01 April 2014

Montlake showcases A Wolf in Wolf's Clothing

I am so thrilled in being with Montlake/Amazon Publishing.  While I learned much with my first two publishers, Kensington Book and Dorchester Publishing, I must say I truly appreciate the Montlake publishing platform.  With all NY Trad publishers, they focus primarily on the month a book is released.  Then it's on to next month's titles.  Amazon Pub pushes their books - ALL my titles have received such care and so many showcases.  I really cannot thank them or praise them enough!

Once again, they are showcasing my Wolf in Wolf's Clothing:

A Wolf in Wolf's Clothing has been selected by the Kindle editors to be included in the April Kindle 20 for $2 event! The titles selected for this promotion are all priced at $2.00 and are being promoted with high visibility to Kindle customers. You can see the promotion here: http://www.amazon.com/gp/feature.html?ie=UTF8&docId=1000858781

So what would you do if you were being stalked by a Big Bad Wolf -- the two legged variety? 

Excerpt from A Wolf In Wolf's Clothing (Book 3 of the Sisters of Colford Hall)
            As the small knoll materialized in the ghostly fog, he cut the wheel, switched off the engine and allowed the car to coast across the lawn to halt under an oak tree.  The slight roll in the landscape saw the mound overlooking the thatched house, nestled into the odd crook in the land.
            “My, what a perfect location for tonight’s bit of work,” he said, his low voice loud in the stillness of the night.  “All the better to spy upon you, Little Red Riding Hood.”
            Pocketing his keys, he opened the car’s gull wing door, and then paused with foot balanced on the body’s fame while his eyes took him Raven’s home.
            The bungalow was two stories, though the second level was likely just a bedroom and bath due to the steep incline of the roof.  The only time he’d been in a thatched house was when he was small, in the months after his father had committed suicide.  He’d been too young to remember much of that time in Ireland.  Des remembered.  That period of their lives had left deep scars in his older brother.  Trev figured he’d look down his nose at Raven’s humble home.  Instead, he was fascinated.  An air of warmth and welcoming beckoned him toward the cottage, aglow with its amber lights.

            He sat on the hood of the car and studied the bucolic structure, trying to pinpoint Raven.  Playing Peeping Tom was easy.  The place was constructed of so much glass.  A gardener’s cottage once, there were two greenhouses― one on either side of the whitewashed abode.  The first had likely been a hothouse, the other for plants that required a more temperate clime.  Raven was an artist, a painter.  The report Julian Starkadder had compiled about her said she was working toward a one woman show for a local gallery come next spring.  The smaller glass room had been turned into a studio.  Even from this distance he could see the easel, though it was too far away to tell what she currently painted upon the large canvas.
            Aside from the two glassed in spaces, a dining room had been added, also with glass walls.  Raven Montgomerie’s life was on display, but he figured she never considered that.  Some beautiful women loved to put on a show for anyone looking― even Peeping Toms.  Still, for someone as gorgeous as Raven, she didn’t live her life on the stage she created here.  He’d be willing to bet the Lamborghini on that.  Raven was merely far away from people, nothing even remotely close, so obviously she felt no need to hide behind drapes.
            “Where the hell are you, Red?” he asked.  “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
            All these walls of glass and he couldn’t spot her!  Exasperated, he knew she was at home.  She’d been working on the preparation for the gala all day, doing final touches.  After supper he’d grown twitchy, so had driven past the banquet hall that her brother, Cian, had rented for Montgomerie Enterprise’s big bash.  As he spotted her coming out of the building, he swung into a parking lot down the road and watched while she slid into her ancient MGB.  Keeping a distance, he followed her until she took the turn off for the cottage.  She was still there.  His predator’s sense confirmed that.
            Growing impatient, he pushed off the car and trotted toward the cottage.  The MGB was parked at the side of the house, attesting to her presence within.  Staying to the shadows, he circled around the larger greenhouse and toward the back of the dwelling.  As he cornered the far side, he pulled up when he saw Raven.  Her face was framed in the kitchen window, an overhead light nearly a spotlight on her.  From her movements, he saw she was washing dishes. 
            Raven’s face was more than beautiful, it was arresting, with a hint of feline ethereality.  While her jaw reflected the same Montgomerie stubbornness as her sisters, the thinness of her countenance softened the effect.  Trev shuddered.  His whole body cramped with longing. 
            “Longing?” he echoed aloud.
The word caused pause.  With any other woman he’d have said lust.  Trevelyn Mershan didn’t long for a woman.  He simply wanted to screw them.  Once he achieved that aim, they lost any fascination for him.  Longing required more than animal impulses.  It spoke of something much deeper.  And that bothered him.
            Music floated on the night air, and it took a moment to identify the song coming from the kitchen, Constant Craving ―an oldie by KD Lang.  Ravens mouth moved as she sang along with the words.  Though he couldnt hear her, a shiver slithered up his spine.  Yeah, he knew something about constant cravings.  Five months of it.  Ever since hed seen her back last May at her grandfather’s funeral. 
            He recalled sitting with his brothers at the rear of the small church, watching the seven sisters in the pews at the front, then later while they exited the ornate building.  That memory haunted him.  So peculiar, beyond her beauty, there was little about Raven that would normally attract him.  No, Raven Montgomerie was not his taste in women.  And yet, he’d known in that breathless instant when their eyes collided, outside the ancient Norman kirk, that in five months’ time he’d be coming for her. 
“Though hell should bar the way…” he said under his breath.
She was the key to getting him closer to the Montgomeries, so the Mershans could finally mete out their long-overdue vengeance.  His inner voice warned Trev that their objective had damn little to do with his coming here tonight.  A ravenous need was rising in him, something dark, dangerous.  A force primeval.

30 March 2014

Remembering Dawn Party at Serendipity

Candy made a special treat for Serendipity to offer for April Fool's Gift - she made it as a cross between our friends,
 Tara and Mark Reed (Fool Hardy) a marvelous Renfaire act.  
He is Marquise and she Ima Nutt.
 So she took Ima's colours and Mark's fool costume and did this version for our 
favourite place to visit and eat in town.  She plans on doing version of 
them at some point.  I cannot wait to see them, as they will be even more detailed.

Anyway, Candy asked me if I would drive her to Serendipity this Friday to deliver it.  
I said I would (don't need an excuse to visit there!).  Only, I knew Friday was the anniversary the birthday of Dawn Thompson (Candy's sister).  I know Candy's misses her so much, but she hadn't said anything, such a "stiff upper lip trooper".  So I called Becky Bayer Kimbler (co-owner) and asked if she would make me a special cake for Candy - a birthday cake for Dawn. I knew Dawn loved purple, so I asked her to do a cake with "Remembering Dawn" on it with purple roses.  I didn't tell Candy, just took her up to the magic shop in the middle of Main Street La Grange.  I told her we were having lunch and then at desert Becky brought the cake out.  Candy was so surprised and pleased.  It took a sad occasion and made it a happy memory.

Wish to give a thank you to Becky at Serendipity for 
helping me make a very special day.

(502) 222-4216

Serendipity is ready for Easter!



Candy's Easter purses for kids and her box of punk chicks


17 March 2014

Happy St. Patrick's Day

Wishing everyone Irish and not (but then everyone is Irish today, eh?)

“Lá fhéile Pádraig sona dhuit!” 

01 March 2014

Kindle Editors selected The Privateer for a showcase for March

The Privateer by Dawn Thompson, writing as Dawn MacTavish  (Diane Candy Thompson' late sister) has been selected by the Kindle editors to be included in the March Kindle 20 for $2 event! The titles selected for this promotion are all priced at $2.00 and are being promoted with high visibility to Kindle customers.

 You can see the promotion here: http://www.amazon.com/gp/feature.html?ie=UTF8&docId=1000858781

17 February 2014

Losing Author Trish Jensen

It's with tears I say the world is less brighter today with the passing of the author Trish Jensen. She was a very special, funny lady. A talented author. We made friends through our mutual love for writing. I will always treasure her warm humor, her embracing of life. When I told her how much I loved her book "Stuck With You", she asked me to marry her. Every time our paths crossed, I always reminded her of that.

Such a very very sad day. My heartfelt condolences go out to her family, and especially to Deb Stover, who was very very close to Trish.

Just so sad. Bless you, Trish Jensen. The world mourns your passing.

10 February 2014

First Kiss from A Wolf in Wolf's Clothing at KMN Books blog today

First Kiss: You'll want to kiss Deborah Macgillivray's Wolf in Wolf's Clothing @Scotladywriter @KMNbooks #firstkiss

KAREN: After reading a snippet of A Wolf in Wolf's Clothing by Deborah Macgillivray, you'll gladly don the red riding hood cape for a chance to kiss this wolf. Enjoy a sneak peek at Trev and Raven's first kiss and a chance to own a trade-size copy of A Wolf in Wolf's Clothing

Karen Michelle Nutt is running a blog at KMN Books for Valentine's this month profiling, first kisses from authors' books.  I selected to send her the first kiss between Trevelyn Mershan and Raven Montgomerie.  This was the third in the series of the battle between the Mershan brothers and the Montgomerie sisters.  While I absolutely loved BA and Desmond's romance, and then Jago stole in and captured my heart, with his falling hard for Asha, I selected the third book for this showcase.  Why?  Because Raven was the most vulnerable of the Montgomerie Sisters, while Trevelyn was the wolf of the Mershan brothers.  His own self-image was that big bad wolf more than willing to huff and puff until he blew Raven's house down.  Only magic happened the night they met...

A Wolf in Wolf's Clothing 
is available form Montlake/Amazon Publishing
in Kindle and Tradesize

so go check out the blog on KMN Books and leave a comment to win a signed copy of my book.  

09 February 2014

Remember a dear friend six years passing

I am not sure why things fade from memory, while others live from moment-to-moment, still alive within your mind.  Six years ago I lost a very dear friend.  We were so close, it's hard to think we never actually met.  Dawn Thompson breezed into my life, the belle of the ball - or so everyone thought.  Despite losing her six years ago, she lingers, still very much alive in my thoughts.

People were jealous of her.  It seemed she was winning every romance writers contest going.  The world was her pearl.  In the short time we had been friends, she sold her first book to Dorchester.   Again more jealousy.  She was smart, witty, compassionate, and a very astute judge of character.  I think we all pictured her as being mid-thirties, English, and had the world in the palm of her hand.  Dawn worked very hard to project that image, because she feared she'd never sell if people knew she was in her late sixties, confined to a wheelchair due to a tragic car accident.   People judge so quickly on first impressions.  She recalled an incident where she went to the RWA meeting of her chapter, and one of the bigger name agents came up to her and spoke about her writings, and possible representation.  Then he came out with, "Are you going to be in that thing forever?"  Dawn laughed about it in the retelling.  But she was hurt, you could hear it in her voice.  What can you say to an arse like that?

It was only during a silly fracas - Dawn and another striving writer getting into one of those silly internet group fights - that did I learn the real truth.  Dawn's life, her talent as a painter, were destroyed by a horrible accident.  She barely had use of her thumbs and two fingers, and she spent nearly 13 to 17 hours a day in a wheelchair.  Dawn now painted with words.  It was her escape from the crippling pain that tormented her every hour.  That was the real beginning of our friendship.  We were on Messenger constantly; I left it running and kept my phone by me, as Dawn was alone at night.  Every night she told me when she was going to bed, wished me a "Goodnight, my dear."  Every morning I got a good morning and a laugh.  We talked on the phone often, and layer by layer I learned so much about this funny, special lady that life seemed to deal one blow after another.

But I think I learned the most about her through her books.  There is so much of Dawn in her novels.  I have discussed this with Candy - was she aware of how much of her was the fabric of her tales.  We both agree Dawn was totally unaware of these elements.  I recall our editor, Hilary Sares saying she cried when she read the scene of the trees that were alive in Lord of the Deep.  A tree that ached to be a part of life, but with limbs rooted to the ground.  Or the angel in Lord of the Dark -- a poor thing couldn't sleep because his wings wouldn't retract.  Again, only to someone who knew Dawn closely would that make sense.  Dawn had the hardest time getting into bed every night, hard time sleeping because of the legs that no longer worked, the pain that dogged her every moment.

Never have I known someone so valiant in the face of adversity, never have I heard someone laugh at all that life flung at her.

I miss you, Dawn Thompson, but you “gave” me your sister.  Your last words to me was "Do not forget me."  How could I ever forget such a bright light in this sad sorry world?