Stranded for the weekend by a snowstorm that has blocked all access to the castle, she finds herself three thousand miles from home in a country she knows nothing about.
She is soon joined by Sean Bracken, the great-grandson of Laird Bracken, the original owner of the castle, and she finds herself falling quickly and madly in love with him. There’s just one problem: he’s dead.
As the castle begins to come alive with secrets from centuries past, she finds herself trapped between parallel worlds. Caught up in a mass haunting, she can no longer recognize the line between the living and the dead. Now she’s discovering that her appearance there wasn't by accident—and her life is about to change forever.
DID YOU KNOW…
I wrote the first draft of A Thin Slice of Heaven before I’d made my first trip to Ireland. I love stories about places that are haunted, so I set the book in a haunted castle about fifty miles west of Belfast in Northern Ireland.
My sister then journeyed to Ireland to speak in Dublin. While there, she received information from a distant cousin about our ancestors having lived in County Tyrone. After the conference, she took the bus from Dublin to Northern Ireland and found the village—about 50 miles west of Belfast.
In my book, Charleigh meets the great-grandson of the Laird of the castle. My sister discovered that our ancestors were the Laird and Lady of Glencull. Their home has been reduced to rubble, the stones having been taken away for use in building newer homes.
In A Thin Slice of Heaven, the Laird of the castle was given the lands by the British monarchy; he arrived from Scotland, married an Irish lass and their descendents were officially Scot-Irish. My sister uncovered information while in Glencull that our ancestors had been given the land by the British monarchy around 1620. They emigrated from Scotland. Apparently, they fell in love with Ireland; their descendents are scattered throughout Ulster as well as America.
I find names by researching surnames with specific country ties, and I liked the name Sean Bracken for the great-grandson of the Laird. Bracken is a Scottish name, and because the castle sits at the edge of a cliff, I named the castle itself Brackenridge. I then found out that my ancestors had originally come from the lowlands of Scotland near the English border—in the vicinity of Brackenridge.
The similarities were so profound that I journeyed to Ireland with my sister a few months later and retraced her footsteps. We went to the cemetery where some of our ancestors are buried—at the top of a hill overlooking all their land. The last one to die in Glencull was Robert Neely; he’d specifically stated that he wanted to be buried at the top of that hill in the family cemetery so he could continue to keep an eye on his land. However, the family buried him in the local cemetery. After the services they all went back to Robert’s home – only to find him there. The sight of his spirit so unnerved them that they immediately exhumed the body. Once it was reburied at the top of the hill, they never saw his spirit again.
I wrote the first draft of A Thin Slice of Heaven before I’d made my first trip to Ireland. I love stories about places that are haunted, so I set the book in a haunted castle about fifty miles west of Belfast in Northern Ireland.
My sister then journeyed to Ireland to speak in Dublin. While there, she received information from a distant cousin about our ancestors having lived in County Tyrone. After the conference, she took the bus from Dublin to Northern Ireland and found the village—about 50 miles west of Belfast.
In my book, Charleigh meets the great-grandson of the Laird of the castle. My sister discovered that our ancestors were the Laird and Lady of Glencull. Their home has been reduced to rubble, the stones having been taken away for use in building newer homes.
In A Thin Slice of Heaven, the Laird of the castle was given the lands by the British monarchy; he arrived from Scotland, married an Irish lass and their descendents were officially Scot-Irish. My sister uncovered information while in Glencull that our ancestors had been given the land by the British monarchy around 1620. They emigrated from Scotland. Apparently, they fell in love with Ireland; their descendents are scattered throughout Ulster as well as America.
I find names by researching surnames with specific country ties, and I liked the name Sean Bracken for the great-grandson of the Laird. Bracken is a Scottish name, and because the castle sits at the edge of a cliff, I named the castle itself Brackenridge. I then found out that my ancestors had originally come from the lowlands of Scotland near the English border—in the vicinity of Brackenridge.
The similarities were so profound that I journeyed to Ireland with my sister a few months later and retraced her footsteps. We went to the cemetery where some of our ancestors are buried—at the top of a hill overlooking all their land. The last one to die in Glencull was Robert Neely; he’d specifically stated that he wanted to be buried at the top of that hill in the family cemetery so he could continue to keep an eye on his land. However, the family buried him in the local cemetery. After the services they all went back to Robert’s home – only to find him there. The sight of his spirit so unnerved them that they immediately exhumed the body. Once it was reburied at the top of the hill, they never saw his spirit again.
He moved closer to her until he was leaning over her, looking deeply into her eyes. She felt his presence more than she recalled feeling any living being, and yet she knew… She didn’t know what she knew, she realized. It was beyond her comprehension.
Her eyes traveled along his shirt. It appeared custom made and fit him like a glove. She reached out to stroke the fabric. It felt coarse and yet soft, as if the fibers had originally been more abrasive than modern-day clothing, but it had been worn into a suppleness like her favorite pair of slippers. Her fingers traveled along the sleeve. She felt his muscle beneath it, rippling slightly as her fingertips pressed more deeply against him. The seconds passed as she continued moving along his arm until she felt the short, fine hair on the back of his hand. Then she traveled upward once more, memorizing the contours until her palm rested across his shoulder.
He never said a word but his eyes didn’t leave hers, even when her own scrutinized the hand-sewn seam of his shirt sleeve that lay a few inches below his shoulder, or the folds of fabric in the sleeve that was just short of billowing, or the carefully constructed cuff with the slightly misshapen, handmade buttons.
When her palm reached his face and her fingers followed the line of his jaw, she asked hesitantly, “How is it that I can—?” She stopped herself. Maybe she didn’t want to know. Maybe if she knew, he would disappear and she would be left alone in this massive castle. Perhaps if he wasn’t here, the moon and the stars would seem to disintegrate as well until she was left with nothing but the inky blackness of a night that would feel too long and too painful to endure.
Her eyes traveled along his shirt. It appeared custom made and fit him like a glove. She reached out to stroke the fabric. It felt coarse and yet soft, as if the fibers had originally been more abrasive than modern-day clothing, but it had been worn into a suppleness like her favorite pair of slippers. Her fingers traveled along the sleeve. She felt his muscle beneath it, rippling slightly as her fingertips pressed more deeply against him. The seconds passed as she continued moving along his arm until she felt the short, fine hair on the back of his hand. Then she traveled upward once more, memorizing the contours until her palm rested across his shoulder.
He never said a word but his eyes didn’t leave hers, even when her own scrutinized the hand-sewn seam of his shirt sleeve that lay a few inches below his shoulder, or the folds of fabric in the sleeve that was just short of billowing, or the carefully constructed cuff with the slightly misshapen, handmade buttons.
When her palm reached his face and her fingers followed the line of his jaw, she asked hesitantly, “How is it that I can—?” She stopped herself. Maybe she didn’t want to know. Maybe if she knew, he would disappear and she would be left alone in this massive castle. Perhaps if he wasn’t here, the moon and the stars would seem to disintegrate as well until she was left with nothing but the inky blackness of a night that would feel too long and too painful to endure.
Prior to writing full-time, she founded two computer companies in the Washington, DC Metropolitan Area. Among her clients were the Central Intelligence Agency, United States Secret Service, U.S. Information Agency, and Department of Defense. Her specialties were in white collar computer crimes and computer intelligence, themes that have carried forward to her suspense.
She is also the co-founder of The Book ‘Em Foundation, an organization committed to raising public awareness of the correlation between high crime rates and high illiteracy rates. She is the organizer and chairperson of Book ‘Em North Carolina, an annual event held in the real town of Lumberton, North Carolina, to raise funds to increase literacy and reduce crime. For more information on this event and the literacy campaigns funded by it, visit www.bookemnc.org.
Win a Celtic butterfly suncatcher! (Open internationally)
Thanks for hosting!
ReplyDeleteCharacters often find themselves in situations they aren't sure they can get themselves out of. When was the last time you found yourself in a situation that was hard to get out of and what did you do?
ReplyDeleteGood morning! Thank you for hosting me here today. Mai, you've posed a terrific question. It would be interesting to say that I found myself in a dramatic situation and I had to use cunning and bravery to take out the bad guys, but the truth is that all the drama in my life comes through my books, which is exactly the way I like it. Occasionally, someone negative will attempt to pull me into their self-induced drama and I resist it with everything I've got. I prefer to be surrounded by positive people who are motivated to do something good during this short time we have on earth. I want the bad guys to stay between the pages!
ReplyDeleteI liked both the synopsis, and the book trailer. I am purchasing this book on my next book shopping spree.
ReplyDeleteThanks for stopping by and leaving a comment, Juana. I appreciate your purchase of A Thin Slice of Heaven. I hope you enjoy it!
DeleteI liked the fun facts.
ReplyDeleteThanks for dropping by, Rita. I'm glad you enjoyed the fun facts!
Deletenice trailer
ReplyDeleteThank you, bn100! Thanks also for following the tour.
DeleteI love the sound of this book...enjoyed the excerpt and read the bio of the author. She has a very interesting background for sure!
ReplyDeleteThanks for dropping in and leaving a comment, Glenda. I'm glad you enjoyed reading about me and my book. I hope you'll enjoy reading A Thin Slice of Heaven!
DeleteCongratulations to Jeanne Rousseau for winning the beautiful Celtic Butterfly Sun Catcher!
ReplyDelete