Gothic Encounter with Dayana Knight

The hunter’s moon skittered across the starless sky, casting its blood-red glow on the nearby cemetery. For a fleeting second, the ghostly image of Dracula materialized above a headstone, his black cape rippling in the wind. Dayana’s flesh tingled at the sight. He had the face of a Greek god, six-pack abs she’d love to run her nine inch black fingernails through—and he was dressed in low cut black jeans, his belt buckle undone. His eyes gleamed with fire. Oh what a thrill.

From deep in the woods, a werewolf howled, its keening wail befittingly foreboding. Dayana smiled as she scurried into the courtyard surrounding the Gothic mansion. It was Halloween, her favorite holiday of the year. And what better night for the supernatural to come out and play. Costumed in her Gothic best, a brushed emerald velvet gown with a tight lace-up bodice and creamy lace trim, her flesh tingled with eager anticipation. The wind swooshed through the willowy pines in the forest, causing her long flowing sleeves to billow and flutter. The werewolf howled again, the cry of the wild crawling inside her skin. Oh how she loved this night, the paranormal, the supernatural, the otherworldly.

The torch lit candles shed an eerie glow on the two wolves keeping vigil at the fortress gate. Their eyes red-hot and gleaming, low growls spewing from deep in their throats, they granted her access to the mansion. As Dayana tugged on the rope to announce her entrance, shivers of anticipation raced down her spine. And with a groaning creak, the heavy oak door opened and Oliver stood there grinning, his razor-sharp fangs glowing like shards of molten glass.

You rang? Extending his hairy arm, he escorted the Gothic queen to the parlor where the guests had gathered for the Halloween party. The pet raven soared down the spiral staircase, his massive wings edged with spider webs. With a chilling screech, he swooped down on Dayana’s shoulder. An eerie whistle snaked its way through the dark corridor, the only light the gleaming red eyes of the mounted heads of werewolves. From the parlour, the theme song from Dark Shadows drifted, filling Dayana with nostalgic memories of centuries past.

The parlour was dark and sinister, rose-scented candelabras bathing the guests in ghoulish light. Sweeping branches from the pines painted willowy shadows on stained glass windows. The Werewolf of London stood in the dark recesses, chatting with the Queen of Darkness. Souls of the Living Dead floated about and the Tiger of London purred with feline delight. Sharon fluttered about, socializing with her guests, donned as a Gothic vampiress, her blood-red gown and ruby choker the perfect ensemble. She rushed to greet Dayana, snapping her fingers for Oliver to bring Dayana’s beverage of choice.

Sharon: Good evening, Gothic sister. You look most befitting on this night of nights. And here comes Oliver with your Kuluhah and Creme and a platter of Ritz crackers smothered with butter and strawberry jam and some PB & J sandwiches, your favorite comfort food.
Dayana: Sharon, thank you so much for having me and remembering my favorites. You are always such a dear!

Sharon: Raises her glass of Merlot. So while the guests gather around to meet you, do tell us about yourself.

Dayana Knight grew up near the Pine Barrens of Southern New Jersey where the legendary 13th Son, better known as the Jersey Devil was born and the popular television shows Dark Shadows, The Twilight Zone and Night Gallery.

As a young girl, Dayana thrived on anything supernatural and paranormal. It only made sense she’d grow up with a desire to write her own stories about her favorite creatures and things that go bump in the night. Dayana enjoys solitary walks in mist-covered forests, visiting century-old cemeteries, and spine-tingling ghost stories. And, of course, her favorite celebration is Samhain, All Saints Day, better known as Halloween.

She is a member of Romance Writers of America, the Florida Romance Writers, Inc. and does free lane reviews when time allows. She can be found in the following venues

www.dayanaknight.blogspot.com
www.romawolftales.com
Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/pages/edit/?id=104397141900#/profile.php?id=100000032211790&ref=profile
Twitter:
http://twitter.com/DKWolftales
Myspace:
http://www.myspace.com/487513802

Sharon: Most excellent. And here comes Oliver with a refill and some dark chocolate delights, and a peanut butter mousse pie, smothered with whipped cream. He presents the culinary treats to Dayana, casting her a wicked wink.

Dayana: Oh my! Maybe I could smother you in whipped cream and dark chocolate as well,
Oliver. *Dayana winks and grins seductively licking her cherry red lips* You have certainly outdone yourself once again. Where did you find this delicious tall drink of a man or should I say vampire, Sharon?

Sharon: Raises her silver chalice, an evil smile curling her lips. Well,dear,let’s just say I got rid of Oliver’s nemesis and he is eternally grateful. Sharon winks. Ah, yes, this Merlot is most befitting tonight. So Dayana, now that you have the attention of the guests, why not tell us about your books and then answer a few questions before the dancing commences.

Curse of the Marhime

Blurb:
A routine visit to the grocery store and a chance encounter with a psychic plunges
Pita Sedgwick into a dark world of shape-shifting, magic, and Gypsy lore. Pita finds
herself on a plane to Romania, seeking the answers to her mysterious birth and in
search of her biological family. Fate intervenes in the form of handsome seatmate,
Niko Ionesciu. Pita is sure she’s found love and her history. But as her innocent
fact-finding mission spirals into a dangerous game of revenge and deceit with the
Gypsy Matriarch, the psychic’s words come back to haunt her. Can she trust the people
around her with her terrifying secret or will the search for her family end in the
ultimate betrayal?

Buy link:
http://www.thewildrosepress.com/curse-of-the-marhime-roma-wolf-tales-1-p-944.html?zenid=6a59bd9ffff45a8740327df917c5a6b4

Companion Story:

Bestial Cravings

(part of the Roma Wolf Tales series)

Blurb:
Vesta Johns has everything going for her—except her health. Desperate to find the
answers to her lethargy and her insatiable desire for raw meat and sex, she seeks
out the help of her doctor, but Dr. Cohen can give her no answers. Or can she?
Torrence Simiene is a medical consultant with a unique specialization. As an alpha
werewolf, it’s been his job to aid Dr. Cohen’s special patients through their transition
from human to shifter, for years. This time, however, it’s different. Vesta arouses
his primal lust, and he’s having a hard time keeping her at a distance.
Will the doctor’s plan of care offer the ultimate cure for Tor and Vesta’s bestial
cravings, or further drive them apart?

Buy Link:
http://www.thewildrosepress.com/bestial-cravings-p-1254.html?zenid=6a59bd9ffff45a8740327df917c5a6b41.

The guests break out in thunderous applause, and from inside the chamber walls, the skeletal remains rattle their bones. The raven clock screeches in the witching hour.

Sharon: Ah, let the fun begin. So tell us, what inspires you to write the paranormal, the supernatural and to what lengths to you let your imagination go?

Dayana: Ho boy! My imagination is why I write paranormal. I have a vivid imagination and had no problem anytime in my life entertaining myself. I used to playact the serial television show Dark Shadows as a child. I’d toss sheer curtains all over my room and pretend they were the cobwebs of the deserted “east wing” of the mansion and pretend I was wandering through its eerie halls. Of course, I was always AngeliqueJ I have loved the paranormal from a very tender age and it just feels natural to write it.

Sharon: Dark Shadows was always one of my favorites, especially on rainy, dreary days. So tell us about your book, the setting, the hero and heroine.

Dayana: The Roma Wolf Tales Series is set between Romanian Carpathian Mountains and the Montana Rockies. Curse of the Marhime is the first book of the series. (Book two is under construction as we speakJ)

Pita is an introverted young woman who is for the most part secure with her life. She lost her parents in a tragic car accident only a couple of years back and has always known she was adopted but had no interest in seeking out her biological parents…That is until now.

Niko is a self-assured artist that was born in Hungary and later migrated to Romania. He’s handsome yet has a devilishly boyish smile and very charming. Pita’s reaction to him is immediate.

The two meet as seatmates on a plane to Romania and pass a long layover in Munich as if they are new lovers. The strange thing is they share this eerie sensation when they touch, like an electrical current. They make plans to see each other again sometime and part ways.

You’ll just have to grab the book to learn moreJ

Sharon: Do you have one character in particular that lingers in your mind and if so why?

Dayana: If you speak generally, the one character that has touched my heart and will always remain in my mind is one from Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series. I fell in love with James Fraser aka Jamie. I’ve read the series no less that the number of books in it. Each time I got the newest book, I went back and reread the series!

Sharon: Do you believe in magic and legend and lore?

Dayana: Absolutely! I believe there are unexplained things, entities, forces out there. Not in a crazy way. I believe that behind every legend there is fact. The legends and stories came from somewhere.

Sharon: Ah, a woman after me own heart. Tis the wee Irish lass in me! LOL Tell us about the Black Rose line and the supernatural

Dayana: The Black Rose line takes the darker paranormal stories such as Vampire, Were/Shifters, Demons, Gargoyles, you get the picture. I know they would never turn away the lighter stories, but since the creatures we write about are more sensual, they typically consist of a spicier to hotter rating.

As far as the supernatural, I grew up with tales and family experiences that delved into the supernatural. I loved the adrenalin rush of hearing those tales and I, myself, had the desire to seek out the supernatural. We would take off into the night and drive into haunted woods, cemeteries – you name it. My favorite place was Batsto, an old village, now a historical landmark in the Pine Barrens of southern New Jersey. I did a blog on the site not long ago and am writing a novella about the famed 13th Son or Jersey Devil now.

Sharon: What type of research do you do for the paranormal?

Dayana: Typically, I read and follow most things paranormal just for the sheer interest but I research anything I’m not familiar with thoroughly before I sit down to write it. For instance, I have never been to Romania, though people thought I had been and commented after reading Curse of the Marhime. I just dug in a gleaned any information I could about the country, its history, and its people. Also, I have a source in Romania as well as a friend who worked there for ten years that helped me immensely with the atmosphere and facts. I spent months printing out and researching the country. I have a four to five inch file just on that, LOL I did the same for Montana. I’ve not ever been there either.

I will tell you that I will see both Romania and the Rockies before I die! As well, Wolf Park in Battlecreek, Indiana.

Sharon: What’s next for Dayana Knight?

Dayana: I’ve got several projects in different stages. I am working on book two of the Roma Wolf Tale series, and I should probably mention here that Bestial Cravings, my latest work, is a companion short, which in effect introduces two of the newest characters into the mix. If you’ve read Curse but have not yet read BC you may want to pick that one up.

I’ve also got The Jersey Tale (working title) as I mentioned before in the works and am rewriting my first published novel for re-release sometime in the future. Now if I only had more hours in a day, more days in a week, I’d be getting somewhere!

Sharon: I adore superstitions and collect them in my magic wishing well. Can you share a favorite with me?

Dayana: Hmm…mine would be, I will not go out one door and come in another—Ever! People think it strange but I just can’t bring myself to do it, *grins* I always use the same doorway no matter how inconvenient.

Sharon: Hmmm. I have so many! So what do you suppose draws us to the rituals and customs of Halloween each year? The costumes? The decorating?

Dayana: For me, it’s the spirit and atmosphere of the holiday. It’s my way of celebrating the Pagan beliefs of nature. I am very basic and love the belief that the elements rule life. Mother Nature, earth, wind, water, fire. The moon and sun. For me it’s that simple. This is the day that signifies it for me.

Sharon: What is your favorite Halloween memory?

Dayana: My mother was always a great celebrator of Halloween as well and one year she made me a beautiful costume by hand of a Gypsy woman. I was so proud and felt so grown up (I was all of nine or ten, at the most). From my colorful ankle-length skirt to my huge silver hoop earrings and my long blonde hair now colored black (Whoa! Mom wasn’t happy with that decision when she couldn’t get the black stuff out of my hair, LOL) and all the bangles dangling about my wrists. I was definitely the cat’s meow that Halloween. I will always cherish that memory.

Sharon: If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be and why?

I would have to say Romania because I am infatuated with the country’s charm and imagery. After all that’s where Dracula came from and btw he was a real person and highly revered though his history is dark and brutal his goal was to protect his country first and foremost, thus legends come from fact, as I stated earlier. I love the image of the rolling hills, eerie forests, and wolves—my favorite creature next to domestic dogs.

Sharon: If you could star in any literary fiction which would it be and why?

Dayana: I would have to say Laurell K. Hamilton’s Anita Blake series, LOL


Sharon: And last but not least, who would you want playing your romantic hero?

Dayana: Okay, here’s where we get a bit tricky. It would definitely be Viggo Mortensen as Aragorn, but instead, he would be Mica, the shifter in the series:)

Sharon: Thank you, Dayana. Now what do you say we mingle and mix and do some dancing. And look who just blew in from Rumania. Why it’s Dracula!

As the theme from the X Files drifted through the room, Dracula pulled Dayana into his arms and shrouded her in his long, flowing cape.

Happy Halloween!!

Halloween Traditions from around the world

If you follow my blog—and I hope you have signed on by now—no doubt you are well aware of my love for traditions, legend and lore. I simply adore them and consider each new one a cherished treasure. Since the first of October, I’ve been posting tid bits about Halloween, superstitions and fun facts. Today, I am blogging about Halloween traditions from around the world. And today, I’ve decided to run a contest. And remember, you can go back to any and all posts starting on October 1 and continue through October 31st I will go through all comments and choose a winner. The winner will be announced on November 1st and will receive a Moonlight Past treat bag from Bath&Body. But in order to be entered in the contest, you must first sign up to follow my blog—and leave a comment. And remember, the more blogs you comment on, the better your chances are of winning the treat!

So here is how Halloween is celebrated around the world. Enjoy!

IRELAND
Thought to be where the holiday originated, in rural areas, it is celebrated with bonfires. Children dress up in costumes and go trick or treating in their neighborhood. This is followed by a party where the celebration continues with games and frolic and traditional food.
A game of snap-apples is a favorite. Apples are hung from tree limbs and children attempt to bite them. Door frames are also used. Another game is placing cards face down on a table. Beneath each is a coin or a candy and the child keeps what he or she finds. Barnbrack is eaten at parties, a type of cake. In the center of the cake is a muslin-wrapped trinket said to foresee the eater’s future. If a ring is found, a wedding will occur before year’s end. If a strip of straw, the year will be healthy, wealthy and wise! Rather than pumpkins, turnips are carved and carried around when trick or treating.

UNITED STATES
Carries on with the Celtic tradition. Children dress in costumes and trick or treat in their neighborhoods. The “Snap-apple” game has been changed to “Bobbing for apples” where apples must be retrieved from water. Jack-o-lanterns are carved out of the traditional pumpkin and homes are decorated with skeletons, ghosts and goblins. Candy corn and caramelized popcorn balls wrapped in festive colors are traditional in the US along with gingersnap cookies and hot apple cider with cinnamon sticks

AUSTRIA
Considers Halloween a magical night. But rather than dress up and trick or treat, some practice the tradition of leaving bread and water and a lighted lamp on the kitchen table to welcome the dead into the world for one evening

BELGIUM
Superstitious Belgiums believe it bad luck for a black cat to cross one’s path, enter a home or a ship! They light candles to welcome dead relatives to enter the home

CANADA
The Scottish and Irish brought the tradition of Halloween to Canada. Canadians carve faces out of jack-o-lanterns, the children dress and trick or treat and have parties. Doors are decorated with corn stalk, inviting children to knock for treats.

CHINA
The Chinese festival is called “Peng Chi” and is celebrated by placing food and water in front of photos of deceased loved ones. Bon fires are lit to light the way for the roaming spirits.

CZECHOSLOVAKIA
Chairs are placed before a roaring fire for each living family member and each deceased member

ENGLAND
Only in recent years has the American tradition been shared with the English. Children today, dress up and knock on doors for treats. But years ago, the festival was celebrated by children carving faces out of beets and walking through the streets with them while singing “The Pumpkie Night Song.” Other traditions included lighting a bonfire and pitching such things as nuts and stones in to the flames to frighten off the spirits. Some hung the carved out beet on gateposts to ward off evil spirits.

FRANCE
The French are only now beginning to celebrate the holiday. Still thought of as primarily an American holiday, some refuse to recognize the day. But due to their love of parties and masquerades, the French began a few decades ago to embark on the festivities. How they celebrate, however, greatly differs from the US and other countries. The French throw big costume parties at homes, halls and bars. And their costumes, both for the children and adult population, portray the gruesome as mummies, ghosts and vampires opposed to the pretty as Snow White or superheroes or cartoon characters. Another difference is children do not go from door to door in neighborhoods but from store to store in the village. Bakeries and candy shops have prepared special treats for the day. The pumpkin is not much grown in France and farms that harvest them flourish at this time.

Germany
The Germans put all knives away for twenty four hours because they fear spirits will return to use them on the living.

HONG KONG
Halloween in Hong Kong is known as “Yeu” Land of the Hungry Ghost. It is believed the spirits roam the earth for twenty-four hours. Some burn pictures of fruit or money , believing it will bring comfort to the spirits.

JAPAN
The day is referred to as the “Obon Festival” and honors deceased ancestors. Bright red lanterns are hung everywhere and special foods are prepared. Candles are set in lanterns and placed in rivers and seas where they float. In certain areas, the path from the grave to the home is swept to welcome the spirit and the house is thoroughly cleaned. Fires, bonfires and community dances are also part of the celebration.

KOREA
The Korean holiday is referred to as “Chusok” to honor the dead. Rice and fruit are taken to tombs and is celebrated in August.

SPAIN, MEXICO AND LATIN AMERICA
The holiday is referred to as “El Dia de los Muertos” and is a day of festivity to honor both the living and the dead. Sweet treats are made in the shape of skeletons and food and water is placed on tables for the spirits which are thought to return this festival. Dancing takes place and a live person is placed in the grave and carried through the streets. Tequila is drunk and the mariachi band plays, candy and skeletons are tossed in the casket.

IRELAND, SCOTLAND AND WALES
The Celtic holiday was originally celebrated to ward off evil spirits and to welcome the spirits of deceased loved ones home for twenty-four hours. While the names and traditions have changed through the years, the Celts believe in honoring the day. In Scotland and Wales, a ride on a ghost train or haunted train is taken when people dress in costumes and celebrate good times. Some of the traditions ncludes tossing nuts into a fire and cooking meat as a pig on an open fire. Pumpkins, beets and turnips are used as jack-o-lanterns.

Tell me your superstition. Don’t forget to sign up as a follower and you will be entered in the Halloween contest.

To Be or Not To Be

Halloween is the time for superstitions, the supernatural and traditions. As for me, I adore legend and lore and am a “Closet Superstitious Addict!” I can never get my fill! I read them, memorize them and inscribe them. Then I put them in my magic wishing well for good luck. While on my quest this year for a new Halloween superstition I hadn’t heard before, I came across the following and found it to be quite enchanting.

According to Celtic legend and lore, the hazelnut has the power to determine whether or not your mate will be true blue. You heard right. What’s in a nut? Fidelity or infidelity? You be the judge!

On Hallow’s Eve, in front of a rip roaring fire in the hearth, take a hazelnut and inscribe the name of your lover. Then close your eyes and make a wish and pitch the nut into the flames. If the nut pops out, your mate will run from you and never be true and will break your heart. The nut that burns to ashes will hold a burning desire for all of eternity.

The Looking Glass

Scrying is the practice of looking into a reflected surface as a mirror or water to determine one’s future. Although generally associated with the Halloween witch standing over a bubbling cauldron, every female has believed in magic at one time or another. I can remember standing in front of a mirror as a little girl, primping and dreaming of the future. Holding my purple ballerina mirror in one hand, I’d envision what I would be when I grew up. We all remember the whimsical song made famous by Doris Day. I can still recall singing along while gazing at my reflection.

“When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother, what will I be. Will I be pretty? Will I be rich? Here’s what she said to me.”

“Que sare sare. Whatever will be will be. The future’s not ours to see. Que sera sera. What will be will be.”

But despite the catchy lyrics of this tune, females of all ages are true romantics at heart. Whether superstition, magical spell or make believe, the idea of seeing one’s future in a reflection is irresistible. Dreams come true for those who believe. And isn’t that the main reason little girls can’t wait for Halloween each year? To dress up in costumes of their most revered fairy tale character? Eyes twinkle a little brighter when dressing as Cinderella, the Fairy princess or any number of the legendary characters made famous by the infamous Walt Disney. Little girls believe in magic and the magic of Halloween builds sweet and nostalgic memories she can pass on to her own children.

And on that same romantic whim, the practice of scrying possesses an aura of magical enchantment. There are a few variations on the enduring scrying ritual. One is for a young woman to go to her mirror at midnight, light a candle and comb her hair. According to legend, if she concentrated very hard, she would see the image of the man she would marry. Another, my particular favorite, is for a woman to take a stroll to a moonlit pond at midnight, lighting her way with a lamp and gaze into the water. The reflection that would materialize was said to be her future soulmate.

Do you believe in magic? What fantasy character did you portray as a child? What Disney character does your little girl want to be this year for Halloween?

Death of a Twin

The Krueger Scratch
By Sharon Donovan
One Halloween, a tiny black kitten came trick or treating to my condo, purring his way into my heart. Kneeling down on the pavement, I struck up a conversation with him. “Are you lost?” I ran my fingers along his sleek fur, mesmerized by his owlish green eyes. “Don’t tell me someone dumped someone as cute as you?”
“Meow!” Oh, yeah. Here’s one I can swindle, paws down. Pour on the catnip charm.
“You’re just the sweetest thing,” I picked him up and scratched him behind his ear. “What? You’re hungry?”
“Meow!” Now you’re catchin’ on. Another minute and you’ll be singin’ like a canary.
“I bet you’d like a nice bowl of Kibbles ‘n Bits, wouldn’t you? And some nice fresh water?”
“Meow!” Ah, rats. Just when I had a hankerin’ for grilled salmon and a chaser of cream.
“Don’t you worry. You just found yourself a home.”
“Meow!” Hit catnip.
“As long as you promise to be a good boy, no tearing the place apart. Got it?”
“Meow!” Cat’s honor. Ain’t no misbehavin’.

The little darling was a holy terror from day one, raking me with his razor-sharp claws. The little beast had yet to be named, and with Nightmare on Elm Street all the rage, what name could be more befitting than Freddy Krueger? And just to do his namesake proud, his favorite game soon became the “Krueger Scratch”.
Mischievous and playful, one day Freddy snuck up on me from behind, giving me a mean swipe with his claw. Ears back and eyes gleaming, I was in for it. “So you wanna play a game of tag, do you?”
“Meow!” But it’s a game of cat and mouse. Holy Mackerel, get with the program.
All in the name of good sportsmanship, Freddy had a competitive streak. One night he joined the Penguins for a little hockey. Perched in front of the television, his head swiveled back and forth. Just as he gave the puck a good swat with his paw, the Penguins won the game. Convinced he’d scored the winning goal, Freddy seemed to grin like a cheshire cat. ““Meow!” Oh, boy. Fancy Feast, oh boy.

As the Christmas tree went up, Freddy joined in, batting at ornaments as fast as they went up. He kept one eye glued on the football game. Just as the tree was as picture perfect as a Norman Rockwell painting, the Steelers scored the winning touchdown. Freddy celebrated by making a ten-yard dash onto the tree and bringing it down with an impressive tackle. “Meow!” Who’s rollin’ in it now?

One frigid night in late January, we were hit with one of the worst snow storms in years. Football played on the television, but Freddy showed no interest. Wailing like a banshee, he raced from the door to the window, desperate to get out.
Early the next morning, Freddy’s desperate pleas made sense. When I took the garbage to the dumpster in the parking lot, I came to a dead halt. A small black kitten with owlish green eyes identical to Freddy, sat straight up in the snow, frozen to death. As I looked up to the window, Freddy looked down, his mouth open in a silent scream.
Apparently, Freddy had an identical twin. Sensing his danger, Freddy made a gallant effort to save his brother. And when he failed, he mourned for three days, refusing to eat or play.

I learned a valuable lesson through Freddy. Cats are a lot like humans. The little demon with the Freddy Krueger claws warmed his way into my heart for close to twenty years. He is remembered for his love of sports, his mischievous pranks, but mostly, for his act of brotherly love.
When Freddy Krueger came trick or treating one Halloween, little did I know the paw prints he’d leave on my heart. And as much as he liked to play, I envision him every Halloween, lifting the lid of his catnipped-lined coffin, waking his twin by saying, “Whatever happened to the Krueger Scratch?”

Ghostly Research with Candace Morehouse

The crisp fall air swooshed through the pines as Candace scampered up the rickety old steps to the Haunted Saloon. Bats hurled about the steeple of the bell tower, flapping their wings. A ghost of a moon skittered across the midnight black sky just as a coyote howled from the nearby woods. And when the bone-chilling wind billowed through her red satin dress, flipping it up to reveal her corset, fishnet stockings and garter belt, the sheriff keeping vigil in the graveyard smiled. The wild horses lassoed to the post whinnied, kicking up their hooves.

Hanging on to her feathered headpiece with one hand, clutching her flimsy black lace shawl with the other, Candace sauntered through the swinging doors of the haunted saloon, her satin dress rustling.

The lights were dim and the sultry vocals of Patsy Cline floated through the room, the bitter-sweet lyrics laced with heart-wrenching pain. Legendary outlaws sat around card tables, shuffling decks of cards while doing shots of whiskey. The smell of tobacco singed the air. As Candace sacheted her way up to the bar, Jessie James looked up and gave her a wicked wink before resuming his card game with Frank, the brothers Cole and James Younger. Candace’s high-heeled boots tapped rhythmically on the hardwood floor as she joined Mae West at the bar.

“Howdy, Candace,” Mae smiled, crossing one leg. Dressed in a black satin dress with red ruffled bottom, she raised her wine glass to the bartender. “Another one here, darlin’ and one for my friend.”

Posters of wanted outlaws framed the walls and empty whiskey jugs lined the scarred surface of the mahogany bar. Peanuts in cowboy boots were on either side while the cactus candles flickered, displaying bullet holed walls.

The bartender placed two glasses of shiraz down and smiled. “Courtesy of the James brothers, girls.”

“Thank you, Oliver,” Mae winked, turning to smile at Jessie and Frank.

“Aren’t they something,” she turned to Candace.

Candace: “Sure enough. But I’ve got my eye on that hunky sheriff prowling about. He can do a strip search on me anytime, Mae.”

Mae: “So tell me, surely you are aware of the ghosts that haunt this saloon. Why, the brothers James and the brothers Cole and James Younger are all dead and gone. But their ghosts come by every night to drink, play cards and socialize with the saloon gals, just the way they did back in the days of the Wild, Wild West. So why are you here, m’dear?”

Candace: “Research, Mae, research. One cannot write effectively about a topic like ghosts unless one has experienced it for herself.”

“Do you really believe in ghosts?” Mae swiveled around on her bar stool to openly gawk at the outlaws, noticing with a gasp their images are not reflected in the mirror above the bar.

Jesse throws his deck of cards down and stands up and approaches the bar, walking straight through the table where two cowboys sit doing shots.

“Did you see that? Mae gasped, chugging down her shiraz in one gulp. She holds it up to the bartender. “Another round, Oliver.”

Oliver obliges.

Jesse James materializes behind Mae and Candace, his handsome face a tad pale up close. But his beguiling smile is dazzling. “Even’, ladies. Me and the boys would like to request the pleasure of your company. Come join us at our table.”

Mae and Candace join the outlaws, drawn into the scene of the Wild, Wild West.

“So what brings you ladies to the Haunted Saloon tonight?” Frank asked, the wooden legs of his chair squeaking on the floor as he moved closer to Candace. “How’s about you, sugar?”

Mae adjusts herself to reveal her legendary bosom. “Well now honey, I belong here, being dead and gone myself. But my friend Candace is an author and she’s doing research on her book Suspicion of Love. And in one of her scenes, a ghost appears to her main character. Go on, tell them about it, Candace.”

“Sure, sugar,” Frank winked, ordering more shiraz. “Tell us all about it.”

Candace: “Well, this is what I came up with for a scene in an old, drafty English castle. Tell me what you think.”

Jacqueline was now lying abed, a thick wax candle dripping into its heavy pewter holder on the table next to her, a mountain of fluffy bed linens piled up around her body, and a book open in her lap that she’d barely read two lines from. There was a listless fire burning in the grate of the fireplace; it, along with the thick wool rug on the wood floor, the soft shine of the highly polished oak paneled walls, and the fine linen drapings about the canopied bed, should have made the room comfortable and cozy. It did not.

Although she was well acclimated to the bitter cold winters in Wisconsin, the castle’s brisk humidity and the cool, dank air seeping in beneath the door and around the windowpanes of her room brought on a chill that Jacqueline could not seem to shake.

She was tired enough to yawn continuously, but her mind refused to follow suit, replaying, instead, the events of the day over and over in an unending loop: Hayden avidly taking the role of tour guide throughout the long coach journey, Stephen standing rigid and stony-faced before the immense fireplace in the priory parlor, the somber view of the gray-cloaked river and churning sea visible beyond the heather and nettle-covered cliff as seen through the castle’s lead-paned windows. Abruptly Jacqueline tossed the book to the side of the bed and blew out the sputtering candle, drawing the fine bed linens up tight beneath her chin and closing her eyes, willing sleep to come quickly and cease the pictures in her mind’s eye.

She must have slept for some time—how long she was unsure. Something had awakened her with a start. Disoriented, Jacqueline slowly opened her eyes and strained to make out shapes in the unfamiliar chamber by the dim light of dying embers in the stone fireplace.

It was the odor that had first awakened her, she thought, waking up fully. She sniffed at the air, and the scent of lilacs in the room became suddenly overwhelming. It didn’t make sense. Where could it possibly be coming from? How could there be lilacs blooming in a castle next to the sea?

As her eyes adjusted to the dark, Jacqueline propped herself up on her elbows, recognizing the shape of the bedside table, the rocking chair, the embroidered ottoman next to the fireplace, and the massive bureau with wide mirror above on the wall opposite her bed. As she peered at the far wall of the room between panels of soft green linen draped over the bed’s canopy, a flicker of movement was reflected in the looking glass opposite. She squinted her eyes and swiveled her head left and right, trying to determine what might have caused it.

There it was again—a wisp of white curling about the edge of the mirror. She looked behind her, finding nothing and knowing it could not be her own reflection. There was no movement of any kind save for the strange white miasma in the mirror.

Goose pimples freckled Jacqueline’s arms, and the hairs at the back of her neck danced with fear as Jacqueline lay frozen in one spot, the wisp of white swirling and twirling alongside the bed now, elongating and dangling just inches from the floor. The smell of lilacs was even more pervasive, wafting about on the breeze created by the white wisp. The temperature in the room plummeted, and Jacqueline shuddered with the cold.

Although she was frightened, Jacqueline found she could not look away from the scene unfolding before her. The smoky tendrils started to bond together and lengthen into something more substantial, although she could see right through the mist clear to the fireplace beyond. A face began to form, a woman’s face surrounded by a cloud of white-colored hair. A pair of ethereal hands fisted at the sides of the white mist, but then the image trailed off into nothingness.

“Stay…help…,” it whispered, the transparent mouth opening and closing with each syllable, “help…please…”

One of the ghostly white hands reached out to touch hers, and it was when she felt the ice-cold mist across her hand that Jacqueline finally found her voice. She cringed, hunching back against the headboard and let out a scream, the likes of which would surely disturb any lingering occupants of the room.

Mae West: How ‘bout it, boys. Think she’s come to the right place for research?”

A low chuckle erupts as Frank and Jessie exchange a wicked wink.

Suddenly Oliver appears, costumed in a sheriff’s costume. And as the Monster Mash blasts on the CD player, he handcuffs Candace, but not before frisking her. As the ghost of the headless horseman gallops through the saloon, the candles flicker once then go out. And when the lights come on, all the Halloween guests have arrived, masquerading as characters from the Wild, Wild, West.

To read the entire Suspicion of Love to learn more about Jacqueline’s ghost, visit Champagne Books at:
http://www.champagnebooks.com/books/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=1_28&products_id=287

Or visit Candace Morehouse at her website:
www.candacemorehouse.com

Tell us your favorite ghost story. We’d love to hear it!

Wednesday Spotlight with Mickey Flagg

Hello and welcome to Wednesday Spotlight! In keeping with the spirit of ghosts and goblins and the full moon, the Halloween party sizzles all month long. Today’s featured guest is Mickey Flagg. Mickey is here to chat with us about her Halloween-inspired book
RETRIBUTION! THE CHAMPION CHRONICLES BOOK 1
Here’s a blurb and excerpt. But first, a little about Mickey.

Mickey Flagg brings the joy of music to hundreds of students every week. Named a Distinguished Music Educator at the 2009 Yale Music Symposium, she also writes paranormal romance. Retribution! her debut novel, was released in March 2009, and Book 2, Consequences, has also been contracted with The Wild Rose Press. Living in northern NJ, her quiet home sits on the edge of a forest.Retribution! Short blurb:

Dreams often reflect deepest desires…even if they’re nightmares. While cruelly captured, a vampire creates a languid fantasy with the help of a powerful soul. Eternal devotion to two important people forces this creature to see himself with honest eyes. Imagination runs wild, yet Michael Malone still desires death. Why should he survive? Two very good reasons… One is revenge. The other is love.

Excerpt:
The habit was hundreds of years old… An absentminded glance in an empty mirror as the vampire ran firm bristles back and forth over even, white teeth. But this time, he stared in disbelief. A cloudy image peered back—one that hadn’t been seen in centuries. High cheekbones, straight nose, square chin and strong brow were unmistakably his. Leaning into the mirror, Michael couldn’t see his eyes clearly, but it was his reflection, something lost the night he’d been turned. The one thing that sets me apart from humanity, he thought, one thing that should be lost forever. The image fascinated, but also frightened. One more secret I must keep from Alana—for now.

~ Retribution! The Champion Chronicles: Book One


Sharon: Let’s have a warm welcome for Mickey Flagg. Mickey, welcome to the Haunted Mansion!

From the thicket of the deep dark woods, Mickey soars out on her witch’s broom. The bell in the bell tower gongs out the witching hour. The haunted mansion, with spiked fencing around the courtyard, forbodes an eerie presence. Bats screech as they flap their wings in flight. Using the lion faced door knocker, Mickey announces her arrival.

The door creaks open on rusty hinges. Oliver, costumed in his vampire outfit, smiles a wolfish grin. Good evening, Ms. Flagg. Welcome to Retribution. Do come in.

Oliver extends his hairy arm and escorts Mickey down the long dark corridor to the parlor. Spider webs drape the walls like veils of thick Spanish moss. Background music plays in honor of our special guest:
Johann Sebastian Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D minor

Sharon, dressed in flowing black dress and hat, is busy stirring a steamy concoction. It billows upward. Standing candelabras shed dim light on the raven clock, organ and cracked walls. Sharon smiles. Welcome to Retribution, Mickey. Come have a seat and Oliver will bring us some refreshments.

Mickey: (slithers over with a sassy sway, totally at home in the atmosphere of the dark mansion) Oooh, Sharon, so pleased to meet you. (Eyes glued to Oliver) What a lovely home, so full of ‘spirit’. (She grins) And a woman after my own heart – uh, I’m referring to your excellent taste in décor, of corpse – oh, silly me, of course!

Oliver appears, carting a carafe of bold coffee and chocolate dragons and vampires. With a sweeping bow, he presents them, displaying his razor-sharp fangs. After pouring a cup and handing it to Mickey, he asks, Might I have your autograph, Ms. Flagg? In blood, if you please.

Just then the raven clock screeches and the organ begins to grind out the funeral dirge. Manic laughter rattles the walls.

Sharon: Oh, don’t be afraid, Mickey. It’s just the ghosts of Halloweens past. Now let’s begin our interview, shall we? Tell us about Retribution, the setting, the characters and what made you write this book.

Mickey: (staring deeply into gorgeous eyes of the bare-chested butler, finds it a bit hard to think) Yes, Retribution… (Clears throat with a sigh) This is a paranormal romance that takes place in a vampire’s mind. He takes on unimaginable evil and almost triumphs. Michael Malone is his name – a mystically enhanced vampire who has become a lethal weapon against evil in this world. (Mesmerized by Oliver, she continues) In a poisoned state, Michael will dream about being in Alana’s arms. She is the mortal whom he loves, a Guardian of Souls with her own mystical mission. Also of concern to the lusty vamp is his human son. That’s a long story, Sharon. But there is a reason Lukas exists – just can’t give away the why. (Mickey fans her face, and as Oliver steps back, she continues) What made me write this novel? (She asks herself, slowly meeting Sharon’s eyes and snapping out of her swoon) Well, Sharon, I had just completed a rigorous second masters in Educational Leadership in two years – while teaching full time – while going through a divorce – while helping my children get on their feet. Sounds a bit overwhelming, right? My loving son told me to write. I decided to redeem a demon. I think it saved my sanity.

Sharon: And this is Book 1 of the Champion Chronicles. Congratulations. Tell us when we might expect the next in the series and a bit about it.

Mickey: Consequences follows Michael’s journey. He will find salvation in Alana’s arms, but not as he dreamed. The cast of characters are mostly the same, but their relationships to him and his mortal son take on a deeper meaning. Michael will have to do some serious soul searching before he can truly love Alana as he should. Consequences should be released by The Wild Rose Press sometime in 2010. (Sips her coffee and wishes Oliver would return)

Sharon: Now lets’ talk about Halloween. Is there a particular holiday that stands out to you as being monumental? And if so, why and how did it inspire you to write paranormals?

Mickey: (places her cup on the table and smiles at Sharon) I just blogged about this – how interesting that you should ask! (Narrows her eyes, tilts her head as if Sharon is psychic??)
I find Halloween to be a holiday that celebrates the imagination. Of course, I have a very active one! (Slight smirk) There are times in our lives when fantasy helps us face reality. At the time I wrote Retribution, I needed to escape just a wee bit. I’ve always been intrigued by vampires – in a good sense of the word, so I thought I’d try my hand at authoring my own version of happily ever after with a couple of paranormal twists and hurdles.

Sharon: I generally associate Halloween with superstitions. Just then, Sharon’s black cat leaps in front of Oliver just as he glides out with dessert. Fred cat hisses and snarls and leaps on top of the organ.

Hysterical laughter explodes from inside the walls. A woman screams, her wails echoing through the mansion.

Sharon: The spirits are restless tonight. Thank you, Oliver. And doesn’t that chocolate forest cake in the shape of a hearse look decadent. Oliver cuts a huge slice for Mickey and feeds her the first bite.



Mickey: (her eyes close, savoring the delicious confection as well as the nearness of this gorgeous hunk of a man) Kudos to the baker, Sharon. How very rich! (Mickey takes the fork from Oliver, holding his hand a few seconds too long before focusing on Sharon again. There is a very wide grin on Mickey’s face.)

Sharon: Now as I was saying before we were so rudely interrupted. I adore superstitions. How about you, Mickey. Do share one or two with us pertaining to Halloween.

Mickey: Rudely interrupted? Nonsense! (Oliver pulls up a chair beside Mickey, who looks about to faint! She, however, snaps out of it to put her teacher hat on) I’ve read that Halloween was brought to America’s shores by Irish immigrants after the great potato famine of 1846. It is both a pagan feast and the eve of All Saints Day. Various cultures have similar superstitions about the dead walking the earth the night before All Saints Day. In some cultures, people dress as demons to ward off the souls, allowing them to once again, rest in peace. Today, it’s mainly about tricks or treats for the kiddies. I mean, ghosts, goblins, vampires… not reality (a loud screech makes Mickey jump. It takes a minute for her to regain composure – of course, Oliver helps her)

Sharon: And what’s next for Mickey Flagg. Are you hard at work on your next paranormal or black rose?

Mickey: Doing my best to put the finishing touches on Inheritance, Book 3 in The Champion Chronicles, Sharon. It will take Michael, Alana, and Lukas on a new paranormal adventure.

Sharon: And what might the wee trick or treaters expect at the Flagg house?

Mickey: Why gobs of chocolate goodies, scary music – the classical kind, and house decorations that have been the same since my children were babies. I’m big on tradition. (Winks at Oliver)

Sharon: You’re a music teacher. That must be so rewarding. Tell us about these lessons.

Mickey: I teach in an urban setting, roughly 650 children a week. My career has gone beyond rewarding. It’s my pleasure to teach a child about music from Kindergarten through Grade 8. I get to watch them grow over nine years. It’s a special relationship, Sharon. Many come back to visit, and I have the additional pleasure of teaching their children. I have a select chorus of 100 students who are the pride of the school. What gives me the greatest thrill is that through music, my children have higher self-esteem, better test scores, and more sensitivity to the diversity around us. It’s an awesome experience! I’m truly blessed to teach what I so deeply love.

Sharon: And sadly, that brings us to the end of our interview. Mickey, it’s been a pleasure. I wish you much success with Retribution. Can you tell readers where they can buy this book and get in touch with you?

Mickey: Retribution! can be purchased at http://www.thewildrosepress.com/ or www.

amazon.com as well as various other sites. You can get in touch with me through http://www.mflagg-author.com/ or email at michele.flagg@yahoo.com

Oliver grabs Mickey and twirls her around while singing his favorite song, “I was working in the lab late one night. When my eyes beheld an eerie sight…they did the mash…the monster mash…” – the musician in Mickey takes over, and she sings along.

Halloween Witch

The Witch of Halloween

What is it about the bewitching witch that makes it the favorite Halloween costume each year for girls and women alike? What is it about the pointed black hat and witch’s broom that females find so intriguing? Is it the notion to cast an evil spell? Turn a handsome prince into a toad? Turn a pumpkin into a horse-driven coach? To find her Glass Slipper and Prince Charming?

The word witch is derived from the old English word “Wicce” meaning wise one. The witch was thought of as a wise woman who lived in harmony with nature and the season. A witch had a vast knowledge of herbs and was often called upon to heal the sick. The witch associated with centuries ago was a homeopathic healer. Being a wise woman and a healer, the witch had a huge assortment of utensils. One such item was her Athame, a double edged witch’s knife with a black handle used in rituals.

We think of the witch’s broom as her mode of transportation, right? This is a myth. The purpose of a real witch’s broom is to cleanse the area where a ritual will be performed. So how did the legend that witches fly through the air on their broomsticks evolve? On All Hallow’s Eve, witches would often anoint themselves with magical oils. These oils would caused the witch’s skin to tingle, making the witch feel light-headed. A real witch would often use her broomstick to help her cross a brook or stream in the woods on her way to the festival, giving the illusion she was flying.

And in the movies, we’ve all seen our favorite witches standing over bubbling cauldrons and drinking out of large silver chalices. The cauldron was a pot used to concoct magical potions and for scrying (the ability to look into the future on the water’s surface). And the chalice was thought to be a reciprocal of magical spirits. These were all rooted from supernatural powers.

The witch’s wand, carved from hazel wood, crystal, ebony, ivory, silver or gold, were thought to be extensions of life forces of the witch. With all these powers that be bestowed on the witch, it didn’t take long for the general populace to stir up a few superstitions of their own. Witches can fly on broomsticks, turn themselves into black cats, and cause a big ugly wort to grow on the tip of the nose.

Halloween is one of the four most celebrated Pagan holidays and was thought to be the greatest of the four, thus earning its name of “The Great Sabbath.” On this day, the Halloween witch observes the supernatural powers of this world and other worlds and takes the time to ponder both. This night is for honoring ancestors, celebrating the harvest and ringing in the New Year.

The Halloween witch is magical, mystical and very powerful. Given all these facts and trivia, is it any wonder she is the most revered of women on Halloween?

History of Halloween

Dating back to the ancient Celtic Druids, the festival of Samhain (Festival of the Dead) was celebrated on October 31. The festival was observed by England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales to designate the end of the year.

As the sun went down an darkness set in, the preparation for Vigil of Samhain (Lord of Darkness) began. It was believed the veil separating the living and the dead was at its thinnest this eve. The Druids firmly believed the spirits of those who had died in the past year would cross over and walk the earth on this night. Magical powers were greatly enhanced and communication with the spirits reigned.

The villagers doused fires in their homes because they feared and believed the walking dead might find their way in and possess the living. Outside, the Druids built great bon fires (bone fires) and there is debate as to whether human or animal sacrifices were used. Some say only sick animals that would not survive the winter were sacrificed where others say criminals possessed by evil spirits were the sacrificial offerings. And once the embers had died down and cooled, the Druids would read the bones to determine the fate of the coming year.

One famous ritual practiced by the Druids was to light torches from the bonfire, march through the village and in turn, use these torches to light the wood in their hearths. This sacrificial fire was thought to ward off evil spirits and invite the spirits of their kin to enter the home. This was done while wearing furs and scary masks (a prelude to present day Halloween costumes). It was believed the evil spirits would mistake them for animals and not attempt to possess their bodies.

Another tradition was for peasants to go from door to door, begging for food. The food was then left outside to appease the spirits, feeding them before they returned to the spirit world. Those that gave food would be assured good fortune for the coming year while those that gave nothing had eggs and rocks thrown at their homes. This legend holds true today with the pranks of Devil’s Night.

Since Samhain marked the end of the year, the power to predict was at its strongest. Fortunes were told through the reading of bones, tea leaves and countless other rituals. In the seventh century, the Romans conquered England and brought many of their own traditions with them. One of these was the celebration of All Saints Day, originally celebrated in May. By the ninth century, All Saints Day was moved to November 1st and All Souls’ Day, a day to celebrate all dead souls was added to November 2nd.

The Catholics hoped that by combining the Pagan festival of Samhain with their own holiday, they could convert more people. At this point, Samhain became All Hallow’s Eve, the eve before hallowed days of All Saints Day and All Souls Day. Eventually, All Hallow’s Eve was shortened to Hallow E’en and then to Halloween and has claimed that title ever since.

Halloween Superstitions

Here are some Halloween superstitions said to be derived from English, Scottish, Irish and Welsh folklore.

If you ring a bell on Halloween, you will scare evil spirits away

If a candle flame suddenly turns blue, a ghost is near

If you are out and about on Halloween night and hear footsteps behind you, do not turn around. But if you do, beware! If you meet the gaze of your follower, you will soon be joining the spirits!

If you see a spider on Halloween, it could be the spirit of a loved one who is watching you

All spirits in Purgatory are released and freed for forty-eight hours to roam the earth on Hallows Eve

Walk around your house on Halloween three times backward to ward off evil spirits

Some say if you capture a snail on Halloween and lock it in a flat dish, the following morning you will see the first letter of your sweetheart’s name in the slime

Some believe if a hoot owl swoops down on you on Hallows Eve, it’s coming to eat your soul. According to Celtic legend, if you turn your pockets inside out, the myth will be broken

In Britain, people believe the devil was a nut gatherer. At Halloween, nuts were used as magic charms.

If a girl puts the sprig of a rosemary herb and a silver sixpence beneath her pillow on Halloween night, she will see her future husband in a dream

In North America, it’s bad luck if a black cat crosses your path and good luck if a white cat crosses your path. In Britain, Ireland and Japan, it’s just the opposite!

To prevent evil spirits from entering your house on Halloween, bury animal bones or the picture of an animal near the doorway

A person born on Halloween can see and chat to spirits

A rural American superstition states children born on Halloween will be protected from spirits for life and given the gift of second sight

If you go to a crossroads on Halloween night and listen to the wind, you will learn all the things that will happen to you in the next twelve months

Peel an apple from top to bottom. The person with the longest peel will be assured the longest life

If you toss the peel of an apple over your right shoulder, the initial it forms when landing will be the initial of your soulmate

If a bat flies around your home three times, it is a death omen

In England, you are warned to not go hunting on Halloween night as you will injure a wandering spirit

An English tale warns to not look at your shadow on the eve of Halloween or you will be the next to haunt the graveyard

If bats come out before dark and fly around playfully, it is a sign of good weather to come

If a bat flies into your house, it is a sign perhaps a ghost let the bat in!

Have a Halloween superstition? I would love to hear it! Leave a comment

Ghosts Haunt White House

Psychics believe the spirit of the sixteenth president of the United States never left the White House. Abraham Lincoln (1861-65) is best remembered for his leadership in preserving the Union during the Civil War and for beginning the process to end slavery in the US. Lincoln was assassinated on April 14, 1865 by Southern sympathizer John Wilkes Booth in Ford’s Theater. President Lincoln died the following day. Since his death, members of the White House staff have claimed to have seen or felt his presence. Strangely, prior to his death, President Lincoln is said to have foreseen his demise on several occasions.

According to a close friend, Lincoln retired late one night and fell into a restless sleep and began to dream. He heard mournful sobbing from somewhere in the White House. He followed the mysterious weeping to the East Room where soldiers guarded a catafalque. On it, a corpse rested, gowned in funeral vestments. A throng of mourners surrounded the body. Lincoln demanded to know who had died and was told “The President.”

This was not the first time Lincoln had a premonition of his death. He once saw a double image of his reflection in the mirror, himself and a chalky image. His highly superstitious wife, Mary Todd Lincoln, perceived it to mean the president would be elected for a second term but would be assassinated. Lincoln’s morose account of his own mortality was never more pronounced than the morning of his death. He called a cabinet meeting and told them they would receive news the following day. When pressed, he informed them he had the same dream three times that he was in a boat in the ocean with no oars. That night he was fatally shot in the head with one bullet and died the following day.

The Lincolns had three sons but only one of them lived to adulthood. Edward died at the age of four and young Willie succumbed to a fever during his father’s first term. Lincoln took the death of Willie very hard and often visited his crypt where he was buried and would weep copiously. Mary Todd Lincoln suggested holding seances in the White House to bring back their dead son’s spirit. These seances were not thought to be successful and Lincoln was said to have attended only two of them.

During the administration of Ulysses S. Grant, a staff member of the White House is said to have had a conversation with young Willie when he saw his spirit. And during the presidency of Lyndon B. Johnson, Lynda Johnson Robb occupied the room where Willie died, which was also the room where Abraham Lincoln’s autopsy was performed and where Truman’s mother expired. Lynda Johnson Robb is said to have felt the sadness in that room.

Lady Bird Johnson reported feeling the spirit of President Lincoln one spring night when watching a documentary about his death. She noticed a plaque she’d never seen before hanging over the fireplace. It mentioned the importance of Lincoln in this room. Mrs. Johnson is said to have felt a cold draft go through her and a sense of uneasiness. This disquieting presence has been felt by others. Grace Coolige, wife of Calvin Coolige, thirtieth president of the United States, was the first person to report having actually seen the ghost of Lincoln. She said he stood at the Oval Office, hands clasped behind his back, gazing out the window overlooking the Pontiac, perhaps still seeing the bloody battlefields beyond.

The ghost of Lincoln was reported to be seen frequently during the administration of Franklin D. Roosevelt when the country went through a great depression and world war. When Queen Wilhemina of the Netherlands was a guest at the White House she was awakened by a knock at the door. When she opened it, an apparition stood there in a top hat. The queen fainted and when she came to, the apparition had vanished.

Eleanor Roosevelt used Lincoln’s bedroom as a study and while never seeing his ghost, often felt his presence standing behind her, peering over her shoulder. Her secretary once spotted Lincoln’s ghost sitting on the bed in the Northwest Room, pulling on a pair of boots.

During the administration of every president since the assassination of Abraham Lincoln, his benevolent spirit has been seen or felt. The ghostly image of the tall, gangly man with the black stovepipe hat and long, sad face is thought to linger in the home of the nation he fought so hard to preserve.

Have you felt the presence of a spirit in your house? Seen an apparition? Heard unexplained tapping or the thundering of footsteps? Have a ghost story to share with me? I’d love to hear it. Please leave a comment.

Birthday Halloween Bash for Hywela Lyn

A ghost of a moon skitters across the starless black sky. Thunder rumbles in the distance, followed by the eerie wail of a coyote. Bats circle the bell tower as they soar out of the thicket of the woods, screeching and eking. The haunted manor is sinister, spiked black fencing surrounding it. A clap of thunder explodes. Then a streak of brilliant white lightning illuminates the sky, casting an eerie glow on the tombstone.

Using her nine-inch green fingernails, the Welsh Witch raps three times. On a creak, the door swings open on rusty hinges and Oliver stands there, costumed in his vampire attire. He grins, displaying his razor-sharp fangs.

“You rang?”

The witch, shrouded in a black mask and pointed black hat breezes straight through Oliver.

Oliver cackles loud enough to wake the dead and coils a hairy arm around the witch. After flexing his hairy biceps, he extends his arm and escorts the Welsh Witch down the long, dark corridor. Draping spider webs grace the corners. A mouse skitters out, twittering. They enter the parlor to find gargoyles holding torched lights. The manic laughter starts from behind the walls. Then all goes quiet…as the mistress of the haunted mansion speaks.

Sharon: Cackles so loud the glass windows shatter. Do you really think you can fool me, the Queen of Hearts? Fear not, Welsh Witch. Unveil yourself and party with us mare mortals on this most special of days. I know who you are and what today is. Why it’s Hywela Lyn and it’s your birthday! Let the celebration begin!

Happy Birthday Lyn!!! Sharon saunters over to hug her and hands her a box of Gidiva chocolates in the shape of ghosts and goblins. May you have many more, dear friend!

Lyn: (Hugs Sharon in return and laughs loudly , the sound echoing eerily through the mighty halls). I should have known I wouldn’t fool you, my sweet friend. Thank you so much, my very favourite. What a delightful treat, and what a beautiful place you have here!

Sharon: We rather like it. The skeletons rattle and shake from behind the walls.

Drum roll as the charismatic Oliver comes out singing Happy Birthday to the accompaniment of the organ as it begins to play the Funeral Dirge! What? But in keeping with the spirit of Halloween, Oliver breaks into song. And with a wicked wink, he presents a seven-layer dark devil’s food cake to Lyn. Then his eyes glaze over as a bouquet of black roses appear in his hand. With a sweeping bow and a big kiss…and tight squeeze…he presents them to the Welsh Witch.

Lyn: Ooooh Oliver, my hero! Fangs so much – I mean thanks! I luuurve devil’s food cake, and black roses – how romantic, Cariad. (That’s Welsh for ‘Darling’, you know!) come to me and let me kiss your neck and cast my spell on you! What’s that – my audience awaits? Then let’s go, at once!

Oliver grins…and is that a growl?

Thunderous applause explodes from the inner walls as the skeletons rattle and shake and scream to be set free! The organ music continues….even though no one is at the seat. But then a black cat leaps from the lurches, knocking down a few spider webs. Another eerie scream and the organ music grows louder and louder, faster and faster, reaching an ear-splitting crescendo. Then all is quiet as Lyn appears in a puff of smoke dressed in a black flowing gown.

Sharon: Well, didn’t I tell you, folks? She is a Welsh Witch and she is here today to read us a story, an excerpt from her bewitching best-seller Dancing with Fate.

And with no further ado, here’ssssss Lyn!

Excerpt from Dancing with Fate

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, red 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, 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, 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 demonic lights and the hideous forms that a moment before had lured her onward.

Thunderous applause from the rafters. The windows rattle and shake and the torches flicker.

Sharon: Do have a seat, Lyn. The floorboards creak and a ghost from Halloween’s past floats through the room. I’ll just have a seat and make myself comfy on my nail-back throne.

Lyn: I’ll just float a few feet above the ground over here, on my broomstick, if that’s all right with you, Sharon. Oh the ambience here is so perfect. I feel so at home here, and look, Cedrick my giant pet spider is spinning a web around Oliver. Cedrick, behave yourself, Sharon’s going to need Oliver again – fully fleshed and NOT sucked dry! Oh listen, is that ghoulish footsteps I hear on the floorboards above us – and hark, I do believe that’s the heedless horseman galloping by.

Sharon: Oh the spirits of the walking dead do love to come and play on this special of nights! Oliver, please bring chocolate martinis for us. And do slice some of that decadent cake But first….all the torches dim and go dead. We must sing Happy Birthday to Lyn so she can blow out the candles and make a Welsh wish.

From behind the walls, the skeletons rattle their shackles as Sharon and Oliver sing. “Happy Birthday to you Happy Birthday to you Happy Birthday Dear Hywela Lyn…Happy Birthday to youuuuuu!”

Sharon: Now blow out the candles and make a wish so we can dig in!

Lyn: FHEEEEWOOSH! There we go. Gosh, do you know you much witchy breath it takes to blow out three thousand and nine candles? I wish, I wish, I wish…….well you didn’t expect me to tell you, did you, wishes don’t come true if you TELL them!

Sharon: (waves her long blood-red fingernails) Oh tadpoles and frog eyes. That’s just a rumor, dearie. Mmmm. Quite delicious, Oliver. You’ve outdone yourself. Now, Lyn, with your birthday so close to Halloween, do share with us a bewitching tale from Wales or how about the one you once told me about the banshee in the woods? Ohhh I do so love that one.

Lyn: “’Twas a dark , misty night, and there was an evil stillness in the air. All at once the silence was shattered by a shriek that came from no mortal throat, a sound the like of which would freeze the very blood in ones veins. Again it came, and out of the darkness appeared – oh thank you Oliver, yes I will have another piece of cake, it’s scrumptious. Where was I? Oh yes, a sound like the cries of the damned, evil souls in torment ,the scream of the banshee, that most hideous of creatures, the soul sucking banshee, known in Wales as the Gwrach-y-Rhibyn, the Hag of the Mist…” Lyn warms to her subject while Oliver ‘s hand shakes violently as he pours her and Sharon their umpteenth chocolate martini. “Out of the woods, her hair swirling around her face and floating in the air around her like tendrils of mist, came the banshee. Hovering above the stream at the edge of the trees she shrieked again. Alone in the small cottage beyond, the young girl quaked in terror. Why oh why had she picked up that silver comb lying on the ground this morning? Now she knew beyond a doubt it was a banshee comb and the owner was coming for her!”

At last the Lyn finishes her tale, and Sharon stifles a yawn (well she’s heard it a million times already.)

Sharon: (covers her mouth to suppress a cackle…but it rolls out in a most unlady-like fashion.) And let’s talk a bit about this excerpt from Dancing with Fate. It draws me right in Tell us a bit about the setting and how your wild imagination conjured up this most bewitching tale.

Lyn: Well I was very privileged to be one of nine authors involved in the anthology ‘Song Of The Muses’ each writing about one of the nine Greek muses. Mine was Terpsichore muse of dance. Now I had never thought of writing about a Greek muse before, and knew little or nothing about dancing, but the more I researched the more interested I grew in the project, and gradually Terpsichore spoke to me. I decided to send her to 5th Century Wales, not only because Wales is my beloved homeland, but because it is also the land of myth and magic – and the second half of the 5th Century was when a certain Arthur Pendragon was reputed to have been born. How a Greek goddess became involved with the Arthurian legends is something I’m afraid you’ll need to read the book to find out, but I had great fun putting my poor muse through all sorts of frustrations and dangers (hint - there's 10% off this month). In the excerpt you’ve just read, she unwittingly falls prey to the lure of the Ellylldan, evil goblins with flaming fingertips, who drew the unwary to their doom in the bogs, in many a Welsh legend.

Sharon: And with your birthday being so close to Halloween, was there ever a party with a Halloween theme?

Lyn: Do you know you’re the first person who’s ever tied the two things together. We don’t celebrate Halloween in Britain as much as you do in the States, but I think it’s such an exciting and fun time of year and I’m so thrilled to have you throw this wonderful Halloween/Birthday party for me, Sharon. And Oliver is just the most wonderful caterer and butler.

Sharon: Ah yes…let’s not forget the promise you made. The one where you agreed if I threw you this party in grand style you’d break the spell on me. The one the wicked Queen of Spades cast on me to grow old and wrinkled and melt into thin air so she can take my throne? A promise is a promise, dearie and it’s not nice to fool the Queen of Hearts. And speaking of witches and spells, how about a Welsh superstition that is guaranteed to give us goose bumps?

Lyn: An old Celtic superstition involves the moon; if you catch your shadow in the moonlight, you're simply doomed to bad luck - and even death. If you're burning candles on Halloween and the flames go out and there's no breeze or a drafty door to explain it, be afraid (evil cackle) - a disappearing flame on the candle burned on Halloween means there's a ghost in the house – and a flame that suddenly turns blue means there's a ghost very close by.

With that the candles flicker, a blue haze shrouds the room then everything is dark. Lightning flashes and Oliver stands transfixed, grasping Sharon’s hand, then all at once the candles glow again, while in the distance the sound of ghostly laughter fills the air.

“But on a lighter note,” Lyn continues, as if not noticing, “according to Welsh legends, children born on Halloween will have special powers to ward off evil spirits and the 'gift of second
Sight -”

Suddenly the raven clock chimes and the doorbell rings.

Sharon: Oliver, go let the masqueraders in. They are here in costume to wish Lyn a Happy Birthday and to have a toast with her. Sharon raises her martini glass to Lyn. Here here, dear friend. May the ghosts and goblins of the haunted mansion bestow good luck on you and your ability to keep writing those best-sellers we have all come to love. Happy Birthday and many more! And before the guests come charging in, where can readers buy Dancing with Fate and all your other books?

Lyn: Thank you so much Sharon, my sweet friend, you throw the bestest Birthday parties ever.

All three of my books can be purchased here: and if you would like an autographed copy of either Starquest or Children Of the Mist, or Book II of ‘Song of the Muses’ which includes ‘Dancing with Fate’ they can be ordered from my website: http://www.hywelalyn.co.uk And to thank everyone for coming, I’m going to put the names of everyone who’s commented in my special witches hat – and the first one drawn will win a free download of ‘Dancing With Fate’.

Thank you again for a wonderful party – and thank you Oliver for preparing such amazing food. Oh, before I forget, drink this Sharon, and that wicked spell the Queen of Spades cast will be lifted We cn' have you disappearing into thin air!

Oliver, if you’d like to accompany me on my broomstick to Hywelalyn Towers, when the party’s over, I’ll be delighted to show you my collection of etchings…

Oliver grins a bewitching grin, moves a wee bit closer and displays his sharpened fangs. After clasping his hands together in ghoulish delight, he blows the Welsh Witch a kiss with a wicked wink.

Welcome to my Halloween Haunted House

The hunter's moon skitters across the midnight black sky. From the deepest thicket of the forest, a werewolf howls. Bats screech as they soar from their caves and swarm toward the haunted house on the hill, wings flapping in flight. The wind swooshes through the willowy pines, sounding like the wise old whispers of the Paiute Indians buried thousands of feet below in the windblown sand. Thunder rolls across the starless sky, followed by a streak of lightning that casts an eerie glow on the tombstones in the graveyard. The ghosts float about, chilling laughter echoing through the hollow.

Welcome to my Halloween blog! For the entire month of October, authors will celebrate the spirit of Halloween by telling ghost stories, reading chilling excerpts and so mmuch more. And as always, the sexy and charasmatic Oliver will creak open the door to the haunted house to serve up witch's brew, munchies and maybe even cast a bewitching spell on you. And the organ when not playing the funeral dirge will play your favorite blood curtling song. And don't be put off or frightened by the screams you hear from behind the walls or the chains of the shhackled inmates. Wicked laughter exploes through cyber space. It's. just guests that didn't care for my books or the books of my guests.

So come back each day for a Trick or Treat. And to start the holiday off in the true spirit of the witching hour, here is an excerpt from my little house of horrors,
Her Biggest Fan
the book I have just sold to the Crimson Line of The Wild Rose Press. Please leave a comment and tell me what you think. And I'll be sure and keep you posted as to its release date and show off the book cover once it reaches fruition. Until then....funeral dirge plays in the background...
Here is a scene from Her Biggest Fan. Enjoy!

From the grand ballroom, the soft floating of piano keys drifted, louder and louder, faster and faster, reaching a spiking crescendo that shook the chandelier. And then all was quiet as the manor settled from the riveting climax that rattled the windows.
An eerie twine hummed through the corridor. Shocked by the scaling spike of piano keys, Tess’s knees wobbled. Floundering, she leaned against the wall for support.
She gasped for breath, her heartbeat escalating. In barely more than a whisper, she called out.
“Daddy?”

Her mind raced. Could her dad be alive? Did he stage his own death? Tears stung her eyes. She had to find out. But still, she proceeded with caution. She sensed evil from deep in her soul.
Camouflaged in the dim lighting, Tess scaled along the walls of the barrel corridor, blending into the dark wood paneling.

Inching her way a bit deeper, she crept, her heart pounding. Beads of sweat trickled down her spine. A door banged, sounding like shutters smacking the house. Then she felt a rush of cool air coming from the grand ballroom, dank with the smell of rain and something else. Burning candles.

Fear clutched her from deep within. As she got closer, the scent of jasmine grew stronger. The sweet smell permeated the air. It was as if her father were still alive, entertaining in the grand ballroom. Just as Tess reached the arched column to the massive hall, a bolt of thunder exploded in the sky, followed by an illuminating flash of lightning. Then all went dark.
Tess stood at the entrance, polarized. Goose bumps prickled her flesh. When the icy instrumental of Moonlight Sonata started all over again, she took a step back and gasped. Peering into the massive hall, she stared in disbelief.

On either side of the mahogany bar, standing candelabras gleamed, long white tapers flickering in the dark. Open terrace doors banged in the wind, bringing in the pouring rain. The air carried the mingled scent of jasmine and stale tobacco. Pleated silk drapes billowed out like wings.
Rain puddled the cherry wood floor that once sparkled beneath the mirrored ceiling and crystal chandelier. The ghostly sound of piano keys escalated as Moonlight Sonata played on the old Victrola. And in the center of the room, looking for all the world like guests of honor at a grand masquerade, two wax gargoyles danced cheek to cheek, costumed in feather masks as bizarre as the setting.

Wednesday Spotlight with E.A. West

Hello and welcome to Wednesday Spotlight! My special guest today is friend and author
E.A. WEST.
E.A. is here today to chat with us about her newest release from Sea Crest eBooks
LLIGHT IN THE DARKNESS
But first, here is a little about E.A.--followed by a blurb and excerpt.

E.A. West is a lifelong lover of books and storytelling. In high school, she discovered
the wonders of sharing her stories with others through writing. She picked up her
pen in a creative writing class and hasn’t laid it down yet. Her love of writing
encompasses a variety of fiction genres, including romance and women's fiction.
Born and raised in Indiana, she still resides there today with her family and a small
zoo of pets that includes cats, dogs, and African water frogs. When she's not writing
or reading, you're likely to find her working on her current crochet project or enjoying
the outdoors.

Blurb for Light in the Darkness:
Kennedy Drake loves exploring dark places, which makes his job as a graveyard shift
security guard ideal. While checking out strange noises
in his elderly neighbor’s basement, he discovers a hidden room with a woman trapped
inside. Chastity Mooreland has more to fear than her time trapped
in darkness. Will Kennedy believe her bizarre tale of a stalker no one thinks is guilty—and
will he help free her from a life of despair? Can Chastity look past her suspicion
of mankind to accept his offer of friendship?

Excerpt:
Kennedy went back the way he’d come and passed through
the last doorway, stopping in amazement. The huge room was lined with cobwebby wooden shelves, some of which held a few dust-covered canning jars. A pair of wooden bins with sloping lids and three old wooden barrels with age-darkened metal rings stood in the middle of the floor. He couldn’t help wondering if the room had held a year’s worth of food in the days of horse-drawn carriages. It looked large enough.

He found a switch on the wall and turned on the lights. Two of the three bulbs hanging from the
ceiling flashed bright then went out, and he made a mental note to come back later to change them. Louise likely wouldn’t ever come in her basement again, but it would give her peace of mind to know the lights worked. He set the flashlight on one of the shelves near the door and walked over to the bins and barrels. Empty. He glanced around the room one more time, not seeing anything that would make any kind of noise without human help, and there weren’t any tracks to indicate anyone had been down there in the last six months. He retrieved his flashlight and reached for the light switch. A tapping sound from the far side of the
room stilled his hand. He turned around, but all he saw were empty shelves and a
spider busily spinning a web in the corner. The tapping grew more frantic as he slowly approached the shelves.

“Hello? Is somebody there?”

The tapping stopped. “Help me! Please, get me out of here!” a hysterical female voice
called, muffled by the wood-backed shelves.

It took Kennedy a moment to recover from the
shock of actually getting a reply. “Keep tapping so I can figure out where you are.”

The tapping continued and so did the voice, though it now sounded like the
woman was crying. “Please hurry! I have to get out of here! Please...”

Sharon: Sounds like a compelling mystery to me, folks. Let’s have a warm welcome for my guest. E.A. West—come on out!

The tapping grows louder and louder, closer and closer. With a jarring creak, a trap door opens and E.A. stumbles out, her hair shrouded in a spider web. With a smile, she dusts herself off and waves madly to her gasping fans.

Sharon: What a grand entrance! Thunderous applause explodes through cyberspace as Sharon and E.A. exchange hugs. Well, grab a seat and I’ll call Oliver for refreshments. I’ll bet you’re thirsty after all that frantic tapping.

Oliver struts out, dressed as a graveyard shift security guard. With the silver tray balanced above his head, he flashes his most beguiling smile to E.A. He hands her an icy cold Dr. Pepper and a heaping basket of honey wheat pretzels and a dish of sliced carrot sticks. He clears his throat, pumps his biceps with a wicked wink and flashes his pearly whites. “If I might be so bold as to ask for your autograph, Ms. West?”

E.A.: My autograph? Why, Oliver, I’m flattered! Of course I’ll sign something for you. Will this lovely napkin do?

Sharon: Oliver, did you forget about my drink? I wouldn’t mind a diet coke. Oliver? And about my favorite snack? Potato chips? But Oliver runs off, clutching his heart.

Sharon: Sigh. Oh, he of fickle heart! So let’s talk about Light in the Darkness. That excerpt drew me right in. Tell us about the setting, the characters, the research.

E.A.: The story is set in the fictional town of Vesper, Indiana. In this excerpt, Kennedy is in his elderly neighbor’s basement. His neighbor, a sweet old lady named Louise, called him over to investigate a noise. Kennedy Drake is a nice guy who loves dark places, particularly caves, and he enjoys exploring old houses as well. The heroine of the story, Chastity Mooreland, is running scared thanks to her stalker and she thinks Kennedy doesn’t believe her story any more than the police department. Then there’s Louise Gilbert, Kennedy’s elderly neighbor. She may be tiny and old, but she’s sharp and isn’t afraid to speak her mind.

I really didn’t need to do anything in the way of research for this story. Thanks to a voracious reading habit, I had all the necessary tidbits of trivia stored away in my brain. Who knew I could use my interest in geology, history lessons on the Underground Railroad, and an addiction to mystery novels in the same story?

Sharon: What genre would you classify Light in the Darkness as?

E.A.: It’s contemporary fiction with some mystery mixed in. There’s also a tiny bit of romance hinted at, but I didn’t develop that theme.

Sharon: You know, as I’m sitting here, drawing mental images in my mind about this book, I can’t help but think about Halloween in just a few short weeks. What perfect timing! Picture it—a chilly night, a graveyard shift security guard, exploring dark places, mysterious tapping, a woman’s cries and a hot mug of apple cider. Hmmmm. How about it, folks, sound good?

A shutter bangs in the wind, a bat eeks, and a woman cries out from inside the walls….

Sharon: I must have a copy of this book. I just love a good mystery, especially around Halloween. How did you get inspired to write this story, E.A.?

E.A.: Actually, the inspiration came from an online contest a couple of years ago. The only requirements were that the story be less than ten thousand words and involve a basement. The basement part intrigued me, so I let my imagination run with it.

Sharon: I love the names of your characters. Kennedy and Chastity. Did they just come to you—or did you have to think about them long and hard?

E.A.: Surprisingly, they just came to me. Sometimes I’ll go through two or three, or more, names until I find one I like for a character, but with Kennedy and Chastity, I knew those were the perfect names for the characters right away.

Sharon: Now this book is an eBook. Do you have a preference to print or eBooks and if so, why?

E.A.: I like both of them for different reasons. Ebooks are great for short stories and for instant gratification, not to mention the tiny amount of space needed to store dozens of them. I love the feel of a print book, plus it’s nice to get away from a screen for a while to read.

Sharon: Now let’s…what is that noise? It sounds like an eerie whistle snaking through the corridor. Or like the wind hurling through the trees before a storm. Oh, dear! Is a tornado coming? Let’s make a run for it down to the basement. Quick, E.A. But the eerie humming gets louder and louder, reaching an ear-splitting crescendo. Then Oliver appears, belting out a Bob Dylan song in a scratchy, nasally monotone. He plants himself in front of E.A.
“How many roads must a man walk down…before you call him a man? The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind…the answer is blowin’ in the wind.”

With a sweeping bow, Oliver presents E.A. with a huge slice of Molten Lava cake. Using the culinary skills he was trained with, he forks up a piece and feeds E.A.

E.A.: Mm...this is excellent! Oliver, how much is Sharon paying you? I’ll double it if you’ll make Molten Lava cake (minus the calories, of course) and serenade me with your wonderful singing. Might I have another taste of that delicious treat?

Sharon: (sighs as Oliver readily obliges) That will be quite enough, Oliver. Go away so I can continue my interview with Ms. West. Oliver winks and leaves, blowing E.A. kisses.

Sharon: One of these days…So back to our questions before we were so rudely interrupted. Tell us a little about your hobbies when not reading or writing. What kind of things do you like to knit and crochet?

E.A.: Well, for knitting, I’m currently working on an entrelac scarf. Probably not the best project for a beginner, but I’m enjoying it and learning a lot. As for crochet, I’ve fallen in love with adorable crocheted toys called amigurumi.

Sharon: And you love animals. What kind of cats and dogs do you have? And exactly what is an African water frog?

E.A.: I have two cats, a beautiful gray tabby girl named Annie and an adorable black tabby kitten boy named Sergei. One of my dogs is a sweet female shar-pei cross named Sashimi. The other is Mocha, a male shih tzu who loves squeaky toys. An African water frog is a species of frog that lives solely in water. They have to come to the surface to breathe, but they can hold their breath for an amazingly long time. I have two in my house: a regular one named Kermit and a dwarf named Hoppy. Both are male and have the most soothing croak! It’s reminiscent of a rusty gate creaking in the breeze.

Sharon: (stops as her black cat Freddie leaps from her lap and into E.A.’s) And I must ask. I adore superstitions, legends and lore and traditions. Can you share one of yours with me for my collection?

E.A.: A legend I recently came across is the Apache story of why bats hang upside down.

Long ago, Coyote wanted a wife, but he didn't know who to choose. Bat suggested he take the wife of Hawk Chief, who had not been seen for many days. Hawk Chief returned and was angry with Bat for giving bad advice. He slung Bat into a juniper bush. Bat's long, pointy-toed moccasins got caught and he hung upside down, unable to get free no matter how much he struggled. From that time on, bats have hung upside down, even when asleep.

Sharon: I love it and will add it to my collection. Thank you! And sadly, that brings us to the end of another Wednesday Spotlight. But before I let you go, I have my 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 and why?

E.A.: If I could live anywhere, it would probably be a Midwestern farm with some woods and plenty of pastureland. Not exciting or exotic, I know, but I’m a farm girl at heart and would love to own some horses and ducks. Hm, literary fiction...that’s a tough one. Maybe The Three Musketeers. I love that story and the loyalty the characters show each other, not to mention the action and adventure. Who would I want for my romantic hero? There are so many to choose from! I think I’d have to go with Ben Barnes. He was awesome as Prince Caspian. Or maybe Philip Winchester. He did a marvelous job playing Robinson Crusoe.

Sharon: Thank you, E.A. It has indeed been a pleasure. I hope you come back again. Good luck with Light in the Darkness. I can’t wait to pick up my copy. Where can readers buy this book and where can they read about your other books and get in touch with you?

E.A.: Readers can purchase Light in the Darkness here: http://shop.dianakaypublishing.com/product.sc?productId=16&categoryId=1

For more information about my writing or to contact me, visit my website at: http://eawest.mcphitty.com

Thank you, Sharon, for having me! I’ve had a wonderful time. And, Oliver, you’ve provided such marvelous service. Should you ever decide to leave Sharon’s employ, you can always come work for me.

Oliver grins a wicked grin and winks!