Friday, November 30, 2018

Merry Christmas from Dobbins!

Welcome to Mistress Maeve’s Christmas village. I’m Dobbins the postman and so very happy to greet you and wish you the merriest of Christmases.

Mistress Maeve doesn’t know it, but all of us here in Christmas village are, in fact, real. We live our lives and carry on quite nicely when she’s not looking—even when she thinks we’re boxed up and tucked away in storage.

Unfortunately, Mistress Maeve’s cat, Spaz, is very much aware of us and the vile beast has become somewhat of a pain in our backsides. He delights in knocking us off our feet when Mistress Maeve is about, and we have to remain on our backs in the snow until she looks away.
See the house with the porch full of cats? That’s my home. I admit I don’t have the heart to turn away a stray of any kind, but my home is filled with the love they give me in return for a meal and a warm place to rest their weary heads.

Looks like old Mr. Macintosh’s pump is froze-up again. Mrs. Macintosh must be doing laundry even in all this snow. That long underwear on the line will freeze for sure.
I’ll leave you now to wander about on your own without my blatherin’ in your ear. My wife tells me I do tend to go on too much so I’m doin’ my best to keep that in mind whenever new folks come to visit.

But once again, I do wish you a fine merry Christmas and a prosperous and healthy New Year to boot.

Your new wee friend,

Monday, November 19, 2018

Joanna's Highlander is 60% OFF!

“Nay, m’love, I canna stop.” He slowly rose from his seat, keeping his voice soft and low, barely louder than the sound of the rain. “Yer the first woman in sixteen years . . .” His words stalled. Was he really ready to reveal his scarred heart and his painful history to an outsider, to a woman? A twenty-first-century woman who more than likely had ne’er heard of the MacDara druids or the druid clans?

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Saturday, November 10, 2018

Who knew?

Katie Jenson never dreamed that a time-traveling Highland warrior would be her greatest archeological find.

“Now what?” Katie asked.

When Ramsay finally spoke, the deep richness of his voice was low and steady. He talked as though in a trance. “As of this evenin’, ye are now the wife and soulmate of Ramsay Danann MacDara. Third son to the MacDara high chieftain. Born at MacDara Broch in the Highlands of Scotland . . . in the year 884.”

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