Ciara Gold's Treasures

Retirement leads to a rejuvenation

noreply@blogger.com (Ciara Gold) — Wed, 31 Mar 2021 16:51:00 +0000

Wow! I can't believe it's been so long since I've posted anything on my blog. What can I say? Life got in the way. I actually retired in May of 2020 and thought that would free up time to start doing things for me, but alas, it seems I just got busier.

With additional time comes the difficult problem of narrowing down what I want to work on. As an artist, I have way too many loves. I love babysitting my granddaughter, gardening, sewing, painting, being involved in community, reading and writing. Wanting to do them all sorta freezes me from doing any of them so I'm trying to create a schedule of sorts.

Today, I'm writing! I've been writing since my last book came out in 2015, but never consistently. I have five stories started, all around 40,000 words so far. Well, I decided I needed to quit bouncing between book drafts so I am concentrating my efforts on finishing one of the stories. It will be a shorter book I think, but still full of twists and a heartwarming HAE.

In the meantime, I still have to figure out how to balance all my wants. That said, this is my attempt at holding myself accountable. My first goal is to write every day even if it's only one sentence.

Lots Going on including forensic art

noreply@blogger.com (Ciara Gold) — Mon, 28 Nov 2016 03:30:00 +0000

Yep, still alive. This has been a special Thanksgiving break as hubby and I spend it together in our new home. The house isn't quite finished; lots of little things left to do but for the most part, we're moved in. The weather has been outrageously pleasant, like a mild fall day, which is fine by me as I'm not particularly fond of the cold. Today I spent much of it burning wood as our wood pile is overflowing.

Family and friends gathered on Thursday for a non-traditional meal. Hubby grilled steel head trout and with it, I served rice pilaf, squash casserole, steamed spinach and a cranberry salad my mom made. We did this because my son and his beautiful lady were going to have a traditional meal with her folks the next day. So, Saturday, I made a traditional meal for just hubby and me. Yep, we'll be eating turkey for a week.

As for other news in my world, I'm still not settled into writing yet but the office is set up, my files are accessible and all my research books are within reach. So I'm hopeful by this summer, I'll be cranking out the stories again. Oh how I miss writing! As for my art side, I signed up to take a forensic art course with Lois Gibson. I'm very excited about this one. It's a way I can use my talents to help others so we'll see how good I am at drawing portraits after April arrives. It's a week long course but I've already bought both work books for it.

Life in the country and Susan Horsnell's new release

noreply@blogger.com (Ciara Gold) — Sun, 23 Oct 2016 19:04:00 +0000

I feel as if I've been gone forever but alas, moving and building is a slow process. In addition, Internet connections just aren't as reliable as when we were in town. At present, I'm waiting for yahoo to fully load and it's already been ten minutes. But I think the end is in sight. Hubby is trying like mad to get all the shelving completed and my son has helped move big furniture items into the new home for the past three weekends. The storage shed is now completely empty. I'm about to dismantle my computer from the small cabin I've housed it in to the new office area. Crossing fingers everything still works once that's done.

Needless to say, I owe my writing buddy, Susan Horsnell an apology. I was supposed to announce her new release again yesterday but alas, blogger wasn't playing nice for me. I tried to email her and yahoo wasn't playing nice either. Perhaps today is a better day anyway. Please check out her new work along with her coauthors.

Amazon US https://amzn.com/B01LWRVOP9

Amazon UK https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01LWRVOP9

Amazon CA https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B01LWRVOP9

Amazon AU http://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B01LWRVOP9

Goodreads

Facebook Fan Club

Check out this interactive #western!

noreply@blogger.com (Ciara Gold) — Fri, 14 Oct 2016 00:27:00 +0000



Amazon US https://amzn.com/B01LWRVOP9

Amazon UK https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01LWRVOP9

Amazon CA https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B01LWRVOP9

Amazon AU http://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B01LWRVOP9

Goodreads

Facebook Fan Club

A bank robbery happens at the busiest time of the week in Beltane. How will the people caught in the bank deal with the future?

One beginning, five endings. Which character path will you follow?

It's up to you! Available now.

My LASR guest post #LASR_Anniv

noreply@blogger.com (Ciara Gold) — Fri, 19 Aug 2016 12:30:00 +0000

My post for the LASR Anniversary is scheduled and should be live today. You can access my post here.

Hope you'll join me. They are planning all sorts of prizes. Should be fun.

#SundaySnippet from A Noble Sacrifice

noreply@blogger.com (Ciara Gold) — Sun, 14 Aug 2016 08:30:00 +0000

Thought I'd revisit one of my older books. It's Eppie time and I won the Eppie for the 2008 Science Fiction Futuristic Romance section with this story. A Noble Sacrifice.

“You lie.” Joyelle held the controller higher. “You’d serve your

brother’s clan before you serve mine.”

Tared didn’t understand her illogical reasoning. She didn’t want

to give him up, yet she still professed a fear of the physical side of a
relationship. Had she finally accepted Fate’s plan for them? Surely, she
didn’t expect their relationship to remain the same.

“Should you wish it, I will claim you for mate before all these

witnesses.” He nodded toward his brethren.

“No!” A panicked expression fell across her features. “You’re my

slave. Nothing more.”

It dawned on him then what motivated her reasoning. She

didn’t want to be alone. She wanted a man by her side, but one with
no sexual claim upon her body. As slave, he would be with her always,
but on her terms. His brows creased, and he took a step toward her.

“’Tis time you learned I’m more than a slave.”

“Not another step.” The controller trembled between her

fingers. She steadied it by wrapping both hands about the small box
and pointing it at his neck. “Please. I don’t want to hurt you in front of
your clan.”

He ignored her order and took another step. Perhaps it was

best he show the Verside the spark that flowed between them. In this
manner, he would make his claim. She would forgive his
highhandedness once she learned not to fear him.

“No!” She pushed the button on the controller.

So Frustrated with #Google and #Blogger right now.

noreply@blogger.com (Ciara Gold) — Sun, 14 Aug 2016 00:21:00 +0000

This is me venting.

Google just made me so frustrated I could spit nails. Really? What's up with blogger forcing me to get them a telephone number. I hate giving my number to anyone that I don't know and especially a huge entity like Google or Blogger. Anyone else have issues with getting into blogger?

Seriously frustrated. It took me 2 hours. Here's the scenario.

"There something wrong with the way you've logged in. We need to verify you. Please enter a telephone number so we can text."

Because I'm stubborn, I elected to punch the button that said "ask a different question" which then prompted the question on what month and what date I started my blog. Well, sorry for not remember dates for something like that. Seriously, who remembers that kind of info? So I punched the button that said I could request help from Google which then asked for the password I last remembered which I put in and then the email associated with the account. I plug that in and it says I've received a verification code to use. I check my email, use the code and plug it in only to get a message that says something like, "Nope, sorry, we can't verify it's you right now".

So then I go to Blogger help. There's no contact info anywhere for getting any serious help. Instead, it asks me the problem and gives me a few choices which includes can't get into my blog. Then leads me to a page that starts the whole process over again. I repeat the steps I did previously with the same message.

So then I go to the forum only it won't let me post my query because ------ yep, I'm not logged into Google. Oh right, I can't be verified. So why offer the option if you aren't going to allow it to work. Yep, not a happy Google/Blogger user right now.

So yeah, now Google has my number. I better not see an increase in spam calls. I get about 1 a week but that's plenty for me.

Long and Short Reviews 9th Anniversary Party. #LASR_anniv

noreply@blogger.com (Ciara Gold) — Sat, 13 Aug 2016 08:00:00 +0000

I am going to be a small part of the celebration for Long and Short Reviews 9^th Anniversary Party! Please make plans to join them. They will be giving away a $100 Amazon/BN GC – along with smaller Amazon GCs, publisher GCs, books, ebooks, and author swag! There will be dozens of winners). http://www.longandshortreviews.com

I prepared a blog post for the event but I don't have a direct URL yet. Will keep you all posted. In the meantime, mark your calendars for August 15 - 26. Come join the fun.

Health Issues related to Writing

noreply@blogger.com (Ciara Gold) — Fri, 12 Aug 2016 11:00:00 +0000

New writers beware, writing does come with some risks. :-) Okay, this is not to be doom and gloom and no, I'm not sick, but I have noticed changes in my health mostly due to my long hours spent on the computer so I thought I'd outline them here as a warning for others to take precautions.

1. Posture. I used to have really good posture, a trait I acquired from four years of choir where we were required to sit up straight and on the edge of our seat. Alas, hours bent over the computer have caused me to be lazy with my posture. To rectify this, I'm trying to do stretch exercises. I'm also going to be looking into Yoga. Mainly, I just need to train myself to be more aware of the situation.

2. Dry eyes. So I go to my optometrist and ask her about the fact that my eyes burn a lot. She put some sort of dye in them and then asked me to blink. The moisture on a normal eye evaporates in about 10 - 11 seconds. The moisture on mine evaporated in 2. People who stare at the screen for long periods of time, tend to not blink as often as they should and eventually, this will lead to dry eye. So now, I try to force myself to blink more often when I'm on the computer. I also put ointment in my eyes and I take a daily supplement of fish oil made especially for eye health. So far, I think my eyes are getting better but still....

3. Blood clots. I don't know if I have blood clots yet, but I know that sitting for hours on end can lead to blood clots in the legs. Now that I'm out in the country, I try to get up every 30 minutes, go outside, and walk around for a few minutes. My husband got a computer stand for his desk that allows him to stand when he works. I've been considering this but I'm not sure I could type so well standing.

4. Carpal Tunnel Syndrome. Nope, I don't have this but my mom got it. She used to type a lot. In fact, she could type over 70 words per minute on a standard typewriter while carrying on a conversation. Me? I'm happy to type 40 words per minute on a keyboard. There's no real prevention for this but again, they say frequent breaks help and not working in a cold environment.

I'm sure there are more but this is a good start to a list. For those of you new to writing, seriously, it's okay to take frequent breaks. Also, go outside and get some sun. Lack of vitamin D is also not good for you.

A Sincere Appreciation for Day Laborers

noreply@blogger.com (Ciara Gold) — Tue, 05 Jul 2016 23:38:00 +0000

One of the reasons I haven't been blogging as much or writing as much is that my husband and I are building our first home. It's been quite the adventure. We contracted a small house that we designed. The construction team is building it to a certain stage and then we're taking over. Well, we're just about at the "taking over" spot.

Last Friday, the builder okayed us to go ahead and paint the inside. We had to paint before we can do floors and we had to have the tile in the bathroom before the plumber could wrap up his part. So - we're taking care of inside paint, contracting our own floors and cabinets and some of the other interior stuff.

Needless to say, I'm knee deep in paint. So far since Friday, I've painted the ceilings in the laundry, the kitchen, my office, the hallway, the bathroom and the back closet. I've almost finished the walls in the bathroom. I've caulked door trim and painted door trim. Hubby built shelves in the bath area that I've also painted.

I'm sore. I'm beyond tired but it's very gratifying so not going to complain - much. But I do have to say that the workforce that works at menial labor all day in the hot sun has my everlasting gratitude for the jobs they do. Our framer was amazing. Our electrician was great. The sheetrock guy did an outstanding job. The roofers did a beautiful job. The only glitch was the plumber. He was adequate but hey, that's still not a job I would want.

Research trips this summer

noreply@blogger.com (Ciara Gold) — Thu, 30 Jun 2016 13:13:00 +0000

As I've already mentioned in a previous post, I did a wee bit of research. The Internet is fine for the most basic of research but doesn't quite cut it for details. I'm a detail sort of writer or at least I want to be. I get frustrated when I can't find simple things like the layout of a historical location.

That said, my 85-year-old mother and I set out on a ten-day road trip. She doesn't amble as well as she used to and there were many things I didn't get to see but the trip was in part for her so I can't complain - much. We started from our home in central Texas and landed in Natchez, Louisiana our first night. While there we toured Sanford Hall and ate a lovely lunch at the Carriage Inn. The house was lovely but we weren't allowed to take photos so if and when I ever write a story with it as my setting, I'll just have to go back.

We headed for Florida to visit two of my friends and then to Athens to visit my mother's college roommate. After that we landed in Nashville, TN to visit my cousin. We did no touring for this leg of the trip as it was all about family and friends but our next destination via Kentucky was Kansas where I was able to visit the location of four forts.

Fort Larned, Kansas

We toured Fort Hays first which is where a good deal of my current story takes place. Already I have to change a scene I wrote to accommodate a more accurate setting but that's okay. It will give me my writing challenge for the day.

We then toured Fort Larned which was great as most of that fort is still intact. I made the drive to Fort Supply but there's nothing there, nothing to see. And then we spent time in Dodge City, Kansas where I got to see the location of Fort Dodge. It was a good, informative trip.

The little things make a difference

noreply@blogger.com (Ciara Gold) — Tue, 28 Jun 2016 15:31:00 +0000

Jail from Fort Dodge

We all harbor preconceived notions. I think most of us watch so much TV that we accept everything we see as fact and that includes setting. My preconceived notion has to do with historic western jails. All the old westerns show them in much the same way. You walk into a building where the sheriff's desk sits. Off to the side is either two jail cells with barred doors or you go through a small hallway to the jail cells.

On my recent fact-finding trip, I went to Dodge City, Kansas. Some of my current story takes place there. I haven't fully settled on the year. It will either be 1876 or 77. I'm so glad I went because I found out lots of tidbits I had wrong in my story. Mainly about the jail. When I looked on line, the only reference I could find was a jail they'd rescued from Fort Dodge to add to their tourist area.

At the Boothill Museum, I discovered that the jail in 1876 was in the basement of the courthouse. After a bit more research, I found a drawing of two courthouses. Seems they built a courthouse out of wood and turned around the next year to build one using limestone. They built the new courthouse in 1876 and nicknamed the jail the lime kiln. Well, a kiln is a oven used to bake clay so I can only imagine the nickname refers to how hot it was for the guests of the jail. Located in the basement, would not allow for much breeze.

Not only did I find the information I needed to make my story a bit more plausible but I found out that the original jail was a really large, 15ft deep well. They named it the "cooler".

Back in the Saddle Again

noreply@blogger.com (Ciara Gold) — Mon, 27 Jun 2016 15:27:00 +0000

Well, I'm finally back to writing. My life has been crazy busy since I last posted but it's all been good. Just returned from a 10-day road trip with my 85-year-old mother. Purpose? To visit friends and family and do a little research along the way.

We started off on June 16 and headed for Florida via Natchez, Louisiana and on into Alabama. In Natchez we toured Stanford Hall and ate a wonderful lunch at the Cottage Inn. While I'm not currently writing about anything with a setting in these states, I like collecting info for possible future stories.

Our first real stop was Pensacola where I got to see a really good friend whom I used to work with. Next we headed to Largo where I got to visit with my best friend from high school. The last time I saw her was about 10 years ago. Then on to Athens, Georgia where we spent time with Mom's college roommate. Next on the list was Nashville, Tennessee where we were entertained by my cousin. After those visits, we headed back west toward home, but along the way I toured a few sites and gathered information for a historical western I'm currently penning.

More later but I did want to check in since it at been so long.

Life in the Fast Lane

noreply@blogger.com (Ciara Gold) — Fri, 29 Jan 2016 04:15:00 +0000

Life in the fast lane just became a blur. Just to keep everyone updated, this is the time of the year when I basically go into Internet hibernation. In other words, I get so busy with stuff that it's hard to eek out time to post on the blog or even check email. Stuff means my other job. Most of you already know I teach art at a high school and it's contest time.

Well, contest time, Empty Bowls, Jr. time, youth art month time, art show time, art club time, and the list goes on. So our big art competition means getting students prepared to meet the judges. Empty Bowls, Jr. is an event we started in our area 4 years ago which allows art students to create bowls that go toward raising funds for our local school food pantries. (A lot of school districts and other art entities across the nation host an empty bowls event.) Youth art month is March and in preparation for YAM, I organize collecting art from our district art teachers to submit to our state organization for possible display at the state capitol. Keep your fingers crossed. :-)

Art club meets once a week and they've been commissioned to paint two murals and do 6 large 8'x 4' panels for decorations for a dance that raises money for scholarships, so yep - can we say busy.

And when do I write during all of this? I do continue to write but just not near as often as I'd like. Writing helps clear my head when I get stressed over all I have to get accomplished in a day. Writing keeps me sane.

Guesting @RB4U and talking about writing from the gut

noreply@blogger.com (Ciara Gold) — Mon, 11 Jan 2016 13:00:00 +0000

So I've prepared a guest post for Romance Books 4 Us and would love for folks to come visit. I'll be talking about the pros and cons of being a pantser though in truth, I think the term should be gutser.

As I've said before, guest blogging is a great way to explore more avenues for getting out information on books. I love it because I find great blogs this way and I love talking about my work.

By the way, I got a tweet from my publisher and The Rose Hunter will be coming to print. This is great news because she doesn't put things in print that haven't sold a certain quota. I'm pumped. A big thanks to all my readers. You all rock!!!

One of my favorites #SundaySnippet

noreply@blogger.com (Ciara Gold) — Sun, 10 Jan 2016 22:07:00 +0000

I loved this story. In fact, Torin is one of those characters that haunts me still. I think of him at the oddest moments, like he's a living, breathing part of my life. I don't do that with all of my characters. Just the special ones.

Blurb:

They say an eclipse yields a powerful force, an energy that can be harnessed by those with magic in their souls. On such a day when the sun disappears behind the shadow of the Earth, a mighty wizard evokes the elements of nature. With ancient, Celtic incantations, he sends an angel upon the wings of time to tempt a fallen king.

Angel Cashion is struggling to make ends meet and saving for when she can own her own repair shop in hopes of fighting her ex for custody of their daughter, but she is whisked away from home by a quirk of fate. Torin O’Faelain has spent the past two years enslaved by Vikings. A man of strong principles, Torin is committed to finding his way back to his native land and nothing will stand in his way, not even an angel from the future, but love and fate intervene.

Excerpt:

“Ye’re a bold one and have much to learn. Come.” He placed his large hand at the small of her back and gave a gentle shove. If he had to suffer her presence, at least she could perform duties befitting a woman. “’Tis time you earned your keep. A fine meal would no’ be amiss.

“You want me to cook?

“Aye.

She snorted. “Unless you have a ready supply of frozen dinners and a microwave, don’t get your hopes up.

He had no idea what microwave meant but didn’t feel inclined to ask. Her tone implied an aversion to domestic chores, something he’d have to cure her of right soon.

They reached the hut, and he hesitated. “Did ye leave behind a husband? Wee bairns to care for?”

Instant pain filled her eyes. She turned her back and lifted the flap. “Nope. Not even a goldfish. At present the only love in my life is T-Bone.”

An odd stab of jealousy hit him at the mention of a love interest. He shook it off as nothing more than weariness. When she would enter, he stayed her hand. “Nay. I would set rules afore ye abide in my home.”

She dropped the rawhide and held up her hands. “Fine. Whatever floats your boat. I’ll play your way until it no longer suits me.”

The girl’s nonchalance and dismissive words stirred his anger. Suddenly having his own slave gave him a sense of power he hadn’t expected. Under Erik’s rule and now Rurik’s, he’d forgotten how it felt to be in charge, to make decisions and have no one gainsay him. “Slaves canno’ choose when to quit being a slave.”

“Did someone forget to oil your squeaky parts?” She tugged at her ear as if her hearing had deceived her. “You keep spouting the same nonsense.”

Nonsense? Did the girl not understand that certain things could mean life or death in this harsh land?

He grabbed her chin, forcing her attention. “Ye’ll obey my every command or find your stay most unpleasant. I ken that certain tasks might prove difficult, but I’ll no’ tolerate laziness or lack of respect.”

Angel’s eyes widened, and she nodded. “Yep, you definitely need the squeaky parts oiled,” she muttered beneath her breath.

Not fully understanding, he ignored her odd comment. She twisted from his grasp and followed him inside, her manner more subdued. If she only knew how her presence frightened him. Already, he felt protective of her, even attracted to her. The witch had cast a spell, one not to his liking.

“Only a weak man uses his physical strength against a woman.” She stroked her jaw with nimble fingers. “Are you weak?”

By the saints, she dared much. “Do you accuse me of being less of a man?”

“Touchy.” She glanced off to the side. “I’m not handling this—you very well. You’re overreacting to everything I say. Usually, overreaction is a symptom of fear.”

That she touched upon the truth made his insides curl.

A curtain of black hair swept across her back as she tilted her head and laughed. When she quieted, she pierced him to the core with her dark, brooding eyes. “I’m just as frightened as you. I suppose that gives us common ground on which to proceed.”

Available at Amazon and AllRomanceEbooks

Update for the new year and my many hats

noreply@blogger.com (Ciara Gold) — Tue, 05 Jan 2016 04:04:00 +0000

It amazes me how fast time flies. It's been two weeks since I last posted but it feels like it was only yesterday. There's a good reason why I haven't posted in two weeks. I've been busy.

I wear many hats. These past few weeks, I've been wearing a bandana on my head to protect my hair from paint and spackle dust. Yep, I've been playing carpenter. Hubby and I have been finishing out the insides of another cabin. I'm getting rather good at taping and floating. Spent a good portion of time sanding knotted pine boards and varnishing them. Today, I finished enough of the drywall to paint. We're hoping that by next weekend we can move in. It might happen. We bought property in the country and since June, we've been living in a travel trailer ( a very small travel trailer). We finished out one 12 x 24 cabin for an office/kitchen with small bathroom and now we're finishing out another for our bedroom/closet/bath. After that, we're hoping to have a small house built and then the cabins will be guest spots and my art studio. Can't wait.

So, tomorrow, I change my hat to that of teacher. It's my first day back after the holidays and the students and I are heading into contest season. That said, it might be a long time again before I post but .... I do want to post pictures on the new cabin once it's complete, so maybe I can squeeze in a little time.

And of course, there's the writer's hat, the artist's hat and the mom hat. With writing, I try hard to write a little each night even if it's only one sentence. The artist gets to play at school so that makes me happy. I'll have to share new art with all of you soon as well. I just bought a ton of pastel supplies so I'm very excited about getting into pastels again.

The mom hat never comes off. Son is back home for a bit before he goes back to a new job but he's been a lot of help with the construction project so I can't complain. I love having my kids home. Family is what makes life worth living. So for this new year, I plan to wear my hats proudly and make the most of my time.

Charly's Hart, a Christmas story short #romance

noreply@blogger.com (Ciara Gold) — Mon, 21 Dec 2015 14:59:00 +0000

This is a repost from a blog entry to the Writer's Grapevine, December of 2011. That year, a group of us invited guest authors to post Christmas scenes from current work or draft original stories. It was a great success. So if you've a mind for some awesome Christmas shorts, check the Writer's Grapevine archives for December 2011.

I’d like for you to meet two characters from Kaitlin’s Silver Lining who have now grown into young adults. Pete Hart was fourteen when Charley Kanatzer was eleven, but Charley is on her way home from a fancy school in Boston and makes a stop at Bryce Stanton’s family home in Brownwood. With nowhere else to go, Pete found his way to the Stanton ranch and is now foreman, and though he still has inner demons to wrestle, he’s content if not happy. But Charley wants more and starts a stampede on his emotions.

Christmas 1889

Pete was pitching hay into the back of wagon, and Charley took a moment to appreciate the fluid way his lanky but powerful body moved. He shot a wary glance at her approach but continued to work.

“Feel like taking a break?”

“Can’t.” He speared another pitchfork full and tossed it into the bed. “Gotta finish this chore.”

“You work too hard. Do you have family? Someone special to share Christmas with?”

He paused for a moment before returning to his work. The worn felt hat shadowed his face, so Charley had no idea what emotions her comment had elicited, but by the way his hands gripped the handle tighter, she figured she must have hit a nerve.

“The boss won’t mind if you stop for a bit. In fact, Uncle William will consider it a favor if you’ll help me out of a bind.”

He stopped and wiped his forehead with the back of his gloved hand. His silence was not inviting, but she plowed on anyway.

“I need you to help me cut a tree for Christmas.”

“I’ll have Blake do it.” He pushed his hat back, and his striking features arrested her attention. Dark brown hair fell across his forehead in a tangle of waves. High cheekbones and a broad nose hinted at Indian blood somewhere in his lineage.

“No. I don’t trust anyone to do it right but you, Mr. Hart.”

He narrowed his blue eyes and looked as if he meant to protest, but William chose that moment to ride into the yard and into their conversation.

“Goodness, Uncle Will, you look cold to the bone.” Her own cheeks felt blustery from the winter chill. The cold front had brought rain and biting temperatures but little else. With Christmas only five days away, she hoped it would snow.

“I hate the cold. You about done, Pete?” Will asked after dismounting.

“I’ve got another hour of work before I’m finished with this chore, I reckon.”

“But I want to steal him for the afternoon. Please, Uncle Will. Your kids are counting on me to find the perfect tree to decorate.”

Will frowned but nodded. “Pete could use a bit of fun. Yeah, you two go on. I’ll find someone else to finish up here.”

Pete did not look happy with the order but couldn’t refuse the boss’s wishes. Steam left his lips as he heaved a great sigh. Without much talk, he gathered supplies, hitched another wagon, and clamored into the seat. “Climb in,” he ordered.

She stood next to the buckboard and glared. “A gentleman always lends assistance.”

He jumped from his perch and roughly helped her onto the hard, wood seat. She adjusted her coat and folded her gloved hands into her lap. After rearranging the scarf about her throat, she was ready to go.

They found a patch of forest that looked promising, and Pete set the brake. He even remembered to help her down. She lamented the need for gloves, for she would have enjoyed feeling his touch.

He followed her into the dense woods. “Find one fast. I really need to get back to work.”

The elm and oak had all lost their leaves and looked like skeletons against the harsh blue sky, but after hearing the stories of the Christmases she’d enjoyed in the northeast, Will’s children had wanted a tree. With enough decoration, bare limbs could come alive with color and symbolic meaning.

“No you don’t. You work all the time. I’ve been watching you.”

“Why?”

“Handsome young man without a wife? Single woman heading for spinsterhood? No mystery there.”

“You don’t know anything about me, or you’d play in someone else’s backyard.”

“I know more than you think, Pete.” She stopped in front of the perfect tree and examined it from top to bottom. “I know you want to kiss me in the worst way.”

He caught her arm and yanked her close. “Don’t toy with me. I’m not the settling down kind of man you want.”

His gruff voice spoke of a deep hurt, one that only time could heal. She understood, had singled him out for that very reason. She’d overheard Bryce talk about Pete with her Aunt Kaitlin and knew she had to find him, to heal the wounds in his soul. In so doing, she could come to grips with her own tainted childhood. They had a lot in common. He’d been abused as a youngster, and she’d grown up in a brothel. And both owed the Stantons the world for changing their destinies.

“I – I know most men don’t want the daughter of a calico queen for a wife.” There, she’d finally put into words the pain she endured the moment a prospective beau found out her past. Oh, they might be willing to overlook her upbringing in light of Bryce’s wealth, but once she’d seen that look in their eyes, she knew they could never love her for herself.

“Why me?” His voice broke. She’d touched his heart with her confession.

“Because the reasons you don’t want me have nothing to do with my past and everything to do with yours.” She stepped closer.

He dropped her arm as if her nearness would roast him alive, but she didn’t back down. She grabbed the lapel of his jacket and tugged him forward. “Kiss me, Pete. Make this a Christmas to remember. For both of us.”

To find out more about Pete's sordid past or Charly's background, grab a copy of Kaitlin's Silver Lining.

Too many to choose from #writing

noreply@blogger.com (Ciara Gold) — Sun, 13 Dec 2015 16:16:00 +0000

So today is going to be a writing day. It's been raining hard since 2:00 PM yesterday which makes for perfect writing weather. After all, what else is there to do, right?

That said, I've been going through old files and wow, I found some jewels. I found four stories started that would be sequels to The Rose Hunter: A naïve traveler with a price on her head investigates Hamingjur in 1974, a leprechaun travels across America to return to his home in Alfheim Haven, and a story between two beings set completely in Alfheim Haven. Then of course there are two historical westerns in the works; William Stanton's story as he finds love with the missing sister of Tabor and Jake (Character's from Sarah's Brass Token and Julia's Golden Eagle) and another western I started from writing prompts. I also have a Christmas novella started, one that's been in the works since I first started writing. That's the one I worked on yesterday. The reason it's taking so long is that I lost the files and had to start over. Starting over is no fun but I really like the story. I even started a story centered around the college in my hometown based on a true story from my high school days. (Gotta love midnight yell and the Ags.)

So now comes the hard part. I want to work on them all and my mind is churning but I'm not magic like some of my characters. I have to settle for one for today. Ugh, why do I do this to myself. The logical thing would be to work on the one that's closest to completion but I have a research trip planned this summer that will help immensely on it so I feel I need to wait so I'm not doing a ton of rewrites. The next logical choice would be the one that's next in terms of completion. Hmm or maybe the Christmas story since I'm feeling in the mood.

Yep, I think I'll work on the Christmas story. I won't have it finished by this Christmas but if I work on it now, I'll have it for the next. Wish me a happy writing day. :-)

Find out more about the beginning...

noreply@blogger.com (Ciara Gold) — Fri, 11 Dec 2015 14:30:00 +0000

Original by J. Bevans

Yep, I'm guesting again on Susan Leigh Noble's blog. You can find out all about how I write and other tidbits about my newest release, The Rose Hunter. Please come visit. Don't be shy and leave a comment while you're there. And while you're there, take a gander at Susan's work as well. I love that she's a cat lover and lives in Texas. A kindred spirit for sure.

Can you tell I'm really excited this book is finally out?

In the meantime, here's the story that started this series. My crit group at the time was challenging each other to write shorts. It might have been for a contest. I can't remember now. While the story isn't as polish, having been written over ten years ago, it showcases Sir Villdemore and his lady wife, Siphinea. Both characters make an appearance in both The Keeper of Moon Haven and The Rose Hunter. After writing this short story, the idea for The Keeper of Moon Haven was born and with it the idea for the series revolving around Alfheim Haven and the Blue Moon.

Mendip Hill where the Wookey Hole Caves penetrate deep into the earth, 853AD

“Toad fodder! Thou shalt not peck at my head like some worrisome Alfar Faery. King Jadestone canst hate me for all eternity, but I shalt not steal a bride.”

Horatio Villdemore, former Ealdorman of Lockenworth, growled deep in his throat. Simon gave him a perplexed look before casting a heavy sigh. Horatio rolled his eyes.

“The king will no’ be happy.” Simon dogged his steps.

Horatio continued to stroll toward his damp habitat. The lantern he held illuminated a large, roomy cavern surrounded by stalagmites and stalactites. Moisture clung to his fur, a phenomena he usually paid little heed to. Today, however, he felt melancholy, and the droplets of water became an annoying reminder of what he’d become.

“The king’s disposition is of no concern to me.”

Like a flea nipping at his skin, Simon continued to pester. “He’ll banish ye topside where the sun will burn ye to a crisp or turn ye to stoone.”

“Forsooth, thou tryeth my patience. I tried once to force a woman to love me by mixing a potion. She came upon me and realized my nefarious intent at the exact moment the egg of Liestra hatched. Thou seeth before thee the result of such folly. I shalt ne’er use force again upon a woman. I canst not and wilt not obey the king. I have had three hundred years to think of the past. If I die tomorrow, so be it.” He turned his back, dismissing Simon with his actions.

Simon skittered in front of him, rounded ears standing at attention. “Did ye hear that?”

Horatio stood still and perked his own ears. He heard nothing save the trickle of water that fell from nearby stalactites.

“Listen. The pit o’ redemption. A top-sider falls.”

At Simon’s words, Horatio gritted his teeth. Without waiting to see if Simon followed, he hurried to the spot. He had no wish to see another crumpled body upon the cold stone floor.

Horatio rushed to save another poor soul, not knowing Siphinea Raven had fled into the night, her bare feet flying across the harsh terrain, not knowing his fate had caught him. The dogs yelped louder, their incessant baying enough to wake the dead. Fire exploded within Siphinea’s chest. Her breath came short and fast. Cramps attacked her legs as she forced them to move faster.

Harsh whispers sounded closer.

The Wild Hunt continued and she was the Sluagh’s prey.

She glanced over her shoulder to gauge the distance between herself and the Sluagh. Her legs caught in her flowing skirt.

“There! I think I see her!”

Tripping, she fell forward. Her arms flew out to catch herself and found nothing but air.

She screamed. Loud and hard.

The sensation of falling caught her unawares. Darkness enveloped her descent into a gaping void.

A hole. She’d stumbled into a hole.

She continued to verbalize her fear, the sound echoing off the damp, musty walls. Volumes of material billowed about her. Fresh flowers woven with care flew from her hair.

Seconds turned into minutes. Death approached. The jaws of Hell loomed before her, its mouth a gaping pit of darkness. Knowing all was lost, she closed her eyes.

Resigned to death, she floated on a cushion of air, weightless, buoyant.

Ooomph! She landed on an unexpected pillow of warmth.

Arms cradled her against a soft, downy chest. A musky odor tantalized her senses.

Dead? She had felt no pain.

Slowly, almost fearful, she opened her eyes.

She blinked. A face covered in hair the shade and texture of a lion’s mane gazed down upon her. She filled her lungs with gulps of air. Hell had claimed her for sure.

The creature growled, a low snarl that caused her scalp to tingle. Her arms pushed against leather skin. It held her tight.

Frantic, she grabbed a fist full of fur and yanked as hard as she could. “Release me, at once.”

“Ow!” The creature dropped her and rubbed the spot where a clump of hair once grew.

Her bottom connected with hard ground, bruising her tender skin. Her eyes lifted to the creature’s. Its massive physique loomed above and it peered down at her with beady, green eyes. Lantern light cast a soft, orange glow upon its apelike features.

“The top-sider does no’ appreciate yer chivalry, Sir Villdemore,” a voice from the darkness mocked.

It turned its head toward the voice. “I believe she hath ne’er seen a troll before.”

A troll? She’d landed in a den of trolls?

She scrambled backwards, her fear greater now than anything she’d experienced before the fall. Even the Sluagh, the outcasts of the Faery community with their forbidding nature, seemed preferable to the troll she now faced.

She took a deep, steadying breath. “Stay away.”

A smaller gnome with a bulbous nose and pudgy fingers stepped forward and tilted its head. “Ye think she’s the answer to yer prayer, Sir Villdemore?”

“Aye, Simon. The possibility hath not escaped my thoughts ere I frighten her with such a hideous façade.”

“She’s a pretty thing for a top-sider.” The gnome creature loped forward.

Top-sider? Did they think her human? She frowned. They couldn’t see her pointed ears for the long hair that had been loosened in the fall.

The beast crouched down in front of her. It reached out to touch her cheek. She strained away. It wouldn’t be deterred, and the soft pad of its finger grazed her skin.

Gentle. The tender caress of its feather light touch settled her nerves. What magic did this abomination have over her?

“You hath nothing to fear, lass.”

The deep, rich timbre of its voice marked it as male. And he spoke English with civilized articulation. Could he be harmless?

She adjusted to his odd looks, deciding his soothing voice and kind words marked him as tame. And – he had saved her life.

She glanced around her winsome surroundings. Walls of tiny crystal particles glimmered in the soft light. Tapered fingers of layered minerals grew from ceiling to floor. Such visual delight could not possibly decorate the walls of Hell.

“I hath ne’er laid eyes upon anything such as this. Where am I?”

“Trolls call it home. Top-siders call it Jadestone’s Cavern, a small portion of the Wookey Hole Caves,” he replied. “I am known as Sir Villdemore. And thou art?”

“Siphinea. Siphinea Raven.”

The creature’s eyes narrowed. Hot breath caressed her face. “Raven?”

She nodded. He pulled away abruptly, his manner tense, agitated.

“You hath knowledge of me?” Her curiosity transcended her fear.

“Aye, lass.”

“And?”

He laughed. The derisive sound made her hairs stand on end. “’Tis the name of the bride King Jadestone wouldst have me wed. The fates must be laughing.”

“Bride?” Trolls were known to take human wives, but she’d never heard of them taking an Elfen bride.

“Female trolls art unable to breed children. Therefore, male trolls steal human females for their mates.” He explained as if she had no knowledge of such practices.

She gave him a gentle smile. “Then I’m not the one thou seeks, Sir Villdemore.” She pulled back her hair to expose her ears. “I’m an Elf of Celtic origin. I believe thou must think of us as Faery.”

He touched her ear. His features tightened into a perplexed frown. “King Jadestone made no mistake. He must have some reason for wanting a troll mated to an elf. He bade me kidnap thee from thou brugh.”

“Thou jests!” She backed away, horrified by his statement.

His lips curled in a crooked smile. “Thy virtue is safe, lass. I hath no intention of following the king’s orders.”

She leaned forward. “Doth thou not?”

“Nay. What need hath I for a scrawny female.”

Incensed, she walked toward him, stabbing a finger at his chest. “Scrawny I am not, sir.”

His hand reached out and touched her again. “Indeed, thou art a vision, well rounded and enticing. Art thou more pleased with this description?”

A shiver of excitement slithered up her spine.

Attraction?

She ignored his question. She’d escaped one beast only to find another. Where was her fear, her revulsion? She felt drawn to the gentleness in his eyes as if she could see past his fangs and pointed ears.

His lascivious grin caused her to pull away. She needed time to think, to evaluate her situation. Her mind became a tangled web of thought. She tried to recall what she knew of trolls. When very little information wiggled from her memory, she tried to think of questions she might put to the beast.

The heat of his gaze swept her from head to toe. He circled her, studying her as if she were the oddity.

“This place? How far did I fall?” She moistened dry lips with the tip of her tongue.

“The depth canst not be measured in given increments. A fall like that depends upon the amount of fear fueling your approach. Wert thou frightened, consumed with such fear your heart pushed against its confines, straining to explode within your chest?”

Her eyes bulged at the accuracy of his description. “I couldst scarcely breathe.”

“Pits of redemption.”

“What?”

“The hole you fell into is known as a pit of redemption. A person doth not happen upon such unless fear drives them. Tell me, lass. What demons nipped at thy heels to cause thee to fall such a distance?”

She shivered, remembering her harried run through the forest.

“The Sluagh,” she whispered. “I was their quarry for their Wild Hunt. They wanted me with a single-minded determination that fueled my fear.”

“Mmm.” The great beast rubbed his chin. “Aye, I suspect they wert not alone in the wanting.”

“What?”

His green eyes deepened, penetrating her soul. She felt his strength of character, his noble desire to help others. She shuddered as conflicting emotions converged. Trolls were supposedly hideous creatures, reeking havoc on the unsuspecting. Sir Villdemore seemed different. She took a step closer. Could this beast offer her sanctuary from her preordained future? She smiled at the irony of this thought. The troll had meant to kidnap her, hadn’t he?

“Wouldst thou have stolen me hadst I not fallen into your arms?”

He acted incensed. “Nay. I steal no brides.”

“What now?”

“I return you topside where thou shalt go about your business.” A sadness crept into his voice. She sensed his deep loneliness.

“You wouldst?”

“Aye.”

She’d never heard of a troll relinquishing a captive. Could she trust him? From the villagers, she’d often heard stories of young maidens being carried off into the night. Her heart softened towards him. How odd. Elves normally did not feel such strong emotions unless their hearts became touched by the goodness of another.

“Doth thou always catch creatures when they fall through the pit?”

Simon peered around Sir Villdemore’s great bulk. “Nay, he’s often too late, but it does no’ keep him from trying. And when he fails, he sulks for days.”

“Enough, Simon,” he said.

“I thought trolls harmed humans and other beings whenever they had a chance.”

“He would save ’em all.” Simon swept his arms wide. Leaning forward, he whispered, “Do no’ breathe a word, lass. ’Tis no’ in the troll’s code of honor. But then, he was no’ always a troll. He used to be a man.”

She gazed up at Sir Villdemore. “A man? How?”

“Sorcery.”

Intrigued, she lifted one brow. “Canst the spell be undone?”

Sir Villdemore shrugged. “I hath yet to find a way, but given a choice I wouldst gladly re-walk the earth in human form.”

Marriage. She’d run from home tonight to escape an unwanted betrothal. Her father had offered her to Lundro, a dark Jotun giant with a soul as black as Loki’s. She suspected Lundro of setting the Sluagh on her heels.

A choice. She had a choice. Marry the monster hidden within the man or marry a man buried within the monster. She reached out a hand and centered it upon his chest. His heart accelerated from her boldness. Her eyes met his. He’d been nothing but kind in his dealings with her.

“The king hath ordered you to marry and so you shall.”

“Thou wouldst do this willingly?”

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. “I wouldst rather marry a troll with a heart than a man with no soul.”

“Thou hath no idea what you say, lass.” He narrowed his eyes to slits and his nostrils flared wide. Silence stretched forward, dark and menacing. He didn’t seem happy with her offer. Had she read him wrong?

His hand reached out. Long, sharp fingernails lightly grazed the side of her cheek. She closed her eyes.

He won’t hurt me. He’s not like other trolls.

Her throat constricted. She opened her eyes. “I vow I do, sirrah.”

The sharp point of his fingernail pressed deeper. Her skin burned where he drew blood. He pulled his hand away and sniffed. His wet, rough tongue grazed the wound. “Trolls eat humans. I imagine an Alfar Faery would prove just as tasty. Didst thou know this?”

Did he purposely try to intimidate her? Her fingers explored the spot where he had licked her. The scratch had completely healed. “But thou dost not partake in the human delicacy, dost thou?”

Sighing, he pulled away. “Nay. But thou hath no idea the restraint required not to feast upon such a tasty morsel. Come, it is long past time I return thee to thy world.”

Calloused fingers took her by the arm, meaning to lead her away. She balked. Without a stolen bride, the king would kill him. His life force felt warm and vibrant upon her arm. Suddenly, she couldn’t bear the thought of his death. Whether he agreed or not, he needed her. Certain of the course she must take, she pulled her arm free.

“I wilt not go. The king orders thee to marry, hath chosen me as thy intended bride. I wilt not let thee die.”

“Stubborn woman. I shalt not marry you. The price might be higher than death, and I shan’t take the risk.”

“Thou wilt not need force. I come to this marriage willingly.”

He grabbed her to him. His naked chest pressed full against her. “Willingly? Hath thou any idea what exactly that means?”

She closed her eyes. “Aye.”

He lowered his lips upon hers, his desire hungry and bruising. Both repulsed and intrigued, she froze.

He means to frighten me away.

She absorbed the feel of his body against hers, heard the erratic beat of his heart. She tasted his passion. How could something so heady not be right? Her body melted against his, drinking in the unfamiliar emotions his kiss evoked.

“So, Sir Villdemore. Thou hath no wish to die. I am greatly relieved thou hath followed my edict.”

Sir Villdemore pushed her away to face his king. He bowed, acknowledging the sovereign entity before him. “King Jadestone.”

With trembling fingers, she touched her swollen lips. Her gaze swept over him. He remained a troll. She’d half hoped the kiss would be enough to break the spell, yet it did not matter. She hadn’t been repulsed by his lips upon hers. The hairs on his cheek tickled her neck when he leaned in close. “Tell him you desire this union.”

Confusion gripped her. Did he now agree with her plan? She started to speak, but the king cut her off.

“Pretty and young. I might change my mind and marry you myself.” The king lowered his shaggy head and sniffed. A dark red tongue snaked out over his full lips. She shuddered.

His large belly jiggled with laughter. “Alas, one more wife wouldst only add to my troubles. You seem subdued, my dear, in shock over what has transpired. Good, good. Save the fight for later. A troll’s greatest prize is the wife who fears him.”

“I want to go home now.” Her voice sounded weak even to her ears. She had no wish to remain in this particular troll’s company. Stepping into Sir Villdemore’s embrace, she nestled against his warmth. She wanted him to take her away from the king’s menacing presence.

“Nay, lass.” A worried frown marred Sir Villdemore’s furry brow. “Tell him how you truly feel. Tell him how you desire to be my wife.”

Confusion made her strain against the arms that held her. “Let me go.” She wanted to see his face.

The king laughed again. “A fighter. Mayhap, she hath Viking blood in her veins. Thou hath done well in stealing this female. Her fear seems great. Sir Villdemore, do you claim this prize for your wife?”

At that moment she understood clearly what transpired. A troll’s code of honor must only allow unwilling maidens to become wives. Sir Villdemore wanted her cooperation, so the king would shun the union, forcing Sir Villdemore to return her topside. The crafty troll sought a way out as a means of saving her from himself. He didn’t understand her alternative frightened her more.

Before he could refuse the king’s question, she leaned over and in a voice meant for only his ears asked, “Thou shalt return me topside when you refuse the king?”

“Yea, you know I shall.”

The loud words bounced off the cavern walls. The king thought he had his answer and the misunderstanding sealed their fate. “Good, Good. ’Tis done. I now pronounce you wed for all eternity. The Alfar Faery is yours, Sir Villdemore.”

For good measure, Siphinea screamed and fainted to the ground. She heard the king’s laughter echo along the corridors as he left her alone with Sir Villdemore.

Minutes stretched forward.

A stubby greenish brown toe pushed at her hip. “Thou canst stop playing dead. The King is no longer in our presence.”

Siphinea opened one eye and then the other. She scrambled to a standing position without the aid of Sir Villdemore. “Was that it?”

“What dost thou mean?”

“The marriage ceremony didst not seem like a ceremony at all. Art we truly wed?”

“Verily, it depends on your definition of wed. The king’s blessing saw it done. By the troll code of honor, thou art now mine to do with as I see fit.”

Their shadows danced upon the cavern wall, the flickering lantern light making them seem more animated. “I see.”

His gnarled hand closed around her flesh. Pain snaked up her arm. He pulled her closer to him. “Nay, thou dost not see. Hath thou any idea what takes place between two mates? Canst thou picture thyself lying naked beside this grotesque body? I have hair where hair shouldst not grow. My feet art twice the size of my head. My teeth resemble those of a wolf while my ears belong on a donkey. I am a monster, a troll.”

Her gaze dropped to his overlarge feet. She hadn’t really thought past saving herself from Lundro’s clutches and preventing Sir Villdemore’s death.

Wed.

More importantly; wed to a troll. No, not a troll. Sir Villdemore had once been a man, and by all she’d seen and heard, a proud man.

The memory of their kiss teased her senses. She was capable of enjoying his embrace. She raised her head. “Tell me your name. I feel I shouldst know thee by a less formal address.”

“Horatio.”

“A proud name for a proud man.”

With a fierce growl, he reached up and broke the tip of a stalactite. “A man I am not. I canst never be the man you envision.”

“Thou art not a troll, either. A troll wouldst not have tried so hard to turn me away. A troll wouldst have allowed me to fall to my death, so it could feast upon my flesh.”

The hardened mineral clattered against the wall where he threw it. He gathered her to him, crushing her body against his. “Silver blonde hair dances around your waist. Delicate features surround deep blue eyes. And pale skin shines with a translucent quality. Thou art beautiful, a rare creature to tempt such a beast.”

She placed a trembling hand upon his heart, and the other upon his cheek. “I see only a man, a man with a burden to endure. I wouldst bear that burden with you.”

And so it came to pass that Siphinea Raven married a hideous beast, overlooking his outer image and searching her heart for the true beauty within.

Top five blogger for November at #RLFblog

noreply@blogger.com (Ciara Gold) — Fri, 11 Dec 2015 00:47:00 +0000

So - I thought I'd published this but I found it in my draft folder. Yikes. My bad but I did want to shout this out so while I really found out at the beginning of December, here's the post I drafted for the announcement:

Wow! Just found out I was one of the top five bloggers for my November guest post at Romance Lives Forever blog. Way cool but I couldn't have done it without my friends and fans visiting to read about The Rose Hunter's release. You all rock!!!!

Guest blogging is a great way to get information about a new release out and about. Some blogs have more traffic than others but it's always a win-win for both the blog host and the guest.

With that said, if anyone would like to guest here on my blog, I'm always open. Just shoot me an email at Ciara_gold@yahoo.com

Don't forget to visit my current guest post at RFL. Lyerra's in rare form as she reveals her most inner thoughts.

Lyerra from The Rose Hunter has a guest interview at RLF! #RLFblog #fantasy

noreply@blogger.com (Ciara Gold) — Wed, 02 Dec 2015 16:00:00 +0000

Lyerra Ahdia from my newest release was interviewed on the Romance Lives Forever blog. She's really excited about the post. Being thrust into the human world wasn't easy for the elfin witch, but she's adapting and wanted everyone to hear her story. I invite you to read her interview at RLF.

If you haven't had a chance to read her tale yet, check out The Rose Hunter. Here's the blurb:

Lucian Willshire is plagued by thoughts of a fey world and the disappearance of his aunt some nineteen years past, but when his friend drags him back to Hamingjur Castle, he stumbles into Alfheim Haven once more where mystical beings become more than a distant memory.

Lyerra Ahdia is baffled by the sudden emotional changes she’s experiencing until she discovers she’s the only witch to suffer “the change” since her mother stole the Rose, a special talisman with the power to perpetuate life among those in her coven. Tasked with finding and bringing the Rose home, she begs Lucian’s help in navigating the human realm. Against his better judgement, he agrees.

Though neither set out to find anything except the Rose, fate has other plans. Will love be more elusive than hunting the Rose?

#Sundaysnips from Once Jilted by Ciara Gold

noreply@blogger.com (Ciara Gold) — Sun, 29 Nov 2015 21:25:00 +0000

“You plan to have the babe out of wedlock?” Kane scratched his head.

She looked skyward and gritted her teeth. Was the man dense? “Can you stop walking? It’s hard to talk to you at this pace.”

He slowed but continued to walk. “Daylight’s a wasting and I’ve got a deadline.”

“Will you at least let me explain so you can stop the rumors?”

Her foot caught a gopher hole, and she tripped, falling headlong onto the hard ground. She cried out when her elbow kissed the ground.

“Goodness, you’re a walking calamity. First pickles and now, a sprawl in the grass. You wouldn’t perchance be related to me Aunt Nell?”

She groaned and rolled to her knees. Every joint ached. Twigs and grass stuck to her dress, and she brushed them away with sore hands. She moaned at the pain and glared at her scraped skin.

“Are you hurt?”

Now he asked. She shook her head. “I’m not sure.”

He grabbed her elbow none too gently and helped her stand. She tested her foot and found herself uninjured. Praise be. An injury would have complicated matters more. “Thank you, Mr. McKenna.”

“You’re welcome. Now, if you doon’t mind, I’d like to be gettin’ back to me work.”

“But . . .”

“Miss Joyce, do you see that armature?” He pointed a finger at the structure. “That’s a mighty important bridge to folks around here. Can you tell me in all honesty that your quest for a hoosband be as important as the building of that bridge?”

She swallowed hard and frowned, thinking of Sarabeth. “For one person, it’s even more important.”

He frowned. “To be sure, and I can sympathize with your plight. Unwed and pregnant must weigh heavy on your mind, but alas, I can noot help you, nor can any of me men. Good day, Miss Joyce.”

She stomped her sore foot and grimaced. “For the last time, I am not expecting!”

Her shout brought the attentions of his workers. Seventeen sets of eyes peered down at her, and the heat rose to her cheeks.

“Now see what you’ve done. You’ve distracted them froom their work again. At this rate, it’ll take me five years to have this bridge completed.”

My snail problem, confessions of a slow writer

noreply@blogger.com (Ciara Gold) — Sat, 28 Nov 2015 15:25:00 +0000

I love writing. I love creating stories that tease the imagination and hopefully come alive for the reader, but I write slow. I can offer a lot of excuses but some are very legitimate, and I think buried in all of these reasons there might be sound advice for others with this snail problem.

First, I get bogged down in research. I'm always questioning myself when it comes to historical references. So, while I'm working on the next sequel to The Rose Hunter, I find myself once again searching for those details that will make the book resonate, will make the book believable. The problem is that there are a lot of details that could be included. The story will begin in 1213 AD (Oh wait, that's not kosher any more. I should have said 1213 CE but when I write the story I will use AD because that's how they would have referred to it.) I digress. My best advice to you as you research is to keep it simple. Truly, you don't have to include all that happened in a given year or time period. Find something that will accent your story and give it flavor without overwhelming the setting you've chosen. Or perhaps, a main historical event is the backdrop for your story. Once again, see what you can do to narrow it down. Think about the civil war for example. A lot of battles were fought, a lot of political intrigue took place. You don't have to include it all.

Second for me is time management. I work a full time job plus. I teach so my forty hour work week is typically at least a 50 hour work week or more. I live in the country where my husband and I are finishing out another cabin so the weekends include helping him do things like staple up insulation (that's what I did yesterday). Then of course, time has to be set aside for the mundane things like cooking, cleaning and other chores. But I had someone trying to teach me guitar one time and he had something very profound to tell me. He said, "Practice everyday, even is you only play one chord for a split second. The trick is to put that guitar in your hands everyday." Writing is the same way so I try hard to open up the manuscript and write each day even if all I eek out is one sentence because at the end of the day, I'm one sentence closer to finishing the book.

Another setback for me is my darn internal editor. Try as I might, I can't seem to turn off the internal editor as I'm writing. This really slows things down. On the other hand, my rewrites aren't as extensive as they would be if I just wrote without editing.

My writing habit also slows me down. I don't outline. I'm a pantser. I can have a great day where I draft a whole chapter without blinking an eye but as a pantser, I tend to write myself into corners. That ending hook is great but then where will it lead me? So then, it's stewing time. I have to let the idea percolate. In some cases, like this last book, the idea brewed for six months before I settled on a direction that was plausible. Yeah, I should outline but the reason I write by the seat of my pants is so I don't get bored. If I know the ending already, I'm less likely to finish the book. I want to be just as surprised as the reader.

My vivid imagination doesn't help either. I tend to have more than one project going at a time. At present I have three books in the works. (Well actually five, but two have been rather dormant so we won't count them). I'll write on one until I hit a roadblock then go to another. The problem with this is remembering what I wrote when I come back to a storyline I've let sit for a while. To help, I try to have an ongoing outline for each story. As I write the chapters, I try to outline the main ideas. I still have to reread just to get back into the book but the outline does help keep facts straight.

And last, but not least, there's the physical aspect of writing. My eyes get tired. There are some days I just don't want to turn on the computer. There's nothing I can do about this except give my eyes a break now and again. Don't sit at the computer at long periods of time without getting up and moving around. It's not healthy for your eyes or your body. So - I tend to write for 15 - 30 minutes and then force myself to get up and take a walk. I have the most fabulous place to take a walk so really, it's not an imposition to move away from my desk.

#Sunday Snippet from The Keeper of Moon Haven by #ciaragold

noreply@blogger.com (Ciara Gold) — Mon, 16 Nov 2015 03:05:00 +0000

Today's snippet is from The Keeper of Moon Haven, the first book in the Blue Moon Series.

Gold.

It was all about the gold. With the book, she had a veritable fortune at her fingertips. No wonder Lord Somerton had taken exception to the book’s disappearance. He must have summoned Surt on several occasions, knowing the gnome would be honor bound to gift anyone who asked with a portion of gold.

She grabbed the book from the floor and pulled it back into her lap. “But I won’t.”

Her morals wouldn’t allow her to take the money, and even though the grumpy gnome might be willing to give her the precious metal, she knew in her heart, it amounted to nothing more than stealing. As desperate as she was to travel to America and join her sister, using the book wasn’t the way. She couldn’t steal Surt’s gold.

Both The Keeper of Moon Haven and The Rose Hunter can be found at Amazon, All Ebook Romance and Champagne Books.