August 7th Giveaway!

Pssst! Since I am moving to an island at the end of the month and selling/storing everything I own - that means you all get some awesome giveaways coming your way the next few weeks!

To win - tell me one of the biggest "risks" you've taken and what you learned from it.

Then, like & share!

Giveaway!!

 

This week I am pleased to announce Stone Song is now available on audiobook. The very talented Amy Landon, who also did the Mystic Cove series, once again narrates the book. You can grab a copy from Amazon here - http://amzn.to/2vKrHSD. Just click on the audiobook option.

Therefore it would seem fitting to give away an audiobook in this weeks giveaway. You can win Wild Irish Witch on 6CD's, a beautiful Celtic Knot and Connemara Marble necklace from Ireland, a cute 5x7 print by Pat Flavell and a beeswax candle that smells amazing. 

To enter - tell me your favorite song in the comments section! 

Chapter Forty - Sword Song

For those of you waiting on Amazon to update the manuscript - here is the missing chapter. I apologize again for formatting error (and my formatter sends her apologies as well!). 

Chapter Forty

They climbed the stairs of the lighthouse, taking their time, this time with flashlights, and calling back to each other whenever a broken step appeared or a loose bolt was apparent. Sasha was still niggling over Declan’s declaration of love, so she missed a step and almost went down, but he caught her – strong and steady behind her. Would it always be this way? Him there to catch her?

Sasha needed to come to terms with the fact that it already had always been this way. The only difference was that now she was included. It was like pulling back a curtain to reveal a secondary cast of characters in her life that she’d had no knowledge of. It was disconcerting, to say the least. It should have come as no surprise to anyone that she wasn’t quite ready to drop the L-word yet.

“This is cool,” Bianca exclaimed from the top, and soon they all crowded into the circular room. The flame from yesterday had now died out, though it seemed to Sasha that another one had been ignited in her heart. Heat flushed her as she thought about Declan taking her against the wall, her body melded to his. Declan turned and flashed a knowing grin at her, and she jumped and turned away to begin to examine the room.

“It’s fairly standard, for the century it was built in,” Seamus said as they began to examine the stones, peeking through the window slots to look at different viewpoints.

“The view is phenomenal,” Sasha sighed and leaned against one sliver of window that showed the ocean, uninterrupted for miles but for a moody seagull swooping in the misting rain. Though the weather was melancholy, there was something about the seagull that calmed her. There had been a battle raging on these very shores the night before, yet in the morning, the birds still flew and the rain still fell. Wars were waged, battles won and lost, and the world moved on. The continuity of it was a blessing.

Sasha smiled and turned, crossing her arms as she looked at her friends, the people who had now become her family. She looked up and murmured a silent ‘thank you’ to the Goddess.

And froze.

“Hey, is that a placard?” Sasha asked, pointed to a small metal square, bolted to the wall, far above their heads where the roof rounded to its peak.

“Good eye, Sash,” Seamus said.

She gasped as he scaled the wall, nimble as a monkey, and peered at the square. Holding on with one hand, he brushed at the rust for a moment until he could see.

“Get anything?” Declan asked.

“There, but for the grace of God, go I,” Seamus said, and dropped lightly back to his feet.

Sasha thought it was interesting that she had just been thinking about the circle of life, the ebb and flow of good and bad, and here was a quote that echoed the luck and misfortune of humanity.

“Grace’s Cove!” Bianca said immediately.

Sasha looked at her in confusion. “Grace’s Cove? I think I’ve heard of it. Village on the west coast?” she asked.

“It’s near where we had our last battle and found the stone. The cove is enchanted. It’s all very fantastic; I’ll fill you in on the ride. But I’m certain this is where we need to go,” Bianca said. Then she paused, her round face flushed as she held up a hand, and said, “Actually, it doesn’t matter what I think. What do you think, Sasha? Does Grace’s Cove feel right?”

“This was one of Grace O’Malley’s castles,” Declan said from behind her.

“It was? That’s amazing. I have nothing but respect for Grace O’Malley. The original tough-as-nails woman. Did you know she gave birth at sea? And then went into battle? And women today talk about having perfect birth plans. Please. Grace O’Malley would laugh in their faces,” Bianca pattered on behind her, but Sasha tuned her out and turned to look back at the lonely gull swooping above the crashing waves.

When it dove into the water and snatched a fish, the fish dangling from its mouth for a moment before meeting its death, Sasha nodded once.

There but for the grace of God go I.

Life's a Beach April Giveaway

Dreaming of sunny skies and sandy beaches takes me to the Althea Rose series! If you haven't checked this series out yet, I highly recommend it - as you'll need to answer the following question to win April's grand prize:

Who is your favorite character in the Althea Rose series and why? 

Be sure to check out my FB page for Friday giveaways (I'm talking goooood prizes!). But the grand prize for this month is a KINDLE VOYAGER! This is my new favorite Kindle as it has an anti-glare screen so that you can read it in the sun at the beach! 

*Winners must comment here or on the pinned FB page post. If a winner does not claim their prize within 3 business days, another winner will be chosen. 

"Love of the Irish" March Grand Prize Giveaway - Winner picked!

Congratulations to Stephanie Pixie Mallen for the win! Be sure to check out my FB page for Friday giveaways and a huge prize for April! 

Be sure to hop on over to my FB page to catch a month-long of contests and giveaways. But you'll certainly not want to miss the granddaddy of all prizes. Behold: 

Not too shabby, eh? 

How to win - 

  1. Sign up for my newsletter here. (Don't worry, I only email you when I have a new release).
  2. Hop on over to my Facebook Page and give it a like
  3. Answer this question - either here, on the Facebook post, or on the Facebook Ad that is floating around - What is your favorite Mystic Cove book and why?
  4. Finally, share to get more chances to win. 

May the odds be ever in your favor. Sorry, I couldn't help myself. Good luck! 

 

Tequila for Two

Chapter One

“What's up with that?” I asked, straining my eyes at the line of people approaching our shop.

“Pagan festival this weekend.” Luna shrugged her delicate shoulders, tucking a strand of her wispy blonde hair behind her ear. Clad in a white linen dress and with the highest cheekbones I had ever seen, Luna was all elegance and grace. If I were casting for a white witch in a play, she would fit the part perfectly.

In more ways than looks.

Me, on the other hand? Well, I’m more curvy than Luna with the grace of an elephant, I suppose. This past month I'd darkened the hot pink streaks in my curls to more of a deep lavender color, and white clothes and I do not mix – mainly because I don’t corner well and have a habit of spilling things on myself.

“Friends of yours?” I asked, knowing that as a white witch – yes, a real one – Luna had some roots in Paganism.

“Not that I'm aware of,” Luna hummed, raising a delicate eyebrow.

“How did we not know there was a Pagan festival this weekend?”

Luna shrugged. “It was in the weekly paper.”

“You know I've sworn off the paper after Craig wrote up that article about you,” I said. A month ago Luna had been falsely accused of murder, and even though we'd threatened the local reporter with some pretty inventive curses, he'd still written a fairly accusatory article about Luna. A small retraction printed in the paper after Luna was cleared of all charges had done little to change my opinion of him.

“We still need to think up a curse for him,” Luna reminded me.

“I've got Miss Elva on it,” I said, referring to our resident voodoo priestess. I trusted her implicitly to find the best revenge for this particular situation.

“That should do it,” Luna agreed, pasting a smile on her face, as the line of people grew closer to our shop.

My name's Althea Rose and I, together with Luna, run the Luna Rose Potions & Tarot Shop.

She’s the witch; I'm the psychic.

I can’t help it – being a psychic runs in the blood. My mother is far more prolific than I, flitting from country to country to cater to the famous people she deems worthy of her readings. Oh, she's a diva, that's for sure. Most people would probably say I have a fair share of her attitude, but I like to think that I take after my easygoing musician father, who has happily followed my mother on her travels.

Luna snorted. “Easygoing, my ass,” she murmured, her polite smile never faltering.

“Stop reading my mind,” I grumbled, moving from the white-and-gold upscale beach-cottage elegance of her side of the shop to the velvety purple den of iniquity on my side.

Okay, so maybe “den of iniquity” is taking it a little far. But my tarot card shop was exactly what you would presume one to be – there was even a leopard-print chair tucked away in a corner.

And a skeleton wearing a Ramones shirt was sitting on it.

Pulling out my phone, I reluctantly googled the local paper to find out more about this Pagan festival. Tequila Key wasn't exactly known to be a hot spot for festivals. Or for anything, for that matter.

We are a sleepy little Key, just a speed bump for tourists on their way to Key West. Most people simply pulled to the side of the road to snap a picture by the “Tequila Makes it Better” sign that some genius had erected by the marker off the highway before continuing on down to a livelier Key. Any sort of festival was bound to be the talk of the town.

“The New Crusaders, a revolutionized order of the Pagan druids,” I read out loud, raising an eyebrow at my screen. “Sounds like radicals.”

“Some may call us that,” said a voice to my left, and I jumped. I hadn't realized that someone had slipped past my privacy screen to wait politely at the entrance to my shop.

At least six feet tall and rail thin, a man who reminded me of Gandalf stood at my door. His hair and beard flowed in long gray waves over his forest green ritual cloak, and his feet were encased in butter-smooth leather boots.

That explained why I hadn't heard his entrance.

“Hello,” I said, unaccountably wary.

“Hello. I wanted to see if I could arrange readings for some of my group this weekend.”

“I'd have to check my schedule,” I said, pointedly not reaching for my schedule. Something about this man's vibe was making me reluctant to help him.

“I'll wait,” he said with a smile.

“What's your name?”

“I am Horace, the founding member, and the organizer of this weekend’s festival,” Horace said.

“And what is this festival for, exactly?”

“Why, to celebrate the earth, the sky, the ocean…all the natural beauty of this place. And this weekend is the full moon which also coincides with the equinox. We’ll be celebrating the Mabon festival, to prepare us for the darker time of the year,” Horace said, sweeping his hand around in a grand gesture.

I swear his eyes seemed to light up when he talked about the “darker time of the year.” And what was he doing wearing a ritual cloak outside of an actual ritual? Even I knew that’s frowned upon.

“In Tequila Key? Granted, we've got a stunning coastline, but we are a fairly cluttered little town, if you hadn't noticed.”

“You've some lovely natural spaces outside of town for us to set up in. There’s a private campground that we’ve rented out. You're welcome to come. In fact, I insist,” Horace said gravely.

“I'll get back to you on that one, Horace. I'm sorry, but I have a telephone appointment at eleven. I'll be sure to let you know about my availability this weekend. Cheers,” I said, smiling brightly and reached for my phone.

Horace held my gaze for a moment, his eyes so light a grey that they were almost white, before nodding once and padding silently from my room in his leather booties.

And leaving me with an unsettled feeling as I picked up my phone to call my client. 

Available for purchase on Amazon now! 

One Tequila - An Althea Rose Mystery

Chapter 1

“But I'm quite certain Bitsy would wish to speak with me,” the woman across from me sniffed and clutched a folded silk handkerchief with a perfectly monogrammed E on the corner. The point of her chin rose as she looked down her nose at me.

“Mrs. Evanston, I've already explained this – I'm a psychic – not a medium,” I sighed as Mrs. Evanston's eyes steeled up and her shoulders braced.

“Well, I'd say that you're certainly misleading people with your little psychic shop if you can't even talk to Bitsy for me.” Mrs. Evanston narrowed her eyes at me. I could already read the threat in her mind: she would be contacting the Better Business Bureau and by lunch, she'd be tearing my reputation to threads with her Ladies Who Lunch club. Mentally rolling my eyes, I plastered a smile across my face.

“The reason that I don't advertise being a medium is because it's so incredibly draining for me,” I began, lying through my teeth. “However, for you, I'll make an exception.”

A muffled snort from a screen to my left almost had me cracking a smile but instead, I stayed focused on my client. Hope had dawned in Mrs. Evanston's eyes as she leaned forward, hands pressed into the purple velvet of my table.

“You can? Oh, oh, just...can you tell me if she is safe?” Mrs. Evanston breathed, staring into my glass scrying ball on the table.

I closed my eyes and counted to ten, doing my best to get an image of Bitsy from Mrs. Evanston's thoughts. A puffball of a white cat popped into my head, so I went with it.

“Her coat is just as stunning as it was in life – I see her walking proudly,” I said, keeping my eyes closed and praying that I had hit the mark.

“Ohhhh,” Mrs. Evanston breathed and I snuck a look to see her with a hand over her mouth, a sheen of tears making her eyes glint behind her glasses. Her hair, the perfectly blue-gray rinse favored by the elderly set on Tequila Key, bobbed as she nodded.

“She was really proud of her coat. Bitsy was a show cat, you know,” Mrs. Evanston said.

“I can see she carries herself as such. She is wonderfully happy and has told me that her only concern is for you to find peace with her passing,” I said gently, using my de rigueur explanation when clients insisted that I contact a loved one.

No matter what, it seemed that when people heard psychic, they thought I could do anything.

Magic even.

I'd leave that to my best friend and business partner, Luna Lavelle, the one who had so gracefully snorted from the other room of our Luna Rose Potions & Tarot Shop tucked on a sleepy street in Tequila Key, Florida.

“You know, Althea Rose, your mother may be the famous one, but I think you've inherited her gift,” Mrs. Evanston said, rising to shake my hand with a smile. I scanned her thoughts and all I got was pleasure, so as far as I was concerned, the reading had been a successful one.

I checked my moral compass and decided as white lies go, it was a minor one. People only come to psychics for two reasons – to find out if they will be okay and to find out if someone they love will be okay. I turned my palm over to look at the $1 tip she had pressed into my hands. I had to laugh. Though the rich in this town liked to flaunt it with country club passes and fancy houses, in all reality they were stingy to the core. 

To find out what sort of trouble Althea gets herself into - head on over to Amazon!

Purchase HERE. 

Wild Irish Roots - Margaret & Sean

Chapter 1

Margaret took a sip of her wine, watching Keelin dance her first dance as a married woman. How had she grown up so fast?

And somehow, Keelin had ended up back in Grace's Cove. The one place that Margaret had sworn she'd never go back to. Margaret bit back the old feeling of bitterness that swelled in her throat.

“Long time no see,” Sean drawled from behind her and Margaret's back stiffened. Taking a deep breath, she turned to meet Sean's eyes.

Damn, the man was as handsome as ever. The well-cut tux showcased his broad shoulders. Though a few grays peppered his hair, his presence still radiated strength and virility. She'd done her best to steer clear of him since she'd arrived in Grace's Cove the night before, but it looked like their confrontation had arrived. Bracing her shoulders, and lifting her chin, Margaret eyed him.

“Sean,” Margaret said coolly.

“Come on, Maggie, that's the best you can do?” Sean asked, raising his eyebrow at her.

“It might be,” she said, sticking her nose in the air at her nickname.

“I don't like that answer,” Sean said, stepping closer and forcing her to look up at him. Margaret hadn't expected the punch of him. Heat licked low in her stomach.

“Well, you can't always get what you want,” Margaret said flippantly.

“Yeah, so I've learned,” Sean said bitterly. “But this time, I plan to.”

Margaret's heart leapt into her throat as he pulled the wine glass from her hand and stepped closer, forcing her to step backwards into the darkness.

“What are you doing?”

“What I've been meaning to do for a long time,” Sean said.

“Excuse me?” Margaret asked, steel lacing her voice.

And found the air knocked out of her as Sean reached down and hoisted her so that her body hung over his shoulder, her face staring at a very attractive bottom clad in tuxedo pants.

“You're crazy,” Margaret hissed, turning and smacking Sean lightly on the head. “Put me down this instant. This is unbecoming.”

“I'll show you unbecoming,” Sean muttered, continuing to stalk into the darkness. Margaret had a sinking suspicion of just where Sean was headed.

The site of their last show-down.

Of course Keelin had to go and have her wedding on the cliffs overlooking the beach that held the most pivotal moment in her life, Margaret grumbled to herself and prayed that none of the guests dancing in the tent had seen Sean carry her off.

“Hello, Shane,” Sean called and Margaret whipped her head around to see the dim outline of Shane, a local realtor she had met the night before, stalking away from the cove.

“Sean!” Margaret gasped, feeling heat creep up her cheeks. She'd never found herself in such a comprising position before.

Oh wait, just that one time. With this same man.

And wasn't this just why she had stayed away from Grace's Cove?