Yuletide Enchantment

My favourite little Dryad came up for air this weekend, and brought me a new widget for A Highlander Christmas!
Isn't it grand? WOW, I can't believe there's only THAT many days left till Nov 1...BRRR

Anyway, thanks again to my Dryad, and help yourself if you'd like the widget! GAWD I think that's a hot Highlander!!!

Hussy Alert! Highlander Christmas Excerpt~Day Three

Hey Hussies. Here's a little tease for you! Happy reading!

In an ancient grove of oaks, the moonlight shimmered through the naked tree branches. The air was warm and soft, much too warm for a winter’s night. It should have been cold and biting, yet as it passed through the thin material of Isobel’s lace nightgown and wrapper the faint breeze was a welcome caress.

Surrounding the grove were megaliths, tall standing stones that formed a circle around the wood, lending it a pagan air that suited the eve of the winter solstice. This was not where she had first seen her stag, yet there was something familiar about it too that pulled at her memory. It was as if she had been here before, a long, long time ago.

She walked in silence, the pearls sewn into her white gown glinting in the moonlight. It was pure magic, this grove, like something out of a fairytale. At the end of the path was a stone slab that had been made into some sort of altar. Covering it was a beautiful blue velvet cloth embroidered with a gold triscale like the one embossed on the pouch Daegan had worn. There was also a tall pewter cup that resembled a chalice, and a dirk that was curved and imprinted with strange markings. Mindlessly she traced her fingers over the scrolling etched on the blade. Everything felt mystical and otherworldly. So strange yet so enticing, she thought as she walked around the altar, her fingers brushing the velvet of the cloth.

Why was she here? Was she dreaming?

Her heart beat faster with every step. Suddenly the stag appeared in the circle, his hide glistening in a shaft of moonlight. He made not a sound, but turned and walked away. She followed it into a darker part of the wood, where it disappeared between two oaks. When she stepped between the trees, she found herself back in the grove, only this time Daegan was leaning against the altar, his legs crossed at the ankle, his arms crossed over his chest. He was watching her intently, his gaze straying over her body as the thin gown and wrapper molded against her breasts and thighs.

“Good eve, Isobel,” he said, his voice husky and enthralling. She felt herself go liquid at the sound of his deep voice. “I have been waiting for the moon to rise so that you could come to me. And now, you are here, looking lovely by the silver light.”

“You were not here a moment ago,” she said, looking around the grove for a glimpse of the stag.

“Aye, I was here, watching you.”

She shivered, not liking the feeling of being studied unaware. “Am I sleeping? I must be, for there is snow on the ground, and the branches creak and move as though the wind is blowing between them, but I feel none of it.”

He came toward her and reached for her hand, pulling her deeper into the circle. He stood close to her, his fingers tracing the outline of her cheek. “Do you believe in the Otherworld, Isobel? That alongside your world, another exists?”

She looked around wonderingly. There was no denying that it was different from her world. But this was a dream. In sleep, magic could prevail. In reality, it didn’t exist.

“You are in Annwyn, the Celtic Otherworld. It is separated from the mortal realm by the thinnest of veils. This sacred grove is the gate to our world. It is called the Cave of Cruachan, or the entrance to the Otherworld.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “None of this can be real. It must be some fantastical dream.” She smiled as she thought of her father reading to them. “Perhaps, like Scrooge, I’ve gone to bed and now I’m having dreams caused by indigestion. The clock has struck midnight and the ghosts will descend. I suppose that would make you the spirit of Christmas Past, wouldn’t it?”

“I’m not a spirit, Isobel. Nor is this a dream,” he murmured, lowering his mouth to hers.

His lips, soft and warm, brushed against hers. She gasped as she felt her own mouth tremble in response. Another brush, then another that was deeper, more hypnotic. Her body responded to his kiss, the way his arms wrapped around her, gathering her close to his chest, which was hard against her soft breasts. The contact of their bodies made her skin tingle with little vibrations that seemed to hum along her nerves.

When Daegan tilted his head and deepened the kiss, Isobel clutched at the edges of his black cloak, her legs weak. When his tongue touched hers, her knees threatened to buckle, but Daegan caught her in his arms, bringing her even closer to his body as he ravaged her mouth with his.

No, Daegan’s kiss was not like the earl’s. The way her body seemed to come alive in his arms was nothing short of magical.

“Isobel,” Daegan murmured as he nuzzled the space beneath her ear. “How can I make you see that this is not a dream? That I am really here with you?”

“Kiss me again,” she whispered. Her body ached for more, more than a kiss, she knew. She might be a virgin, but at one and twenty , she knew of matters between men and women. She knew what she wanted from Daegan. “Please,” she begged, clutching at his shoulders. “I know what I want, and that is you.”

His violet eyes seemed to darken as he once more lowered his head and captured her mouth. This time, though, the carefulness was gone, replaced by a thrilling hunger that fueled her blood.

Daegan was ravenous in his kiss, his lips commanding hers, his tongue dueling with her own. And his hands . . . Good lord, he left no place on her untouched. The edges of her breasts, her hips, her buttocks. She moaned into his mouth when he cupped her bottom in his hands and deepened his kiss, plunging his tongue into her mouth.
She mewled against him, accepting whatever he would give her. When he broke the kiss and pressed his lips against her bounding pulse, she sighed and closed her eyes, allowing herself to indulge in the forbidden pleasure.

“You know not how long I have waited for you,” he groaned as his lips brushed her throat. “In Annwyn time moves much slower than in your world. An hour spent here is but a minute in your world. Imagine the torture I have endured waiting.”

She heard what he was saying, but could not focus on the words or make sense of them. She only wanted more, more kisses, more touches. And she wanted those caresses to be on her bare skin.

“Please,” she whispered into his silky hair. “You know what I want, Daegan.”

“Yes. I know what you want, muirnín. And I will give it to you.”

Daegan’s lips and tongue tasted the sweet skin of Isobel’s throat and the swells of her breasts. Her hands were fisted in his hair, clutching and tugging, begging him without words for more.
***
The way she said his name did strange things to his brain, making him think of nothing other than hearing her shout it as he slid inside her. She whimpered when he pulled at the satin tie of her wrapper. He pulled the garment from her and let it fall to the ground. Then he reached for the sleeve of her night rail, tugging until he revealed one perfect, coral-tipped breast.

“You are so beautiful, Isobel,” he said with reverence ringing in his voice. “You were made to be savored in the moonlight.”

Her passion-glazed eyes met his and she smiled. “Will you savor me, then, Daegan?”

“Aye. Forever.”

He circled her erect nipple with his tongue, making her moan. Her body was warm, flaring to life beneath his hands. In the circle of the grove, his magic spell hovered, keeping out the winter chill and wind. She would be warm in this grove. Protected. She would be his.

Pulling away, he met her gaze. “I must have you, Isobel.” He didn’t wait for her reply, but took her lips hungrily, kissing her with all the need and desire that was swimming in his veins. She felt so soft against him, so right. Her breasts were full and high, and made for his mouth and hands. And her thighs hugged and molded his erection as if she had been designed for him. Everything about her was perfect.
Isobel felt her legs weaken as Daegan started to slide her nightgown down over her hips. His mouth followed the trail of the silk, his lips grazing her skin as he slowly exposed her. With shaking hands she clasped his head in her hands while he kneaded her belly with his mouth, the masculine scent of him wafting up to heighten her senses. Instinctively her fingers curled in his hair, clenching tightly as he nuzzled her curls through her chemise.

His mouth made her crazed. The lust she felt made her dizzy. She wanted him, whatever he would do to her. Even though she was betrothed to St. Clair, she wanted this night with Daegan.

On his knees, he kissed her sex. Hungrily, she clutched at his shoulders. When he lifted her leg and placed it over his shoulder, exposing her, she moaned and raked her fingers through his silky hair. His tongue was hot, wet, scorching her. She should be ashamed of what she was doing, but the pleasure was so great that she shoved the guilt away and enjoyed Daegan’s tongue.

Soon she was scratching her nails down his shoulders, biting her lip to keep from crying out as she began to shake. When the trembling was over, he looked up at her, his eyes dark and unreadable.

“Be with me, muirnín.” He lifted her into his arms as if she weighed nothing more than a feather. “Let me show you what it can be like for us.”

Their gazes met and held, and Isobel saw the hope and hesitation in his eyes before he set her down on a bed that was cushioned with furs. How had it suddenly appeared in the middle of the grove?

A dream, she reminded herself. A lovely, passionate, vivid dream.

“Say that tonight you’ll give yourself to me, Isobel.”

“Yes.” And she would savor the memories of this dream for many, many nights. She wanted this, and she wanted to experience it with Daegan. No man had ever made her feel this way, so conscious of her femininity, of her own desires and needs. She felt beautiful and sensual, and tonight she was going to give in to temptation.
Kneeling, Daegan placed her legs over each of his muscled thighs. His hands, a stark contrast against her pale flesh continued to slide up her sides to cup and squeeze her breasts. “You won’t ever regret this, Isobel,” he vowed, trailing his tongue up her belly. His silky hair tickled the undersides of her breasts, making her skin erupt in gooseflesh.

“I could never regret anything I do with you.” She sighed deeply. How could she regret something that felt this wonderful? Good lord, if she didn’t know better, she would say she loved him. But he was only a dream, no matter how handsome, how powerful. A dream of a lover who was as ensnared by her as she was by him.
His head was atop her breasts, his eyes searching hers through the pale shaft of moonlight. He looked boyish and vulnerable, and infinitely lovable. “Tonight, I will show you why you were made for me.”

Highlander Excerpt~Day Two!

Well, here we go! This is a fairly short excerpt, with a bit of an introduction to Bran, the hero in Velvet Haven. Daegan, the hero in Yuletide Enchantment is Bran's uncle. Daegan falling in love with a mortal has created chaos in Annwyn, and the Supreme Goddess, Cailleach, is exacting a sacrifice from Daegan for performing a binding fating ceremony with Isobel.

What happens in this scenes, both to Daegan and Bran are important events, and precipitates much of the plot in Velvet Haven. Enjoy a little glimpse of Bran!


It pains me to do this, but as Supreme Goddess, I must. You bring imbalance to Annwyn. The Dark Times will come, and I cannot allow it to happen. You know what will come next?”

“Yes. I will offer you a sacrifice.”

“You will give me adbertos, yes, but I will choose it.”

Nodding, Daegan lowered his head until it almost touched the ground. He was at Cailleach’s feet, humbling himself. But it was for Isobel. For their love. It was right to offer adbertos to Cailleach. It was right to do this for Isobel.

“You have created chaos, upset the balance of our world. You have allowed darkness to creep into a place where only light should rule.”

He accepted the truth. He had done those things, but he had been helpless. The heart and soul knew what they wanted, and his wanted Isobel.

“The consequences will be far-reaching. Annywn will never be the same. You have brought sin where there was never any. Your actions will affect another. Do you realize that? Do you care?”

I will accept his actions as my own.

Bran.
Daegan looked up to see his nephew emerge from the woods. He was naked and defenseless. But his eyes, they raged. The Unseelie blood in him roiled to the surface, barely tethered. Bran had no need for weapons, not when his black blood was boiling.

“Leave us, Raven,” Cailleach ordered. “This is not your fight.”

“It is not yours, either, but you made it that way.”

“On your knees,” she spat, her eyes narrowing to angry slits. She pointed the tip of the athame to a spot on the ground. “You will pay for that insolence.”

Bran fell to his knees beside Daegan. His mismatched eyes did not betray his emotions.

Cailleach glared at Bran. “You ungrateful dog. Did I not give you what you wished for? Is Morgan not banished to the Wastelands for her crimes against your brother? Did I not give you clues to discover where he has been hidden?”

“You have.”

“Then why are you here instead of searching for Carden?”

“I made a pact with Daegan, and I will see it through.”

“And what did you barter, Raven?”

“My brother for his woman.”

“How dare you interfere in business that does not concern you?”

“He has served you well, my goddess.” Bran reminded Cailleach. “Can you not forgive him this trespass?”

“Perhaps, if he would never see the girl again. But I know, I feel it: He will not leave her be.”

“No,” Daegan murmured, “I will not. Even if I agreed, I could not keep my promise. It is not within my power.”

“Annwyn has no use for a king who is weakened by a mortal.”

“I accept your judgment,” Daegan answered. “I offer you an adbertos, Cailleach, and will abide by what you choose for this sacrifice.”

“As will I,” Bran said. “I will offer you an adbertos as well. With two of us offering sacrifices, you can spare the girl. Our law allows it.”

Cailleach looked momentarily surprised, then she began to circle them once more.
“So be it. Daegan, Prince of the Sidhe, you are forever banned from Annwyn. You will be cursed to live as a mortal, without your magic. Your firstborn male child will be taken from your arms so that your blood might never again rule Annwyn. You will know the pain of mortals. You will mourn. You will die. You will be forever forced to recall what you gave up for your mortal. I hope she will prove worth your sacrifice. Rise.”

Daegan got to his feet and stood to his full height, looking down into Cailleach’s face. “Go now,” she hissed, “never to return.”

His gaze turned to Bran. He felt sorrow for what he had done, but still, if he had the chance to do it all again, he would not have forsaken Isobel.

“Go,” Bran said through gritted teeth, “I will accept what she chooses for me. Go.”
Daegan hesitated and Bran glared at him. “I do this willingly. Go. Love your mortal. Have what I will not—a soul mate.”

Cailleach laughed, a cruel sound that did not hide the pain she kept to herself. “No, Raven, you will not have a soul mate, but you will have something else, something you could not possibly desire.”

As he walked away into the deepest part of the forest, Daegan heard Cailleach’s husky voice chanting an incantation. It was followed by a brilliant flash of white light, then the agonizing roar of Bran’s scream.

“The Legacy Curse is upon you now, Raven,” Daegan heard. “There will be no peace for you, or within you.”

Daegan closed his eyes. He would find a way to break the curse. He would repay his nephew’s sacrifice if it was the last thing he ever did.

First Excerpt A Highlander Christmas

Hi all!
Okay, here goes. The first excerpt--the meet and greet-- between Isobel and Prince Daegan. As Prince of the Night Sidhe, Daegan can shapeshift, and his beast is a gorgeous White Hart. (Imagine a majestic stag, that's pure white)

In this excerpt, Isobel has gone into the woods at night to search for her hart, after her twin tride to hunt it. This is Isobel meeting Daegan for the first time, in his Hart form....

She’d saddled her mare quickly, retrieved the bag she kept hidden for her secret moonlit rides, and threw on a cloak and scarf, which she secured with her clan pin. Then she charged the short distance to the woods where she tethered her mare to a tree.

Whatever Alistair had said about people going into the woods, never to be seen again, she didn’t care. She needed to find her stag and make sure he had survived the hit from Ewan’s arrow. The hart had consumed her thoughts. The memory of his eyes haunted her. There was an almost human quality to them, and that look he had given her before running off? She didn’t understand it, but it compelled her to find him, to make certain he was still alive.

She didn’t think she had been gone long from the house, but when she looked up and saw the darkening skies over the barren tree tops, she knew she had tarried too long in the forest. But her senses, the same ones that told her to flee, were certain that the white hart was close by.

Carefully she stepped between the exposed roots of the giant oaks, holding on to their trunks for support. The caw of a bird startled her, and she looked up to see an enormous raven lift off the branch of a tall Scotch pine. It circled above her, dipping low, flying between the trees, then circling back. Despite the waning light and the dim moonbeams which could not penetrate through the thick canopy of pines, Isobel saw, or rather felt, the bird’s predatory gaze boring into her.

I only want to see my hart, and then I shall leave this place.

Stumbling over the roots and the thick underbrush of hawthorn, Isobel walked deeper into the woods, conscious of a sense of foreboding that worked its way down her spine.

The raven, she saw, continued to follow her, but he no longer circled her like a hawk circling a mouse. Now he flew from branch to branch, following her progression into the forest, its head cocking with what could only be described as curiosity.

Curiosity had killed the cat.

She hoped tonight she was not the feline in question.

Rounding a group of rowan trees, Isobel stopped abruptly. In a shaft of moonlight, beneath the leafless canopy of an old oak, lay her hart. He was asleep on the ground, hind legs buried beneath his great, muscular hide. His forelegs curled like that of a dog. His head, with the enormous rack, was pillowed on the snow that glistened with crimson drops of blood.

Its eyes flew open, and for seconds, the animal didn’t move. Its hide did not even flicker in agitation. There was nothing to show her that the animal was startled. No evidence that he would run from her.

Creeping forward, she extended a hand, whispering softly, “I won’t hurt you.”

He watched her, his large black eyes following her every move until she was a few steps from him. Then he lunged to his feet. His head dipped low, and she reached out to touch him, running her fingers down the slope of his muzzle. The stag allowed the touch, and she saw his eyes close as if he savored the feel of her fingers on him.

He was incredibly soft, his pelt like silk, the color unlike anything she had seen before. In the daylight he had been white, but in the moonlight he glowed almost silver, an incandescent color that was beautiful and otherworldly. It was as if his pelt absorbed the moonbeams and turned them into glistening crystals.

She studied the rack that Ewan had wanted as a trophy. It was wide and heavy. Awe-inspiring. Capable of impaling her and shredding her to bits. She trembled at the thought of feeling the thrust of his antlers through her chest, and she shrieked when she felt the warm wetness on her hand. When she looked down, she half expected to see her own blood on her palm, but there was nothing there save the stag’s mouth gently nuzzling her hand. Then the flat of his head was in her palm, and he was brushing against her like a kitten. His eyes were closed, nostrils flared, taking in her scent as he pressed closer to her, encouraging her to touch him.

“You are the most beautiful beast I have ever seen,” she whispered as she stroked one of the curling antlers. His hide flickered, shivering, and he lowered his head farther, encouraging another touch. “Such strength and power,” she murmured, “yet grace and gentleness, too.”

His head lifted, and he looked down at her. Standing beside her, his chest broad and lean, he dwarfed her with his size. He was any hunter’s prize kill, yet the thought of this magnificent animal slaughtered and stuffed made her feel ill. This regal stag was made to run free.

“He did hurt you,” she whispered as she saw the angry red mark on the animal’s side. She brushed her fingers over the wound, which looked superficial. While no doubt painful, it would not prove deadly. The stag sidestepped her touch, prancing just far enough away to evade her fingers, yet he kept close to her, circling her. She felt him at her side, her back. The ends of her hair tangled in his antlers, and she thought she heard him inhale deeply of the heather-scented soap she had used that morning.

You are mine, she heard whispered on the winter wind that made its low howl through the leafless branches.

Suddenly she felt warm, her legs weak, her belly fluttering with the sudden release of butterflies. It was a man’s voice. Dark. Sensual. Compelling.

Stay with me.

She trembled once more as the stag pressed closer, his muzzle now bent to her neck. Puffs of gray vapor rose between them and she closed her eyes, disconcerted by feelings that swam in her.

Stay forever.

Something touched her, a hand on her shoulder, the press of lips against the bounding pulse of her throat. She felt the harsh exhalation of a held breath, followed by the movement of her hair over her shoulder.

The raven cawed loudly and swooped down between them, drawing the stag’s attention. Confused and frightened, Isobel bolted and ran over the uneven ground, falling to her knees over large, distended tree roots. Branches tore at her hair and the tartan scarf she had wrapped around her neck. Pulling the wool, she continued running, never once looking back until she broke free of the branches that seemed to have tried to keep her within the forest.

When she at last turned back, she saw the white stag standing on the edge of the forest watching her, his great chest heaving. His black eyes compelling her back to him.

She walked away, unable to stop looking back over her shoulder. The stag was still there, still watching her.

Next time, she heard through the night sky. Next time you will not run from me.

It's the day after, and in this next excerpt, in Daegan's pov, he meets her as a man....

She was the loveliest woman he had ever seen. Despite the fact that her glorious red hair was covered by the hood of her velvet mantle. Even with the shadows that concealed her pale skin and wide blue eyes, Daegan knew it as the truth. Isobel MacDonald was stunningly beautiful.

He had seen that beauty last night, when he had come to her in a dream. He had tasted her sweetness as her lips parted beneath his. He had felt her passion as he pressed her back on the bed and touched her.

Even now, he could still feel the tentative touch of her fingertips against his cheeks, his shoulders. She was innocent, but beneath her purity, there was a passion that burned hot.

Her gloved hands came up to her hood and she shoved it back, revealing a cascade of auburn ringlets that fell artfully from her coiffure. Her eyes were just as wide and clear as last night, yet he saw something different in them—awareness. That she was aware of him, that the memories of them together were flooding her consciousness made his blood hot. The animal in him wanted to press her back against the tree and mate with her. The Sidhe in him wanted her thoroughly enchanted before he claimed her and made her his. A quick rut was not what his Sidhe half desired. Only a full night exploring her body would satisfy him.

“How did you come by my pin, sir?” she asked breathlessly.

He could tell she recalled the dream and what she had allowed him to do. It was there in her eyes, the way her body seemed to grow lax. The perfume of her arousal that seemed to cloak him.

It was fortunate he had found the clan pin, for with his magic he had used it to enter her dreams. Once she had the pin back in her possession, the spell would cause her to return to him night after night in the groves of Annwyn.

“Sir?” she asked warily. “How did you come by my pin, and how did you know it belonged to me?”

“Are you not Isobel MacDonald of MacDonald Hall?”

She lifted her chin. “Yes.”

“Then this is yours. I found it while wandering the woods on my morning walk.”

“You have me at a disadvantage, sir.” she said, her gaze taking him in from head to toe. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

He smiled as he stepped closer to her. “Is that true, Isobel?”
She sucked in a breath as he came to stand directly before her. “I . . . I do not recall being introduced, sir.”

“I am Daegan, prince of these woods. Perhaps now you recall our acquaintance?”
Her eyes flared and her breathing grew harsh. “I am quite sure you are not known to me.”

He reached out and she flinched. He soothed her with a whisper as he attached the pin to her cloak. “I know you well, Isobel. And I intend for you to know me just as intimately.”

Isobel could hardly breathe. How could he be here standing before her. The man from her dream. Daegan. She remembered his name, that he had claimed to be a prince. She had thought it a bit of fancy, a remnant from a young woman’s childish fantasies of being a princess swept off her feet by a handsome prince. She hadn’t truly believed that the man was real, nor could she have imagined him being even more handsome and virile in person.

“Ah, I think the lady doth remember,” he murmured as his knuckles raked along her cheek. “Is it all coming back now, muirnín?”

“I. . .I dreamed of you,” she said. Blushing, she immediately looked away, but he lifted her chin to have her look upon him.

“More than that. Last night, I came to you in your sleep.”

His thumb, warm and soft, caressed her chin, then slid upwards toward the corner of her mouth, eliciting a warmth that rushed through her veins. “And . . . and . . .” Isobel swallowed hard, unable to finish or concentrate on anything other than Daegan’s thumb stroking her.

“And we kissed. Touched.”

She licked her dry lips, remembering how, and where he had touched her. “Am I dreaming now? I must be, for how can any of this be possible?”

“No. You are not dreaming. ’Tis real, this meeting. ’Tis fate.”

The sound of twigs and branches snapping beneath heavy footfalls shattered the tension that had grown between them. Daegan narrowed his eyes and growled at the disturbance.

“I cannot see you again,” she said, glancing at the open space where any second the earl might happen upon them.

“But you will, Isobel. You will. Tonight is the winter solstice, and when the moon is full, you will come to me, and I will tell you all you wish to know, and I will make you mine.”

Highlander Excerpts!

Well, I've had a 'why didn't I think of that?' moment!

Lori suggested an exerpt of each, one each day! Brilliance! (Sometimes I'm braindead)

So, I've put on the coffeepot and I'm going to go trolling through the book for three good excerpts. Not sure what today's will be....

Anyway, look for an excerpt later today. Then another one on Tuesday, and then one on Wed!

Thanks Lori for the suggestion!

EXCERPT, A Highlander Christmas!

Okay, that title was a tease, I admit. This post does not contain an excerpt. It would have, though, if I could have one I wanted to put up. Fact is, I'm just not sure. so, I'll leave it up to you lovely hussies to decide what you'd like.

Here's your options, majority rules, and I'll post the excerpt Monday afternoon/evening.

A) A first meet between Isobel (the heroine) and Prince Daegan

B) A sexy, hussy satisfying scene

C) A taste of Daegan and Bran, who is the hero if Velvet Haven


I aim to please...let me know what' you like!
Hope everyone is enjoying their weekend!

I'm a Wicked Writer...

So, I'm over the moon about this! Yesterday I got invited to be part of the Wicked Writers group with Sylvia Day, Shayla Black, Karin Tabke, Cathryn Fox....oh, man, I can't tell you how excited I am.

It's a busy list, with a lot of romance fans. They're talking hotties, and love scenes, and their man candy....Lord have mercy! WOW!

If you're interested in joining, here's the link, Wicked Writers

There is some author promo from time to time and some giveaways, but mostly it's alot fun with authors and readers just chatting about whatever they want!

Don't be shy, c'mon over!