***Oh, I met so many LOVELY people during my trip to the UK the past two weeks! Here’s a shout-out to Pat from Perthshire, Jeremy & Karen from Sussex, Bruce & Jo from near Yackandandah, Lynn of Fuaran B&B, James Darby of Inverness, Ian, Steve, & Artur from the Tobermory Bakery Cafe, Doreen of Hillside B&B, Lawrence & Kath from Yorkshire, Ian and Archie the kind bus drivers of Barra, Chrissy of Leth Meadhanach B&B, lovely Isobel of Orasay Inn, Mary-Margaret the friendliest bus driver on South Uist, ‘Audi’-related to half of the island, John & Linda of Warrington, Catriona and Katie at the Tourist Info (I’m loving Manran!), Cathy & Chris, Heather & Graham at Cuan Mor (excellent!) and Morven at Hawthornebank Guesthouse—a social trip when you go solo!

Today’s the day for any UK readers to get an ebook copy of Dulci’s Legacy for just 99p! So jump over here so you don’t miss the ‘Countdown Deal***

keep calm and rewrite

I hope everyone was able to take advantage of the Kindle Countdown deal. For a very different type of reading, I’m revealing an excerpt of my work in progress (WIP), Remnants.

(By the way, this is a working title, which means it’s not final, so don’t shoot me if it’s different in the finished product. Also, BY ALL MEANS tell me what you think! Seriously, by carrier pigeon works, as long as your pigeon survives the gauntlet of crows surrounding my lair.)

The WIP may very well get a different title as the story develops too, but this at least captures the feeling of leaving a piece of yourself behind, as the MacDonald family does when they are forced to emigrate from their native island home.

Check out this excerpt from Remnants (forthcoming, 2016):

It was dark inside, after the bright sun, but they stepped in cautiously. When their eyes adjusted, they stared in shock.

Not a scrap of furniture was left. It had all been taken away. All that was left as evidence that the small house had been lived in were the rocks of the firepit and the cupboard for the bed, attached to the wall as it was. Everything else, which Neil knew included linens, crockery, their loom, more than a case of books, their larder, which had always been well-stocked, and a framed family portrait on the wall next to the door—it was all gone.

Muirne looked in shock around her, her eyes going to where those things had been. She teared up, though whether it was for her friend Ellen, her hopes for Willy, or the greater danger of this proof of the Laird’s cruelty, Neil could not tell. His eye caught on the rocks in the center of the room. He advanced and saw that a paper had been pinned down among them.

He eased it out carefully, but it hadn’t been in a fire, it was left on purpose to be found this way. He read it mutely then handed it to his sister. Muirne glanced over it, the few lines of script communicating far more of fear than Kitty’s stories had. It was here. Now.

Muirne’s hand cupped over her mouth in fear.

“Wait,” said Neil, as he took it back from her, looking at the back as she did so. “They’ve written on the back of the notice: ‘Gone to Glasgow, South Side, Hurley Crescent, The MacPhersons.’ So at least they had somewhere to go…”

He debated whether they should take the paper with them. Who knew what would happen to these cottages now? Perhaps it would be best if they held their new address for others who might ask. Yes. He put it in his pocket, and opened his arms to his sister. She put her arms round him and they stood, comforting each other, looking down from this precipice of their young lives.


Soooo…. whaddya think??


Image via Keep Calm-o-Matic