Wiccan rituals

What are some magical spells and rituals of the Wiccans?

Samhain is most significant to Wiccan worshipers as it marks the witch’s New Year and the atmosphere is sizzling. The magic in the air is tangible on Halloween, this most sacred of nights. With the fall air crisp and clear, it’s the perfect season for a bonfire to renew the spirit.

An indoor hearth is also used, and orange and white candles are lit for the ceremony. Write all unpleasant thoughts on a piece of paper and sprinkle with sea salt. Say them aloud. Then crunch the paper in a ball and pitch it into the fire. This will renew the spirit.

Elderberry is a fruit associated with fall and Samhain, and Elderberry wine is delicious and perfect for a Wiccan Halloween. Samhain is traditionally a time for reflection of present, past and future and divination. Tarot cards and scrying are practiced at these rituals.

If a young woman stares into a pond at midnight and sees the reflection of a man, this is her future husband.

Have a Wiccan ritual to share?

Legend of Frankenstein

Why the morbid fascination with Frankenstein more than a century later?

This rather bizarre question occurred to me last night when coming across an old classic movie starring one of the most legendary monsters of our time. Since the book was written in 1818, frankenstein has been the subject of countless movies, plays and horror, not to mention the wild and outrageous at the Halloween masquerade. Who exactly was this Frankenstein and how was it created? Realizing how little I actually knew about the legend, I found myself paying close attention.

Apparently, a mad scientist set out to conduct an experiment to bring the dead back to life. After successfully resuscitating an animal, he took it to the next level when a guest in his home was said to possess the most brilliant brain in the world. So the mad scientist killed him and transplanted his flawless brain into the corpse of a criminal.

But when the dead resurrected, a monster was born. Frankenstein was out of control, stampeding through the streets on a deadly attack to mutilate innocent victims. But even when shot to death, the monster rose from the dead to kill again and again.

Thus the legend was born. Do you have a fascination with Frankenstein and if so why? Did you ever dress as him for a costume party? Tell me. HAPPY HALLOWEEN

Ghostly encounters in the land of Wales

Dressed in black, the bewitching Welsh witch Hywela Lyn snakes between mystical ponds and mountains and vales to the eerie yellow house on the sinister cliff overlooking the rising river. The spirits of black dogs yip, their daunting echo haunting in the howling wind.

Oliver steps out of the shadows and hands Lyn a glass of mead. Graciously accepting it, she recites some of the legendary superstitions.

Good morning Sharon, and thank you Oliver. 

Thank you for inviting me Sharon - it's wonderful to be here in your -er - charming house. Wales is a land full of myths and legends, and has its fair share of ghosts.  Here are just a few tales of hauntings from various parts of the Principality.

THE HAUNTING OF LLANIDLOES
There was once a lady who died but could not rest in her grave because of her misdeeds, and she haunted the locals until they could stand it no more.  Somehow they enticed her to shrink and enter into a bottle, after appearing in a good many hideous forms; but when she got into the bottle, it was corked down securely, and the bottle was cast into the pool underneath the Short bridge at Llanidloes, and there the lady was to remain until the ivy that grow up the buttresses should overgrow the sides of the bridge, and reach the parapet.  In the year 1848, the old bridge was blown up, and a new one built instead of it.

 THE GHOST OF LLANDEGLA

 A small river runs close to the secluded village of Llandegla, and in this mountain stream under a huge stone lies a wicked Ghost. This is how he came to be there:

It  not is not known why Ffrith farm was troubled by a ghost, but when the servants were busily engaged in cheese making the Spirit would suddenly throw earth or sand into the milk, and thus spoil the curds. The dairy was also visited by the ghost, and there he played havoc with the milk and dishes. He sent the pans, one after the other, around the room, and dashed them to pieces. The terrible doings of the ghost was a topic of general conversation in those parts.

The farmer offered a reward of five pounds to anyone who would lay the Spirit. One Sunday afternoon,  an aged priest visited the farm yard, and in the presence of a crowd of spectators exorcised the ghost, but without effect.

The farmer then sent for Griffiths, an Independent minister at Llanarmon, who enticed the ghost to the barn. The ghost then changed its appearance to the form of a lion, but  could not touch Griffiths, because he stood in the centre of a circle, over which the lion could not pass. Griffiths tricked the ghost  into appearing in a less formidable shape, and it changed into a mastiff, but Griffiths demanded that it change to something smaller. At last, the ghost appeared as a fly, which was captured by Griffiths and secured in his tobacco box,  This box he buried under a large stone in the river, just below the bridge, near the Llandegla Mills, and there the Spirit is forced to remain until a certain tree, which grows by the bridge, reaches the height of the parapet. When this takes place, the Spirit shall have power to regain his liberty.  To prevent this tree from growing, the school children, even to this day, nip the upper branches to limit its upward growth.

THE GHOSTLY GIANT OF PONT-Y-GLYN

There is a picturesque valley between Corwen and Cerrig-y-Drudion, down which rushes a mountain stream, and over this stream is a bridge, called Pont-y-Glyn.  On the left hand side, a few yards from the bridge, on the Corwen side, is a yawning chasm, through which the river bounds.  Here people who have travelled by night affirm that they have seen ghosts — the ghosts of those who have been murdered in this secluded glen. A man who was a servant at Garth Meilio, said that one night, when he was returning home late from Corwen, he saw before him, seated on a heap of stones, a female dressed in Welsh costume.  He wished her good night, but she returned him no answer.  She, got up and grew to gigantic proportions as she continued down the road which she filled, so great were her increased dimensions. Other Spirits are said to have made their homes in the hills not far from Pont-y-Glyn.

THE GHOST OF TY FELIN

An exciseman, overtaken by night, went to a house called Ty Felin, (Yellow House) in the parish of Llanynys, and asked for lodgings.  Unfortunately the house was a very small one, containing only two bedrooms, and one of these was haunted; consequently no one dared sleep in it.  After a while, however, the stranger induced the master to allow him to sleep in this haunted room. He had not been there long before a ghost entered the room in the shape of a travelling Jew and walked around the room.  The exciseman tried to catch him and gave chase, but he lost sight of the Jew in the yard.  He had scarcely entered the room, a second time, when he again saw the ghost.  He chased him once more and lost sight of him in the same place.  The third time he followed the ghost, he made a mark on the yard where the ghost vanished and went to rest, and was not disturbed again.

The next day, the exciseman got up early and went away, but, before long, he returned to Ty Felin accompanied by a policeman, whom he requested to dig in the place where his mark was.  This was done and underneath a superficial covering, a deep well was discovered, and in it a corpse.


Under interrogation, the tenant of the house, confessed that a travelling Jew, selling jewelry and such items, once lodged with him, and that he had murdered him and cast his body in the well.

BLACK DOGS AND ARTHUR'S SEAT
In Welsh mythology and folklore, Cŵn Annwn" hounds of Annwn") were the spectral hounds of Annwn, the otherworld of Welsh myth. They were associated with a form of the Wild Hunt, presided over by Gwynn ap Nudd. Christians came to dub these mythical creatures as "The Hounds of Hell" or "Dogs of Hell" and theorised they were therefore owned by Satan. However, the Annwn of medieval Welsh tradition is an otherworldly paradise and not a hell, or abode of dead souls.
They were associated with migrating geese, supposedly because their honking in the night is reminiscent of barking dogs. The Cŵn Annwn also came to be regarded as the escorts of souls on their journey to the Otherworld.


The hounds are sometimes accompanied by a fearsome hag called Mallt-y-Nos, "Matilda of the Night". An alternative name in Welsh folklore is Cŵn Mamau ("Hounds of the Mothers").


Hunting grounds for the Cŵn Annwn are said to include the mountain of  Cadair Idris, where it is believed "the howling of these huge dogs foretold death to anyone who heard them.The locals claim that the mountain is haunted, and that anyone who spends the night on top of Cadair Idris will wake up either a madman or a poet. Different legends surround the mountain and one of the earliest claims that the giant Idris lived there. Three large stones rest at the foot of the mountain, and legend says that Idris got angry once and kicked them, sending them rolling down the mountainside.  

Other Welsh legends state, however, that Arthur made his kingdom there, hence the name Cadair Idris: or the Seat of Idris.

Pwll-y-Wrach, the Witches Pool.

There is a pool hidden from the road among a copse on the top of Flint Mountain, in Flint North Wales. The pool is so small that travellers from Flint to Northop would not give it a second glance. But this was not always so. In days gone by Flint Mountain was a bare and desolate place and the pool was known as Pwll-y-Wrach, the Hag's Pool or the Witches Pool, the place where the ellyllon (as the Welsh call fairies or goblins) would congregate, and thus a place where humans would stay well clear of, especially after dark.


In 1852 John Roberts a farm labourer paid an unexpected visit to Pwll-y-Wrach. It was a cold winter's  morning and John was setting out to work when he found a youth blocking his path. With a harmless gesture he made to pass the youth but all of a sudden a force propelled him through the air. He landed face down above Pwll-y-Wrach, and the force held him there despite John's best efforts to free himself. He struggled for what seemed a lifetime, but in fact was just a few short minutes, until at the sound of a cock crow he was released. The ellyll, still disguised as a youth, stood astride him and warned. " When the cuckoo sings it's first note on Flint Mountain I shall come again to fetch you".


John got to his feet and stumbled back home, shaken but otherwise unhurt.


The following May John Roberts died. He had been repairing a wall at Pen-y-glyn on Flint Mountain when it collapsed and crushed him. A lady who witnessed the accident said a cuckoo had come to land on a nearby tree just as it happened. And when the body of John Roberts was being returned to his home the cuckoo had followed, singing from tree to tree all the way to the front door.

To finish off I thought I'd read you a short excerpt from my Story 'Dancing With Fate' about the Greek muse Terpsichore who is sent to 5th Century Wales and meet up with the mysterious Myrddin.  This is her encounter with the demonic 'Ellylldan' or fiere goblins.

The sparks of light appeared a few hours before dawn. Terpsichore looked across to where she could just make out Myrddin, lying close to the fire, apparently asleep. She stood and wrapped her brat around her shoulders. What unearthly lights were these? In the name of Hades, she had never seen anything like this before. She watched them, swooping and dancing. They seemed to beckon to her. She walked forward a few steps. This was not natural. She sensed evil, but of a kind she had never come across before. 

She tried to turn her head, to look away and move back to the fire. Some force compelled her to keep staring at them, to move forward. Further and further from the campfire she wandered. The air grew chill and she pulled her brat more closely around her. The flickering lights gyrated in a wild dance, inviting her to follow them. Dawn was approaching. In the dim early morning light, she could make out demon faces, with glowing eyes, hands outstretched, and flames at their fingertips. 

 

She recoiled in horror. Somewhere in her subconscious, she knew she was in deadly danger, but still she moved forward. They summoned her to follow and she could not help but obey. She tried to call to Apollo, and her father, but her mind was numb. She could reach no one on Olympus. "Myrddin!" No sound came from her lips. Still, a strange unearthly power obliged her to walk forward toward those eerie, mesmerising points of light. The ground grew soft beneath her feet. Cold mud oozed between her bare toes. The further she walked, the deeper the mud became; eventually, she realized she was up to her waist in chill, muddy water, and she was powerless to turn back, or even to move any more. 

Zeus, oh, Father, please help me...don't desert me now. For the first time in her eternal life, she knew fear. These creatures of nameless evil had her trapped. They would drag her down to the underworld and she would never see Olympus or her family again. 

Then strong arms encircled her, swung her round. "Cora, look at me."

She gazed into two pools of azure blue, filled with concern, and a pale face set in resolve. Still she had an irresistible urge to look at those weird, flickering lights. She turned her head, and at the same moment, there was a flash likelightning. The ground behind her burst into a wall of blue flame. It blotted out everything, engulfing the demonic lights and the hideous forms that a moment before had lured her onward. 

STARQUEST: AVAILABLE HERE

CHILDREN OF THE MIST - AVAILABLE HERE

DANCING WITH FATE: AVAILABLE HERE

LYN'S BLOG

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PARANORMAL TALE WITH VICTORIA RODDER

Oliver watches through gleaming eyes as Victoria Rodder winds her way up the path to the haunted mansion, garbed in her blood-stained nightgown. Blood glistens under the glow of a hunter’s moon. A coyote howls, its piercing yip cutting through the night.

The candles flicker as Victoria takes a seat in the parlor and stares into the house across the lane. WHY?

Oliver’s laughter bubbles from deep in his throat. "Allow Vicky to explain while I muster up some refreshments."

            What can cause the hair on your arms to rise?  Is it a sense of being watched? Seeing a shadow out of the corner of your eye?  Perhaps, it’s a sound that shouldn’t be there but is.   A residual haunt is a continual playback of a past event.  The ghost will repeat an action over and over, but not interact with people.  An intelligent haunt is a ghost that can attempt to communicate or interact with us.

 

My paranormal romance, The Dream House Visions and Nightmares received the highest rating of BEST BOOK on The Long and Short of it Reviews.  It is a murder mystery wrapped in a paranormal ghost story.  Recurring dreams of a house Hope Graham's family rented when she was a child, taunt her nights with images of a woman in a bloody nightgown pleading for help.  Dream sequences of children metamorphosing into rats, blood spewing out of windows, and walking across decaying bones, foretell of sins of the past and forewarn of danger in the present.  In an attempt to end the agony of her sleep deprivation, Hope travels to her hometown...only to discover that the truth can be more frightening than a nightmare.

*The main character Hope Graham is sitting in a living room watching the house across the street.

The house instantly transformed.

Instead of the deserted, falling down state, it had a fresh coat of white paint and the groomed lawn held children’s toys.  Riveted I watched a red ball roll off the intact porch, bounce down the steps and continue down the sidewalk, depositing red blotches in its wake.  Tearing my eyes away from the ball, I glanced back at the house.

Before my eyes it reverted to total dilapidation, but the vision didn’t end.  The frame that had once held the downstairs bedroom window began to fill with a red liquid.  I soon realized it was blood.  The blood oozed out of the window frame onto the weathered boards and ran down to the now neglected grass.  Terror filled me and I lifted my feet off the floor.  Fear that the blood would flow into Ida’s house to drown me irrationally gripped me.

    

The Dream House Visions and Nightmares is available at http://www.asylettpress.com/ and also at Amazon http://www.amazon.com/Dream-House-Visions-Nightmares/dp/1934337641/ref=pd_rhf_p_t_2

My published work includes a paranormal romance novel, The Dream House: Visions and Nightmares Asylett Press July 2009, a mystery suspense, Bolt Action, Champagne Books April 2010, short stories A Gift Among Sisters appeared in Chicken Soup for the Coffee Lover’s Soul, and Why I Believe In Angels appeared in A Cup of Comfort for Adoptive Families.   My picture book, What if a Zebra had Triangles? will be published by Vinspire Publishing, and I just received a contract for my children’s book, The Curse of King Ramesses II from Wild Child Publishing.  I have had several articles published in REAL Canadian Kids Magazine, Guide Magazine, Pockets Magazine, Farm Life Magazine, Lifelines, One Way Street, and The Highground.

Linda Morris tells a spooky tale

From deep in the woods, a coyote howls, its wail befittingly foreboding as linda Morris scurries up the steps to the haunted mansion. oliver opens the door, . "I Put a Spell on You," from Screamin' Jay Hawkins blasts off the wall. In the parlor, Oliver serves coffee, tortilla chips and salsa while Linda tells a spooky tale.

Lara Crosby left Chicago when her career as a big-time political fundraiser went sour. Determined to put the past behind her, she envisions a peaceful new life at her cabin in northern Minnesota. Everything changes on a dark night when a mysterious stranger suffers an accident outside her cabin.

Jacob Sumner awakens in the wilderness after a car accident with no idea who he is or why he is there. Lara is beautiful and kind, but she's a world away from the gritty world where he makes his living as a private investigator . . . or is she?

Excerpt:

Tipped violently forward with the engine still running, its rear wheels spinning in mid-air, was a wrecked SUV. Its front end was crumpled and its windshield spider-webbed with cracks. The vehicle didn't belong to anyone she knew. Lara flicked on her flashlight again and surveyed the damage. It was no mystery why the SUV had crashed. Weakened by the heavy rains, the driveway had crumbled away on the lake side for a distance of at least twenty feet. Under the front bumper, an electrical pole lay in pieces. The driveway was unlit and treacherous at night. In the dark, the stranger must have swerved to avoid the washout and taken out the electrical pole instead. That explained the power outage. Wanting to help, but still leery of a possible intruder, not to mention the downed power lines, Lara moved warily around to the driver's side. She pointed the beam of her light through the windshield and caught a glimpse of a figure slumped over the steering wheel. Lara pulled the driver's side door open and blinked in the sudden brightness as the SUV's dome light came on. The driver, a man, was the only passenger in the vehicle. She got only a quick impression of thick dark hair and a lean body before she saw the blood. "Dear God," she whispered. Blood flowed copiously from the injury to his head. She reached out to touch his arm, for what purpose, she wasn't sure. Was she going to shake him awake, or check for injuries? "Get away." He lifted his head. His eyes opened, green and shockingly alert for a man who had appeared to be unconscious moments before, as he turned to capture her gaze.

Bio:

I've taken a somewhat winding road to becoming a professional writer. I've worked in the airline industry, publishing industry, and as a freelance writer/editor in the technology field. I live in central Indiana with my husband and young son. My first novel, a romantic suspense called Forget-Me-Not, is forthcoming from the Wild Rose Press.

Where my book can be purchased:

Forget-Me-Not will be released on Feb. 18, 2011, and will be available for purchase at www.amazon.com and www.thewildrosepress.com.

Susan Whitfield visits the haunted mansion

The solid oak door to the haunted mansion creaks as Oliver greets Susan Whitfield and escorts her into the parlor. “I’m Your Boogie Man” by White Zombie plays from hidden wall speakers. With a roguish wink, Oliver hands Susan a Bloody Mary. Before long, Susan’s voice rises over the music.

Blurb:  “In the backwoods of North Carolina, sinister secrets abound.”

“Hell Swamp…has Agent Hunter running full speed into a swamp full of snakes of both kinds, those that slither and those that walk upright. Although tough and well-trained, she’s thwarted and attacked in this Carolina Low Country tale of greed and misguided deeds. Fasten your seat belts for this fast-paced read.”

Excerpt from Hell Swamp:

The worship service for The Church of God with Signs Following was unlike any service I’d ever attended. It was certainly not like the Southern Baptist Church of my childhood. It began with a rowdy piano and tambourines. Then folks jumped up and started clapping and hollering. Those who had gone through the side doors on the porch were now literally hanging over the balcony ledges on either side of the principal pews. I sat still and observed the spirit moving in them. At least, I figured that was what was going on.

Once the song ended, people settled back on the pews and Preacher Hawfield stood up with gusto he’d found somewhere during the tambourine episode and quoted scripture. I was impressed, at first, that he held no Bible, no notes. Had he memorized his message? Surprisingly his eyes rolled back in his head and he started saying things I couldn’t understand, getting louder with each breath and more animated as he continued. I’d heard about some churches in Tennesse, Georgia, andWest Virginia, where people spoke in tongues, but I’d never witnessed it, and didn’t know the practice existed in this part of North Carolina.

Preacher Hawfield got downright boisterous and so did the congregation. People in the balcony were again leaning over too far. I was expecting someone to fall over and land on the first floor. It was unnerving. I looked around for a friendly face. My eyes locked on Magnolia in the back row, and she smiled and nodded at me. Had she picked up on my uneasiness?

“My people, let the Spirit move in you. Let it anoint you. Give over to it!” The preacher was creating what I’d call a disturbance anywhere else, but everyone was buying it. The building appeared to tremble from the ever-increasing racket. My Southern Baptist roots were coming undone, but my SBI curiosity was revved.

I heard a commotion and turned my attention to the front of the church just in time to see Rose Paul Hill get up and start dancing toward the preacher as the music became more erotic than religious. People were bumping and grinding in the pews with hands raised, yelling out all sorts of words I didn’t recognize. I leaned around a giant of a man to keep my eyes on Rose Hill. Why was she going to the front? And why was this old lady thrashing and twisting her body like a belly dancer?

“Sister Rose Paul Hill has come. Let’s pray that she is anointed, my brothers and sisters.”

I jerked nervously as everyone started to look up and pray, each prayer loud and different. The prayers reached fever pitch while the preacher handed Rose a vial, which she held up and poured down her throat. The service crescendoed as Rose Paul Hill let out a yell louder than anyone in the church. I was on my feet, not able to take my eyes off her. All of a sudden her loose false teeth bounced out of her mouth and across the floor, breaking into several pieces. The room became instantly and frighteningly quiet.
Rose fell to the floor; nobody tried to catch her. I worked my way to the end of the pew and ran to the front. The preacher at first seemed delighted that the Spirit moved me — until I stopped and knelt beside Rose.

“What did you drink, Rose?”

“Strychnine.”

“That’s poison!”
“I’m anointed, child. It won’t kill me.” Rose Paul’s unconvincing voice grew weak. I glanced over at her broken dentures, wondering if the dental bill would finish her off. I saw movement under the front pew and blinked several times. My eyes were clear and focused, and, more than likely, outside their sockets.

“Holy Shit!” I yelled out, snatching a raggedy old toupee off a man’s head as he let out a yelp. I threw it at the snake, hoping he’d think it was a weak animal he could overpower. It didn’t work. The humongous snake, thicker than my upper arm, came straight toward me. I could see his beady eyes under the hairpiece as he moved swiftly across the wood floor. Grabbing the Glock from under my jacket, I aimed and shot the rattlesnake twice.
“She’s got a gun!”
People screamed and stampeded for the doors. The preacher and some of the men jumped me, wrestled the gun away, and pinned me to the wood floor. Somebody lifted Rose away from the ruckus.

“What are you doing?"

"A snake…under that pew. I killed it for you.”
Preacher Hawfield shrieked into my face, “You imbecile! That snake and all the others are for this worship service!

All the others?
BIO:         

Susan Whitfield has lived in North Carolina since the day she was born. She is the author of the Logan Hunter Mystery series and a cookbook entitled Killer Recipes. Sin Creek, the fourth novel in the series, is due at year’s end. Her current project is a stand-alone, tentatively entitled The Goose Parade of Old Dickeywood. Whitfield is a Pirate, having earned three degrees from East Carolina University. She is married and has two sons.
http://www.susanwhitfieldonline.com/

Anne Patrick visits the haunted mansion

The torch-lit lanterns in the courtyard cast an eerie shadow on Anne Patrick as she scurries up the creaky steps to the haunted mansion. A werewolf howls beneath the full moon as she gongs the bell. Oliver stands there grinning, his fangs gleaming as he escorts Anne to the parlor where Sharon waits.

The Theme to the original Halloween movie plays in the background as Oliver serves bloody red Hawaiian punch  – and Candy corn and Carmel apples

Whatever Oliver put in the cocktail has Anne howling about her new release…

blurb and excerpt from scary book – from her Nov release Sabotage.

District Judge Katie McKinley takes her career very seriously.  No one knows that better than her old childhood friend and first love, Graham Bishop.  Her ruling cost him his family’s ranch.  So it’s no surprise when an attempt is made on her life that the sheriff turns his suspicions to Graham.

Katie feels horrible knowing what her ruling cost her old friend, and knows his outburst in her courtroom gave the sheriff every right to suspect him.  But the Graham Bishop she grew up with would never harm her.  Even when all the evidence points to him she refuses to believe it.  Could she be wrong? 

Excerpt:

Katie was unnerved by the fact that the sheriff had moved on with the investigation in spite of her wish to drop it. But what bothered her more was that he'd shown the notes to Graham. The more she thought about it, the more it seemed unlikely that Graham Bishop had anything to do with them. Her suspicions lay more with Scott Tillman, or someone in his family. The sheriff was correct in his assumption of their hatred for her family.

"I'm sorry for any inconvenience the sheriff may have caused you. I was under the impression when I left his office this morning the matter was going to be forgotten."

"So you don't think I sent the notes?"

"Look, Mr. Bishop, I've already apologized to you, and I can assure you the sheriff won't bother you again. Now if that's all, I'm late for a luncheon appointment." She stood, grabbed her purse, and started around her desk.

"You didn't answer my question, Katie." He stepped forward so that they stood only inches apart.

She gasped in alarm, his glare prompting her to step back behind her desk. The beating of her heart echoed in her ears. "You called me an egotistical little snob in my courtroom," she reminded him. Over a year later, his words still stuck in her like a thorn.

He gave a low chuckle, and the lines beside his eyes multiplied. "You are a snob, or at least you were in high school. That doesn't mean I wish you any harm."

Leaning against her desk, he folded his arms across his chest, his brown eyes leveled on her. "Look, I was mad. Yes. And I admit that if I'd been able to reach your bench that day without getting a bullet in my back, I may have been tempted to wring that pretty little neck of yours. But I don't hold grudges, Katie. Life's too short for that. Besides, if I did hold a grudge, it'd be for you pretending not to like me in high school when I knew good and well that you did."

Her heart skipped a beat. "We're not in high school anymore."

"I'm well aware of that, Katie."

"This conversation is over, Mr. Bishop. Either leave my chambers, or I'll be forced to call security." The voice of authority she used in the courtroom sounded weak and shaky now. She knew deep down the man who stood before her would never intentionally hurt her, but since she'd received the third note yesterday, her nerves were a tattered mess.

"First you throw me out of your courtroom, and now you're throwing me out of your chambers."

His smirk prompted her anger to deepen. She wasn't sure which bothered her more, his pompous attitude or the fact that he could still draw a reaction from her after all these years.

"Listen, Katie..." He moved toward her again.

Not understanding why he wouldn't go, she backed up, almost tripping over the leg of her chair. "Please -- please leave."

"Fine, I'll go. But be careful, Katie. You may not want to admit it, but I think we both know who's responsible for those notes." 

K M Daughters in the haunted manor

Hello and welcome to more of my  bewitching Halloween Blog. For today’s pleasure, Oliver and I are pleased to have the amazing K.M. Daughters in the haunted mansion. And who be knocking at my chamber door? Why, its none other than Pat and Kathie. Oliver, do be a gentlemanly vampire and let them in.

Sharon smiles and greets the sisters.  With a roguish wink, Oliver presents refreshments as the team tell us about CAPTURING KARMA.

Blurb from Capturing Karma

 Veterinarian Matty Connors’ visions lead her to homicide detective Brian Sullivanonce again, despite her resolve to remain anonymous the past four years.  Her official work with the police in California resulted in the brutal murder of her fiancé, and since, a recurrent nightmare she barely survives. Brian, the reputed ladies man of the Sullivan family, has yet to give his heart to a woman until Matty lays claim to it.  His black and-whiteapproach to solving crimes doesn’t jibe with Matty’s spooky pronouncements or her reputation foralleged infallibility.

A wild goose chase searching for a murder weapon casts doubt on Matty’s “truths” and threatens

their smoldering romance.  Is Brian her nightmare slayer and ultimate truth? When the puzzle pieces fall in place for Brian, will it be too late to save Matty?

Excerpt:

            “Hi,” he said, a single syllable that touched off a concussion of illogical pleasure inside her.

    
    “Hi, Brian,” she responded, tamping down the temptation to hug him hello. “How’s the new baby doing?”

         “Great, thanks.  How’s that bump on your head?”

   Matilda touched an edge of one of the butterfly strips over her eyebrow.“Turning every color of the rainbow, but it’s fine.”

He swiveled his head toward the throaty bark of the wolfhound in the corner of the room, then scanned the other occupants in the lounge: primate, feline, porcine, wolfish and human.  “Steve told me you’re a great vet.   Looks like you’re pretty swamped here.”

      “Shamus and I split the patient load,” she said.

     “And Shamus is?”

      “My brother.  He came for me at the hospital yesterday?”

  
      Brian’s eyes bored into her, a sexy smile twitched the corner of hislips.  “Good.”

 
      “And ‘good’ means?”

 
      “The big guy isn’t competition.  That’s good.”

      “Ah.  So we’re clear.  What competition would that be?”

  
      The sexy smile twitched again.  “For but a smile from sweet Matty,” he lilted in an Irish brogue.

 
     Squelching an impulse to grin, she molded her face serious and parroted a brogue, “Ah but woe to the knave who plies smiles with an untrue heart.”

     She grinned now.  “What can I do for you, Brian?  Did you get an estimate to repair your car?”

 
     “It’s about that letter you brought me. It’s related to a case.  We need your help.”

 
     Of course. “I gave you the letter.  You know as much as I do."  Her heart hammered, nothing

to do with the pulse acceleration from earlier flirtation. I can’t go further with this case.  No matter what I have to stay anonymous.

Bio:

K.M. Daughters is the award winning writing team of sisters, Pat Casiello and KathieClare. Their penname is dedicated to the memory of their parents: Kay and Mickey Lynch. “The Daughters” are wives, mothers, and grandmothers. Kathie lives in northern New Jersey and Pat lives in the Chicago suburbs.

In addition to their Sullivan Boys romantic suspense series, published by The Wild Rose Press,
K.M. Daughters writes inspirational romance published by White Rose Publishing.

Reviews for Capturing Karma:

“K.M. Daughters writes with a deft hand.  Get ready for another fabulous Sullivan story.”
NY Times Bestselling Author, Brenda Novak

 "Compelling, Page Turner…" RT Book Reviews

"The author writes with such a warm, flowing style, it's like visiting old friends. You'll want to see what happens next, and hope for only the best for these friends."

Cindy Himler, RT Book Reviews

 “Daughters created a fantastic read and I am looking forward to read other works by this author!”

Night Owl Romance Top Pick: 4.5 Stars 

“…what an outstanding installment to a spectacular series.” The Book Connection

"CAPTURING KARMA: The Sullivan Boys, Book Three is as cleverly entertaining as KISSTHE GIRLS, and as thrilling as ALONG CAME A SPIDER, with Morgan Freeman.”

 Geri Ahearn's Book Reviews

WEBSITE:

http://www.kmdaughters.com

Buy Link for Capturing Karma on Amazon:

http://tinyurl.com/2g3ulgz

Also available at thewildrosepress.com, barnesandnoble.com. Borders.com or via order

(paperback) at local book stores

For Romantic Suspense Readers:

CAPTURING KARMA, Book #3, Sullivan Boys Series -

RELEASING DECEMBER 10TH, 2010!  Book #4 – ALL’S FAIR IN LOVE AND LAW

For Inspirational Romance Readers:

ROSE OF THE ADRIATIC
PURCHASE LINK

HALLOWEEN BLOG

The sound of thriller vibrates off the walls of the haunted mansion as vampire Oliver appears in the flickering candlelight. Sharon grins and accepts a bloody mary.

Welcome back my friends to my Halloween blog. Today I am featuring an excerpt from HER BIGGEST FAN where a mysterious ball of fire appears on a hill at midnight.

This story was inspired by my mother. She grew up in a small coal mining town where a ball of fire rolled down a hill every night at midnight. while the mystery was never solved, the legend lived on and a story blossomed in my head. Enjoy.

When she entered the loft filled with shadows, she gasped. seeing her father‘s vintage phones in the light of day was one thing, but seeing them in dim light was rather jarring. the one on the desk was a tombstone, the receiver a glowing skull, a grin on its fleshless face.

Just as Tess was about to call Mike, she looked up at the hill. The entire mountainside was ablaze with flames, a ball of fire coming straight for the mansion.

HER BIGGEST FAN

AVAILABLE NOW

THE WILD ROSE PRESS

www.thewildrosepress.com

Welcome back Sharon!

Oliver is so happy he can hardly keep still.  

His beloved Sharon is back!  She might not be as active as she 'd like to be, but she's back with us and has been sending messages to her many friends.

Oliver's brought out the champagne and roses!

Welcome back Sharon, you've been missed so much!

(You can have your Blog back now, LOL!)                                                          (Posted by Hywela Lyn)