to complete. I hope you’re enjoying the story as much as I am researching and writing it. 

Marina chewed her lip. Was James just being friendly or had he asked her out on a date? Did it matter? The man was drop-dead gorgeous, and she wouldn’t mind getting to know him better. It wasn’t as if she had a lot of friends in the area, and since Lews Castle could well be serious competition for Fraser Hall, didn’t it make sense to check it out as soon as she could?

“I’d like that. I know what clotted cream is, but I’ve never had it. It’s not quite like whipped cream or even crème fraîche although they’re all made with heavy cream.”

Seriously? This is what I want to discuss with the hunky man who rescued me?

James nodded. “Aye, but your North American dessert cream is whipped into airy peaks, while our clotted cream is heated until clots form into an almost crunchy layer, while crème fraîche is cultivated with bacteria, in a similar way to yogurt. I used to watch my mother make it back in the day. With its ultra-thick consistency, clotted cream can even be mistaken for butter without the yellow dye in it. People do interchange crème fraîche and clotted cream, but the former is best used in soups, sauces, and similar French dishes, while the latter is a topping. Am I boring you, my lady? I tend to get carried away talking about food preparation.”

“Marina, please. No, of course not. I’m impressed.” She smiled once more. “I’ve spent most of my adult life working as a chef, even though I don’t have the paperwork to prove it, so I love learning all about new foods. Once I decided to accept my inheritance, I spent some time looking up traditional Scottish dishes. Since Fraser Hall is a bed and breakfast, I’ll be expected to serve that meal, but in time, I might like to add tea and possibly even supper to my services. As for our discussion, it’s been my experience that most men, chefs aside, would rather eat the food than discuss its preparation or the cleaning up required afterward. Do you have an interest in cooking and baking?”

Thank you, Fate. After years of making my life miserable, you really are coming through for me. This could well be a match made in heaven. Bob had never been interested in what happened in the kitchen. Most of the time, he’d scarfed down his food so quickly that by the end of the meal, she’d wondered if he’d even realized what he’d eaten.

That’s it. Come back next week for more. Don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.

Well, here it is, Christmas Eve in my part of the world and Christmas Day Down Under. May the holiday season bring you peace and comfort, time with family and friends, and good health. The longest night is behind us as the creep slowly and steadily toward the longest day once more. May 2024 be a better year for all.

Welcome to the week’s Tuesday Tales. We’re less than a week away from Christmas. The tree is decorated, the gifts are wrapped and most of the food is ready to be cooked. Wishing everyone a festive holiday. This week, I’m continuing with Listen to the Stones. Marina is back at the airport with Wee James. Our word prompt is CREAM. Enjoy.

“I’ll show you a wee bit of Stornoway as we drive through. It’s only nine minutes away.”

“Then why did it take so long for you to come and get me?”

He hesitated a moment before answering. “I … I wasn’t in the office. As Ewen’s associate, I deal with … clients when he’s away.”

Why did she get the sense that he wasn’t being completely honest?

“But I’m here now.” He put the vehicle in gear and pulled away from the curb.

Marina straightened against the seat. Where he’d been and what he’d been doing were none of her business. What lawyers did with clients was confidential. She should’ve recalled that.

James expertly navigated the vehicle first along the highway from the airport then through the streets of Stornoway.

“That’s Lews Castle.” He indicated the building as they drove passed it. “It was built in the gothic revival style by Sir James Matheson in the mid-nineteenth century. At one time or another, it housed nobility, WWII convalescing soldiers, college students, and even school children, but it’s now essentially a series of self-catering apartments with a terrific view of the harbor.”

She angled herself in the seat to get a better view. “It’s huge, and from what I can see it looks as though all the trees on the island surround it.”

James laughed. “Not quite but you’re close. Sir James and his wife created this forest. It’s got a lot of unusual trees, but many that are native to Northern Scotland. You have lodge pole trees imported from Western North America near Fraser Hall.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Really? Why from there?”

“The trees are hardy and fast-growing, which is a plus.”

Nodding, she turned back to James. “Tell me more about the castle.”

“There’s not much to tell, but the upper floors have been divided into several contemporary apartments and suites, each one unique and luxurious. The fanciest ones incorporate the towers and turrets. On the main floor, people can enjoy some of the island’s cuisine in the Storehouse Café. At this time of the year, it’s only open Thursday through Sunday from ten in the morning until three in the afternoon—essentially for lunch.”

She grinned. “I’ll have to make a point of checking it out.”

“I’d be happy to take you there for lunch on Sunday,” he offered. “They have the very best scones, served with clotted cream and jam.”

That’s it. Come back next week for more. Don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.

As the song says, the heat is on. Welcome to this week’s episode of Tuesday Tales. I’m continuing with Listen to the Stones. In this week’s post, I’m going to backtrack to an earlier point in the story when Marina was visiting the Edinburgh vaults. Remember those two hours she thinks she lost? She didn’t lose them, but it isn’t time for her to recall them just yet.

Mab pulled her along the cobblestone hallway, deeper and deeper into the warren of passageways and vaults. The air grew colder and damper, the scent of mildew stronger. She shivered.

The woman stopped so abruptly, that Marina almost knocked her over.

“Here we are,” Mab held her hand as she spoke into the darkness. “I’ve brought her to you as requested.” She turned to her. “It was a pleasure to meet you, my lady. No doubt we’ll meet again someday. I’ll leave you now.”

“Leave me?” Marina screeched. “Here? Alone?”

She would never be able to find her way back on her own.

The small woman smiled, “You aren’t alone. It’ll be fine. Raven knows what to do.”

Had she fallen for a scam? Would someone come and rob her or worse? Kill her and leave her body down here to rot or feed the rats? Was it possible that whoever wanted Fraser Hall had arranged for her to disappear here, paving the way for him to acquire the land?

Before she could say anything, Mab released her hand, turned, and walked away, leaving Marina alone in the room devoid of light.

“Don’t go,” she cried, but within seconds, all traces of the light the woman carried vanished.

“You’re never alone, Marina Fraser.”

She jumped at her name. “Who said that?”

“I did. I am Raven, the master’s servant.”

A red candle flickered on, the only light in the darkness, but Marina couldn’t see anyone or anything else.

“Show yourself and tell me what you want,” she demanded, her voice trembling.

If that candle went out, she was going to scream bloody murder. Would anyone hear her if she did? She was in the bowels of some kind of catacombs.

“I’m going to die, aren’t I?”

The voice laughed. “We all die, my lady, some sooner than others.”

That wasn’t very comforting.

“Don’t be afraid, my lady. I’m simply going to tell you a story—your story. You used to enjoy sitting with your grandmother as she read to you from a book of imaginative folktales. But not all of the tales are fanciful myths and legends. Many are steeped in truth, and it’s those fables that teach us powerful lessons, teachings we would be wise not to forget, or repeat.”

“My story? How can you know my story? We’ve never met,” Marina argued, growing bolder. No matter what was going to happen, she wouldn’t give up without a fight.

That’s it. Come back next week for more. Don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.

Welcome to December’s IWSG bog post. Like many of you, I’m up to my eyeballs in preparations for Christmas. Whether you celebrate the holiday as a religious or secular one makes little difference. What’s important is that you try to bring a little light into this the darkest time of the year.

December 6 question: Book reviews are for the readers. When you leave a book review do you review for the Reader or the Author? Is it about what you liked and enjoyed about your reading experience, or do you critique the author?

Reading is a personal experience, and everyone approaches it differently. While it’s possible that one person loves a book, it’s equally possible that someone else hates it. When I read a book for pleasure, I try to shove my internal editor on the back burner. I’ll admit that sometimes doing that is harder than at others. If the book has too many errors, it’ll pull me out of the story and spoil my enjoyment of it.

That being said, I try to post something positive about the book, not just for the reader to take away, but to encourage the writer. We authors don’t have thick skins, at least I don’t. When I read my reviews, I look for constructive criticism. Let’s face it. No matter how many times you go over a manuscript, there will always be that one typo you miss.

Early on in my career, I wrote a book that was editied to death. Four rounds of painstaking edits, and yet when the publisher put it out there, they used the original unedited copy because the editor had a breakdown and never submitted the properly eited version. Once the book was out there, there wasn’t much that could be done to fix it, although I did beg them to do so. In the end, all I could do was grin and bear it.

I’ll admit some reviewers were able to look at the story beneath the errors, but others were incredibly unkind. As a result, I almost gave up on writing, but instead, I now am supercareful about editing, and since I self-publish, I can be sure the right version gets out there.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. Now, go and check out what others have to say on this topic.

https://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com/p/iwsg-sign-up.html

Welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales. I trust all of you who celebrated Thanksgiving on Thursday had a wonderful time with your families. It’s hard to believe that this is the last week of November. We’re only 3 weeks away from Christmas. Where has the year gone?

This week, our word prompt is FOOLISH. I’m continuing with Listen to the Stones, but I have another surprise for you. The story has changed since I began writing it and my cover artist agreed it needed a cover that reflected that. Listen to the Stones is a contemporary paranormal romance. Enjoy this week’s scene. I’m slowly but surely getting Marina out of that airport, but she has a lot of other adventures ahead of her.

“You’re just being foolish,” Marina muttered, the words seeming loud inside the empty room. Was the caretaker who’d ignored her watching her? She shuddered and stood. “This is ridiculous.”

Annoyed with herself and the situation, she resumed her pacing. hoping the activity would curb her imagination and take her mind off things. This wasn’t underground Edinburgh with its ghosts and hauntings, witches and covens, and who knew what other paranormal activities she’d encountered that had stolen three hours from her. Something had happened. There was no damn way she’d fallen asleep on a public bench after one glass of beer.

Shivering, she pulled her hands up inside the sleeves of her jacket. When that unfriendly old man had turned off the lights, had he lowered the temperature, too? She paced faster, counting out her steps as she did, hoping the exercise would warm her.

After what had to be the longest half-hour of her life, headlights pierced the gloomy room.

She stopped moving and jumped when the door opened.

Backlit by the car’s headlights, the man could easily have doubled for Hagrid in any of the Harry Potter movies.

Wee James, my ass—if this is him, and not one of the giants who roamed Scotland in the before time.

In Inverness, there’d been a book on the legends of Albion, the name given to Ancient Britain, in her room that had captured her attention. One of the articles, The Glastonbury Giant: Who Did the Mystery Bones of A Nine-Foot Skeleton Belong To? had intrigued her, and she’d read about the ancient race of giants said to have populated this island. No one denied that giants had roamed this part of the world. In 1962-63, Dr. Ralegh Radford, a distinguished archaeologist, examined the ancient giant’s remains and ‘confirmed that a prominent personage had indeed been buried there at the period in question.’ Whether or not the skeleton was that of the legendary King Arthur, no one could prove, but giants in England, Scotland, and Wales? The was no disputing that, and the man coming through the doorway had to be descended from them.

The man-mountain advanced, and she stepped back.

He stopped a few feet from her and bowed his head.

“Lady Fraser, welcome to Stornoway and the Isle of Lewis. I see Jock didn’t notice you sitting here. If he had, he wouldn’t have turned off the lights and lowered the heat. He tends to this place by memory if not by sight.”

That’s it. Come back next week for more. Don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.

Over the course of my life, there have been astonishing changes, especially in the realm of technology, many of which have impacted my world in a hundred different ways.

The first advance in technology was the television set. Suddenly, you could watch movies at home and be entertained by a small box in the living room. I saw Elvis, The Beatles, The Beach boys, and even The Singing Nun, all from the comfort of my couch. And we all know how television has evolved since then.

The next technological advance to affect me was the self-cleaning oven, and on its heels, the microwave oven. Suddenly, cleaning the oven with fouls smelling chemicals was a thing of the past, and as for the microwave, I can’t imagine how I got dinner on the table, on time, without it.

There were many other things that made life easier–the portable dishwasher, disposable diapers, and apartment-sized washers and dryers. Each and everyone made life less of a hassle.

The third thing to impact my life was the arrival of personal computers. It was because of them that I was able to realize my dreams and become a writer. Together with the Internet, they drew opportunity and the world closer to me than ever before. They opened doors for me that I hadn’t even known existed. Instead of wading through encyclopedias, information was just a click away.

Then came cell phones, and Smart phones, cameras at your fingertips to capture all those wonderful milestones, not to mention hundreds of vacation pictures, and games to keep you busy while waiting. Once again, I don’t know what I would do without my cell.

But what I want to praise today is A I, especially as it relates to cover design. Let me show you what my incredible cover artist, Melinda De Ross has done for me. All of the covers she’s ever created for me have been spectacular in their own rights, but sometimes it’s hard to get exactly what you want using the cover models and images available.

Let’s start with my paranormal romance, Beneath the Ashes. On the left, you have the original cover. On the right, the new one created with A I technology and Melinda’s brilliance. Isn’t it gorgeous? Can’t you feel the woman’s sense of expectation? You can’t help but wonder what awaits her beneath the ashes.

Let’s look at book two in that series, Listen to the Stones. This one won’t be available until spring 2024 When I started the book, I thought it would be a Christmas romance, but the characters pulled me in a completely different direction, one where the supernatural has taken on a greater role, and the love Marina and Jerome share is truly timeless. I love the way Melinda blended the Standing Stones, the Northern lights and the woman’s face. You can sense her reservations and get the impression that she is indeed listening to her mystical stones.

Finally, let’s look at The Guardian, Book Two of my Punishers Series, about a paranormal police squad in modern day New Orleans, superheroes who protect both the living and the undead. My hero is half-elf, half human, sent to Earth to atone for violating one of his homeland’s sacred laws. He wields a magic sword that materializes in his hands when he needs it. I would’nt mind having him look after me.

There you have it. The same great stories with amazing new covers that convey the plots in a fun and fabulous way.

I’m not sure whether I’ll embrace A I in writing my books, but I’m definitely ready to embrace it when my cover artists can us it to create such amazing, vibrant, covers.

Happy Thanksgiving to all who celebrate the holiday today. I’ll bet technology has made things easier for you, too

Happy Thanksgiving to all who’ll celebrate on Thursday. Turkey, football, and a parade. Something for everyone. This week the Tuesday Tales authors are writing to the prompt MEET. I’m continuing with Listen to the Stones, my contemporary paranormal romance. Marina is stranded at the airport in Stornoway, on the Isle of Lewis.

Marina inhaled deeply to keep her panic at bay. Getting upset wouldn’t help, and she needed to stay calm. From the sound of Fiona’s voice, that woman was only seconds away from crying.

“It isn’t a big deal,” she lied. “Is there anyone who can come and get me?”

“Of course. I’ll send Wee James to meet you right away. He can take you out to Fraser Hall.”

“Perfect. Wee James, it is. I’m tired. I didn’t sleep well the last couple of nights … nerves I expect. I want to get settled and have an early night. How will I recognize the man you’re sending?”

“Since there isn’t another plane due in today, I should think there won’t be many others arriving at the airport, but he’ll be wearing a mac and plaid scarf.”

“Okay. How long will he be?” Marina didn’t want to stay in what was now a deserted airport any longer than she needed to.

“He’s at a clients’ twelve kilometers away. He should be there within half an hour. He knows where the emergency key is, having been there just yesterday to deliver the groceries you requested.”

Hopefully, someone had put the meat and other perishables away. Marina shuddered as the rain slammed against the windows, running down the panes in rivulets.

“He’ll be there in two shakes of a lamb’s tale”.” Fiona added. “I’ll let Mr. MacDonald know you’ve arrived. I expect he’ll be out to the Hall to see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you. I look forward to meeting him in person.”

Putting away her cell phone, Marina paced the room. The place felt colder and damper now. Where was that janitor? Was he hiding in an office somewhere watching her on closed-circuit television? Did he get his kicks out of watching stranded passengers try not to panic?

Returning to her seat under an emergency lamp, she settled down to wait. The terminal creaked and groaned, and the wind howled and moaned like a banshee, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

That’s it. Come back next week for more. Don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.