28 August 2016

Celebrating a 11th Anniversary of signing my first contract

Eleven years ago I signed my first contract, selling my Dragons of Challon series to the amazing Hilary Sares are Kensington Books.  I cannot thank her enough!!

26 August 2016

Magic: Summoning Thunder

Where Inspiration is Found or How to Summon Thunder
Deborah Macgillivray

I leave pieces of myself in my contemporary paranormal romances. In The Invasion of Falgannon Isle and now Riding the Thunder I draw heavily on memories of growing up, of places and people that touched me in some form. Most of these people and many spots are now long gone, though they still live in those shining memories dear to me. In The Invasion of Falgannon Isle, it was the Scots and their wonderful humor, the ability to accept there’s more to this world than just what we see, their ability to laugh at any situation. Not just at, but with. I took those wonderful memories and spun a fantasy that created an imaginary isle with 213 bachelors and with only three unmarried women―two were gay and the remaining one was a woman the males couldn’t court because of an ancient curse! It’s a Brigadoonish romp that came straight from my heart.

When I moved to the second book in the series, I wanted to do something fresh, not a carbon copy of the first book, so I looked to the other half of my roots―Kentucky. One reader who recently read Riding the Thunder said she loved the book so much she wished there really was a place called The Windmill. Well, in truth there was. There actually was once upon a time a small restaurant with that name on Lexington Pike, that was about halfway between Lexington and Nicholasville. Long ago, the suburban sprawl of Lexington saw the distance between the massive college town and the small southern community fade. My parents were separated, then later divorced; Father lived in Britain, while my mum lived in Kentucky. I stayed with her during the school year, but holidays and summers I spent in England and Scotland. Sadly, my parents still cared about each other, so it was too painful for them to face each other when they ‘handed me over’, so for a week or two I was sent to stay with Mum’s step-sister, until I was collected by the other parent. I always enjoyed those stays.

I got to see the beautiful horse farms in the bluegrass area. I enjoyed the small town pace, where everyone knew each other, where eccentrics and oddballs were relished, much in the same manner the Scots did. These out of way places have their own pace, and it touched my imagination. So, yes, the Windmill did exist. A horse farm was across the road from it. It had a Wurlitzer that tended to play the wrong tunes at times. There was a swim club, a motel and a Drive-in. And there was even a young man nicknamed Oo-it!

Over the years, I visited the area less and less. It hurt to see the city sprawl, the giant Lexington pushing closer and closer, until finally consuming the tiny town of Nicholasville. All its special flavor, its quirkiness was lost. Only those images, those seeds lived in my mind. I wanted to capture that timeless feeling, so thus my stage was set for Jago Mershan and Asha Montgomerie.

My stories always evolve with the questions of who and why. I see a scene in my head, such as the opening of Chapter One. I saw Jago sitting at the bar, waiting, and drinking a beer.
Who is he? Why is he there? Whom is he waiting for? Why is he waiting? He’s waiting for Asha naturally. Then when Asha enters, it’s more questions. Where did she just come from? I knew who she was basically, since she was the little sister of the heroine in the first book in the series, but the questions then moved me to defining Asha and her quirky world.

Cats seem to wander into my stories, so I wasn’t surprised the nameless cat appeared and took up with Jago. I kept trying to name the black cat, only he defied being named, so that became a part of the story as well.

As for the tune Tell Laura I Love Her―the song was very popular when I was a child and it seemed play endlessly on the Jukebox at the real Windmill Restaurant. Everything is so sharp in my mind. I recall the beautiful Wurlitzer, the wallet changers on the walls by each booth, the way the sun came through the plate glass windows that ran across the front. The Drive-in showing Vincent Price movies, the scent of baby oil and chlorine from the swim club, the smells, the diner’s chatter, the Kentucky River, Lock 8, all of these elements created vivid memories within me that lived and were nurtured within my heart.

The one day, Riding the Thunder was born.

This article was originally written when the novel was from Dorchester Publishing's Lovespell.  The book is now published with the other books in the series by Montlake Romance/ Amazon Publishing and is available in Kindle and Tradesize paperback.

24 August 2016

Lazy birthday lunch at One Nineteen West Main

Candy and I has some errands to do, so we stopped by One Nineteen West Main Street (the name and address of the nifty restaurant in La Grange, to sit out on the sidewalk and enjoy a leisurely meal since it was my birthday.  I introduced Candy to the joys of friend bologna...another southern dish that she took to immediately.  And we were entertained by the trains (four in the less than an hour we sat out there.)  We had a great waitress, Olivia -- the same one that served us with Chuck and his family came a couple weekends ago.  She is just great (and pretty too!)  So ask for if you stop by.  It was a perfect weather day that we enjoyed knowing autumn would soon be on the horizon.  A lazy day, but one much enjoyed

16 August 2016

Nanabooboo and the Anniversary of the King's passing...

Elvis Presley: Aug. 16 Marks 39th Anniversary of Musician's Death
Presely, known as the "King of Rock 'n' Roll," is considered one of the most important cultural icons of the 20th century for his contributions to music. He died Aug. 16, 1977, at age 42.


I still recall the day vividly.  When I was very small, about three-years-old, I went to an Elvis concert with my mother and her friends.  OMG the screaming!!  The women were jumping up and down and clapping.  The screaming was terrifying; the clapping, since it was down at my ear level, was deafening.  I recall looking down on the stage and thinking all the noise was for THIS?  Lol.  I tugged on my mum's arm, trying to get her to stop the clapping, but she did that same "shut up." that Darren MacGavin gave Ralphie in A Christmas Story.  My ears were still ringing hours after we had left the concert!!!  Needless to say, I did not become a fan of the King.

However, my dear (well, not so dear...lol) cousin did.  She had Elvis on her walls.  Had all his records.  Elvis was her HERO.  My god she loved him!  And since she and I never got along too well -- she being older and not above tormenting me in various fashions -- I relished getting even with her.  SHE had NEVER seen Elvis live.  But I had ...lol.  For fifteen years, anytime she tried to get the upper hand with me, I would just go nanabooboo ...I have seen him and you haven't.  Naturally, she wanted to kill me.  But that was the whole point.  My gran called it "getting her goat", though I never really truly understood that adage ...lol.

So, then thirty-nine years ago, my "toy" was about to be snatched from me.  Relations hadn't improved over the years.  I still nanaboobooed every chance I got.  And she still steamed.  But THEN, Elvis was coming to her town and she got tickets.  She had nattered on and on for weeks.  SHE was going to SEE him!!!!

Well, fuuuuuuddddddddddddge!!  There would go my ace up the sleeve!!!

The day came, and we happened to be travelling to go to the river, so I popped by.  On the way, they announced Elvis had died, so obviously, the concert was cancelled.  There sat my dear pain-in-the-butt cousin, with her two second row seats to see Elvis and he just did the unthinkable -- died!!!

It fell to me to break the news to her.  She was in her room, teasing her platinum blonde hair, when I rushed in full of tides of his passing.  She looked at me like I had lobsters coming out of ears.  She informed me that I was a total dud as a cousin, but she accepted that shortcoming, but to sink to this low level and lie about Elvis dying just to spite her was despicable.  She swooped up her two tickets, and was about to go out –– totally turning a deaf ear to my ravings about the King being dead –– when the news broke into the programming on the television and carried the news.

There she was in her bubble-headed Barbie hairstyle and no place to go ...sort of like Marty Robbins and his pink carnation.

I think, as she stares longingly at her tickets, now framed on the wall, that she hates me very still thirty-nine years later.


15 August 2016

The Selkie's Daughter released as stand alone novella

The Selkie's Daughter - a Dragons of Challon novella

in the One Christmas Knight anothology is now released for KINDLE as a stand alone novella.

To buy on KINDLE

Only  99 cents (Kindle Unlimited Readers can read it FREE)

10 August 2016

My PRP books are being picked up by Books-A-Million and Walmart!!

Wal-mart and Books A Million will now be carrying print copies of my anthologies!

Great news because this opens sales to venues that they were not getting into previous. They are still available on Kindle and in Print on Amazon, but this is very exciting news.

They are already showing up on BAM's website.  This is just starting to roll out, so more titles will be added as they update the whole CreateSource catalogue.


08 August 2016

An evening with a former POTC friend!!

I used to play Zynga's Pirates of the Caribbean on Facebook.  Played it for years and made a lot of really good friends.  The game has been gone about seven years now, but many of us remain close.  I have meet Kevin Briscoe and his wife Mary.  They come in each year to the Kentucky Highland Renaissance Faire.   One I kept missing was dear friend Chuck Borgwardt.  He was always such a great friend, and always in my corner.

Well, he texted me last night that he was going to be near and he wanted to have supper.  So Candy and I meet his charming wife and daughter at One Nineteen West Main (the name and address...lol) and have a great dinner.

Very different when you  meet someone you already know for over ten years -- strangers and yet bets friends, too!  We have a wonderful time and was very sorry to see them go.

They had a chance to witness close up our trains going down Main Street.

Chuck and Me

Chuck, Candy and Me

Chucks' daughter, wife Kim and Chuck

Me with the family

So I fire a cannon in salute as pirates meet and party...until the next time.

03 August 2016

Montlake Romance/Amazon Publishing spotlights The Falcon's Bride

Montlake Romance is offering for KINDLE a special price on Dawn's The Falcon's Bride... Beginning 8/1/2016, you will see the promotion here:http://www.amazon.com/b?node=13819721011. It's only 99 cents - the lowest Montlake has ever offered their books for promotion.

02 August 2016

Montlake/Amazon Publishing is promoting A Wolf in Wolf's Clothing


           As the small knoll materialized in the ghostly fog, he cut the wheel, switched off the engine and allowed the car to coast across the lawn to halt under an oak tree.  The slight roll in the landscape saw the mound overlooking the thatched house, nestled into the odd crook in the land.
            “My, what a perfect location for tonight’s bit of work,” he said, his low voice loud in the stillness of the night.  “All the better to spy upon you, Little Red Riding Hood.”
            Pocketing his keys, he opened the car’s gull wing door, and then paused with foot balanced on the body’s fame while his eyes took in Raven’s home.
            The bungalow was two stories, though the second level was likely just a bedroom and bath due to the steep incline of the roof.  The only time he’d been in a thatched house was when he was small, in the months after his father had committed suicide.  He’d been too young to remember much of that time in Ireland.  Des remembered.  That period of their lives had left deep scars in his older brother.  Trev figured he’d look down his nose at Raven’s humble home.  Instead, he was fascinated.  An air of warmth and welcoming beckoned him toward the cottage, aglow with its amber lights.
            He sat on the hood of the car and studied the bucolic structure, trying to pinpoint Raven.  Playing Peeping Tom was easy.  The place was constructed of so much glass.  A gardener’s cottage once, there were two greenhouses― one on either side of the whitewashed abode.  The first had likely been a hothouse, the other for plants that required a more temperate clime.  Raven was an artist, a painter.  The report Julian Starkadder had compiled about her said she was working toward a one woman show for a local gallery come next spring.  The smaller glass room had been turned into a studio.  Even from this distance he could see the easel, though it was too far away to tell what she currently painted upon the large canvas.
            Aside from the two glassed in spaces, a dining room had been added, also with glass walls.  Raven Montgomerie’s life was on display, but he figured she never considered that.  Some beautiful women loved to put on a show for anyone looking― even Peeping Toms.  Still, for someone as gorgeous as Raven, she didn’t live her life on the stage she created here.  He’d be willing to bet the Lamborghini on that.  Raven was merely far away from people, nothing even remotely close, so obviously she felt no need to hide behind drapes.
            “Where the hell are you, Red?” he asked.  “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
            All these walls of glass and he couldn’t spot her!  Exasperated, he knew she was at home.  She’d been working on the preparation for the gala all day, doing final touches.  After supper he’d grown twitchy, so had driven past the banquet hall that her brother, Cian, had rented for Montgomerie Enterprise’s big bash.  As he spotted her coming out of the building, he swung into a parking lot down the road and watched while she slid into her ancient MGB.  Keeping a distance, he followed her until she took the turn off for the cottage.  She was still there.  His predator’s sense confirmed that.
            Growing impatient, he pushed off the car and trotted toward the cottage.  The MGB was parked at the side of the house, attesting to her presence within.  Staying to the shadows, he circled around the larger greenhouse and toward the back of the dwelling.  As he cornered the far side, he pulled up when he saw Raven.  Her face was framed in the kitchen window, an overhead light nearly a spotlight on her.  From her movements, he saw she was washing dishes. 
            Raven’s face was more than beautiful, it was arresting, with a hint of feline ethereality.  While her jaw reflected the same Montgomerie stubbornness as her sisters, the thinness of her countenance softened the effect.  Trev shuddered.  His whole body cramped with longing. 
            “Longing?” he echoed aloud.
The word caused pause.  With any other woman he’d have said lust.  Trevelyn Mershan didn’t long for a woman.  He simply wanted to screw them.  Once he achieved that aim, they lost any fascination for him.  Longing required more than animal impulses.  It spoke of something much deeper.  And that bothered him.
            Music floated on the night air, and it took a moment to identify the song coming from the kitchen, Constant Craving ―an oldie by KD Lang.  Ravens mouth moved as she sang along with the words.  Though he couldnt hear her, a shiver slithered up his spine.  Yeah, he knew something about constant cravings.  Five months of it.  Ever since hed seen her back last May at her grandfather’s funeral. 
            He recalled sitting with his brothers at the rear of the small church, watching the seven sisters in the pews at the front, then later while they exited the ornate building.  That memory haunted him.  So peculiar, beyond her beauty, there was little about Raven that would normally attract him.  No, Raven Montgomerie was not his taste in women.  And yet, he’d known in that breathless instant when their eyes collided, outside the ancient Norman kirk, that in five months’ time he’d be coming for her. 
“Though hell should bar the way…” he said under his breath.
She was the key to getting him closer to the Montgomeries, so the Mershans could finally mete out their long-overdue vengeance.  His inner voice warned Trev that their objective had damn little to do with his coming here tonight.  A ravenous need was rising in him, something dark, dangerous.  A force primeval...

A WOLF IN WOLF'S CLOTHING will be promoted via 99 Romances for $0.99 Each in the marketplace, starting 8/1/2016 and running through 8/31/2016. Your book will be offered at 0.99USD during the promotion period.

Beginning 8/1/2016, you will see the promotion here: http://www.amazon.com/b?node=13819721011