I’m moving directions and decided to specialise in a genre that I both love reading and writing – Romantasy. I am a huge fan of the fantasy genre, and if you’ve read my Double Alchemy series, you’ll see the proof. These books are Urban Fantasy with a twist or two. So I thought, why not combine my love of romance and fantasy and write some tales about that?
I currently have quite a few planned, the first of which is the Hidden Veil series.
The first book in the series, Glengáill, begins the saga. A mysterious village appears amid a great storm in the Scottish Highlands. A contemporary re-telling of the classic story of Brigadoon, Glengáill is a sweeping tale of extraordinary people, in a fantastical place. These characters will delight you with their humanity, their road to fulfilment and of course, their bravery against those who would seek them out to destroy them.
I’d like to think this book will have everything you’d enjoy – alpha males, magic, shifters, romance, treachery, violence, redemption, angst, humour, quirkiness and a load of conflict. In bringing my unique vision to this tale, I hope to make you close the book, all starry eyed, and say ‘I can’t wait for the next one.”
If you do, my aim will have been achieved.
The towering outline of Castle Brannigan against the fading red sky was Connor’s most beloved view. His childhood home was a place of beauty and starkness, the solid red brick walls shining in the diluted sun, adding a pink tinge to the air.
His battered old Range Rover barrelled down the dirt track towards the castle, and the late rays of the waning sun on a chilly March evening cast a shimmer across Loch Awe. As always, the view took his breath away and made him once again grateful for his place of solace. Granted, the old place that had been in his family for centuries breathed money in like a dying dowager desperate for a last inhale of her cigarette, but it was worth every penny. Money wasn’t too much of an issue for him; he’d been frugal with investments and earnings since he’d started as a child, cannily buying and selling whatever people wanted, from boiled sweets for old lady Agatha when he was only 12 years old, to current day, supplying high value properties for billionaires.
Connor’s talents were being able to match a demand for something with a willing buyer, and he’d done very well out of it. He geared down as he approached the imposing gates of his home, noting with approval that someone had finally repaired one of the handmade sculptured wolf statues guarding the property either side of the gate. A vicious storm had raged about a two weeks ago, and in the process, the wolf on the right, the one he’d named Luna, had been damaged by a fallen tree. Nero on the left had fared better, and still stood firm, his jaws open in a slight snarl, his gaze focused down the lane, daring anyone to come closer. The pair had been loving crafted by Violet Brinkman, a talented sculptor in the next village. Her dedication to her craft was something Connor admired.
He drew the Range Rover up to the stone steps leading to the solid wooden front door, and with a scream of stone from beneath the tyres, he stopped the car, and turned the engine off.
The sound of dogs barking was a welcome sound when he stepped out of the vehicle and waited for the cacophony of joyous howling to reach him. He didn’t have to wait long. From across the fields by the lake, bounding with a mania that would have left a lesser man running for his life, his two Deerhounds came hurtling towards him. He waited until they got closer, then crouched down on the ground and raised a hand at them.
“Stop,” he commanded. The dogs reduced their speed and came to within a foot of him, whining as they sat, limbs trembling from both exertion and excitement. Connor’s First voice could stop anyone in their tracks with the sheer power of it.
The animals shook their heads, their saliva-dripping jowls causing a mini rainstorm on any unfortunate tiny creatures on the ground.