Friday, August 17, 2018

One Snowy Knight excerpt


cover image by Jon Paul Ferrara

Turning back to the man on the ground, she once again had to wipe the gathering flakes from his face.  She attempted to tug him to a sitting position, thinking she could wrap her mantle around them both, and lend him what little body heat she still had.  When she went to lift him, she realized he still had his broadsword lashed crosswise over his back.  Finding the strap’s buckle on the center of his chest, she released it.

Then, froze as the howl came. 

It was close by.  The man groaned as she urgently rolled his dead weight, enough to drag the sword out from under him, and then dropped the leather sheath as she freed the blade.  Holding the sword in her right hand, she used her left to release the clasp of her mantle.  She would need her arms free to swing the sword.  Keeping her eyes fixed upon the trees, she dragged her woolen cape over the man’s unmoving body.

The deep growl sent a chill to her marrow as the threat of the snowstorm had failed to do.  Low tree limbs rustled and then parted as the set of glowing yellow eyes peeked through the wintry foliage.

Swallowing hard, Skena brought the sword up, preparing to swing, and praying she had strength enough to wield the mighty sword true.


Skena stood trembling, from the cold, aye, but more so from dread.  With the specter of famine looming across the land, she feared wolves would soon be a threat they would face.  Foolishly, she had hoped the menace would not come this early in the season.  Swallowing to moisten the dryness in her mouth, she watched the feral eyes narrow on her, judging how much a threat she presented holding the sword.  Plainly, she posed nary a concern to the creature.  Shoulders lowered, teeth bared, he edged forward, a low growl of intent rising deep in his throat.  The animal scented her fear.  Her weakness only emboldened him. 

Keeping her attention on the black wolf, her eyes quickly scanned to see if there were others coming up behind him or circling around.  Where you found one, usually there lurked a small pack.  Her luck holding, thus far no other pairs of bright eyes appeared; no dark forms skulked through the unmoving undergrowth around the dense pine trees. 

“Oh, please let him be a lone wolf,” she offered her wish to the Auld Ones, before whispering dark words to weave a Charm of Protection, drawing upon what little powers she possessed to sustain her through this ordeal.

 Not a small woman, her Ogilvie blood showed in her tall body and strong bones.  Even so, to hold the heavy broadsword—which took years for a man to master—was tiring.  Her arms vibrated; tremors racked her muscles.  A mix of terror and cold.  The winter storm slowly leached all the strength from her body.  She fought against the quaking, still the sword wobbled in her grip.

Baring his fangs, the wolf crept slowly forward, more daring with each step.  Skena had trouble keeping her vision clear.  Falling flakes and those kicked up by the spindrift continued to stick to her long lashes, adding moisture to the tears she valiantly labored to hold at bay.  It was vital to see the wolf when he leapt, in order to time her swing.  She sucked in a hard breath of terror.  The creature was so much bigger than she expected!


“Off with you, evil foal-chû.  You shall no’ be making a meal of this warrior or me.”  She spoke false courage, hoping the sound of her voice might frighten him into backing off.  Instead, his body coiled, preparing to spring.

So intent upon the wolf, Skena hopped slightly when long arms enclosed about her.  Startled and yet unwilling to take her eyes off the black creature, it was several heartbeats before she comprehended the stranger had awakened and was on his feet.  Suddenly, in his strong embrace she was not so scared.

“Be still, my lady.  I lend my strength to your swing.”  The warrior’s cold hands closed over hers.  He leaned against her back; his powerful muscles caused her shaking to lessen.

Skena had little chance for the details of his nearness to filter through her thoughts, for with a feral snarl the wolf leapt at them.  Frozen in terror, she was unable to move, yet she felt the warrior wielding the sword.  Bared teeth snapped close to her throat.  She cried out and then flinched when the great blade caught the beast in the neck.  Blood splattered across her clothing and her face.  Its heat shocked her.  Numb with the horror, she stared at the animal writhing on the ground.  In the gathering darkness, the pooling blood oddly appeared black upon the pristine snow.  The coppery smell set her stomach to roiling; revolted, she choked back rising nausea.  Her grip slackened about the hilt.  

            The knight’s fingers closed tighter around hers.  “Nay, my lady, never leave a wounded animal alive...sometimes, not even a man.  ’Tis when they are most dangerous.  They risk all for they have naught to lose.” 


 

One Snowy Knight, Dragons of Challon, Book 3

Coming July 19 2018  - Print
July 12th for eBook


eBook and Library Quality Tradesize print

Prairie Rose Publications

#DragonsofChallon #ScottishRomance #MedievalRomance  #Historical Romance




Thursday, August 9, 2018

Happy National Book Lovers Day








Blind Cat and Rescue Shelter fundraiser for my birthday - on Facebook



Facebook is running a fun when you sign up for your birthday.  They give you $5 to kick off the campaign, they collect the money and see the charity gives it.


I chose the Blind Cat and Rescue Shelter, which I have supported for a long time.

There is another way you can help this shelter --
 when you buy nearly anything on Amazon.com
you can create a special URL called SMILE.  
Each time you buy from Amazon a percentage will go toward your charity.




Friday, July 20, 2018

Happy Dancing at Big R's and Shannon's


Still happy dancing over my release of One Snowy Knight.

s

had a stuffed bake potato - with cheese, BBQ brisket and cheese....yum


We were st
Was at supper at Big R's and Shannon's
to help kick off the Mayor's race for La Grange

Go Shannon!!




Wednesday, July 18, 2018

Woo woo nothing so special as holding a book wrote





Happy Birthday, Candy!!










Tomorrow is Miz Candy's birthday. I will be taking her shopping and her favourite stores and will take her to lunch at Steak and Shake, because she wants to go there...lol.

She came here in 2010--from circumstances that were getting dire - to say the least. NYC wasn't being too good to Candy. I knew Dawn would love it if I kept an eye on her, so magic was worked with a friend, Rowena Cherry, and she came to live near me. Almost immediately, she was in hospital with a bad heart, overweight, not eating good, and in a wheel chair. Since that time, she now runs circles around me, has lost a lot of weight, eats better and loves life.

Getting her to come here, where she can live independently, yet have me close at hand has been on of the best things I ever did in my life. Yes, life was a bit easier, calmer, but we have been laughing through merry an adventure. So Happy Birthday, Candy....a friend like none other!!





Tuesday, July 17, 2018

updating the strange pricing in Amazon Secondary market...lol


The story by author David Streitfeld was on page B1 of the New York Times Monday.  It was a trending story on Yahoo news, and picked up on Publishers Marketplace daily newsletter.

He said he requested a response from Red Rhino -- the nickname of the Amazon Secondary seller, but received no response.  Well, there sort of was one -- This morning Red Rhino deleted the $2850+ offering, thought the $1558 from another dealer is list there.

I have to admit it was total shock to open my browser, going to check my email, and see my book there as trending.  Very bizarre sensation!  lol 

Thursday, July 12, 2018

One Snowy Knight expanded ebook is out today!!


One Snowy Knight (Dragons of Challon Book 3) by Deborah Macgillivray



Prairie Rose Publications

"Like a bard of old, Macgillivray spins a tale of knights and ladies, myth and magic." “
—Romantic Times on A Restless Knight

"A sexy captive/captor romance. . .well done!" 
Romantic Times on In Her Bed

eBook July 12th release
Tradesize Library Edition Print July 19th

Wednesday, July 11, 2018

One Snowy Knight - Release dates


cover image by Jon Paul Ferrara

Turning back to the man on the ground, she once again had to wipe the gathering flakes from his face.  She attempted to tug him to a sitting position, thinking she could wrap her mantle around them both, and lend him what little body heat she still had.  When she went to lift him, she realized he still had his broadsword lashed crosswise over his back.  Finding the strap’s buckle on the center of his chest, she released it.

Then, froze as the howl came. 

It was close by.  The man groaned as she urgently rolled his dead weight, enough to drag the sword out from under him, and then dropped the leather sheath as she freed the blade.  Holding the sword in her right hand, she used her left to release the clasp of her mantle.  She would need her arms free to swing the sword.  Keeping her eyes fixed upon the trees, she dragged her woolen cape over the man’s unmoving body.

The deep growl sent a chill to her marrow as the threat of the snowstorm had failed to do.  Low tree limbs rustled and then parted as the set of glowing yellow eyes peeked through the wintry foliage.

Swallowing hard, Skena brought the sword up, preparing to swing, and praying she had strength enough to wield the mighty sword true.


Skena stood trembling, from the cold, aye, but more so from dread.  With the specter of famine looming across the land, she feared wolves would soon be a threat they would face.  Foolishly, she had hoped the menace would not come this early in the season.  Swallowing to moisten the dryness in her mouth, she watched the feral eyes narrow on her, judging how much a threat she presented holding the sword.  Plainly, she posed nary a concern to the creature.  Shoulders lowered, teeth bared, he edged forward, a low growl of intent rising deep in his throat.  The animal scented her fear.  Her weakness only emboldened him. 

Keeping her attention on the black wolf, her eyes quickly scanned to see if there were others coming up behind him or circling around.  Where you found one, usually there lurked a small pack.  Her luck holding, thus far no other pairs of bright eyes appeared; no dark forms skulked through the unmoving undergrowth around the dense pine trees. 

“Oh, please let him be a lone wolf,” she offered her wish to the Auld Ones, before whispering dark words to weave a Charm of Protection, drawing upon what little powers she possessed to sustain her through this ordeal.

 Not a small woman, her Ogilvie blood showed in her tall body and strong bones.  Even so, to hold the heavy broadsword—which took years for a man to master—was tiring.  Her arms vibrated; tremors racked her muscles.  A mix of terror and cold.  The winter storm slowly leached all the strength from her body.  She fought against the quaking, still the sword wobbled in her grip.

Baring his fangs, the wolf crept slowly forward, more daring with each step.  Skena had trouble keeping her vision clear.  Falling flakes and those kicked up by the spindrift continued to stick to her long lashes, adding moisture to the tears she valiantly labored to hold at bay.  It was vital to see the wolf when he leapt, in order to time her swing.  She sucked in a hard breath of terror.  The creature was so much bigger than she expected!


“Off with you, evil foal-chû.  You shall no’ be making a meal of this warrior or me.”  She spoke false courage, hoping the sound of her voice might frighten him into backing off.  Instead, his body coiled, preparing to spring.

So intent upon the wolf, Skena hopped slightly when long arms enclosed about her.  Startled and yet unwilling to take her eyes off the black creature, it was several heartbeats before she comprehended the stranger had awakened and was on his feet.  Suddenly, in his strong embrace she was not so scared.

“Be still, my lady.  I lend my strength to your swing.”  The warrior’s cold hands closed over hers.  He leaned against her back; his powerful muscles caused her shaking to lessen.

Skena had little chance for the details of his nearness to filter through her thoughts, for with a feral snarl the wolf leapt at them.  Frozen in terror, she was unable to move, yet she felt the warrior wielding the sword.  Bared teeth snapped close to her throat.  She cried out and then flinched when the great blade caught the beast in the neck.  Blood splattered across her clothing and her face.  Its heat shocked her.  Numb with the horror, she stared at the animal writhing on the ground.  In the gathering darkness, the pooling blood oddly appeared black upon the pristine snow.  The coppery smell set her stomach to roiling; revolted, she choked back rising nausea.  Her grip slackened about the hilt.  

            The knight’s fingers closed tighter around hers.  “Nay, my lady, never leave a wounded animal alive...sometimes, not even a man.  ’Tis when they are most dangerous.  They risk all for they have naught to lose.” 


 

One Snowy Knight, Dragons of Challon, Book 3

Coming July 19 2018 - Print

July 12th - eBook



eBook and Library Quality Tradesize print
Prairie Rose Publications
#DragonsofChallon #ScottishRomance #MedievalRomance  #HistoricalRomance

Monday, July 9, 2018

Read the Dragons of Challon series FREE on Kindle Unlimited


Read the Dragons of Challon series on Kindle Unlimited - Free

#ScottishRomance #MedievalRomance #HistoricalRomance #PrairieRosePublications

Saturday, July 7, 2018

One Snowy Knight, Book 3 of the Dragons of Challon pre-order



  Woo hoo, look what just went up for pre-order on Amazon  #ChristmasRomance#HistoricalRomance #ScottishRomance


beautiful cover by the talented Jon Paul Ferrara



Wednesday, April 18, 2018

Mike Duncan working on a cover of Rosanna


You might recall Mike Duncan who did the songs for my videos for Riding the Thunder, The Invasion of Falgannon Isle, and A Wolf in Wolf's Clothing

Wednesday, March 21, 2018

The art of Love through the ages



How vastly courting rituals have changed through the ages. . .


Courting in the Middle Ages was very different for a lady of noble birth than for the women of today.  Social mores that governed how a couple met, the manner in which they formed an engagement and later wed, dictated much of her life, and often with small or no input of her desires and choices.  For the reader not well versed in a particular period, it’s important to mentally step back and not to judge actions and thoughts of characters of periods past by today’s standards.  Centuries ago, females were often wed at twelve years of age, something that would be considered child abuse by today’s rules.  At age twenty-five she was an “old maid” and considered beyond the age of marrying.  You have to remember people didn't live as long.  When we think of “old” we are considering people in their sixties and seventies.  In ancient times, people for the most part were lucky to make it to age forty, thus a woman in her twenties was already an older woman halfway through her lifetime.


 At that age perspectives shift, you see a change every couple of generations in the mating rituals.  Today, many couples openly live together for years before taking the steps to marriage vows.  Just a few generations past, this would have been scandalous, taboo.  When Ingrid Bergman had an affair with Italian director Roberto Rossellini in the 1950s, while both were married to other people, and later gave birth to his son, it caused such a scandal that she was denounced on the floor of the United States Senate.  Ed Sullivan even refused to have her on his show!  When she left her husband and daughter, going to live in Italy with Rossellini, she was barred from entering the US to act and had to remain in Europe for a number of years.  Yet, such behavior is commonplace now and barely raises an eyebrow.  Look at the long romance of Kurt Russell and Goldie Hawn.  He was married to Season Hubley when he began his affair with Hawn.  They have now lived together for decades, yet never married.  No one gives it a second thought.



In the 1950s, women stayed home to raise their families.  A wife going to work outside the house was a slur against her husband.  What’s wrong, can he not support her?  At the turn of the previous century, women seldom went out to live on their own.  They remained with their families until they were properly courted and wed, going from father’s to husband’s control without ever knowing how to live life on her own.  The further you go back into history, the tighter control you see of women, what they could and couldn't do.  Few could own property.  They had no control over money they might inherit, and were often considered nothing more than property of their husband.  In the 19th century, women didn't go out for dates.  In fact, if she danced with the same man more than twice at a ball of the ton, society would expect him to offer for her hand in marriage the next morning, or she would be ruined!



Shed all your knowledge of how women live today, and take that step back to consider obstacles women faced in finding a husband in Medieval times.   The average commoner rarely traveled outside his own village.  They were born, lived and died, literally tied to the land, chained there because they were mere vassals of the local lord.  Consequently, a woman of low birth was forced to find a mate amongst the slim pickings of local lads, or possibly a cousin not too far away.  It’s estimated they rarely traveled farther than the nearest village, even fewer went over fifty miles away.  Women of higher birth were not quite as limited.  They generally were sent to other castles or keeps at a young age to be fostered, much in the same manner sons were sent away to serve as pages and squires.  Therefore, they did have the opportunity to meet young men outside their own fiefdom.  Such a move was intentional, this “farming out” of daughters at young ages.  They gained strength in facing a new situation, new people, and saw how others thought and lived.  More importantly, the exchange of children was a forging of bonds between different lords.  If she were of some import, she might even travel to court, widening her circle of acquaintances even more.  Still, there was little chance of dating as we might consider it.  Young women served under the tutelage of the lady of the manor.  She spent a lot of time learning courtly ways and to manage the household, possibly she might even be instructed in the healing arts.  A young woman would spend time sewing, spinning and weaving ― an endless chore, because people had to have clothing, and everything from sheering the sheep, carding the wool and spinning it had to be done by hand.



Even if she were lucky enough to catch the eye of a handsome young squire, attachments wouldn't have been encouraged.  A daughter was not just a child to be reared, she was an asset.  Fathers that didn't have sons would use his daughters to make alliances.  Lord’s with sons saw the chance of obtaining a large dowry to bolster his standing.  The young girl would have little say in if she wanted to marry a man.  These marriage contracts were set up, signed and sealed when she was but a child.  Love, though much sung about by troubadours, rarely came into play in the making of a match during this period.  Sometimes, fathers had little say in the matter, too.  If the liege lord or king decided to marry off a daughter to a knight or another lord for a reward, there was no recourse.  Their liege lord’s decision on such matters was final.


If on the rare occasion, a young woman might fall for a young man, the obstacles preventing them from getting to know each other were endless.  In a castle, people were always about.  Privacy was scarce as those proverbial hen’s teeth.  There were no places to go for walks, no parks, and strolling outside the castle curtain was dangerous.  The first time a couple had the time to truly come to know each other was after they were married.


So the next time you read a historical romance don’t be too quick to judge people of the past and how they lived by your own life experiences.



© Deborah Macgillivray
All Rights Reserved



Author of Internationally Published series
Dragons of Challon 

http://deborahmacgillivray.co.uk