Oliver Presents Hywela Lyn

A full moon glints through the barren branches of the trees in the haunted cemetery. On Hallow’s Eve, the spookiest night of the year, she rises from the coffin in search of her missing jewels. Tormented shrieks ring through the cemetery.  Shrouded in a long, flowing gown, she drifts toward the mansion where she once lived. Passing the pet cemetery adjacent to the family graveyard where centuries of horses are buried, a colony of screech owls peer down from the willowy branches, green eyes glowing in the dark. Scurrying up the thickly wooded path to the mansion, the sound of ghostly hooves galloping past echo her footsteps. 

Wandering up the stone steps, she walks straight through the closed mahogany door. Oliver stands in the corridor, holding a strange looking candlestick. He bows and bids the striking woman a good evening. She doesn’t answer but  drifts into the parlor as if she didn’t see him. Oliver thinks it strange but follows her and finds her seated on the deep purple settee. Long tapers flicker on the coffin table, casting an eerie glow on silver goblets of mead. Staring accusingly at Oliver, the woman holds up a ruby necklace.

When the screech owls shriek, Oliver announces his guest.

Good Evening. With great pleasure, I present the one and only Hywela Lyn. She has risen on this most sacred of nights to tell a ghostly tale, followed by an excerpt of her latest book. He kisses her on both cheeks and presents her with a goblet of mead. Take it away, my lovely.

Nanteos Mansion

THE GHOSTS OF NANTEOS
One of my favourite places is Nanteos Mansion, near where I used to live in Wales. The name means 'Valley of the Nightingale'. I used to keep my horses at the stables and spent many a happy hour soaking up the atmosphere of this historic house, built in 1738.The Mansion has its share of ghosts and an interesting history. Late at night the stables would ring with unearthly screeches, like souls in torment. Actually it was nothing more sinister than a colony of screech owls nesting nearby. (Or so I was told.)

A short distance from the house itself is a little copse used to bury the Powell family’s pets. Some of the inscriptions are quite touching and the owner of the stables, which, when I was there, had been sold as a separate entity from the Mansion, swore he’d heard ghostly hooves galloping past, late at night.

Many legends name Nanteos as the one-time resting place of the Holy Grail, the chalice that Jesus and his disciples are believed to have drunk from at the Last Supper. The cup, known as ‘the Nanteos Cup’ was apparently brought back from the Middle East in AD 63 by Joseph of Arimathea, who settled at Glastonbury Monastery in the west of England. When the monastery was dissolved in 1539, a number of monks fled with the Holy Grail to Strata Florida Abbey, in the Aberystwyth area, and from there to Nanteos, where the cup passed into the hands of the Powell family. The Grail was famous for its supposed healing powers, and water poured from it was highly sought after as a cure for various diseases.

I’ve actually seen the ‘grail’, or what was left of it The owner of the house (and the cup) a Major Merrilees, eventually moved to Herefordshire, taking the Nanteos Cup with him. It is understood that it currently resides in a bank vault somewhere. It is a small wooden vessel (5″ diameter, 3″ deep) in a very poor state today, due to pilgrims’ biting large chunks out of it, over the years, in order to aid recovery from their ills. Although the Holy Cup is not at Nanteos anymore, there are still ghosts to be found in the many rooms of the mansion.

The old stables at Nanteos

Horses and voices were heard in the stable yard at Nanteos on two consecutive nights at about 4.00am, but as soon as the listener peered into the yard the noise abruptly stopped. (The picture above is the arched entrance to the cobbled stable yard.)


One of the ghosts said to haunt the mansion is the spirit of Elizabeth Powell, the late wife of William Powell, who wanders the hallways looking for her lost jewellery. The story goes that her husband William Powell dearly loved her and showered her with jewels. She could not bear to be parted from her treasured jewellery and dreaded to think what would happen to them after her death. Knowing that she was dying, she rose from her death-bed and hid her jewels. Later that night she died. Today her ghost, shrouded in a long flowing gown, still wanders like a lost soul searching for her hidden jewels. It is said she will haunt anyone that dares look for her treasure.

Parties were often held at Nanteos. One evening the house was full of guests, an army officer present went to dress for dinner. Climbing the stairs to his room he met a striking woman in evening dress, holding a strange looking candle stick. Thinking she was one of the guests he bowed and bade her good evening. The lady did not answer but carried on down the stairs as if she had not seen him. He thought it strange but continued up to his room. 

On returning to the party he gazed around looking for the lady. Eventually he asked if anyone has seen this woman. Immediately, he was taken to one side and told never to speak of the lady with the candle stick or there would be a death in the family. That night, the Lord of Nanteos died... and the strange candle the lady had carried was found a week later in a dusty shelf in a corner of the Silver Vault Room.

A phantom horse and carriage is also said to pull up to the front entrance in the middle of the as a forewarning of a death.

The most eerie sighting was from the front door, and was that of what was thought to be smoke in the inner hall. The witness stared in disbelief as the smoke transformed in a figure dressed in a long flowing dress. She began coming towards the front door, terrifying the onlooker so much that he ran to Aberystwyth, not daring to look back.

The highlight for 69 Christmases at Nanteos, was Gruffydd Evans's beautiful harp playing every year in the Music Room. He was a relative of the Powell family and lived to a grand age of 92. He is buried at Llanbadarn Fawr a small village near Aberystwyth. On a still, peaceful night he can be heard playing his beloved harp deep in the Nanteos wood.

My favourite story is a rather sad one. One of the windows on the bottom storey has been boarded up for many, many years. The story goes that the lady of the house was watching her husband ride up the drive towards her, when the horse spooked and threw him, killing him instantly. She could not bear to look out of that window again and ordered it to be boarded over and so it remains to this day. She mourned for him the rest of her life and they say his ghost still rides up the drive at night. I like to think she rides with him now.

I have just re-released my story about Terpsichore, the Greek Muse of Dance.  It's actually quite a light fantasy tale, but it has its dark moments, like this one, which features the 'Ellylldan' nasty little goblin like creatures of Welsh folklore.

EXCERPT FROM DANCING WITH FATE

The glowing red sparks 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 as they advanced and retreated, advanced and retreated. 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, red glowing eyes, hands outstretched, with 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, mesmerizing 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 like lightning. The ground behind her burst into a wall of blue flame. It blotted out everything, engulfing the demon lights and the hideous forms that a moment before had lured her onward.

“Look at me. Look at me...don’t look back again.”

     

Before she could reply, he swept her up and carried her back toward the campfire.

Eos in her chariot had started her journey across the sky and the pearly light showed their camp and the two horses grazing nearby. Never had anything looked so welcome. Never had Terpsichore felt so safe in a man’s arms. 

Available from Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/53249

Also available from Amazon in Kindle Version

http://www.amazon.com/DANCING-WITH-FATE-ebook/dp/B005MGU31I/ref=sr_1_1_title_1_ke?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1319580185&sr=1-1 

and in Print

http://www.amazon.com/Dancing-Fate-Hywela-Lyn/dp/1463500556/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1319580185&sr=1-1

Hywela Lyn lives in a small village in England, with her long suffering husband Dave,  although her heart remains in her native rural Wales, which inspired so much of her writing.

A keen animal lover, she has two horses. a rescued Jack Russell and two 'ferel'  cats.

Her  first novel, a futuristic romance released by the Wild Rose Press was followed by a sequel 'Children Of The Mist'.  Lyn is working on a third story in the series.
She is a member of The Romance Novelists' Association (UK)

Website: www.hywelalyn.co.uk

Blog:  www.Hywelalyn.blogspot.com
Author Page at The Wild Rose Press

Wednesday Spotlight with Hywela Lyn

Oliver, looking devilishly ethereal in black satin, sits in a halo of soft amber light cast upon him from the moonlight, strumming on a lyre. Beneath a blanket of blue velvet and twinkling stars on this moonlit night, the Nine Muses splash in the lagoon, singing and dancing. A tropical forest of lush evergreens encompass the lagoon as the water nymphs perform. Love Doves quietly coo, their melodic voices floating through the night. A gentle breeze rustles, stirring the sweet scent of roses, orchids and camellias.

  

Holding a candle, Sharon undulates into the garden, looking elegant as the breeze ripples through the organdy pleats of her plum rose gown. Blowing kisses to the muses, she takes a seat at the gleaming glass table to await her guest. On a tinkering of wind chimes, Oliver swaggers off to greet the guest of honor, stopping to gracefully pluck up a bouquet of yellow roses.

Hello and welcome to Wednesday Spotlight! My special guest today is my dear friend and soul sister Hywela Lyn. Lyn is here this evening to chat about her fascinating book

DANCING WITH FATE

 Let’s give her a warm welcome!

Thunderous applause echoes through the night as Lyn saunters out on Oliver’s arm, looking elegant in a long billowy gown of lavender blue

Sharon rushes to hug her friend. “Welcome, my sweet darling girl. Please, have a seat in the garden and make yourself comfortable. What beautiful roses, so thoughtful of Oliver to arrange them in this water dish where they can float. How are you, my dear?”

Lyn: My dear, sweet friend, I’m so thrilled to be here, and you look so beautiful , that colour suits you so well.  And Oliver, (Lyn blushes and lowers her eyes) you must surely be the best butler a hostess could ever have, you could charm the birds out of the trees.  Sharon dear one, you are such a lucky lady! How am I? Well I’m fine thank you, apart from a slight trembling of the knees!

Sharon: No need to tremble, my dear. Thank you for the lovely compliment. Might I return it. Lavendar blue is such a flattering color on you.

Oliver materializes with two sparkling goblets of mead, a scalloped platter of juicy red strawberries, raspberries, blackberries and blueberries, a sinfully rich dipping cream and long-stemmed Lady Godiva chocolates. Arranging the treats on the table, he plucks up a strawberry. Dips it in cream and feeds to Lyn, gazing into her eyes, a devilish smile curving his lips.

For you, love. Might I tell you how beautiful you look in the light of the silvery moon.

Lyn: (Blushes again) Oliver dear, you are such a flatterer, and such a handsome devil to boot!  If you keep saying things like that and feeding me cream covered strawberries, I’m likely to forget why sweet Sharon invited me here! (Lyn flutters her eyelashes, a dreamy smile hovering on her lips.)

Sharon: This is such a delight to have you here on this lovely evening. I can hardly wait to get the inside scoop on your book. Do share a little heavenly gossip about

DANCING WITH FATE

Lyn: Well, let me see now.  The gods of Olympus are a mischievous lot you know, and tend to dabble in all sorts of things, even things that  don’t really concern them.  Zeus, despite being a loving father to his many children,  is a bit of a tyrant, aided and abetted by his handsome son Apollo, they conspire to send Terpsichore to Wales, on the pretext of helping the Celts regain their love of music and dancing.  Of  course there is a hidden agenda and Terpshichore is unaware that her destiny is about to be entwined with that of another legendary figure.

Sharon: Fascinating, so very intriguing. The cover is stunning. Our good friend Miss Mae designed it, lovely. Tell us about the celestial creation behind the making of this cover.

Lyn: Miss Mae must take all the credit for the cover, which I absolutely love! Terpsichore is not only the muse of dance, she is a water nymph, and can’t resist the lure of water, or the chance to bathe in a Welsh waterfall.  Miss Mae read the story and we both knew that a waterfall would have to feature in the cover, and I think she not only found the perfect falls to fit the scene, but also portrayed Terpsichore herself perfectly, hinting at her impishness and her magical gifts, as well as her beauty and seductiveness.

Sharon: Absolutely. I am so in tune with my muse and I know that you are as well. Share with us some intriguing insights about your muse.

Lyn:  Well, my personal muse also likes music. She tends to be more active when I have orchestral, moody music playing.  She’s also very elusive and hides from me for weeks on end, then when she’s ready to play again, she bombards me with ideas until my mind’s a whirl and I’m completely confused,. Other times she ‘plays nice’ and has even been known to write entire paragraphs for me!

Sharon: Yes, our muses are spirited little rascals, aren’t they just. Terpsichore is the muse of dance, and I dare say, a wee bit mischievous. Tell us about this delightful nymph.

Lyn: Oh, Terpsichore is perpetually young and beautiful, and of course dancing and music are her greatest joys – until she meets Myrddin of course, and then he becomes the main focus of her attention.  She tries to be a good muse, to be obedient and to her duty as a goddess of inspiration, but she is strong willed too, and isn’t going to allow anyone to push her around. She’s also sensitive and caring and once she has given her heart she will fight like a lioness to protect the object of her affection, however great the sacrifice.

Sharon: Speak of the angelic devil, look who just danced out of the water to grace our table. Sharon kisses her on the cheek. Such a pleasure, my dear Terpsichore. And here comes Oliver to sprinkle some devilish charm.

Oliver, captivated by the angelic glow emanating from this goddess of the water, kisses her hand, a beguiling smile on his lips.

A pleasure, Terpsichore, you are simply gorgeous. May I offer you a drink, my sweet love angel?

Terpsichore: Oh Oliver, you are quite divine.  Are you sure you don’t have Greek blood?  You would certainly be at home with any of the gods on Olympus.  A little Ambrosia if you please – or some honey mead if you don’t have any Ambrosia.

Sharon: Tell us about your role in Hywela Lyn’s book, Terpsichore. Such a fascinating love story, do share.

Terpsichore: Well naturally I’m the heroine – but you knew that didn’t you! I was sent on a mission by my brother Apollo and my father, the venerable Zeus, to 5^th Century Wales.  Of course I’d been there before, quite some considerable time before, in fact, but they were so busy fighting off their invaders they’d quite forgotten about the dancing I’d taught them and had become a morose and miserable lot. My task was to re-inspire them, and it didn’t take long.  Terpsichore pauses, and rolls her eyes dramatically. Of course, knowing my father and brother as I do, I should have known there was more to it than they let on!

Oliver appears, silver tray of drinks balanced above his head. With a sweeping bow, he sets the Ambrosia down, then uncovers a sinfully delicious Devil’s Food cake. With great pizazz, he slices huge pieces.  Winking, eyes twinkling in the moonlight, he feeds a forkful to Terpsichore, then Lyn, overwhelmed by all the beauty.

Sharon: Terpsichore, do share a bit about yourself, the challenges you face in Dancing With Fate.

Terpsichore: I am one of the Muses of Inspiration. I have eight sisters, and we all have a different talent to inspire. Mine is dancing.  Humans need to dance, to free themselves of their cares and troubles, if only for a while.  Dancing is also often a significant part of the courtship process – so you see my inspiration is very important. However, not all gods are as good and peace- loving as I and my sisters. After I met Myrddin there was great danger lying in wait for us, from my own kin, not to mention the evil creatures that inhabited the dark places of Earth. Terpsichore  pouts sensuously before continuing. As if that wasn’t enough, I also had to contend with the irritating fact that my soulmate, the love of my life, was betrothed to another – and Myrddin’s sense of Honour would not allow him to be disloyal to her.

Sharon:  Poor darling. I’m sure Hywela worked it all out. Lyn, my dear, tell us how you the writer of song and dance solved this dilemma

Lyn: Well, it wasn’t really my doing, I had to rely on my muse for inspiration! She glances at Terpsichore and winks.  Characters can’t have it too easy can they? I can’t give too much away, but I will say that both Terpsichore and Myrddin went through a lot before they finally discovered what the higher gods had plotted and what Myrddin’s real destiny was – and yes, it did involve Terpsichore having to dance with Fate!

Sharon: Question to both of you about the lyre, such a magical and enchanting instrument. As you know, I’m a lover of legend and lore. I know there has to be a myth or two with celestial harp. Ladies, feed my fetish, wink.

Terpsichore: Ah yes, the lyre, I could not be without my lyre. They say the original instrument was invented by the god Hermes, as a child, when he strung a tortoise shell. He traded the lyre to Apollo, who was of course, among other things, the god of song and music, and he in turn eventually gave it to his son, Orpheus, a great poet and musician.
 

There are many legends about the lyre. One concerns ORPHEUS, A Thracian bard who was torn to pieces by the Bacchantes when they caught him spying on their secret rites. Apollo and  I - and my sister muses - placed him among the stars, as a kneeling man with a lyre. 

Lyn:  This is my favourite legend about the lyre. Once there lived a shepherd. He was an upstanding man, playing the lyre enchantingly. No one knew his name. Then one night the lyre player was caught in a heavy rain storm, and not wanting to wet his lyre, he entered a cave in the mountainside. Immediately, a strange warmth wrapped around him. Out of the pools of water in the cave, rose tall beautiful women who began to dance, in the air - they were flying! The lyre player began to play, accompanying the dance. The hours passed, the dance kept going on, and the lyre player, enchanted  by the fairies kept playing.

He never retuned  - and on moonless nights he still plays with the fairies in the cave and accompanies their dance, and the mountains echo the sound of his music.

Sharon: Thank you both so much for sharing such lovely legends. I’ll cherish them always. Look who joined us, why it’s Myrddin, blows a kiss. Tell us about yourself, your love for Terpsichore. Was it love at first sight when you saw Terpsichore, what drew you to her?

Myrddin: Absolutely it was love at first sight!  She was the most beautiful woman I had ever beheld. Who couldn’t be enchanted by such a lovely creature, emerging from a waterfall, her perfect body aglow with a soft radiance, and dancing as if she was the only woman in the world? For me, from that moment, she was. He puts his arm around Terpsichore and draws her close. Did I mention she was still completely unclothed?

Terpsichore giggles. Not once I spotted you, though.

Myrddin smiles knowingly: Too late - and your swift magical clothing of yourself only made me more intrigued.

Oliver appears: May I offer a drink?

Myrddin:  Oh I see you have mead, that will go down really well. My lady Sharon, may I compliment you on your hospitality,

Sharon: Thank you, Myrddin. How sweet you are.

Oliver is back with mead and Ambrosia and a copy of

DANCING WITH FATE

Darling Lyn, my sweet, might I have your autograph, please?

Lyn: Dearest Oliver, of course.  Lyn signs with a flourish  

“To darling Oliver, who would surely be an inspiration to the muses themselves. With much love and adoration, Hywela Lyn. XXX”

Oliver accepts the book and departs with a sweeping bow.

Sharon: Sadly, our time has nearly reached an end. Lyn, my dear friend, always a pleasure. And such an added delight to meet the enchanted couple. Over Chai tea and dessert, here’s a teaser and links to DANCING WITH FATE

Thank you all for a fabulous interview.

Terpsichore performs a series of graceful twirls ‘on point’ before draping a beautiful silk himation , sheer as a spider’s web and soft as a whisper around Sharon’s shoulder, while Myrddin  kisses her hand and presents her with a single Welsh daffodil.  He and Terpsichore disappear into the clouds to the plaintive, musical strains of a lyre.

Thank you  for having us here, on your wonderful blog, sweet Sharon – and Oliver too of course. Your hospitality is beyond words. We’ve all had a wonderful time with you. Lyn gives Sharon a huge hug and blows a kiss to Oliver, before accepting yet another slice of Devils Food cake.

BLURB

When Terpsichore, the Greek Muse of Dance, is assigned to revisit 5th Century Wales, and help the people regain their love of dancing, her task seems simple enough. She is unaware there is a hidden agenda. Before she can return to Olympus her path crosses that of the mysterious Myrddin, and her heart is lost.

But Myrddin is promised to another. His mind is set on the dangerous task that lies before him, and the woman he has sworn to save. Nevertheless, he cannot deny the growing attraction between him and the beautiful stranger he meets along the way.

Terpsichore and Myrddin face a deadly force that threatens to part them forever. Is she destined to lose the only man she has ever truly loved? Is there nothing she can do to save him? Finally, when all seems lost, in desperation she finds herself DANCING WITH FATE.

EXCERPT

Shaking her arms free of the silvery drops of water, the muse squeezed the wetness from her long hair, of which she was inordinately proud. Of all her womanly attributes, she loved her hair the best.  It was so fine and silky it took hardly any time to dry. She spread her arms and let the warm air vanquish the last of the moisture from her skin. Oh this land was fair! She raised her arm in salute to Helios, knowing he could see whatever his warmth touched. 

Terpsichore twirled around on tiptoe, bending back her head and taking in the craggy mountaintops, the trees full leafed and swaying slightly in the warm breeze. On an impulse, she began to dance.  She conjured up a silky himation between her fingers and swirled it above her head as she moved to the accompaniment of her own voice.  So involved was she in her dancing she failed to realise she was no longer alone.

***

She was the loveliest woman Myrddin had ever seen. Spellbound, he watched her step from the falls.  He should have turned away but he found it impossible not to watch her as she dried herself.  When she started to dance, he was captivated by her grace and the eloquence of her movements.  She seemed unconcerned about her nakedness. Not that she had anything to be ashamed of, such exquisite beauty should not be covered. Long, dark red-brown hair fell like a veil of silk to below her knees. Her skin was smooth and flawless, her breasts firm and high, full but not heavy, above a tiny waist. 

            Her rounded hips undulated sensuously in time to her singing, while her upper body remained perfectly still. Her legs were slim and very long and she moved on tiptoe, her small feet scarcely seeming to touch the ground.  Between her fingers, she held a long piece of silky material, which she swirled around her, until it seemed almost like a living thing. 

                       

Myrddin watched enthralled.  He’d never known anyone dance as she did. The way she swivelled her hips had him mesmerised.  Her voice was soft and clear, with a haunting quality.  It reminded him of the musical bells of Maes Gwyddno, the civilisation that now lay drowned beneath the sea:  at times of danger the bells were said to ring from beneath the waves. 
                

Moreover, it may have been a trick of the light, but she seemed to radiate a soft glow, pure and shimmering.  He shook his head in disbelief.  He must be imagining it. He'd eaten nothing since dawn, this was surely a vision brought on by weakness from hunger. 

           

Myrddin crept closer and a twig cracked underfoot. Before he could take cover, the beautiful dancer stood motionless. Her eyes, green as the depths of the ocean, looked directly into his.

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BIO

Hywela Lyn spent most of her life in Wales and the beautiful countryside and legends inspired her to write. Although she now lives in a small village in England, she is very proud of her Welsh heritage and background.
She enjoys weaving romantic tales of the future, and distant, mysterious worlds, stories to truly take you 'out of this world' and beyond. Wherever the muse takes her, one thing remains constant in her writing: The power of love. Love, not only between her hero and heroine, but between friends and siblings, and for their particular world and the creatures that share it.

She is crazy about all animals, especially horses. She lives with her long suffering husband, Dave, and has two horses, two ferrel cats and an adopted Jack Russell terrier called Bouncer. Her pen name is a combination of her first two names. 'Hywela' is Welsh and her first name but it was never used and she has always been called by her second Christian name, Lyn.

Hywela Lyn's first novel, 'Starquest', a futuristic romance, and a sequel, to 'Starquest', 'Children of the Mist' are both available in print or Kindle version. Her fantasy novella 'Dancing With Fate' is also available now as an E-book from Smashwords, Kindle, and in print from Amazon.

Wednesday Spotlight with Miss Mae

Hello and welcome back to Wednesday Spotlight! Oliver and I took a little summer break for the month of June and sailed to the Greek Isles! But now we are ready to resume our Wednesday interviews. Many of you are fans of today’s guest. With no further ado, let’s have a warm welcome for my good friend, the one and only Miss Mae!



Thunderous applause explodes as the sweet Southern Bell sachets through the rose arbor and onto the verandah. Looking fresh and lovely in a sundress and sun bonnet, Miss Mae blows kisses and hugs her friend.

Sharon: How’s it going, Miss Mae? Keeping cool in these dog days of summer?



MM: Absolutely, no! I’m perishing in Georgia’s heat! (Miss Mae snatches off the sun bonnet to vigorously fan herself with the straw brim.)



Looking bronze and polished from his month in the islands, Oliver saunters out, leisurely pushing the silver caddy brimming with refreshments. Clearing his throat, he pours the rich robust coffee into dainty floral cups, sets out a platter of chocolate brownies, fudge and petite Devil’s Food cakes. Catching Miss Mae’s eye, he snaps her crisp linen napkin and folds it as tight as an accordion. Casting her a wicked wink, he rolls up the sleeves of his white shirt and pumps his biceps, sporting his new tattoo, a pair of tumbling dice.



Sharon: He’s been wanting to get a tattoo for some time now, and when we passed the tattoo parlor, I double dared him to do it. He whined like a girl and made me hold his hand.



MM: Let me see that tattoo, Oliver. (Miss Mae gives a critical squint to said artwork.) Hmm, that resembles a bottle of Grandpappy Beauregard’s elixir.



Sharon: LOL Let’s chat a bit about your latest book, The Mishaps of Gumdrop Island. Sharon holds up her copy. Or better yet, why not read the blurb?

MM: Allow me. Miss Mae clears her throat, and reads aloud: ‘Adventurer Sir O. Yuri Wiseguy-eh to the rescue! After convincing a lost damsel she must leave No place In Particular and come away to his Marshmallow Mansion on Gumdrop Island, (what is that crazy music that plays whenever those three words are spoken?), she enters the world of Yuri’s confectionary plantation. His oddball staff, as varied in character as a box of assorted chocolates, adds their own flavor of delicious nuttiness. When Yuri realizes his newest arrival is cousin to Mort the Mothball Millionaire, the quest is on to sail to Moldy Corners.

But why do those spooky, sharp beaked vultures watch from the fence railing?’



Sharon: Tell us a bit about the setting, the genre, and the interesting cast of characters.



MM: Before I begin, have you ever wondered where all the chocolate that people consume originally came from? And I don’t mean the supermarkets, either. They had to get it from somewhere. So, okay, I’ll allow they purchased it from factories. But where did those factories get the chocolates, or jelly beans, or licorice sticks? They all came from a wonderful isle named Gum Drop Island. The confectionary plantation is owned by Sir O. Yuri Wiseguy-eh, and he has a…um, ahem…unique…assortment of staff. Moose, who eats more chocolate than he helps to produce; Cuddles, who will fight any manner of beast to protect her little darlings; Telly, the fastest artist a palette ever saw; Ms. Whales, the authority on Ways of Civilization, and several others who, last but not least, is Heathcliff the possum.



Sharon: I must admit when I read it, not having a clue what it was about, I was pleasantly surprised. But given your fertile imagination, it’s easy to see how you spun this delightful tale for children of all ages. When I read it, I found myself going back in time to those lazy days of summer when the kids in the neighborhood played all day long, not by the power of the Internet, but by the power of the imagination. Don’t you agree that times were better back then, Miss Mae?



MM: I really do, Sharon. Childhood was nothing more than laughter and games in those days. Remember hopscotch on the sidewalks, paper dolls, and jacks? I usually didn’t pass beyond my threesies, but oh, the challenge of trying!



Sharon: I was never very good at jacks but died trying! Now, back to the story. I love the names you chose like Gumdrop Island, Marshmallow Mansion, the Good Ship Lollipop and so many more. Tell us why or how you selected them?



MM: When I decided the story would center around chocolate (have I mentioned chocolate is my most favorite thing in the whole world, by the way?), I knew it was important to have names that referenced and appealed to the sweet tooth in all of us!



Sharon: They sure do! Did you always have such a vivid imagination, and if so, did you and your cousins and friends often act out plays and movies?



MM: I greatly appreciate the comment about my “vivid imagination”, but you know, I don’t think I do. To me, I’m as ho-hum as this fly choking in my lemonade. (Miss Mae flicks the critter out of her glass with an accurately aimed swat.) But when all we kids got together I was a follower (I was the youngest, so this was the safest route). I don’t recall that we acted out any movies. Our evenings were usually spent with playing ‘tag’ or ‘frozen statues’.



Sharon: Will there be more of the adventures of Sir Yuri and Captain Bootlegs and the inhabitants of Gumdrop Island?



MM: I’m going to see how interest is regarding this first episode before I decide. Personally, I hope so. I want to know what happens since they’ve now reached Moldy Corners!



Sharon: I must admit to reflecting on the game Candy Land. Did this have any impact on your story?



MM: I never played that! You’ll have to tell me about it, it sounds delicious!



Sharon: We’ll save that for another day, but it was a fun and delicious game. Now, tell us what kind of message you would like to teach young kids today through The Mishaps of Gumdrop Island?



MM: To not be afraid to laugh, and that it’s okay to be nothing but downright silly at times.



Oliver comes out with his copy, holds it up and smiles a beguiling smile. “If I might be so bold as to request an autograph, Miss Mae?”



MM: I thought you’d never ask! But for this especial event, I have a fitting autograph helper. (Miss Mae reaches into her beach bag and unveils -- Heathcliff! Grinning from ear to ear, the possum dazzles Sharon with his dagger sharp row of pearly whites and then proceeds to ink his paw and stamps it upon Oliver’s book. Oliver, blinking at the creature’s attire of trenchcoat and fedora, takes a careful step backward.)



Sharon: Sweet! Okay, Oliver, if you can stop pumping your biceps and watching the dice tumble, might I bother you for dessert?



Snatching up his copy of the book, Oliver strolls off whistling. He returns later with chocolate cream pie slathered with whipped cream. With great theatrics, he slices it and feeds Miss Mae a bite.



MM: Mmm, yummy. Oh! Sorry, Oliver! Was that your finger?



Sharon: Well, sadly, Miss Mae, this brings us to the end of our hour together. Before you go, tell us where readers can purchase The Mishaps of Gumdrop Island and all of your books.



MM: Right now, The Mishaps of Gum Drop Island is ebook at Smashwords, but I’m working to get it into print. (bows at the whistles and hoots of approval) Here is the link at SW: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/18182 And my other books, my romantic mysteries, can be purchased in print at Amazon, B&N, and other retailers, and in ebook form at Smashwords.



Sharon: Thank you so much for such an entertaining story, and for being our first guest after summer break. Wishing you loads of sales and all good things.



MM: Thank you, Sharon. I’m so glad you enjoyed your visit at Gum Drop Island. Wait! What’s that music?



Miss Mae is an award winning, best selling author. “Said the Spider to the Fly” has consistently rated outstanding reviews and has won the esteemed title of Best Book of the Week for The Long and the Short of It Reviews and from The Romance Studio. It can be purchased both in digital format and in print. “When the Bough Breaks”, a young adult coming-of-age is the first from Whimsical Publications. Not only has this book generated top reviews, it’s also won a Best Cover of the Month award, and won the 2009 P & E Readers’ Poll in the YA category.



The highly acclaimed “It’s Elementary, My Dear Winifred” won a 2009 Top Ten Read at MyShelf.com. It’s slanted for a late summer re-release from Whimsical Publications, with the second in the “Dear Winifred” series planned to be finished late 2010.



Her first book, “See No Evil, My Pretty Lady” had previously only been available as a digital book. Now it can be purchased from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and CreateSpace. Visit her website (http://www.missmaesite.com) for the links.



Miss Mae also enjoys writing humor and non-fiction articles. Besides her monthly contributions to the ezine American Chronicle, some of her publications can be found in The Front Porch Magazine, Good Old Days, and WritersWeekly.



She is the moderator of The Sweetest Romance Authors Yahoo Group, a group of romance authors who guarantee their stories adhere to a G-rating. Visit our blog at http://thesweetestromanceauthors.blogspot.com



For reviews: Please visit Miss Mae’s website at www.missmaesite.com

Wednesday Spotlight with Toni Sweeney

Hello and welcome to Wednesday Spotlight! My special guest today is author Toni Sweeney. Toni writes science fiction/fantasy/horror. Today, Toni is here to chat with us about Spacedog’s Best Friend, a young adult fiction that debuted as her opening novel.

But before we meet this interesting and versatile woman, here is a little about Toni, followed by a blurb and excerpt from her book.

Toni Sweeney was born in the state of Georgia (afterward called the state of Confusion) after the War between the States but before the Gulf War and her arrival was more devastating to the countryside than the War had been. Though an accident-prone klutz, she has managed to survive into her second century. Being a child on the cusp of
the Seventies, she did her best to become a Southern Belle a la Scarlett O’Hara but instead evolved into a modern Alice chasing after the White Rabbit with more than one run-in with the Cheshire Cat and Wonderland’s other slighty-mad inhabitants along the way. After a period of minor trauma centering around marriage, motherhood, and divorce, she was involved in an automobile accident which began her writing career during an extended convalescence. Since her recovery, she can’t seem to stay in place for more than a couple of decades, and has survived hurricanes in the South, tornados and snow-covered winters in the Midwest, and earthquakes, forest fires, and Santa Ana winds in California. A dare from a co-worker attributed to her
becoming published.

In her Southern youth, Toni was a member of the Children of the Confederacy and as
an adult has been associated with the South Coast Writer's Association of Orange
County, California, the Pink Fuzzy Slipper Writers website, myspace, Facebook, and
YouTube. She presently has numerous novels in publication, as well as several short
stories featured in magazines, online, and on amazon.com/Shorts. A few years ago,
Toni suffered a split of literary personalities and now writes science fiction/fantasy/horror
under her own name, and romances using the pseudonym Icy Snow Blackstone. This name
originally belonged to her great-great-great-great-grandmother until it was appropriated
for a greater cause. So far, the original Icy Snow hasn’t objected.

This year, at the insistence of her family, Toni returned to Nebraska. She has a
son who is a math teacher, and a 7-year-old granddaughter and a 16-year-old grandson.

Though she loves animals, especially the small, fuzzy kind, and once owned five minia ture poodles at once as well as a cat who survived by convincing the dogs he w as one of them, this is the first time she’s been without a companion animal to keep her company.

Before her auto accident, she was an accomplished horsewoman and owned her own horses, as well as being a dancer, having studied with a pupil of the famous dancer Isadora Duncan. She was also active in college and local theatrical groups and was awarded a membership in Alpha Psi Omega, the national honorary drama fraternity, for her work while attending Mercer University.

All in all—as difficult as it is to believe--Toni is a very shy person, and getting this biography out of her was the equivalent of pulling the proverbial eyeteeth.

Blurb:
Spacedog’s Best Friend

For a graduation gift, teenager Jenny Halpen is given a space cruise by her indulgent uncle. Everything is going smoothly until the ship sails into an asteroid shower and the passengers have to abandon ship. Jenny finds herself in an escape pod with three miniature poodles owned by one of the other passengers.

When they land on an uninhabited planet, the automatic distress signal goes off and Jenny settles down with the three furry castaways to wait for a rescue ship. She falls asleep, and...

EXCERPT:

A Jenny awoke, she couldn’t remember where she was, and she looked around the cabin with puzzlement.Slowly, as her memory returned, she sighed and closed her eyes again.

The night noises had stopped. Everything was so peaceful and...quiet....

Quiet?

Her eyes came open again and she sat up quickly, spilling the little dog in her lap onto the floor, where he landed with a thump and an indignant yelp.

“Omigosh! The signal! It stopped! What happened?”

She knelt by the machine, studying it frantically. Surely, there was some button...knob...switch...which would restart the signal. Her eyes swept over the smooth metal surface. Nothing--not even a word of print marred its gray veneer. She tapped the front and sides with one knuckle. “Come on, come on! Beep! Buzz! Do something! You can’t be broken! Why did you break down? Why?”

Something touched her arm. Something cold. The little white dog was pushing at her arm with his nose, looking up at her with anxious brown eyes. She pushed him away.

“Quit that! Can’t you see this is serious? No, of course you don’t! Oh, why couldn’t I have been marooned with a ‘droid or something? At least, it would be able to talk to me! Why did it have to be a bunch of dogs?”

Stranded. No clothes. No company. A tear trickled down her cheek. Here lies Jenny Halpen, Castaway.

A second tear followed the first, then another, and another.The dam burst.Face against her arms, she leaned against the seat of the nearest passenger chair, shoulders shaking. For a few minutes, only the sound of Jenny’s sobs broke the silence in the pod.

Don’t cry, Jenny.

The tears continued, wracking and heart-breaking.

Jenny?

Jenny....

Startled, Jenny stopped in mid-cry. Had she really heard someone call her name?

Don’t cry.

Stifling the last sob into a hiccough, she forced herself to be quiet. She had heard someone.

We’ll talk to you, Jenny--if that’s what you want.

“Wh-where are you?” She looked around quickly, as if expecting to see someone emerge from one of the other seats.

Right here. Where we’ve always been.

“Where? I can’t see you. Come out!”

We’re already out!

Quickly, she stood up. “But-- Where?”

Outside. That’s it. Another escape pod.

The little white dog immediately threw himself into her path, and when she dodged, jumped in front of her again so she nearly tripped over him in her haste to get to the door of the pod.

“Move, you stupid animal! Can’t you hear! There’s someone outside!”

Desperately, she picked him and tossed him out of the way. He landed against the signal box with a thud. She was at the door fumbling with the wheel-lock when the voice spoke again.

Stupid animal? Well, I like that! If that’s the way you feel, we’ll just leave you alone!

Hand on the wheel, she stopped, turning slowly to look back into the pod. The three little animals were sitting in the center of the aisle, the little white dog rubbed its head with the back of one paw.

That hurt!

Staring at the three of them, Jenny took a hesitant step forward.“If I didn’t know better, I’d swear that you just told me your head hurt,” she said to the white dog.

I did.

Jenny laughed, a nervous disbelieving laugh, with more than a twinge of hysteria in it. “Oh, no--that does it! My mind’s winged out! Dogs...talking...marooned...the shock of it all....”

What’s she talking about? a new voice asked.

The little white dog wiggled its shoulders in something resembling a shrug.

Something about her mind flying away.

“I’m losing my mind...no, I’ve lost it...zoom...gone!”

See? She says she’s lost it

We’ll help you find it, Jenny. What does it look like?

You know, all pink and squishy.

“Hold it! Hold it!” Jenny shouted. Three pairs of eyes turned toward her.

Silence.

“Is this really true? Can you dogs, er--people--can you talk?” She stopped, threw her hands into the air. “What am I doing, asking these animals if they can talk?”

Well, began a new voice, more mature and calmer than the others. We call it mind-talk. We don’t have to use our mouths. It’s a lot less strenuous that way.

Helps when you’ve got a mouthful, too, the little white dog chimed in. At least, she guessed it was he.

We were afraid-- that escape flight was pretty nerve-wracking, you must admit, and then-- Well, how did you react when Coni spoke to you?

“Wait a minute!” Jenny interrupted. “I’ve got to sit down.” And she did so. She had to. Her legs wouldn’t hold her up any longer. “They talk!” she said to herself. “They really talk!”

Sharon: Let’s have a warm welcome for Toni Sweeney!

The sky turns as dark as midnight. Then in the distance, a spaceship appears, flashing like a beacon in the night. It comes closer, neon lights flashing, making a smoo th descent on stage. With a slight thud, the door opens and Toni pops out, followed by three miniature poodles.

Thunderous applause explodes through cyber space as Sharon greets her guest with a warm embrace. Talk about a smooth landing! Sharon leans down to pet the pooches. So how are you, Toni? And how about these little darlings?

Toni: The landing may have been smooth but there were a few close calls with asteroids along the way. Luckily th ey were the peas-sized kind. The pups got a little anxious, though. (leans down to pet a fuzzy cream-color mop who just happens to be wearing a spike-studded color and an armored doggy-sweater.) Didn’t you, Conan? (he yips indignantly) Sorry, he says the girls did, but not he. Warriors aren’t afraid of peas.

Sharon: Grins broadly at Conan’s response. But of course! Well, after that l ong trip through space, I’ll bet you’re ready for refreshments. Oh, Oliver, do bring us cocktails and hors d’oeuvres, please.

Oliver struts out singing and swooning, balancing a sterling silver tray a top his head. With eyes for Toni, he places down the tray and hands her a Fuzzy Navel. Taking her hand in his, he sings the words, “Georgia on my Mind.” With a wicked wink, he kisses her hand and presents a dish of roasted and salted peanuts, pecans and cashew mix. He feeds doggy biscuits to the hovering poodles. He clears his throat. If I might be so bold as to ask for your autograph, Ms. Sweeney…and a ride in your spaceship?

Toni: Oliver, after that song, you can ride with me anywhere! (Digs in her backpack for a pen and signs a napkin for him with a flourish) But do me a favor—and don’t sing it again or you’ll have me crying into my navel! My Fuzzy Navel, that is. And do you have a hankie I can borrow? I think your crooning’s activated my tear ducts just a tad. (Sniffles loudly)

Oliver produces a crisp white hanky and presents it to Toni with a smile.

Sharon: Oliver, did you forget about my glass of perfectly chilled white wine? But Oliver ignores her and races off to the spaceship, a gleam in his eye.

Sharon: Good help is so hard to find. Now, Toni, let’s chat about these little darlings. Sharon pats each of the miniature poodles’ heads. Your own poodles planted the seed in your brain to write this novel. It isn’t often when a rejection letter leads to a contract in two weeks. I love the story you told me. Can you share with readers how Spacedog’s Best Friend came to be?

Toni: At the time the story was written, I had three poodles. Conan the Barbarian, Amber (aka PrincessNAmber), and Crissy (aka Dark Crystal). As some sci-fi readers will notice, they’re all named for f airly well-known science fiction tales. I used to make up stories about them to tell my son, and when the call came from Blue Bird Book asking if I had a YA novel, I fibbed a little and told them I did and sent them a synopsis of the tales I had told JL about the doggies. Actually I didn’t have a story in sight but they called my bluff and asked for the entire manuscript. You never saw such scrambling around in your life! I wrote it in two weeks on my electric typewriter (this was pre-computer) and sent it in and received an acceptance letter a week later.

Sharon: Now that’s what I call thinking on your feet. Sharon gives the trio the high five and more treats as they grin their doggy grins. I love it. Let’s have a nice round of applause for the hero and heroine, Conan, Amber and Crissy. The poodles puff out their chests and take a bow. Then they smile as one.

Sharon: Did they just say what I think they said? They can really speak?

Toni: Actually, they’re telepathic. It’s easier than speaking and they can do it with their mouths full and not be rude.

Sharon: Ah, the wonderful world of fiction. I’ve never tried my hand at children’s novels. Have you written any other books in this genre?

Toni: Not a one. I have another fragment about the pups but it’s told from an adult point of view and was a bit of therapy after Amber went to that Great Playground in the Sky so I wrote it and just left it. Later, I wrote a couple of fairy tales for my grandson and I have another fragment called the Search for Prince Sandy which I may some day get around to finishing. It involves two young people who share an adventure in another dimension while both are comatose in a hospital in this dimension.

Sharon: Oh, I hope so. I’m sure they will be best-sellers. So how did you feel when you got your first contract? Did you bathe in the after glow for a while or did you get right back in the saddle and start on your next novel?

Toni: Oh I ran around telling everyone I could think of…the media…my friends…relatives…strangers on the street. I worked that phrase into every conversation I had. surprisingly, the media wasn’t impressed and neither were my relatives…though my friends and even a few strangers were.

Sharon: LOL I know the feeling! You must have an incredible imagination to have come up with such a heart-warming story for kids. Tell us about your imagination. Does it work overtime or do you have to prompt your creative muse to come and play?

Toni: Up until 2000, I was a “writin’ fool.” Between 1975 and 1994, I turned out thirty novels, one right after the other and a good many of those have already been published or contracted. Then, in 2000, someth ing terrible happened in my life and my writing abruptly stopped. I read somewhere that people with severe mental problems have these periods of almost violent creativity, so I can only conclude that I was in such a period and that one event brought me back to sanity. Compared to before, my output can now be compared to a leaky water faucet where before it was a raging river. (smiles slightly and sadly) Sorry didn’t mean to get so morbid.

Sharon: I think you are simply remarkable! Now Toni, you have done so much with your life I stand in awe of you. Tell us about your days as a dancer and your days in the theater.

Toni: First let me say, I stand in awe of you, Sharon. I have cataracts and my sight is limited but I’m assured some day it can be repaired, while you… Well, I applaud your courage. As to my dancing… Tere’s not so much to tell. My teacher was a wonderful lady named Gertrude Kelley who had studied under Eleanora Duse and Isadora Duncan. I know a lot of people today won’t recognize those names but believe me, they were innovators of dance in their day—which was in the early years of the 20th Century. Rfeal Free Spirits. There was even a movie called Isadora which I believed starred Vanessa Redgrave. Anyway, I studied ballet, tap, and acrobatic dancing. You may not believe it but I was once so limber it took me six months to learn to stand on my head. I used to be able to be able to lie on my stomach on the floor, raise my legs and put my toes under my chin—Warning! Do not try this at home! I was a dancer in two separate productions of Oklahoma! and as well as being in Kiss Me Kate. I was also in some non-musical plays such as The Crucible, the Cave Dwellers, and JB. In fact, I met my ex-husband in the theater. He was starring in Inherit the Wind at the time, and it was a typical two-actors-in-the-same-household-type marriage…a disaster from the words “I do.”

Sharon: First of all, thank you for the complment, Toni. We all have our personal demons to conquer and do wha t we can to keep on going. But today is all about you and allow me to say I am indeed honored to have such a star sitting with me today. You are amazing! Believe you me, I was never what you would call coordinated and the thought of doing half the things you did leave me speechless! Standing on your head?And do what with your feet and chin ?Wow and double wow! And you were awarded a membership to Alpha Psi Omega. Congratulations. Tell us about that.

Toni: Membership is awarded for outstanding work done in drama. To be considered, one has to participate in all areas. My contributions were in acting, costume design, make-up, and stage managing. I also took several courses in drama and music as part of my major. (looks nostalgic) Ah, I remember it well… (looks off into the distance) I was stage-managing a double-bill—the World of Carl Sandburg and No Exit, for which I designed the programs, by the way—and afterward as the cast was taking their curtain calls, they called me onto the stage, presented me with a bouquet of red roses, and announced to the audience I’d been tapped for membership. I got a certificate and lots of congratulations. Still have it somewhere.

Thunderous applause explodes from the audience and Tonie stands and takes a sweeping bow. The telepathic poodles appear with the certificate and hand it to their mistress. Toni tears up and the wee ones take equally gracious bows.

Sharon: Clasps her hands together in adoration. What troopers! (leans over and bestows a crown on Conan’s head and a jeweled tiera on both Amber and Crissy) More applause crackles through cyberspace.

Sharon: And like me, along with dogs, you love cats and horses. You owned your own horses and were once an accomplished horsewoman. I would love to hear about your riding days.

Toni: I got my first horse when I was 9 and several months later was stricken with appendicitis and couldn’t ride for six months. That was torture! I also have that first horse (he was a S hetland-Morgan cross named Nipper because he had a tendency to bite) partly to thank for my back problems. The first time I got on him, he threw me! (grimaces) He wasn’t wearing a saddle, hadn’t ever been ridden before in fact, and tossed me right on my rear! My other horse, a strawberry roan, was a little more gentle. I got her when she was less than a year old. I used to saddle a horse, put a lunch in my saddlebag and disappear for the entire day, riding the hills, pastures, and swamps of my grandfather’s farm, spinning adventure stories in my head as I went. My faithful ol’ horse and I had more Old West adventures in those Georgia backwoods.

Sharon: How I can relate. Dancer threw me for a loop and I got right back on. Unfortunately, I’ve had other horses make me look the fool, but that’s another

story. Now let’s talk about your pen name. I love the name Icy Snow Blackstone, the pseudonym you write under. Now this name belonged to your great-great-great-great grandmother. Tell us about that.

Toni: Icy Snow was born in north Georgia where her father, the Reverend John Blackstone was active in local politics. He was an English émigré and I believe she was born around 1802. She married a minister and one of her children, my great-great-great-grandfather, was also a minister. The minute I heard her name I thought it sounded as if it should belong to a romance writer so when I started writing romances, I decided to use it. Icy Snow had seven or eight children and there’s even a website about her. One of her other descendants got in touch with me after seeing her name online and we discovered we lived in the same town in Georgia and never knew it. We’re something like fourth or fifth cousins, I think.

Sharon: I love it and find that entire history so fascinating! Oh here comes Oliver with dessert. With a sweeping bow, Oliver presents his culinary delight, a sinfully rich black cherry devil’s food cake with a hue dollop of peach ice cream on top. He feeds Toni a bite and waits. And while he’s waiting for her eyes to stop glazing over in ecstasy, he feeds more treats to the pooches.

Sharon: Oliver, did you forget about me, your boss, the woman who pays you? But Oliver turns his gaze to Toni.

Toni: Thank you, Oliver. You’re a man after my own heart—or any other body part, too. If you ever decide to leave Sharon’s employ, I imagine I can find a spot for you in my kitchen…or den…or some other room in the house.

Oliver dances with delight, blushes a deep crimson red and passes out cold. The pooches circle him and Conan tells him to wise up and take it like a man. Oliver struts off, his heart all a flutter.

Sharon: Well, now it’s time for my favorite question. Irish and superstitious, I love to collect legends and lore and traditions from my guests. Can you share a favorite with me?

Toni: Oh, I have quite a few. From the theatre: one never speaks of a role one wants until the casting list has been announced, and the title of one of Shakespeare’s plays is never spoken backstage. It’s always called the Scottish Play. (I imagine you can figure out which one I mean)

My own particular stage custom was on opening night to wear a ring my dance teacher gave me. There are plenty of Southern superstitions, of course…right hand itches, you’ll get money, left hand itches, you’ll spend it; if your tongue is sore, you’ve been telling lies; see a cardinal, make a wish. I have a rather morbid little superstition of my own: Always say goodbye. Several times in my life, I’ve left someone and not told them goodbye and I’ve never seen them again, so whenever I leave anyone, I always tell them goodbye, even though I may only be gone for a few minutes. If I don’t get to say it for some reason, I will worry until I actually see them again.

Sharon: Oh, Toni, you are a woman after my own heart! I adore all superstitions and those are some I will certainly add to my favorites. And that brings us to the end of our interview. And to my final three questions. If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be and why? If you could star in any literary fiction, which would it be and why? And last but not least, who would you want playing your romantic hero?

Toni: Now you’ve given me questions I’ll have a most difficult time answering. I have a lot ofplaces I’d like to visit…London…Honolulu…and live…for a while, but I’d really like to have a permanent home either on one of the Golden Isles off the coast of Georgia or in the writers’ colony at Laguna Beach, CA. If I could be any literary heroine, I’d like to be my own Andrea Talltrees from the Sinbad series. I put a lot of myself into Andi and I’d totally love to have a man like Sinbad! As for who would star as my “hero”…Travis Fimmel would be okay…or Brad Pitt in Achilles-mode…or…Oliver…he’s a good contender, too! (blows a kiss at him)

Sharon: Thank you for being such a wonderful guest. It’s been a pleasure. I wish you and the little darlings a pleasant voyage through space. Sharon gives them each a parting biscuit and a pat on the head. Come back again, Toni.

Toni: Thank you for having me, Sharon, and tell Oliver goodbye, also!

Spacedog’s Best Friend
Available at:
http://www.amazon.com/ To read about Toni Sweeney and her other books available, visit her at:
http://www.tonivsweeney.com/; http://www.leucrotapress.com/; www.double-dragon-ebooks.com/