Installment #3 is posted!

Allison is now at the castle and facing four sword-wielding men. You'll find the story on the new blog.
http://kathleenmaciver.com/blog/index.php/2008/12/installment-3/

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Installment #2 is posted!

Again, I've moved my blog, so you'll find the new installment on the new blog.

http://kathleenmaciver.com/blog/index.php/2008/11/installment-2/

Moving Blog/Happy Thanksgiving!

First... I've moved my blog from blogger onto my website, so the new location is:
http://www.KathleenMacIver.com/blog

If you're reading this through a feed reader, please update your subscription to:
http://kathleenmaciver.com/blog/index.php/feed/

Finally, in-between cooking pies and desserts, I'm working on the next installment for Allison and Gabe's story. So the installment will be waiting for over on the new blog when you're finished with your Black Friday shopping.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Help me write a story!

In the Highlands of Scotland…

. . . Allison Tyler fingered the class ring around her neck as she gazed at Duncarragh. The castle rose up from a huge rock on the banks of the Loch Rhoswen, a silent testimony to times long gone.
. . . A lot must have happened in and around the castle’s walls over the centuries, she supposed. But none of that interested her all that much. She only wanted to know if those silent walls had witnessed one particular event. An event that hadn’t been explained in the six years since it had happened.
. . . If only walls could talk….
. . . She sighed and turned away.
. . . “Allison, dearie! Will you be wanting your breakfast now?”
. . . She looked up to find the keeper of this funny little inn beaming at her, a spatula in one hand and a towel in the other, as usual.
. . . She smiled. “Yes, Mrs. Murchieson. I’m coming.”
. . . The old woman nodded approvingly and led the way into the kitchen. “What will you do now?” she asked as she laid the plates on the table.
. . . Allison sat down and studied her toast. What should she do? Quite honestly? She didn't know. Her only idea had failed miserably. But perhaps that wasn’t too surprising. She would never have known that Gabe had planned on visiting this place if she hadn’t found that letter last month.
. . . “Well?”
. . . She looked up. “Huh?”
. . . “What will you do now?” Mrs. Murchieson repeated.
. . . “Oh!” She hesitated. “I…uh…don’t know.”
. . . The innkeeper helped herself to a seat at the table and a slice of toast. “How about this,” she said. “You tell me what you’re trying to do, and I’ll see if I can’t give you a few ideas.”
. . . Allison shrugged. Why not? The inn was Gossip Central. Who knew what Mrs. Murchieson might have heard.

_________________________________________________

I've moved my blog, including the rest of the story, off of Blogger and onto my own website. You'll find the rest of this post and the comments here:
http://KathleenMacIver.com/blog

A gift certificate giveaway...

Does free money for books sound good?

I hope so, because I've decided to hold a small contest when my story is released. The prize? A $25 gift card for Borders?

So... as I work on edits, I'll also be working on a website update to announce this and host it. (Yes, I'm a website designer, too.) It'll be announced here on this blog, so stay tuned!

And if you want to make sure you don't miss it, use the links over there on the right to either subscribe to this blog through email or through the preferred reader of your choice.

"When Time Stands Still" is sold!

A short while ago, I learned that an epublisher, Freya's Bower, was thinking about launching a "sweet" line of romance stories. They were looking for writers who were interested in contributing to an anthology to possibly launch this.

(Two quick definitions for those those who might not be familiar with publishing terms.

"Sweet" romance means more traditional romance, where there is either no sleeping together, or if so, it's behind closed doors. My stories all fall under this category.

Epublishers are publishers who primarily offer their books in electronic format. In other words, you read them on e-readers or on your computer, cell phone, and anything else which can display a PDF document. E-books are quickly growing in popularity, sales, and numbers every month.)

Anyway, I decided that it might be fun to take the challenge... and I'm happy to announce that my story was accepted!

"When Time Stands Still" will be part of this anthology titled One Glance, One Touch, which is scheduled to be available as an e-book before the end of the year.

I will post a link when it's released. In the meantime, feel free to read the first two and a half pages, which are on last week's blog post here.

(And thank you to everyone who emailed me, saying that you'd love to read the rest of the story!)

A new beginning...

Here's the first few paragraphs to a new short story I'm working on. I'm curious to know whether it is enough to interest anyone in the story...

______________________________________________________


. . . Mathew Garlinn sat on a stone wall under a sign that read Alec MacCoinneach, Swordsmith, and wondered that he found himself where he was.
. . . He was, of course, outside the shop because the door was locked and his key inside. But even that wouldn’t have stopped him a few years ago. As it was, only his determination not to fall back into his old ways kept him from undoing the quite easy-to-pick lock that guarded the back door.
. . . No, what he found ironic was that he was not in the good old USA, not in a city, and not using either his wits or his taekwando skills to make a living. Instead, he was in the Scottish Highlands, staying in a village no bigger than one LA neighborhood, and learning the ancient art of swordsmithing. Definitely not where he thought he’d end up.
. . . What surprised him most was how he liked the life here. The mountains were harsh and unyielding, but beautiful. The people were friendly.
. . . And then there was her. The woman whose song haunted his dreams. Whose face had placed her in danger he’d been privileged to rescue her from. Who'd fled when he asked for her name.
. . . Maybe tonight, if he hung around the grocery store long enough, she’d come back, and he’d see her again.
. . . If his boss would show up so they could start the day’s work early enough to finish before the store closed.
. . . He glanced at his watched and wondered what had happened. Alec was the kind of guy you could depend on. Not the kind of boss to tell you to be at the shop at eleven to start work on a new sword, and then leave you sitting outside on a stone wall for an hour.
. . . He got out his knife and whittled on a piece of wood. He walked half a mile down the road and back again. He weeded the tiny flower bed.
. . . Then he gave up. He was going to open that back door. It wasn’t like he was breaking in. He had been given a key, and Alec probably assumed he’d been smart enough to put it on his keychain.
. . . He hopped off the wall, wiped his hands on his jeans, and sauntered around back. It took him longer than it should have, but finally the latch gave way. He permitted himself a small smile and started to open the door.
. . . Then suddenly, he found an arm around his neck and his own arm pinned behind him.
. . . “Thief!”
. . . The words were muttered in his ear, but he didn’t bother to stop and explain himself. That wasn’t Alec’s voice, and no one else had the right to tackle him here.
. . . He shifted his weight, spun, and found himself surprised when his assailant didn’t land unceremoniously on the ground.
. . . Two seconds later, he realized that whoever this guy was, he knew taekwando as well. And was quite good at it.
. . . He opted for a few moves that fell under the street fighting category, and still found himself equally matched.
. . . Then he found a sword at his throat.
. . . He froze.
. . . Yes, this was a sword smith shop, and there were dozens of swords inside. But that didn’t explain why the guy holding the other end of this one looked so comfortable pointing it at people. No doubt he knew how to do other things with it as well. Things that he, Matthew, should obviously have learned before now.
. . . “What are you doing?” the man demanded. “Trying to—”
. . . “Tristan!” The command exploded from around the corner of the building, and Matthew sighed in relief as Alec appeared. “That’s Matthew, my apprentice!”
. . . The sword dropped, and the guy named Tristan took a step backward.
. . . “What’s going on, Matthew?” Alec asked.
. . . “I left my key inside.”
. . . Alec glanced to the open door, and his eyebrows went up.
...


Anyone interested in more?