Welcome, Foery MacDonell

Laird of the Mist is the first in a series of three books which chronicle the MacDonell family through the Highland Clearances in Glengarry, Scotland.

Laird Carrick MacDonell believed he fought well at the Battle of Culloden Moor in 1746, but not well enough. Having lost most of his clan as well as his beloved pregnant wife, Jenny, who had come to the battlefield to aid the wounded, he is a broken man. To assuage his pain, he seeks the assistance of a witch to mix him a potion so he can take his own life. Instead, she informs him that his wife is reincarnated in 2009 and she sends him through time to find her.

Carrick arrives in 2009 and finds Jenny, now Caitriona MacPhail. Believing him to be a reeanctor from a Highland games, Cat puts no stock in his story and turns him over to her Scottish grandfather, a retired doctor who believes Carrick's tale. Cat eventually remembers Carrick and they are wed in Scotland. Cat is accidentally transported back to 1746, two days before Cumberland wreaks destruction on the glen. Carrick and Cat's grandfather and sister find a way to travel back to 1746 to save her. They arrive amidst Cumberland's butchery and begin to pick up the pieces of their lives.

Laird of the Mist is unique among Highland novels in that Laird Carrick MacDonell is one of the few Highland lairds who does not evict or cause his tenants to emigrate, nor clear his lands in favor of sheep. Instead, he continues to protect his people, raise Highland cattle and fight excise men against discovery of his distillery. He manages to keep family and clan together in Scotland despite every attempt to destroy their traditional way of life.

Read an excerpt from Laird of the Mist.

an excerpt from Laird of the Mistead an excerpt from Laird of the Mist

Happy Easter, Passover, or Spring

I hope this day finds you in good spirits and celebrating for whatever reason your culture allows. As for me, my grandson is in California, visiting his stepbrothers...his first airplane ride and I'll bet he was so excited. So...no hiding eggs or eating chocolate, but I can't wait until he gets home and tells me about his adventure. My husband works on Sundays, so I'll be spending the day alone, and I hope to get something accomplished on the writing front. Probably not, as I'm not motivated right now.

But that brings me to a conversation I've been having with some friends. What makes an author an author? Royalty time is always depressing, and some of us just received notice of what we'd earned. Can you believe a sixteen cent return on a print book? It's true. Although my payment period was from 1-1-2010 through 2-28-10 only, I sold seven PDF copies and four print copies. My royalty payment was $6.74 before paypal fees. Not a big return on my time and effort. Here's the breakdown for one book:

eBook Sales
1 $3.57 PDF @ 35.00% $1.25
1 $3.57 eBook Subtotal $1.25

Print Sales
1 $1.63 Create Space (Amazon Print) $1.63 @ 10.00% $0.16
1 $1.63 Print Subtotal $0.16

Of course, every author wants to see their book in print...to hold it in their hands, but at what cost? I worked countless hours on this book, and for each print copy made I earn sixteen cents (print on demand.) Is it any wonder that we all welcome the addition of ebook readers to the reading market? Too bad that most of my readers prefer books, and the cost of the POD seems to be rising if the release price of my latest book is any indication. I have little hope of print sales for a book that has doubled in price.

While my friends and I continue to debate and share our woes, I just concluded an email to them with my true feelings. Regardless of my earnings and the times invested, I actually started this venture because I love to write. I have more than nine novels, novellas and short stories on the shelves over my desk that bear my name and talent. That's all the proof I need that I'm indeed an author. No matter what friends, relatives or others may say because my books aren't in regular stores, nothing lessens the effort, time and love I put into each story I've written. Note: Since this picture was taken, I've been able to replace Sister's in Time with the new version and cover.











Have a wonderful day, and keep reading because I'm definitely here to stay.

Oh, The Torture!

I've been a sick puppy for the past few days.  No energy, so I apologize for not coming back and announcing the winner of my April Fool's story contest.  Martha Lawson...congratulations.  Your PDF copy of White Heart, Lakota Spirit is on  the way.  As sad as I am to admit that the true story was NOT number one or two, THREE is the real deal.  Yep, that's my Kelly...a disaster waiting to happen, but he's like a good book you can't put down.  You have to stick around and see how it ends.  *lol*

I don't often use my blog to promote my other "appearances," but I do hope you will take time to stop by Trent Kinsey's website and see what a fantastic interview he's posted of little ol' me. He asked some pretty interesting questions and gave me an opportunity to explore my own self, and I made a revelation about why I'm so non-productive in my own "cave."

I've spent the past two days watching TV movies, but according to the class I just took, that's a helpful thing to do because it helps me notice plot points, how conflict, both internal and external, are used in the story.  Soap Operas...not so much.  I find myself talking out loud to the TV over the unrealistic way the story unfolds.  We, as authors, get chastised if our stories are not believable, so how can TV directors and producers get away with it?  Just drawing on my own life experiences, I know prisoners are never allowed visitors in a private room, or, in the very least, searching or using a scanner to check the incoming body for weapons or contraband.  Heck, when I was a correctional officer, we had a sweet looking Granny bring in a big milkshake for her grandson...who at the time happened to be a trustee.  That's a position earned on trust, as the title indicates.  Anything brought into the jail was still searched, but on this occasion, the other C.O. took the drink and tried to insert the straw into the cup.  It met with resistance which of course led to him pouring the shake out and discovering a baggie of tobacco, wrapping papers and a lighter in the bottom of the cup.  You can't trust anyone in the environment.

But back to my original gripe.  Who wakes up in the morning with makeup that looks like it was just applied?  With breath fresh enough for delving kiss?  Or hair that isn't flattened on at least one side.  Really, fiction is fiction, but let's have a little reality in the presentation.  While the hero rolls over and gives the heroine a "deep throat" type of kiss, I'm saying, "YUCK," because I know what my mouth tastes like in the morning.  It can't just be me.

And predictable??? Today, the young soap star jumps into his girl friend's (although she claims she's only his tutor) car, tears out, wheels a spinnin' and an angry look plastered on his face.  She's in the passenger seat, begging him to slow down.  Instead, he whips out his cell phone and begins texting.  Imagine my shock when she yells, "Watch out!!!!" and bright lights flash in their faces.  Who saw that coming?  And was I surprised to see the two in a public service message about the dangers of texting while you drive in the next segment?  So predictable.  But the hook?  Now I have to watch Monday and see what happened to them.  So, even soap operas, although often asinine can teach authors what NOT to do in their books.

So, now that I've had a good couple of days learning lessons, maybe this week I can get something accomplished on one of my WIPS.  I really would like to have a new release in the not so distant future.

And, don't forget to visit Trent's site and tell him what a wonderful job he did. 

It's Only April Fool IF you believe...

Story Number One:

I woke up this morning to the smell of fresh coffee.  Before I even had a chance to roll out of bed, my husband, Kelly, greeted me with a tray complete with my coffee just the way I like it, two slices of toast, some perfectly crisp bacon and a bowl of cheerios.  He knows I don't like eggs and I have to eat breakfast before I can take my new medicine.  While I sat in bed like the Queen of England, he cleaned up his mess in the kitchen, put on a load of laundry and mopped the kitchen floor.  He told me how much he loved me and wanted me to get better so he could stop doing all the work. 


OR Story Number Two:
A long lost friend called me this morning.  I hadn't heard from her in ages.  She said she found me through my website and couldn't believe I'd become an author. She had just finished reading one of my historical romances and was quite excited.  She works for a TV production company in Hollywood and wanted my permission to approach her boss about making my story into a movie.  She wanted to know if I had any knowledge of screenwriting, but alas, I don't.  She said not to worry that there is still a chance she can get a synopsis to Michael Landon, Jr. for a possible production for Hallmark Movies.  Am I stoked or what?



OR Story Number Three:

This morning, my husband Kelly, uncovered the BBQ to make bacon for me.  He found a new type we both enjoy cooked that way, and I was very touched.  I think he was trying to make amends for having suffered a bout of road rage, speeding out of Kroegers because he got mad at someone who wouldn't move, then hit a curb and damaged our front wheel. Probably screwed up the alignment, too.  While I was showing him something on the computer, we started to smell something that didn't smell like bacon. He ran out of the room.  I heard him cursing and went to check.  The BBQ had caught fire and melted the privacy panel outside our back door.  So much for the bacon...and privacy.  After a while, he left for work, and later came home stinking of diesel.  I mentioned it and he admitted to having spilled fuel all over himself, but he insisted on sharing a story about how he witnessed an accident, and despite trying to leave, he was forced to stay and give a statement about what he saw.  He wasn't very happy as this was two times in a week that he had to give a statement to the police.  I sympathized, but refused to have my house smell like a service station, so after my bitching, he went to the laundry room and shed his clothes.  After putting them in the washing machine, he went and took a shower.  We were enjoying a TV show, when he looked over at me with a frown.  "You know," he said.  "I think I washed my cellphone."

It's April Fool, so you guess which one of the three stories is the truth.  To celebrate, I'll pick a name from the comments and that person will win the very first copy of White Heart, Lakota Spirit, just released.

My New Cave

As my husband calls it...this is my "cave" where I hibernate. We recently moved into a small Condo and I love it. It's easy to keep clean and quite stylish, if I might say so myself. Except...I'm thinking the picture in the living room is too high. What do you think???

I should have thrown out my leftover taco. :)









My nephew thinks my bedspread is...I can't recall his exact words, but ugly means the same thing. I rather like it. And if you look closely, you can see my husband's CPAP machine on his nightstand...or his scuba gear as I call it because it makes him look like he's going diving. :)
This is where I really spend all my time. My little corner of the world. :)