I wish to take this opportunity to thank my host, Roxanne, for having me here today as her guest.
And now for a wee bit of “Fairy and Brownie” Magick
Below is a photo of one of the most famous trees that Ireland is well known for – a gnarled hawthorn fairy tree protected by stone barriers and fences so no one will bother it. (the stones are piled close by to keep sheep and other animals from rubbing against the bark)
In Mortal Magick, I created a whimsical matchmaker known as “wee Darby”. Born from of a forbidden love between an Irish fairy and Scottish Brownie, wee Darby is quite the unique and eccentric character with his caterpillar eyebrows arched above a crooked pair of thick rimmed gold glasses, while ivy leaves sprout from a tousled mass of his bright carrott orange hair. It didn’t take long to discover that the more details I added to this whimsical character, the more I found wee Darby worked his magick and made himself a permanent spot not only in my story, but in my heart.
I created Darby as a descendant from the Brown Man of the Muires, so he not only inherited the love for animals and nature, but his skills in applying his special herbal cures comes in handy as he aids the main characters throughout the story.
Darby is also well known for his friendship and fascination of dragons.
“Aye, and I’m excited to share that you will find dragons in Sea Wolf Magick”. I’m delighted to announce, that right before I left to visit my family in Northern Ireland a few weeks ago, I received my contract for Sea Wolf Magick, book 2 of my new Highlander Magick Series. Here’s my tagline for a sneak peak at this story:
"When a seafaring Highlander Lycan, rescues a cursed witch from the clutches of evil, a magical voyage fueled by fire and ice ignites more than just passion across the high seas."
And here’s a wee excerpt:
The Mystic Fairy Glens of Cuillin Hills, Isle of Skye
“Aye lass, what ye need is a good, strappin’ man.” A tousled mass of carrot orange hair sprouted above Beth’s favorite Herbal Lore Encyclopedia. Darby winked. His mischievous green eyes sparkled, peering over the top of his gold-rimmed glasses. Jumping down from his favorite stool, he shuffled towards the crackling fireplace as he pulled his pipe from his frayed coat pocket and puffed on the crooked stem. “Just placin’ me own opinion, of course.”
The pleasing scent of fresh tobacco filled the cozy cottage Beth Macgregor now considered home. Her wee companion grabbed a poker and stoked the crackling fire. “And I’m not implyin’ about askin’ someone to help do the chores.”
Is it that obvious? Her heart fluttered. A warm rush flooded her neck and face. These bloody hot flashes have gotten way out of hand. By the Goddess, I’m still in my twenties.
Like an unquenchable thirst, the unrelenting cravings grew worse each night. Her body constantly reminding her she was still a young woman with serious needs.
Here’s a few photos of some castles that gave me some fantastic ideas for the next book in this series:
Thank you again, Roxanne, for having me as your guest today! I hope many of your followers will drop by and visit my website/blog and follow me on Facebook as I get ready to reveal more surprises coming up towards the end of the month.
Highlander Magick Series
Time Travel Romance
Publisher: Soul Mate Publishing
Date of Publication: June 8, 2015
Number of pages:176 pages
Word Count: 57K
Cover Artist: Syneca Featherstone
When an immortal Highlander falls in love with a human witch, “Mortal Magick” soon casts a spell of its own.
Doomed for eternity to wander nights as half man and half creature, rugged Highlander, Duncan McCord, discovers his curse is the least of his problems when he sets out for a cure and rescues the beauty determined to help tame his beast.
When a reluctant witch, Keara, gets whisked back to 18th century mystical Isle of Skye to learn lessons in magic, she faces the true test of love when she meets the man beyond her wildest dreams burdened with dark secrets from his past.
Forced together to journey through an enchanted country filled with mythical creatures and magical lore, will they survive in a world where evil sorcery reigns, or will a shocking twist of fate tear them centuries apart?
Available at Amazon
Trotternish ∙ Isle of Skye, Scotland ∙ October 7, 1797
Duncan McCord wanted a woman. His entire body and soul hungered for a special lass’ touch. The one destined for his love, whom he would call kindred spirit. His stomach tightened, a pain ripping through him like the slice of a broadsword. This canna happen. Not now, not ever. Reality hastily slapped him back to his senses. He vowed never to be foolish enough to let himself fall into another vixen’s treacherous traps.
Dark, threatening clouds rolled over Scotland’s glorious mountain peaks in the distance. The muscles in his legs rippled, gripping both sides of his mount. His stallion, Goliath, snorted and stopped short in his tracks. His enormous hooves stomped the hard ground.
“Aye, ‘tis all right, me friend. Just a bad storm startin’ to brew. What a grand spot to rest for the night.” Duncan bent down and stroked the neck of the black steed then swung his leg over and jumped to the ground, beginning to remove both gear and saddle.
Goliath neighed, his breath white in the cold air.
A gust of frigid air swept around Duncan’s feet, spiraling its way beneath his woolen plaid. Leaves rustled from the biting breeze as they whispered danger through the towering pines.
Goliath snorted again and reared his mighty head.
The sweet scent of honeysuckle filled Duncan’s flaring nostrils and jabbed his memory. The pleasing fragrance was soon replaced with the putrid smell of dead worms and rotten leaves. Clenching his fists, his knuckles cracked. Short hairs bristled on the back of his neck. Wicked laughter echoed through the Highland hills.
A woman’s teasing, silky voice sparked his memory, whispering poison in his ears.
“Your journey is for naught, my beloved Duncan. I see you’re still stubborn as always. Your horse seems to have more common sense than you.”
The snicker became a cackle. Invisible fingers like fuzzy feathers tickled his whiskers, making his face twitch.
“I see ye still didna have the guts to face me, ye bloody she-devil. Afraid ye might finally get what ye rightfully deserve?” Stone-faced, he shouted into empty space. “I promise, witch. Ye won’t be laughin’ for verra much longer.”
“Careful, my spirited lover. You don’t want to wake the inner beast before sunset.
“Duncan lunged from the damp forest floor. His splayed hooves clip-clopped on top of a boulder. His nostrils flared from the irresistible lingering lavender scent. He cocked his head to the side, his keen hearing caught her every breath as each step she took brought her dangerously closer. “Aye, the damn fool-headed woman! She’s done wandered off again.”
He snarled at a shooting star plummeting to the ground. Like a bubbling cauldron of fire, it spit an outburst of flames across the moonlit sky. “Aye, the bonny wee lass is headed straight for a trap.” Clenching his fists, he veered back his head and wailed.”
About the Author:
Patty was raised as a “country girl”, and fell in love with animals, books and the mystical world of magick from a wee girl. With her mother’s heritage, born and raised in Northern Ireland, along with the discovery of her father having American Indian ancestry, Patty’s fascination for both cultures quickly led her imagination to run wild.
Her love of The Chronicles of Narnia Series, from C.S. Lewis inspired her to start creating magical realms and characters of her own.
Patty’s dream to work with white wolves didn’t become a reality, but she considers herself blessed to have been “owned and loved” by a pack of beloved Samoyeds for over 20 years.
In her spare time, Patty can be found sitting beside one of her favorite spinning wheels, blending exotic fibers while her imagination weaves more stories. While she cherishes fond memories of both her parents, thanks to her beloved Irish Mom, Patty’s belief in the little people and fairies still carries on.