Ireland: Mythical, Magical, Mystical

Welcome Christy Nicholas, the author of Ireland:  Mythical, Magical, Mystical; a Guide to Hidden Ireland!

My name is Christy Nicholas, also known as Green Dragon.  I do many things, including digital art,

beaded jewelry, writing and photography.  In real life I'm a CPA , but having grown up with art and around me (my mother, grandmother and great-grandmother are/were all artists), it sort of infected me, as it were.  I love to draw and to create things.  It's more of an obsession than a hobby.  I like looking up into the sky and seeing a beautiful sunset, or a fragrant blossom, a dramatic seaside.  I then wish to take a picture or create a piece of jewelry to share this serenity, this joy, this beauty with others.  Sometimes this sharing requires explanation - and thus I write.  Combine this love of beauty with a bit of financial sense and you get an art business.  I do local art and craft shows, as well as sending my art to various science fiction conventions throughout the country and abroad.

Here is Christy's spin on the topic I presented her:   Write a short post about a trip that changed you.  Whether it's a trip across the world or a twist on a trip to the local grocery store.

Go back, into the mists of time, years ago - when I was just 26.  I was young, working a good job (I'm an accountant) and I came across an ad at my local New Age Store on a trip to England, to get in touch with 'Mystical Britain'.  I'd always wanted to go to England, so I thought, why not?  The group trip was for one week, so I arranged to be there for two weeks, and join the group in the second half of my trip.

I had a boyfriend at the time, but he couldn't get off work, so I planned to go solo.  Now, I'd never traveled anywhere on my own, and I'd never gone on any real vacations before.  This was the first
time I'd had a job good enough to offer paid vacation time!  But I did some research and I was able to afford it, so off I went.  I had lived in Miami since I was 8, and Detroit before that- I didn't fear
traveling alone, I knew I could take care of myself.

The first week would consist of 3 days in Ireland, 4 days in London, and then I'd meet the group for their week out in Somerset.  I flew British Airways- and on the flight, tasted my first scone, with clotted cream and strawberry jam.  Heaven!  We landed in London, but I went right back on a plane and over to Dublin.  I had vouchers for 3 nights B&B, a rental car, and a reckless attitude!

The first day I explored Dublin.  I was giddy with excitement.  I'd always been a fan of European history, especially Britain and Ireland.  Seeing the Book of Kells opened my mind to the beauty that could be created by man, and the magic of that beauty.  Seeing the sweeping cathedrals and imposing castles reinforced that impression.  The second day I picked a road and drove north.

I found the Hill of Tara.  I had researched the place, and wanted to connect with the millennia of Irish Kings who had been crowned on this spot.  It was still quite early in the morning, 9 a.m., as I
climbed the smooth, grassy hills and earthworks, and I had the place entirely to myself.  As I stood at the top of the hill, it looked as if I could see all of Ireland mapped out in front of me, a patchwork quilt of farms and homes.  It was as if I could feel the power of the land, of the history, of all the people before me, rising up inside like a fountain, and bursting out through my skull.  It was an incredibly moving experience, and I shall never forget it.

Oddly enough, the rest of my trip wasn't anti-climatic to that incredible experience.  I felt awe and wonder at Glendalough, Powerscourt Falls, and then the sites I saw in London and Somerset.  Each site was fantastic and moving - but none like that first time on the Hill of Tara.

I've been back to Tara twice since then, and it's not the same  - perhaps because I am not alone, or because it is no longer a new experience.  I will be going again in November, and will likely be alone again.  We shall see if I can recapture that magic!

Excerpt from Mythical Ireland Tour:

Finding the Music

It would be difficult, indeed, to travel through Ireland for any length of time without coming across some of its unique music.  However, it is becoming easier to come across 'prepared' performances, specifically made to entertain the tourists, glossy and polished without the authenticity of the real folk of the land.  My advice is to go off the beaten path.  Get out of Temple Bar and Killarney, and go to a local pub which might have a traditional seisiun.   A seisiun (session) is a group of local musicians who have gotten together in a pub and just started playing some of the songs they all know.  They may have never played together before, or may do so every night.  They may not even know each other - but they all know the tunes.  And they are playing for the joy of playing and entertaining.  They aren't being paid by the Irish Tourist Board to provide atmosphere to the Euro-laden tourist...they are having fun.  No, the music may not be as high in production value, but it's more honest, and in my opinion, much more enjoyable than the staged stuff.

If you are in a city, like Dublin, where tourism is common, it may be more difficult to find the local traditional pub.  Your host at the hotel or B&B may give you the standard tourist answer and direct you to a staged performance.  However, if you tell them you really are interested in a traditional session, they will likely give you a better recommendation.  In some places, you can just walk down the street and follow your ears.  Dingle, Doolin, Ardara, Donegal, Kilkenny - I've done this in all these places.  There is a decent resource at Ireland Abroad online for those who wish see an online pub directory.

Christy's book can be found by clicking here to go to Tirgearrpublishing.com:  http://www.tirgearrpublishing.com/authors/Nicholas_Christy/ireland-guide.htm

Christy will be giving away a $20 Amazon Gift Certificate to one randomly chosen commenter.  Leave a comment, question, thought or even just a hello and follow the tour by clicking here for more chances to win.

Want more?  You can find Christy online at any of these places:

www.GreenDragonArtist.com

www.facebook.com/greendragon9

www.facebook.com/greendragonartist

www.facebook.com/greendragontravel

www.facebook.com/music-from-Ireland-for-your-pleasure

www.facebook.com/musicfromscotland

www.twitter.com/greendragon9

Suspense and Sass - Meet Author J. M. Griffin And The Esposito Series

Today, I'm happy to welcome J. M. Griffin with her boxed set of mysteries led by a sleuth by the name of Vinnie who caught my attention in the first page.  So read on... I suspect, that like me, you might not want to stop.

As a humorous, cozy mystery writer, J. M. adds a touch of romance to every story.  She believes in fairies, doesn't believe in coincidence, and feels life is what you make it.  Believe in yourself and look at the positive, not the negative, to bring about success.  AND... never stop trying. 

J. M. lives in rural New England with her husband and two very mysterious cats.

Now you can own the first three books in the sassy and suspenseful Esposito Series by J. M. Griffin!

By day, Lavinia (Vinnie) Esposito is a criminal justice instructor at a college in Rhode Island.  By night Vinnie is an amateur sleuth, solving murders while trying to avoid getting yelled at by her Italian father, her hunky protective boyfriend Marcus Richmond, and her sexy upstairs tenant, the mysterious Aaron Grant.

For Love of Livvy (Book 1)

Vinnie investigates the death of her beloved aunt, and a mysterious box is left on her doorstep.

Dirty Trouble (Book 2)

Someone is stalking Vinnie and that's just the beginning of her troubles.

Dead Wrong (Book 3)

Vinnie is out to save her brother from being framed after a valuable painting is stolen.

  Excerpt from Book 1 (For Love of Livvy):

The front door knocker rapped twice after the door bell rang.  I hustled from the rear deck of the gargantuan house to answer the summons.  Someone seemed impatient, and I was curious as to who it was.  My watch read just after eight o'clock.  I swung the heavy door open to find my prospective visitor absent.

It was so quiet, the town ghostly in its seemingly deserted state.  Sundays were always lazy days in Scituate, once church was over.  With a glance up and down the street of the small historic Rhode Island village, neat colonial homes stretched along the sides of the road in both directions.  No one came into view.

On the doorstep, a package addressed to my recently deceased Aunt Livvy sat wrapped in brown paper.  Again, I gawked up and down the street, but only empty sidewalks and barren roadway appeared in the waning light.  The idea of a jaunt along the main drag entered my mind.  I figured it would be senseless since the street was visible for about two hundred yards in either direction.  Whoever had left the package was gone, long gone.

An eternity passed, or so it seemed, while my gaze locked onto the square, little box.  Reluctant to touch it, I decided to call the local fire company to come take a gander.  Call me paranoid, but as a criminal justice instructor, a recent audit of a class on bomb components remained fresh in my mind.  

I quickly stepped into the living room and grabbed the phone.  I dialed the private number of the fire station up the street.  A grunt came across the phone line that could only be Bill MacNert.

"Hey Nerd, its Vinnie," I said.  "A package was just left on my doorstep, could you come down and check it out for me?"


"Sure, you got a secret admirer or somethin?" he cackled, as only senior men can.

"Not likely, but you never know.  This package is addressed to Lavinia Ciano, not Lavinia Esposito and is wrapped in brown paper.  Nobody's here to accompany this little surprise either."

"I'll be right down.  Vinnie, don't touch it."  He warned.

"Okay."

Anxious, I paced back and forth across gleaming hard wood floors in the spacious living room of my newly acquired colonial.    My fingernails tapped the enamel on my teeth as I wandered to and fro.  As irrational as it seemed, I finally leaned against the door jamb inside the entry to wait MacNert to arrive.

It wasn't long before the limber old guy came into view as he hot footed down the street with a stethoscope in his hand.  This particular piece of equipment wasn't quite what I'd expected, but then he wasn't a bomb expert either.

When he arrived on the doorstep slightly out of breath, he glanced at the parcel, and then turned toward me.

"This was just delivered, you say?"  MacNert squinted toward me with wizened brown eyes that twinkled all the time.  It was as though there was a private joke going on inside his head.

"Yeah, someone just knocked on the door, and when I went to answer, there was nobody around.  It didn't seem prudent to mess with it, so I called you."

"You just finished that bomb class, eh?"  He chuckled and then sobered quickly.  Since 9/11, everyone took stuff like this with a serious attitude.  While he chuckled, I knew MacNert was no different.

The stethoscope ends plugged into his ears, Bill laid his diaphragm on top of the package.  Removing  it, he gingerly set it against the sides and listened again.  I didn't make a sound as he stood and glanced up.

"There's no tickin but that doesn't mean it's not explosive.  You should probably call the state police barracks up the road.  Have them send their bomb guys down for a lookie see, just to be on the safe side."

"Geez, I hate to do that.  I'll feel stupid if it's a joke," I whined.

"It's up to you, but if you were nervous enough to call me, then you should call them.  It's just my opinion, Vin."  He stepped over the box and wandered into the entryway.  "Got anythin to eat?  Wifey's out of town visitin her sister and I'm starved."

Bill didn't seem concerned, but then again, he hadn't recently taken a bomb class either.  My eyes never left the box as I answered him.  "There's food in the fridge, help yourself."

I'd known the homely man and his family for years and respected his opinion.  Tapping my fingers against my lips, I called after him, "You're right.  I'll ring the police now, but stick around okay?"

Unwilling to be nailed as over-dramatic by the staties, I reluctantly punched in the numbers.  It was bad enough that the local cops had bugged the shit out of me for the first month after Aunt Livvy's death.  They still stopped by now and then, annoying me even more with stupid questions.  Questions for which I had no answers.

The box set of this trio of J.M. Griffin's novels can be purchased here:

www.lachesispublishing.com/proddetails.asp?prod=EspositoBoxSet1-3E

Find more on J. M. Griffin at:

On Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/pages/JM-Griffin/246751368685078
Her blog:  mycozymysteries.blogspot.com
On Twitter:  mycozymystery

The Difference A Day Makes

Today I'm hosting  Barbara Longley with her latest release The Difference A Day Makes.

Welcome Barbara

And, to start things off - here's a little bit about Barbara:

As a child, Barbara Longley moved frequently, learning early on how to entertain herself with stories.  Adulthood didn't tame her peripatetic ways:  she has lived on an Appalachian commune, taught on an Indian reservation, and traveled the country from coast to coast.  After having children of her own, she decided to try staying put, choosing Minnesota as her home.  By day, she puts her master's degree in special education to use teaching elementary school.   By night, she explores all thing mythical, paranormal, and newsworthy, channeling what she learns into her writing.


Blurb for The Difference A Day Makes

Ryan Malloy has lost it all.  After his fiancee dies in a tragic accident, he enlists in the army, only to lose his best friend in a roadside bombing.  Wracked with guilt and grief, Ryan finds his life unbearable--until a job offer from his former commander gives him a glimmer of hope.  And in the tiny town of Perfect, Indiana, the man who thought he had nothing left to live for meets the only woman who can tempt him into risking his battered heart one last time...

Paige Langford has it all:  wealth, beauty, and ambition.  But when her boyfriend's betrayal leads to the loss of her job and her reputation, she retreats to her brother's rural Indiana home to regroup.  There she meets Ryan Malloy, a gruff, hard-drinking loner whose surly temper can't hide the haunted misery in his eyes.  He is everything Paige never wanted, yet he may be exactly what she needs--if only they can overcome their personal demons to forge a love strong enough to save them both.  

Excerpt from The Difference A Day Makes

Throwing her shoulders back, Paige knocked on Mr. Weil's door.

"Come in," he barked from inside.

Smoothing her face into a professional mien, she opened the door and strode in.  One look at his expression, and she faltered.  He looked serious.  Seriously unhappy.  What the hell?

"Have a seat, Langford."  He moved a pile of folders aside.

She took one of the chairs in front of his huge, imported desk.  "You wanted to see me?"

"Hmmm."  He scowled her way.  "Meyer Construction needed our bid five business days ago.  They never got it.  They've gone with another supplier."

An adrenaline shock shook her system, and her heart leaped in her throat.  She gripped the arms of her chair.  "That's impossible!  I sent that bid with a same-day courier two days before it was due."

"Like I said--they never got it."  He leaned back in his expensive leather chair and fixed her with a baleful scowl.  "I've also had two other accounts you handled complain that their bids were late, holding them up and delaying their contractors.  If it weren't for Anthony Ruger's intervention, we would've lost those accounts as well."

"Anthony's... intervention?"  Her mind spun with the implications.  Anthony?

Her mind flew back to the day the courier had come to the lobby for the Meyer bid.  She'd been in the middle of a phone call, and Anthony had offered to take the envelope down to the lobby for her.  At the time, she'd thought it was sweet.  Come to think of it, he'd also offered to put a few of her bids into the office's outgoing mail bin for her.  No, he wouldn't purposely sabotage her.  Would he?  They were a couple.

Heat filled her face.  "I'm sorry.  It won't happen again."

"Damn straight it won't.  You're fired."

"Oh, no.  There's been a mistake.  I had somebody else put the bids in the mail for me.  They must've forgotten, or..."  Shit.  Shit.  Shit.  She glanced around the office as the reality of Anthony's betrayal sank in.  "I won't let it happen again, Mr. Weil.  I'll get the Meyer Account back somehow."  She sucked in a breath.  "From now on, I will personally put things in the out bin myself, and--"

"Miss Langford, you're done here."

To find out more or to contact Barbara, you can find her online at: 

www.barabaralongley.com