Oliver Presents Mary Ricksen

Thunder and lightning crash and collide in the blood-red sky, splintering the night into brilliant white light. 

A werewolf howls, its keening wail slicing through the cemetery looming high above the haunted mansion. Spooked by the pounding echo of her own footsteps, a Veiled Lady races up the stone steps to the mansion and taps on the heavy mahogany door.

Oliver, dressed in black tails and top hat, flings the door open. It creaks open on rusty hinges. Smiling manically, he extends his arm.

Right this way, mademoiselle.

The Veiled Lady and Oliver enter the parlor.  The doors that have parted disappear into the wall. Dark, flowing drapes shroud odd shaped windows, and black tapers in sterling silver holders flicker in the dark paneled room. Oliver seats his guest on the black rose settee. Frozen concoctions swimming with strawberries in crystal flutes await on the coffin table. When tapping hammers out a tune on the wall, Oliver kisses the Veiled Lady with a wink and a smile.

Good Evening. It is my great pleasure to introduce the lovely and enchanted Mary Ricksen. Mary has a ghostly tale that will send shivers skating down your spine. Take it away, my pretty.

Many years ago my sister and I used to play this game. We would lie in bed late at night and play when we couldn’t sleep. The old, Gothic, Victorian house, my great grandmother lived in creaked and groaned all over and we never knew what was house or what could possibly be ghost. The odd shaped windows and doors that opened into walls added the mystique. You had to be sure both feet were well away from the edge of the bed.  Better safe then sorry.

The idea of the game was to guess the tune. We would tap out the music on the bed while hearing it in your head. I don’t know how we did it, but we always guessed right!

I really hated the room we stayed in. It was all dark corners and deep closets. Shadows were so dark; one had to feel your way out of the room. But every time we visited we ended up in the same room.

Dark, thick, heavy curtains lined the windows. Not a speck of light got in when they closed.  Wood pineapples were on each of four posts on the old cherry wood furniture.

We stayed on the third floor. I don’t know why because there were four bedrooms on the second floor. And we were the only ones visiting her. The only ones up there. Alone. My cousin used to tease us telling us how great Uncle Snidely had died up there and he watched his heirs all the time. She told us about him and showed us his picture. We were primed!

No night lights allowed, we were big girls.

One very stormy night at Great Gram’s place we lay there tapping out songs. Thunder boomed and lightning knocked out all the street lights. After one particularly loud boom I realized I had to take a pee.  My sister ran to the window to look and I jumped outta bed and ran. The tile floor chilled my feet as I walked on little squares. I picked up the seat and quickly did what I had to. Flushing the toilet I ran back down the dark hallway to our room.

My sister was talking. “I still can’t understand what you’re trying to have me guess.” She sounded flustered.

“What are you talking about?” I jumped on my bed closest to the door.

“Very funny, I’ve been trying to guess the song, but you keep tapping out nonsense. I told you I give up and still you keep tapping. What was the song you were trying to have me guess?” She asked.

“I just got back from the bathroom, I haven’t been tapping anything.” I chuckled. “What you been playing our game with a ghost or something?”

Her voice quivered. “Did you just say you just came back from the bathroom?”

“Yes.” Now I was getting scared.

“Well I have been trying to guess what song and you, well I thought it was you, were tapping away like crazy. I had no idea what you wanted me to guess.” She jumped on my bed as a loud peel of thunder ripped the skies.

“Someone was here, something, oh man, something was playing our game with me.” She shivered against my side.

Just then we heard it. In the silence between lightning strikes. Tapping. Tap, tap, tap…

“AAAAAHHHHHH!!” We screamed in unison.  Both of us jumped up and ran outta that room so fast our feet flew! Screaming the whole way we yelled. “AAAHHHHH!!”

My great grandmother appeared at the end of the hall. “Girls, what’s wrong?” She hugged us close.

“Ghosts.” We wailed in unison. She calmed us down and urged us into her huge high bed. Between breaths we told Gram what happened.

“Oh that wasn’t Uncle Snidely. We have no one in the family by that name.” She laughed and we laughed.

We got under the covers with her and snuggled. Warm and secure we felt foolish. Until she closed her eyes and sighed.

“The only person it could be is Uncle Frankie, he loved music.”

Mary Ricksen

Mary loves Vermont and North Carolina in the mountains. Rows of corn and cherry trees

were playgrounds in the summer. She loves animals, horses, cows, and critters who live in the wild. Small town life is her future haven after big city madness. She made up her mind that someday she'd be back in the country, even in just in her books.

Love, happiness, a little bit of magic, and a hunky hero with a happily-ever-after

ending is her favorite thing to read or to write. Especially if they are time travel!

MARY'S BLOG

maryricksen.blogspot.com/

MARY'S WEBSITE 
www.maryricksen.com

Purchase her books from her Publisher's

SITE

The Wild Rose Press

www.thewildrosepress.com

Mary M. Ricksen
"Know that love is truly timeless"

Secretary - Chapter: Florida Romance Writers

Tripping Through Time   ISBN#1-60154-392-1

You Gotta Read Reviews-Absolutely wonderful! An excellent

first novel.  Rated:You Gotta Read!

Dear Oliver with Mary Ricksen

Hello and welcome to another episode of Dear Oliver! Today’s special guest is the author of Time Travel Romance, Mary Ricksen. You don’t want to miss her pet peeve, especially if you are an insomniac with a self esteem issue to boot! And there’s more, so get ready, it’s a doozie of a list.

Among Mary’s otherpet peeves are rude, superior attitude, inconsiderate people, bullies, snobs, and mean spirited people! And she hates when the government gives money to countries that hate us.

So, come on in and belly up to the bar. And while you’re eavesdropping on Oliver’s sound advice, why not treat yourself to one of his legendary martinis! You’ll find his impressive venue listed on the sidebar. Not a martini fan? Not a problem. Oliver will make whatever drink strikes your fancy and serve it with a wink and a smile. Rumor has it that his Chicago style pizza is so loaded that the mafia is after him! With no further ado, let’s give a warm round of applause to Mary Ricksen!

Oliver: What can I getcha to drink, love?

Mary: Well Oliver, you know I don’t drink. I see more and get to laugh at everyone else who does!! And let me tell you I have seen some very drunk people do very funny things. Not so funny for them the next day when they realize what they did. I’ll take anything frosty with berries in it.

Oliver whips up a frosty strawberry smoothie and presents it to Mary with a wink and a smile. Noticing her pout, he plops in three more frozen strawberries. Nothing if not a lady killer, he plucks up the plumpest and feeds it to her. Then he skims his hand along her cheekbone. Why so glum, chum?

Mary:  My problem, is self esteem, I need to get more somehow! Add to that I am an insomniac and I hate it! I wanna be sleeping, but my brain won’t shut off! Every problem, every unanswered question, every hurdle that I have to leap, runs through my mind late at night when it’s quiet and the world nods it’s head in rest. My second book needs a home. And I hope to goodness I find a good one for it!

Oliver: My sweet pet, he clutches his heart. I’ve just finished reading

TRIPPING THROUGH TIME

And, my sweet, dare I say that after being sucked in to your incredible writing style, any book that follows has to be a winner! With a wicked wink, leans a little closer and whispers. Sweet thing, I slipped you that secret agent stun gun* for a reason. And for the record, if I were you, I’d zap any agent or editor that rejects your second book where the sun doesn’t shine. Now, tell me, love, who can I play for you on the jukebox to chase your blues away?

Mary:  Three Dog Night, Or the original version of Layla?

The lights dim and Oliver falls to his knees in front of Mary, plucking on the strings of an electric guitar. He serenades her, his husky voice floating across the bar to the classic Eric Clapton hit.

“No one is waiting by your side?

You’ve been running and hiding much too long

You know it’s just your foolish pride

Layla, you got me on my knees

Layla, I’m begging’ darling please…”

When the lights come back, the bar rocks with applause. Oliver hands Mary another strawberry smoothie with a ton of frozen berries and a mouth-watering piece of loaded pizza. When Mary opens her mouth, Oliver feeds her, dabbing the sauce dribbling down her chin. He smiles a beguiling smile. So tell me, sweet pea, when did you develop this pet peeve?

Mary:  Pet peeve, My pet peeve is rude, superior attitude, inconsiderate people! Bullies, snobs, and mean spirited people stay away from me please!!! We are all just plain human and should be nice to one another. Oh! I hate government giving money to countries that hate us, while our own people have no jobs or are starting!!! There is no middle class anymore; you are either well to do or struggling.

Oliver’s eyes glaze over as he listens to the longest rant he’s ever heard. When his ears begin to buzz, he mumbles something about giving a stun gun to a raving lunatic, a crazed psycho. Then he plucks up a bottle of whiskey and drinks some, straight up. Then he pours the rest of the jug into Mary’s smoothie.

Well, love, there is no such place as Utopia, but if such a place did exist, where do you think it is?

Mary: A place in the mountains, where everyone is kind and friendly, and there are trees and gentle winds, silence except for the sounds of the forest. (A hospital has to be within driving distance too Ha!) Oh, I wouldn’t mind being comfortable enough to not worry about money!

And I like to be liked, ya know? I try to be the best person I can be, sometimes I may make a mistake, but I would never hurt another person if I could help it! I love it when people are happy to see me!

But most of all I want to meet in person my two soul sisters from the AR&T. Maybe on a cruise, or in the Great Smokies, somewhere together. Sorry Oliver only girls this time.

Oliver puts on his iPod and cranks up the volume. When he can still hear Mary’s ever growing list of pet peeves, he drinks some more whiskey to drown her out.  Pretty soon, he’s belting it out to Pink Floyd’s Comfortably Numb.

How can Dear Oliver help, my pet?

Mary: You gave me a stun gun!* I love you, you’re my buddy. I got your back guy!

I love how you take care of Sharon. Ain’t she the bomb!

Love you sweetie! Buttttt---A nice shoulder rub might help?

His head spinning, Oliver snatches his stun gun back and shoots himself. In his dazed state of confusion, he can still hear the voice of Mary Ricksen. He’ll probably hear it in his sleep.
*(See last week's roast comments on the post 'Where are the Clowns)

I moved to Florida a long time ago. I hate the summer heat, but the winters are heavenly!! I love snow, but don’t miss the terrible weather you have where you live. I was born in Burlington, Vt., but moved many times from Canada to Texas and many states in between. When I moved out on my own I moved to Port Washington, NY. Where I met and married Chris. I loved him from the minute I saw him. He was hot and still is!

He coulda used some training in how to be a good husband. But his mom was never home.

He is like my left leg, be tough to live without him. He does surprise me though. Yesterday he did something he’s never, ever, done. He bought me a pair of earrings for no reason at all.

I was filled with shock and awe. I hope the kisses and hugs were enough to let him know I loved what he did. But, there is that niggling wonder in the back of my head. Hey, what did you do?

So far, so good. Wasn’t that just what I have been hoping for? A more thoughtful man, holey moley! And God help me, I hope he continues to do things like that!!!

http://maryricksen.com/

http://authorroastandtoast.blogspot.com

http://pinkfuzzyslipperwriters.blogspot.com/

MaryM.Ricksen@att.net

Wednesday Spotlight with Mary Ricksen

Hello and welcome to Wednesday Spotlight! Today my special guest is friend and fellow Wild Rose author Mary Ricksen. Mary is here today to chat with us about her book
Tripping Through Time

But first, here is a blurb and excerpt:

BLURB
In the waters of Lake Champlain there is magic, and a Celtic Ring with a mystic spell
proves that love is truly timeless.
For years Keealyn McCalley has been under her father's commanding thumb. After a
young child dies in her arms, Keealyn leaves nursing school despite his disapproval.
She ends up staying at a camp on Lake Champlain, in Vermont.
Depressed and overwhelmed she takes her first drink and before she knows it she is
stoned. Hungover and not thinking clearly she jumps into the lake. Her misguided
act leads her to find an ancient Celtic ring with a spell on it. Putting it on sends
her back to the year 1869. Found on the shore by Ryan Wolf, she is immediately attracted
to his misty green eyes, hard body, and compassionate nature.
She must learn to trust him not to abuse her, save her heart, and teach her the powerful
healing power of unconditional love.

EXCERPT
Finally, her father left, furious and disgusted
with her. He gave her a non-refundable bus ticket
and his last words echoed in her mind.
“Take your choice, either come home with this
ticket, or go back to school immediately. I’m finished,
do whatever you want, I really don’t care. The only
reason I came is your mother made me. As far as I
am concerned you were our biggest mistake.”
“To you I am a mistake, but I am a mistake that
has a mind, feelings, and the right to choose how I
want to spend my life. You can’t make me into what
you want me to be.”
“That’s for sure, you can’t even come close. Try
living without any money, let’s see if you dare to
speak to me like that when you are begging for my
help.”
“Dad, I will never beg for your help, I’d rather be
dead. You will not hear from this mistake ever
again.”
“Good.” Her father shook his head, the look of
disgust on his face apparent. He turned and walked
out of her life forever.
After she left the police station, she ripped the
ticket into small pieces and watched wistfully as the
small pieces blew away in the wind. Finally
emancipated, it was over—bittersweet because now
she could never go home again.
Slowly her thinking became less coherent and
her lungs screamed for air.
The longer she held her breath underwater, the
slower her thoughts came, her mind now numb,
jumbled. She saw fish dart by above her and
followed them with hazy eyes. One seemed to stare
into her face, before swimming to the bottom. It
circled below her, as if trying to get her attention.
She saw something on the bottom. Bright gold,
it glowed, its radiance attracted her and she realized
it was a ring. At that point, she felt indifferent, so it
must have been reflex, or providence, that coerced
her to reach down, pick it up, put it on and then
open her mouth to end it all.
Before the water could fill her lungs she felt a
shock, her body tingled and her blood burned
through her veins. A bright flash of light surrounded
her for a moment and she passed out with a last
thought. I hope I don’t go to hell for this. That
Catholic rhetoric they’d drilled into her head still
made her question her actions.


Sharon: Let’s have a warm welcome for Mary Ricksen. But as Mary waves madly to her fans, her Celtic ring flies off her finger and into the icy waters of Lake Champlain. The audience gasps in horror and screams in unison, “Mary! Don’t jump!”

Oliver dashes out in his red hot speedos, executing a graceful swan dive into the water to rescue Mary. He scoops her up in his arms, biceps pumping, and places her on the cement. She gurgles once, then twice. Then the gold ring spouts forth from her lips before she passes out cold. Oliver revives her by delivering mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Mary bolts upright, a big smile on her face. Thunderous applause explodes once the crowd is assured Mary Ricksen is out of harm’s way and will live to write her next best seller.

Sharon rushes out with a plush towel and a big hug for her friend. Well Mary, that was some entrance, I’d say! Have a seat and Oliver will bring you your favorite drink. Oliver is at the ready, strawberry frutista in hand. He places it on a Duncan Donut napkin along with a huge plate of pistachio nuts. He stares at Mary, awe struck, hoping to be the romantic hero of all her dreams.

Sharon reaches for her coffee with trembling fingers. She salutes Oliver for his heroics. Relieved that Mary has stopped shivering, Sharon raises her coffee mug. Here’s to drama on the high sea! So let’s talk about this book. I love the sound of it. The Celtic Ring had me hooked and anything with magic and legend gets my full attention. Tell us how you came up with the plot for this spellbinding tale?

Mary: Thanks for saving me Oliver. I don’t swim well and I was getting tired. Phew.
The idea came to me while I was having a conversation with a friend. We were talking about when my DH lost his wedding ring in the Long Island Sound. His hand was greasy from working on the motor. And when he went in to look at the prop. Plop that was it, gone! Well we both freaked and I gave him the devil for it and eventually I forgot. It was a year later when my DH and his brother were snorkeling and he decided to look for the ring. Never in a million years did I think he would find it. He couldn’t see his hand in front of his face the water was that murky. But with his face right on the bottom he saw a glint on the bottom. He reached for it and bingo, the ring.

Sharon: Wow, and what are the chances? You know, there are so many legends associated with the Celtic folk, aren’t there? And I’m a real sucker for them all. You have Celtic blood running through your veins. Can you share a favorite legend with us?

Mary: My Irish red headed mom always told us about the banshee, she heard it before someone would die. She is a bit fey.

Sharon: Is there a reason why you chose the waters of Lake champlain as the place where the Celtic ring is found?

Mary: I grew up spending my summers there, it’s a wonderful place.

Sharon: How long did it take you to write this book?

Mary: It took me four years to get it right. And now when I look back, I see things I should and would have done a lot differently. I’m much quicker and I’ve learned so much since then. I think I have improved!

Sharon: Isn’t it the truth, girlfriend! Let’s talk about reviews. While it’s an awesome feeling to get a fabulous one, especially a five star rating, there is a certain phobia associated with seeing your name out there before you know what a reviewer wrote about the book you poured your heart into. Tell us what went through your mind when you read your very first review.

Mary: Ahhhhhhhh! Help me I almost passed out! I had to grab something so I wouldn’t fall on the floor. My first reviewer trashed me! It was awful, and she actually apologized, she was having a horrible day. The blurb was incorrect so she was expecting a totally different book. And it really annoyed her. I think she thought I was trying to trick people, when I had nothing to do with her getting the wrong blurb. I’ll never forget it as long as I live. Be careful when you do a review, there is someone that can be very hurt by careless words. My second review was a whole lot better, which made me, feel better. Those are the only two I have had. I wonder why, although I know some people never get any reviews.

Sharon: Oh and here comes Oliver with dessert. Oliver strolls out with a cut glass plate of cannolies. Then he picks up a bronze statue and presents it to Mary with a sweeping bow and a wink.

Sharon: Thank you, Oliver. Mary tears up when she reads it. She holds it up to her adoring fans. Inscribed in beautiful handwriting, it says, To Mary Ricksen, The Wild Rose Press Resident Blogger.

Sharon: As I once told Mary in an email, she has to be our designated resident blogger. Every time I’ve been to a blog, Mary is one of the first if not the first to leave a comment. She told me that it makes her feel good to promote fellow authors. Let’s hear it for Mary Ricksen!

Thunderous applause as Mary gets a standing ovation from her fans.

Mary: Wait I can’t talk with the cannoli stuffed in my mouth. My goodness these are great. Thanks everyone. Let me put it this way. Don’t you feel great when people comment on your blog? I do. That’s why I do it. How else will a blogger know you liked it?

Sharon: All right. Perhaps your statue can have a place of honor in your garden. Tell us about your garden of statues. What is your most unique and why?

Mary: The most unique one is called the Weeper. The Weeper does your crying for you so you don’t have to cry. I have a set of statues on the Alice in Wonderland theme. The Queen of hearts is so sassy. Amongst my stepping-stones, but not too near the Weeper is where I’ll place it. I am so glad it’s weatherproof!

Sharon: I love it! The Weeper. I’ll have to run out and get one of those. So what’s next for Mary Ricksen? What is your current wip and why?

Mary: I just finished my second in the series called, Time Can Heal Your Heart. It’s called Burned Into Time. Yep, my heroine is in a horrific car fire in the beginning. My friend, Linda Nightingale, said she was afraid to get in her car for a week after reading it. I hope it will be contracted. The waiting is horrible isn’t it?

Sharon: You know it, girl. I’m doing the waiting game right now as a matter of fact, so I can relate. Unfortunately, I’m afraid that brings us to the end of our interview. But before we go, just a few more questions. How would you like to be remembered when you leave this earth? What footprint would you like to leave as your mark?

Mary: I’d like to be remembered as a good, kind, person, who was an author. I’d like people to say, “That Mary Ricksen was so nice. Did you read her books? I’m going to miss her.”

Sharon: And if you could live any where in the world where would it be and why? If you could be the starring lady in any literary fiction, which would it be and why? And last but not least, who would you like playing your romantic hero?

Mary: Am I rich or poor.
I have never left this continent so I have nothing to use except my imagination. But I think Ireland or Scotland would feel like home. Here it’s North Carolina in the smokies, the winters on Lake Champlain are hard to take. We own a piece of property between Bryson City and Cherokee which we would like to build on.
I’d like to be Clare in Diana Gabaldon’s Voyager series. Jamie is perfect as the main man.
As for my hero, Helen Hardt has a picture on him on her blog. Gerard looks exactly like Jamie should look.

Oliver stands in the corner blubbering.

Sharon: Ah, pipe down, Oliver. You can’t be everyone’s romantic hero! Sharon rolls her eyes. And there you have it folks, a close up and personal with Mary Ricksen. Mary, it’s been a blast and I hope you come back again. Where can readers buy your books and get in touch with you?

Mary: My books can be purchased at all the usual places; Amazon, Fictionwise, B&N, Kindle etc. But it is a print on demand and will have to be ordered if one wants the book in hand. E print can be downloaded right away. I can be reached on my email address mricksen@att.net
Thank you Sharon for the privilege of inviting me to be interviewed for your blog. I so enjoyed it and I hope that people enjoy my books. Reading is such a gift to us, for me it’s the greatest gift of all!