Cathy MacRae's Blog, page 38
December 8, 2014
While digging up some research, and since it is the Yuletide season, I came across this great song. You can listen to it here (thanks to Scots Language.com): 
December 5, 2014
Character Interview- Confederado
Today we have a special character interview with Mary Catherine from Linda Bennett Pennell's book, Confederado do Norte.I love character interviews as they give us such an in-depth look at the hero or heroine who makes the story come alive!
Thank you, Linda, for bringing Mary Catherine and her story to us today.
LBP: Would you introduce yourself and tell us where you were born?
MC: My name is Mary Catherine MacDonald Dias Oliveira Atwell and I was born January 1, 1857 in Washington County, Georgia on a farm overlooking the Oconee River.
LBP: We know that you left Georgia in 1866 because your father didn’t want to live under Reconstruction. You must have been quite small when the Civil War began. Do you have any memories of life before the war?
MC: It’s sometimes difficult to recall that there was ever a time before the war or that anything existed prior to our world’s being reduced to ashes. That period for me is really only impressions and shadows because they are my very earliest memories, those of a child of less than five years.
LBP: Would you mind sharing what you do remember?
MC: I suspect my memories are, as is the custom with very young children’s recollections, somewhat mixed up and jumbled together. Nevertheless, I will do my best to explain how it once was and then how it became.
During my earliest years I was happy and I had no fear of the future, for young children are blessedly unaware that terrible things can happen in their small, secure worlds. My parents and I lived in a comfortable home and enjoyed the company of neighbors and family within its safe walls. We were kin, in one way or another, to most of the people in the county and Papa was catered to by all of our female relatives, especially his old maid sisters, for you see, ours was a supremely patriarchal society.
LBP: You have mentioned your home. What do you remember of it?
MC: When I picture “home”, I see an unpainted dogtrot farmhouse that wouldn’t have been terribly grand by most people’s lights. It exists now only in shadowy visions: cotton fields stretching from the edge of a deep porch down to the river, flashes of a sunbeam dancing on the lemon oiled surface of Mama’s best table, tall windows and high ceilings. It’s all really rather vague, but I do have a clear memory of Mama’s garden. It is of her favorite rose bush to which I did some considerable damage one spring by picking off all the buds before they even broke color and for which I was spanked rather severely.
LBP: As a Southern farmer, did your father own slaves?
MC: It should be understood that my home was a farm rather than a large plantation. Nonetheless, it did include a few colored slaves, most of whom worked in the fields. Of their faces, it is only Bess’s that has stayed with me into old age. My Bess, who lived in the house, and who took care of me, and whom I loved as much as I did my parents. As was the custom, I was reared more by Bess than by Mama and Papa. It was simply the way of things.
LBP: I see. What do you remember of your parents?
MC: My clearest memories of my parents are that Papa spent his days with the field hands and that Mama loved music. She was an accomplished pianist. Beautiful music filled the house when she played her pianoforte in the parlor. Sometimes when Bess brought me in to say goodnight, Papa would be sitting beside Mama, kissing her neck as she played and she would be smiling at him in the special way that she reserved only for him. I think they must have been very happy. They laughed a lot in those days. Then, the war came.
LBP: Forgive me for asking what may be a painful question, but what do you remember of the war?
MC: Yes, it is still painful after all this time, but I will try to answer as best I can. This was how time was marked with our people: before the war and then after.
Most of my memories from the war are those of a young child and are thankfully not all that clear. It may also be that I have deliberately locked them away in my mind’s deepest recesses. It was a dreadful time. I do remember Mama crying a lot and staring at the small tintype of Papa in his uniform. She read and reread his treasured, but infrequent letters. I know that I often cried myself to sleep at night because I missed my adored papa so much. Toward the end we were hungry all the time because there simply wasn’t anything left to eat. Mama became so thin that Bess fumed and declared that someone would be made to pay for visiting all this trouble upon us, but how this was to be accomplished was unclear since we were just females left to fend for ourselves.
The extent of our defenselessness was resoundingly brought home to us in late November 1864. Although my war memories may be sketchy in some ways, frightening clarity surrounds the arrival of Sherman’s soldiers on their relentless March to the Sea. Even now their shouts and snarling faces haunt my dreams. Some nights I’m disturbed with nightmares of choking on the acrid smoke from our burning home, trying not to reveal our position with coughing, and of the milk cow’s terrified bawling as she was consumed in the barn’s inferno. Mama, Bess, and I hid in the woods down by the river while those men stole everything that wasn’t nailed down and set fire to what they couldn’t carry off.
LBP: It must have been a very difficult time. With your home burned, where did you find shelter?
MC: After the ashes cooled, Bess found a few pieces of tin and repaired the damaged roof over the kitchen, the only building not completely destroyed. We stayed there and made do as best we could. Bess begged Mama to move into town where Papa’s spinster sisters had a small house, but Mama insisted that we couldn’t leave the farm because Papa would expect to find us there.
LBP: What was it like after the war ended, before you all left Georgia?
MC: Some six or seven months after Sherman’s March, the war ended and Papa came home. It was the summer of 1865 and I was just a child, but even then I knew that life as we had known it was over forever.
This is where the fabric of my life increases in its complexity. The texture becomes richer and the pattern becomes more intricate. In unraveling the threads, perhaps they can be rewoven into a firmer, more solid whole – one without the holes and ragged edges that marred it. After all, this was my purpose in writing Confederado do Norte.
At first, I wasn’t sure that it was my papa who had returned to us. It wasn’t just the difference between my five-year-old memories of him and the perceptions of a more grown up girl of eight. He’d become someone I simply couldn’t recognize. His uniform, in which he had once taken such pride, was tattered and filthy. His skin seemed to fold loosely over his tall frame and his eyes were so sunken that his once handsome face had taken on the appearance of a death mask. But the thing that frightened me most was that he didn’t speak to us, not even when Mama cried and begged him to tell her how she could help. By day, he spent most of his time alone simply walking the fields that had once been so productive. He wept at night when I suppose he thought no one could hear him, but why he thought he couldn’t be heard is beyond me, for all of us slept in the same cramped space. And sometimes he cried out in his sleep as though he was still off fighting.
There came a time when he drifted into a phase of almost complete inertia, and for a while, we feared for his sanity. He refused to be roused from his bed despite all of our efforts. He would just stare at Mama and get a strange look in his eyes when she pleaded with him. I wasn’t supposed to know that Mama and Bess thought he might completely lose his mind, but it didn’t take medical training or age to see the vacant stares and hear him in the night.
Gradually, to everyone’s relief, he got a grip on himself, which was worse in many ways because of the rage that replaced the vacant expression in his eyes. I remember avoiding my father, whom I had always adored, but around whom I became cautious. His mercurial nature was confusing and frightening, not unlike the political environment in which we found ourselves living.
LBP: Can you describe that environment?
MC: The Confederacy had lost the war and wherever her people gathered, they discussed the only topic on anyone’s mind – the horrors of armed occupation. A former enemy in charge of the local and state governments was simply something that no one had ever conceived possible.
LBP: What do you think ultimately persuaded your father to desert Georgia?
MC: During times of turmoil, some people cling to anything familiar because it provides a feeling of normalcy, however tenuous. Others seek a different path. Papa and my mother’s eldest brother Nathan, the only men left alive on either side of our family, decided that there was only one response to the unendurable. Like a small number of people from across the region, they ignored the pleas of our former leaders like General Robert E. Lee, and turned their eyes south. Toward a very distant south.
LBP: And how did you feel about this?
MC: I didn’t care who was in charge of the government or how ruined everything was. Georgia was home. It was where my family came from as far back as the American Revolution. But most important, it was where my beloved Bess was. I never got over being separated from the woman who had been the rock in my life since birth. I loved my parents, but they were wrong both before and after the war. Ultimately, the South’s defeat was the best thing that could have happened for all concerned.
LBP: Thank you for sharing your thoughts with us. We wish you well and hope that writing has provided the solace you sought.
The fictional memoir, Confederado do Norte, can be found on Amazon. http://amzn.com/B00LMN5OMI
December 4, 2014
Thursday's Threads with Patricia Hudson
This week's spotlight is on Patricia Hudson and her Western romance, Love on the Double T.Buy link: http://www.amzn.com/B00PHZWTC0
Blurb:
Molly Mckintock has had enough! She and her daughter, Joanna, escape the terror of an abusive husband and flee to the Double T Ranch in Oklahoma. Never did she expect to fall in love with the handsome rancher who offers her protection, but Joe is everything a man should be. He’s kind, trustworthy, and passionate. The day they kiss in his office, the way he groans with desire, the longing in his eyes tells her all she needs to know.
But eventually, Molly’s violent past catches up with her in this suspenseful romantic thriller. Will her estranged husband reclaim his most prized possession, or will love on The Double T conquer all!
Excerpt:
Molly ran her fingers across the worn leather halter as she opened the closet door. How could she not? It hung from the doorknob and had for eight years. The sight and feel of its frayed seams and dull buckles brought the memories flooding back—her beautiful thoroughbred, Daven, flying over the jumps, her younger self perched on his back, the cool wind on her face, a sense of invincibility soaring through her.
When he died, she walked away from horses and never turned back. It was only when she had to get into the darned closet that the vision crashed into her mind, reminding her of a better time. She could move the halter, but some part of her wanted to stay connected, couldn’t bear to erase that part of her life.
With Joanna to care for, she didn’t have much time to remember her past. Her days were filled with the usual things mothers of seven-year-olds do . . . carpooling, Girl Scouts, play dates and nagging to get homework done. It was left to her to do the parenting. John had no interest in being a father.
Molly dragged the vacuum cleaner from the closet. John would be home soon. She’d been busy with errands all day and hadn’t had a chance to run the vacuum. She doubted that he cared, but if she didn’t get it done, it would be one more excuse for him to berate her. There was enough without her adding to the list.
She called into her daughter’s bedroom, “Joanna, ten more minutes and lights out.”
“Mommy, please, I want to finish the movie,” Joanna whined.
Molly didn’t answer. Focused on her chores, her palms sweaty and her heart racing, she buzzed through the rooms. It dawned on her that she hadn’t started dinner yet, and John would be home any minute. Leaving the vacuum in front of the closet door, she rushed to the kitchen.
She shoved the pan of pork chops into the oven and grabbed a bag of potatoes. Scraping away the peel with shaking hands, she caught her knuckle with the razor sharp peeler. Sucking the blood, she rummaged through the cupboard for a vegetable. John hated canned vegetables, but she had no choice tonight and seized a can of corn, emptying the contents into a saucepan to heat.
The front door opened. Dear God, she hadn’t put the vacuum away and dinner would be at least another hour. Heart pounding, she grabbed a beer and went into the living room to greet him.
* * *
Links:
Facebook: www.facebook.com/AuthorPHudson
Twitter: @authorPHudson
WordPress: http://patriciahudson1011.wordpress.com
December 3, 2014
The Highlander's Bride series- part 3/3
From The Highlander's Reluctant Bride comes Gilda, now a young lady looking to her future and wishing she could choose romance... 
December 1, 2014
The Highlander's Bride series- part 2/3
It was decided the hero's brother from The Highlander's Accidental Bride needed his own story. 
November 30, 2014
The Highlander's Bride series- part 1/3
Each of the stories in The Highlander's Bride series can be read on it's own, whether you have read the previous one or not. But if you want to read it as a series, this three-part blog will tell you how they fit together. 
November 27, 2014
Thursday's Threads with Rachel Sharpe
Lost Distinction Blurb: “It all started with a favor…”
When private investigator Jordan James agreed to search for the missing son of a U.S. Ambassador, she didn’t realize she was walking into a case one hundred years in the making. The deeper she delves into this unusual assignment, the more shocking, and the more dangerous, it becomes. With time running out and lives at stake, Jordan must race to identify the culprit of an elaborate plot while also uncovering a far more personal truth too intimate to ignore...
Also, be sure to check out Jordan's first case in Cold Ambition, available now on Amazon!
Just got it. Sorry for the delay.
http://www.amzn.com/B00Q5OGCS4
Excerpt:
“So, when was the last time you saw Arthur?” I asked as the guys cheered when one of Stuart’s sons scored a touchdown with George’s help.
Michelle stared past the men. “I guess the last time I saw him was at Easter. Since Mr. and Mrs. Cross couldn’t make it back from London in time, we went over to Stuart’s house in Falmouth. I was surprised to see him there.”
“Why? Does he usually avoid family holidays?”
She clapped when Rick carried one of the twins over the “goal line” for a touchdown. She looked back at me and shrugged. “To be honest, I haven’t seen Arthur many times in all the years I’ve been married to Eddie. He lives and works in Middletown but just always seems too busy to come around. Eddie never gave me specifics, but I think Arthur tries to stay away from his family for some reason.”
“He didn’t say why?”
“No,” she shook her head. “Can’t say I blame him...”
I found myself more confused every time I learned more about this situation. As I sat there, I considered all the things I knew as fact. First, Arthur Cross was missing and had been missing for several days. Second, his family was concerned enough about his disappearance that they felt it necessary for his parents to fly in from London, but they did not want to involve the police as it might generate unwanted publicity. Third, they were going to a lot of trouble pretending like nothing was wrong.
I looked across the yard and saw the Crosses watching their children and grandchildren with absolute enjoyment. The last thing I knew was by far the most troubling fact of all. As I sat there, it became crystal clear that this family was hiding a secret. What I didn’t know at the time was how great the secret was and how many lives its revelation would affect, including my own.
* * *
Rachel Sharpe is the author of Cold Ambition and Lost Distinction, the first two novels in the Jordan James, PI series. Although born and raised in the South, "Yankee" relatives first led Rachel to historic New England, which she has come to consider her second home and is the setting for the series.
After obtaining a Bachelor of Arts in English, Rachel began dedicating her free time to her childhood passion, writing, and in the fall of 2013, she signed with Soul Mate Publishing. An active member of Sisters In Crime, Rachel currently resides with her husband in the Greater New Orleans area.
BUY LINK For "COLD AMBITION," Book One of Jordan James, PI series: http://www.amzn.com/B00L2OLQPG/
FACEBOOK: www.facebook.com/authorrachelsharpe
TWITTER: Twitter.com/RachelCSharpe
WEBSITE: www.rachelsharpe.com
November 21, 2014
Author interview and giveaway- The Widow's Walk- a paranormal romance by Carole Ann Moleti
Today I have author Carole Ann Moleti here to talk about her book, The Widow's Walk, and offer a book giveaway!Hi, Carole! It’s great to have you here today. And welcome to Soul Mate Publishing.
Thanks, Cathy. I'm so happy to be involved with such a dynamic and diverse group of authors. And friendly ones, too. And I'd like to invite both my new and old readers to leave a comment or ask a question. I'll pick a winner at random and send them a copy of The Widow's Walk.
How long have you been writing?
I've been writing bad poetry and political rants for as long as I can recall. During my early academic days, I was so bored with scholarly writing I didn't want to write a shopping list. But I never lost my love of reading—especially romance, fantasy, and science fiction. But I still write op-ed, opinion pieces, personal essays—and I 've written two memoirs, one about my professional life and the other about being a mom.
What do you enjoy most about writing?
In 2005, I had this very odd experience. After watching a film that glorified violence against women, I decided I was going to write a novel to put things right. Got to Chapter 7 before I realized I had no clue what I was doing. So I started taking classes and networking with other authors. I still take writing classes and am continually learning new skills and techniques. I am inspired by everyday life, and no matter how much I swear I'm not going to do it, I find myself writing fiction and non fiction with parallel themes simultaneously. It's a way to cope with the craziness of life.
What draws you to the paranormal romance genre?
Living in New York City is a paranormal or otherworldly experience. I mean, where else can I go that sometimes makes me feel like Mos Isly Cantina from Star Wars? The subway experience has inspired more than one zombie story. I wrote an entire urban fantasy novel about the neighborhood in which I work. One day, driving to the day job, this guy was walking alongside the Cross Bronx Expressway stark naked and at full attention, if you know what I mean. Other than a few honks, no one but the cops stopped.
My grandmother used to give me all the bodice ripper romance novels she'd read. And I was a Catholic schoolgirl so I devoured them. I'm also a scientist, a biologist, so I love the speculative genres. I remember reading The Andromeda Strain and The Arm of the Starfish when I was very young. So, put it all together so you get a lot of medical stuff, mixed in with romance and urban fantasy—and always a political statement in there somewhere. My heroines are feisty. Cross genre on a New York City high.
What was your inspiration for The Widow’s Walk?
As with most of my writing, ideas come to me at the oddest times. I was at our summer cottage in Upstate New York, pulling dustcovers off furniture and vacuuming up mouse poop and dead flies. All of a sudden, I decided to write a story about a woman finding a trunk of old clothes. Those two scenes were the beginning of the Unfinished Business Series. I wrote what was to become Breakwater Beach that Fourth of July weekend. Missed all the parties. My husband was so pissed off, but when you get that kind of inspiration you run with it. It had to be Victorian. I seriously think I lived a previous life back then—always fascinated with the clothing, the customs. I even have my dining room decorated with Victorian era antique furniture.
How did you decide on the setting? Have you been there?
I have been spending summers on Cape Cod all my life, and just love it there. Particularly Brewster, where the series is set. I grew up on the Bronx waterfront, which some people find hard to believe even exists, but it is so beautiful, with the East River framed by the Throggs Neck and Whitestone Bridges. My grandfather, uncles and father took me fishing and taught me how to swim and sail. So writing about beaches, and bridges, and boats and the beauty—and absolute fury --that the water can unleash during a storm is so natural. If you look really deeply into the male characters, you'll see a composite of my Dad, grandfather, and uncles who had such an influence on me and provided so much love, stability, and encouragement in what was a very turbulent time to be growing up female, and as The Bronx burned down around us.
Tell us how you arrived at Soul Mate Publishing.
I met Debby Gilbert at the Connecticut Romance Writers of America Chapter Fiction Fest. She loved the premise of The Widow's Walk and asked me to send it to her. I heard back in about a month that she wanted to publish it. I've been writing this series since that Fourth of July weekend in 2007, so I was thrilled.
Is there anything you’d like to add?
As I mentioned, the first part of the series was a novella called Breakwater Beach, published in Haunted: Ten Tales of Ghosts. I have novelized it, and hope it will be joining The Widow's Walk on the bookshelves next year. I have also outlined what will be the third book in the series, with a working title of Storm Watch. A hurricane on a scale between Sandy and Katrina is headed for the Cape—and the eye is going to pass right over Brewster and The Barrett Inn.
I've lived thorough many a hurricane and Nor'easter. In fact, I wrote the hospital scene in The Widow's Walk by the light of a battery powered lantern on my Alphasmart Neo after Hurricane Irene knocked our power out for a week back in 2011. I've also been working on an urban fantasy series called Boulevard of Bad Spells and Broken Dreams—about a witch who returns from exile in Puerto Rico to face her past and find the arsonists that murdered her family.
Thank you so much for being here today! It has been a lot of fun getting to know you. Best of luck with your new release!
Thanks for having me, Cathy. And don't forget about the giveaway, folks!
Blurb:Mike and Liz Keeny are newlyweds, new parents, and the proprietors of the Barrett Inn, an 1875 Victorian on Cape Cod, which just happens to be haunted. By their own ghosts. The Inn had become an annex of Purgatory, putting Mike, Liz, and their infant son in danger. Selling the historic seaside bed and breakfast was the only answer, one that Liz and her own tortured specter refused to consider. Were they doomed to follow the same path that led to disaster in their previous lives? Was getting out, getting away, enough?
Excerpt:
Silk rustled as she ran her hands over the dress. The lavender scent deepened as Elisabeth swirled around inside. Her mind went numb as the ghost took control. She slipped out of her clothes and stood naked in front of the mirror. She put up her hair, preening for her husband, before she stepped into the middle of the deep green skirts and pulled them up over her waist, slipped her arms into the sleeves, and twisted them behind her back to fasten the buttons. She used the buttonhook to do up the shoes, then peered out into the hallway.
Liz bundled the sweat suit into her arms, along with the soap and paper goods, and hurried to the attic door. It wasn't until she placed her hand on the banister and started up the steep staircase to the roof that Elisabeth's needling eased. Like an addict in the throes of withdrawal, just the promise of being up there, her spirit communing with the long lost sea captain, offered relief.
* * *
Buy link: myBook.to/TWW
http://caroleannmoleti.blogspot.com/p/the-widows-walk.html
http://amazon.com/author/carolemoleti
http://Twitter.com/Cmoleti
http://caroleannmoleti.com
https://www.facebook.com/caroleannmoleti
http://caroleannmoleti.blogspot.com
plus.google.com/103609323247390103301
goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/goodreadscomCmoleti
November 17, 2014
Medieval Monday with Laura Strickland
Last week was the official last post for Medieval Monday until after the holidays, but I couldn't resist just one more.Today I have Laura Strickland and her novel,
Lord of Sherwood: The Guardians of Sherwood Trilogy Book Three
Release date: 8/8/14
Blurb:
Curlew Champion, master archer, has always known his destiny. With his cousin, Heron Scarlet, he will become a guardian of Sherwood Forest and further his people’s fight against Norman Tyranny. But the third member of the triad is still to be revealed, the woman who will complete the magical circle and, perhaps, answer the longing in Curlew’s heart.
Anwyn Montfort has fled disgrace in Shrewsbury and come to Nottingham at her father’s bidding. He wishes her to make a good marriage and settle down. But the wildness that possesses her refuses to quiet. She knows she’s been searching for something all her life, but not until she glimpses Curlew does her spirit begin to hope it has found its home.
Only the magic of Sherwood can bring them together, and only their union can complete the spell woven so long ago …
Excerpt:
Aye, Curlew thought ruefully, she could not be ruined more completely than at his hands last night. And if he sent her home with his child in her belly, what then? He realized, with a shock, he did not even know her given name.
A bit brusquely he said, “Gather up your clothing, lass. Cover yourself. You must go home.”
“Nay.”
“Do not be daft. Of course you must. Your father will be beside himself.”
“You promised.”
“Eh?”
Stubborn light flashed in her eyes. “You gave a vow last night that you would never send me away from you.”
Had he? Dismay crashed down upon Curlew like a hurled stone. But he had thought she was the Lady, asking from him a vow of devotion. He did not know he spoke words to a mortal woman.
He got to his feet, heedless of his nakedness, and began collecting her shed garments and thrusting them at her. “To be sure, you will go home.”
“Nottingham is not my home.” She tipped back her head to look at him. “I belong nowhere, except maybe here with you.”
Curlew shook his head violently. He turned from her and took up his own clothing, pulled his sark over his head even as she watched, donned his leather tunic, then slid into his leather leggings.
“Master Curlew?”
He turned back to her swiftly. She sat with her chemise clutched to those tantalizing breasts, her eyes wide with inquiry.
“Listen to me, Mistress Montfort. You are not for me, nor I for you.”
“But last night—”
“Despite last night.” In spite of the wonder and magic of it, the undeniable sense of rightness. “For I have a destiny before me, one I cannot escape, and would not if I could. I regret, but you have chosen the wrong man.”
She got to her feet, her clothing still caught against her. The autumn sun, filtering through the leaves, warmed her hair to amber-gold. “I do not believe that.”
“You must. Now dress yourself. I will see you safe to the edge of the forest.”
She did not move. Like a goddess she stood and looked at him with defiance.
Curlew felt an unexpected twinge of sympathy for Montfort. Who could fail to love this lass, or be driven beyond endurance by her? “Please,” he said.
The corners of her mouth twitched. “I regret, my lord, I would do most anything to please you. Anything but that.”
* * *
Buy and media links:
Available from:
Amazon.com: http://www.amazon.com/Lord-Sherwood-G...
Amazon.ca: http://www.amazon.ca/Lord-Sherwood-Guardians-Trilogy-Book-ebook/dp/B00MG7JNVM/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1408276444&sr=8-1&keywords=Lord+of+Sherwood
Amazon.uk: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Lord-Sherwood-Guardians-Trilogy-Book-ebook/dp/B00MG7JNVM/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1408276580&sr=1-1&keywords=Lord+of+Sherwood
The Wild Rose Press:
http://www.wildrosepublishing.com/maincatalog_v151/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=242_176_138&products_id=5755
All Romance:
https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-lordofsherwood-1588198-153.html
KOBO:
http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/lord-of-sherwood
Googleplay:
https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Laura_Strickland_Lord_of_Sherwood?id=44I7BAAAQBAJ
Author web page: www.laurastricklandbooks.com
Amazon author page: http://www.amazon.com/Laura-Strickland/e/B001KHSACW/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1408276940&sr=1-2-ent
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100000002632317
Book Trailer for The Guardians of Sherwood Trilogy: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TZvJC__mD5s
Today's spotlight is on Meggan Connors and her Highland romance, Highland Deception.
