Please make welcome the lovely Cathy MacRae! I’m thrilled to have her visiting my blog. Before we tease you with a blurb and excerpt from her latest release, let’s get to know Cathy.
I’m serving a delicious French wine today in honor of The Highlander’s French Bride. So, grab your own favorite beverage and get comfy.
MM: Welcome, Cathy! So happy to have you here today. Describe a typical writing day. Are you a morning, afternoon, or night-owl writer?
CM: On a typical day, I write during the morning, take a break then write a bit more in the afternoon. There are days, however, when I get deep into the book and may start writing again after supper and write into the wee hours.
MM: I envy your ability to write into the “wee hours.” Sadly, I turn into a pumpkin after 6pm. Can you tell us about your current work-in-progress?
CM: I am currently working on my next contribution to The Ghosts of Culloden Moor series. It is the story of Hugh MacLeod, a ghost from Culloden Moor, who must overcome much anger and guilt over not only the battle that took his life, but what he knows of the devastating aftermath. To complete his challenge and leave the moor forever, he must perform a heroic act. But helping the grandson of a man he despised will test him and his need for revenge.
MM: Oh my! I got chills reading this, Cathy. What a challenge this will be for him. What inspires you when you’re writing?
CM: Since I write historical novels, I’m inspired by history. I can get sidetracked very easily while doing research, but often discover new stories to write.
MM: I love doing research, too. It’s a never-ending process. What’s your favorite item on your writing desk?
CM: My hard drive back-up, lol! I’ll hopefully never need it, but I like to see it there. Also, I have a pair of gloves that are thin enough to work in. It’s cold today!
MM: I’m agreeing with you regarding the hard drive back-up! I’ll say a prayer you’ll never need it, too. I never thought to wear gloves while writing. Interesting. Now for fun…do you prefer:
Champagne or Beer? Champagne
Southern drawl or Scottish burr? Scottish burr
Kilt or Leather pants? Kilt
Print book or e-reader? Oh, that’s difficult. I love print books, but my e-reader is great because it’s back-lit and easy to read at night, and I have lots of books right at my fingertips.
Thank you so much for visiting today! I’m wishing you all the best, Cathy!
More about Cathy MacRae:
Amazon best-selling author Cathy MacRae enjoys weaving tales of romance in the Scottish Highland mists. Her stories feature strong heroes and feisty heroines in pursuit of their happy-ever-afters in medieval Scotland.
When not writing, Cathy can be found curled up in a chair with a book or enjoying the outdoors with her dogs. A member of RWA, NTRWA and Celtic Hearts Romance Writers, she is currently working on another Highland romance novel and planning her next trip to Scotland.
Blurb: Heir to a lairdship, Kinnon Macrory is driven to prove himself by fighting the English on the battlefields of France. His dreams of heroic valor are destroyed by his inability to come to grips with the atrocities visited on the very people he is sworn to protect, and three years in a French prison for a crime he did not commit leave Kinnon longing for the one thing of beauty in his war-torn life—a young woman of great kindness and wisdom named Melisende.
Melisende de la Roche struggles to stay one step ahead of soldiers who would imprison her for helping an injured Scotsman accused of treason. She finds refuge in her uncle’s shop—until a chance encounter sends her fleeing into the unknown once again, always haunted by the beguiling friendship with the troubled young Scotsman she is certain she will never see again.
Determined to find the woman of his dreams, Kinnon returns to France, only to discover a trail of clues to Melisende’s whereabouts. Their reunion will open the doors to passion, but half-truths and lies from the past could destroy the one thing they both are willing to fight for—each other.
Excerpt: (Melisende is trapped in the village which is under siege. Her plan to bribe a guard and escape has just been thwarted.)
Melisende stormed up the stairs and slammed the flask of whisky down on the small table in her room. Milk would be a more appropriate bribe for le jeune homme. Frustration knotted her chest. Fatigue made her head swim and she bit her lip to keep tears at bay. With a thump she collapsed onto the edge of the bed, head in her hands as she scrounged furiously for a new plan. She discarded one after another before she lay back on the coverlet, beseeching God to care for her little sister.
Her mind somewhat eased, or at least temporarily resigned, her thoughts turned to Kinnon. I wonder where he is. Would he have been with the main attack four days ago? He seemed to be part of the Eagle’s close command. Would he serve at the rear, closer to Bertrand? She hoped he was not part of the common soldiery pounding the village walls.
Where will he go when this is over? Will he return to Scotland or remain with Bertrand’s army? Again she wondered if he was bound to a woman back home. A stab of jealousy surprised her. I have no rights to him, she admonished herself. A curiosity came over her. But if I did, what would that be like?
Her lids closed and she imagined his eyes, the way they crinkled at the corners when he laughed. Only a bit lower, his lips—chiseled and manly, a day’s growth of whiskers framing them—moved as he spoke. The memory of his voice warmed her and she smiled.
I am not sure I was meant to be a soldier, he had told her.
She recalled his friends, who had boldly sailed to France to rid the countryside of soldiers—mostly English—who preyed upon the helpless. Kinnon was the only one left. The life of a soldier. So short, so unpredictable. She gripped the bedclothes in her fists, fighting a surge of despair.
Why must there be war? Why must good men die? Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes and she shook her head, denying the emotion. I am tired, nothing more. There have always been wars. Large ones, small ones, diseases, accidental death. I have experienced all of it and more. Why should it matter now?
But his last words burned in her heart and she shook to remember them.
Do ye not want a man’s arms around ye when nights are long? When ye have something in yer heart ye wish to share? Someone who cares for ye more than himself?
God help me, I am so lonely. I love my sister, but you have opened something in me I wished to keep closed. Damn you, Kinnon-Macrory-from-Scotland! Damn, damn, damn!
Buy Links: https://www.amzn.com/B018OHXKHK