LAWNA MACKIE VISITS

Welcome to Lawna Mackie, a  Canadian who is making a virtual tour South to Texas for our visit. If you like paranormal romance, you'll want to learn more about Lawna's novels.

Lawna Mackie, Author

Caroline: Lawna, please tell readers something about yourself.

Lawna: I was born in Jasper, Alberta, Canada. It’s a very magical place set in the mountains. I spent most of my time growing up in Hinton, which is about 35 minutes away from there. Most of my relatives on my father’s side lived in Jasper, and a lot of relatives from my mom’s side of the family lived in Hinton. I would have to say Jasper is probably one of the nicest places in Canada to visit. This is a picture of Pyramid Lake in Jasper. It’s one of my favorite places.

Pyramid Lake Bridge, Jasper, Alberta, Canada

I have one brother and my husband and myself are very close to him and his family. In fact, they only live about 10 miles away from me. I now live in Didsbury, Alberta, and although I love it here, if somebody had asked me when I was growing up if I would live in the prairies I would have said “Heck, no!” Anyway, here I am about fifty minutes north of Calgary. My husband and I have four furry-legged children. Two cats and two dogs. We live on a beautiful acreage.

As a teenager I read my first romance novel and I was hooked! So I guess I was a bookworm, but I was also a bit of a jock. I was on the track and field team.

Caroline: Beautiful lake photo. Who are your favorite authors and favorite genres?

Lawna: My favorite authors are Sherrilyn Kenyon and Christine Feehan. I enjoy a good paranormal romance with a fairy tale theme. I also like historical romance.

Caroline: Glad to hear you like historical romance, since I usually write those.☺However, I have one paranormal book out, OUT OF THE BLUE. What’s your favorite way to relax and recharge?

Lawna: I love spending time with my hubby. We love camping and fishing! I love sitting by a campfire contemplating what I should write next.

Caroline: Do you have a favorite quote that sums up how you feel about life?

Lawna: “Follow your dreams...with your arms flailing, hair flying, and screaming at the TOP OF YOUR LUNGS!”

Caroline: I hadn’t heard that one, but I like it. How long have you been writing?

Lawna: I have been writing openly for about six years. All my life I secretly wanted to write a book, but never said anything.

Caroline: Where do you prefer to write? Do you need quiet, music, solitude? PC or laptop?

Lawna: This is my writing desk and it’s portable. It has wheels and I wheel it all over the house when I get bored of a certain location. But…the one thing I always have is my little Peppers who chooses to accompany me wherever I write. How precious is that!

Peppers

Caroline: My cat hangs around when I’m writing. Are you a plotter or a pantser?

Lawna: I’m a pantser through and through! I hate planning. I’ll get a thought, perhaps sitting by the fire, and poof…I have a book. However, most of my fantasy/paranormals have been inspired by dreams I’ve had.

Caroline: Do you use real events or persons in your stories or as an inspiration for stories?

Lawna: Animals are a real inspiration for me. I actually have a blog that I write called Animal Inspiration. And I always say that my husband is the hero in every story I write. He always shakes his head and walks away when I say that! LOL.

Caroline: Do you set daily writing goals? Word count? Number of chapters? Do you get a chance to write every day?

Lawna: Writing every day is important, but is the most difficult thing to do. I don’t have children and I find it extremely hard. Usually, I will write first thing in the morning before I go to work. The weekends also give me big chunks of writing time. I’m a big believer that it’s not how much you write, but that you write something every day. It can be two paragraphs or twenty pages just write.

Caroline: I agree. We need to write to keep that imagination flowing. What do you hope your writing brings to readers?

Lawna: I hope they get whisked away to another place, where good triumphs over evil and true love conquers all. My stories must have happy endings! And you can always be sure to find critters of some sort.

Caroline: My stories usually include pets, too. What long-term plans do you have for your career?

Lawna: I want to keep writing the stories I love and my big dream would be for me to be able to write full time.

Caroline: That was my dream, too, and now it’s come true. Would you like to tell us what you’re working on now?

Lawna: Right now I’m working on the sequel to my novella QUINN’S CHRISTMAS WISH.

Caroline: What advice would you give to unpublished authors?

Lawna: Write because you love to write. It’s hard work, but if you love to write your passion will show you the way. Don’t be discouraged.

Caroline: Excellent advice: What’s a fun fact readers wouldn’t know about you?

Lawna: Cookies and milk at bedtime make me dream. I come up with the most amazing creatures like, Threeo who is a Hippo-Dog-Burrowing Owl.

Caroline: Sounds like a nightmare. ☺ What’s something about you that would surprise or shock readers?

Lawna: I love Christmas! I especially love Christmas television specials.

Lawna's Rudolph

Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer is my favorite! To prove it I took a photo of my favorite stuffed animal. Okay, I’m giving my age away, but my Rudolph is forty years old! If you look close you’ll even see the stitches in his neck from the numerous times my mom sewed him up for me. I’ll always remember the day I saw him on the shelf in a store. To me he was the real Rudolph. I know my parents couldn’t afford to buy him for me, but somehow my mom did.

My secret is that this Christmas show inspired me to write about a piece of it in my book, PERFECT MISFITS. I’d love to hear from people if you can figure it out. I’ll have a free gift for those that jump to my website www.lawnamackie.ca to tell me what they think it is.

Caroline: Can you give readers a blurb about PERFECT MISFITS?

Lawna: Here it is:

Ryder, commander of the Levarian legion of gargoyles, has a problem. He keeps dreaming on duty…and falling…neither of which gargoyles ever do. Every dream is of the same woman, and every time, it brings on red-hot, searing pain in the crescent-shaped scar on his palm. Driven to find the woman and the reason for his bizarre dreams, he lets himself fall…

…right through to a place he never knew existed…to the woman of his dreams.

Labeled a misfit, Tempest was snatched away as a child and imprisoned in the hidden realm of Misfit Mountain. Locked up by Fedor, the ruler of the kingdom, who intends to take her as his bride, she has no choice but to brave the dangerous snow and ice of the Mountain to escape. Despairing, faced with the impossible choices of Fedor or death, love is the last thing on her mind, until Ryder snatches her from the air and into a whole new realm of feeling.

Can Ryder find the key to freeing her and save them both?


Caroline: How about an excerpt?

Lawna: Certainly.

PERFECT MISFITS ~ EXCERPT

“Please,” Tempest begged shivering beneath the fresh blanket of snow. “I’d rather die.”

She’d managed to escape…again, wishing this would be the last time. How she prayed the swirling snow devils would suck her up and away from this horrid hellhole of a world. Death would be welcome, if it kept her from going back to that place…back to him.

She’d been on the run for hours, wearing nothing more than a thin black cloak and an old pair of large, well-worn leather shoes she’d managed to steal from the guard. The knee-deep snow made her efforts to get away seem impossible. Countless times, she fell, only to push herself back up to her feet and plunge forward. As futile as the situation appeared, Tempest refused to give up. No longer could she feel her feet and hands; they’d gone numb long ago.

If only I could rest for a few minutes.

No! Her mind screamed in retaliation. If you stop, they will find you.

Her breath came in gulps; her lungs were on fire demanding more oxygen and a reprieve from the bitter cold air. The blinding snow went on forever. She had no idea which direction she headed, but hoped it led far away from her captors.

She lifted her arm, trying to shield her snow-bitten eyes from the brutal onslaught of the blizzard, but couldn’t see anything except for the deceiving flat white drifts. Her pace slowed, one step at a time; she was disoriented, tired, and hungry.

With her next step, her stomach fell out from underneath her. She screamed in terror as she fell through the air to an unknown fate. In a poof, she landed, buried in a soft tomb of snow.

The wind had been knocked from her lungs. She opened her mouth, gasping like a fish out of water. Finally, with a gulp, her airways filled with snow-mixed air. Coughing, she sputtered, unable to move. She uttered another weak plea for help, knowing know one would hear her. In the silence, her eyelids fluttered closed, and she drifted into the welcoming arms of darkness.
***
Vigorous scratching, dull and muffled, aroused Tempest from her slumber.

Am I dreaming? Oh gods, are the Vemlers trying to get in?

Relentless and deadly, the filthy, vile creatures could claw their way through anything in search of a meal. She fought them off on a regular basis. Alone in her cell, she was a sitting duck, with only a stick as her means of protection.

She tried to lift her head, but ended up with another mouthful of snow. As she gulped for air, the memory of her escape came flooding back.

No, this wasn’t supposed to happen.

It was worse than a dream. They must have found her, and she remained buried under the snow with no way to flee.

The scratching continued in the snow above, bringing her demise closer by the second. She refused to go down without a fight, and she’d end her life before Fedor ever laid his grotesque hands on her again. In all probability, his touch would kill her anyway.

She held her breath, trying to cease her shivers, knowing she must lie perfectly still and wait…wait for the exact moment before they broke through the small barrier of snow that encased her frigid body—a body that could not and would not freeze to death.

She braced her hands down at her sides, readying to push straight up.

Please let the snow beneath me hold my weight.

Her thigh muscles ached with tension as she contemplated the thought of moving.

Count to three.

They’d expect her to be in a slumber.

One…

Her feet and calves tightened ready for action.

Two…

Her fists clenched into tight balls, prepared to strike. Her stomach rolled, threatening to hurl, but she knew it was empty, and had been for some time.

This is it. Three!

Tempest unleashed whatever strength she had left in her tired, battered body, bursting through the thin barrier of snow.

Two paws hit her square in the chest, and a pair of large glowing red eyes met her stare. Startled and off balance, Tempest stumbled backward. Her feet slid out from underneath her.

Rogue had found her, not the Vemlers or Fedor. She slid downward on her stomach, her arms desperately grasping at anything to stop her fall.

“Rogue!”

The beast pounced through the snow down the hill after her, trying to grasp a piece of her with his large fangs.

It was too late; her body flew through the air. She reached out and snagged a tree branch, to swing in the forsaken snowstorm at the mercy of a small twig protruding from a tiny ledge. Looking down into a vast crevasse with no bottom in sight, she thought maybe she’d get what she wished for, after all.

“No, I take it back, I don’t want to die. Creators, help me, please. Why do you hate me so?” Tempest squeaked, looking up into the sky, which continued to dump endless amounts of snow. Her hands, next to frozen, would not support her weight for long.

Above, Rogue perched on the small ledge preparing to jump after her. “Rogue, no! Stay!” she desperately commanded. A single tear rolled down her cheek, symbolizing her desperation and fear. The crazy beast would die with her; she knew that. If she fell, he would jump after her.

Rogue howled a mournful cry. His large grey-and-tan-spotted body crouched low. Tempest knew he was angry; his pointed ears lay flat against his large square head. She felt his frustration through his piercing red eyes. She swallowed a shriek as her hands slipped slightly.

Rogue moved even closer to the edge, causing chunks of snow to fall in her direction.

“Rogue, listen to me. Don’t do this. You don’t need to end your life because of me.” Even as those words tumbled out of her mouth, Tempest knew the poor beast had no life worth living on the miserable mountain. They were both misfits not suitable to live with the regular folk on Levare. And there was no way to escape this miserable rock covered with ice and snow.

Tempest closed her eyes, wishing she had the power or ability to remove them from this horrid situation. It was impossible, of course, because she had no gifts—only misfortune. Poor Rogue also shared in the bad luck. He was a Gargdog, half gargoyle and half dog. His problem was his wings. A spell gone wrong, they were barely large enough for a pixie to fly with—useless wings on a grand creature. That’s what misfits were—rejects from Levare, banished from the world as though they never existed.

Her body trembled with the last bit of strength oozing from her limbs.

“Rogue goes with Tempest! I will not stay here without you,” the Gargdog growled in the form of words.

She smiled up at him, proud of his speech. “I see you’ve been practicing since they separated us.” It was her attempt to lighten the mood.

“I’m sorry, Rogue,” Tempest squeaked as she slipped another half-finger length.

“Rogue loves Tempest. Not want Tempest to die without him.” Rogue hung his head. She felt his sadness.

“Rogue, I don’t have much strength left,” Tempest said weakly. “I’m not afraid of death. You know I could never be Fedor’s bride. His touch would kill me, anyway. This way is better. I won’t feel a thing,” she lied, trying to sound brave.

“We will go together. Neither will I live under his control any longer.”

Her arms now shook uncontrollably. Her hands had no feeling, but her brain forced the signal to her fingers to grasp as tightly as she could. She closed her eyes and said a quick, silent prayer for all the other misfits who suffered like her and Rogue.

We’ve endured so much pain in our lives. Please, Creators, let us have a painless death. With her silent prayers complete, Tempest opened her eyes, looked up, and whispered, “I love you, Rogue,” and let go.


Caroline: Goodness, now I’m wondering how Tempest and Rogue survive. Where can readers find your books?

Lawna:
PERFECT MISFITS

http://www.amazon.com/Perfect-Misfits-ebook/dp/B00A323JIA/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1353529554&sr=8-1&keywords=Perfect+MisfitsFECT MISFITS

QUINN’S CHRISTMAS WISH

http://www.amazon.com/Quinns-Christmas-Bandit-Creek-ebook/dp/B006ELHNZO/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1353538074&sr=8-2&keywords=QUINN%27S+CHRISTMAS+WISH

You can find the Amazon buy links to all my novels on my website.

Caroline: How can readers learn more about you?

Lawna: Please come visit me on my website, Twitter or Facebook. Send me a message and sign up for my newsletter! I look forward to hearing from you.

www.lawnamackie.ca
http://www.facebook.com/lawnamackie
http://www.twitter.com/LawnaMackie

Thanks, Lawna. Since you mentioned QUINN'S CHRISTMAS WISH and gave the buy link, I'm including the cover and blurb for that book.

As far as twelve-year old Quinn is concerned Christmas has lost its magic. Since his father’s death life has lost its sparkle. His mom is now a widow struggling to put food on the table. Quinn is no help, and the mysterious illness afflicting him only makes things worse. Even Christmas, complete with decorated trees, ribbons and bows has no meaning…then along comes Jazira.

Jazira doesn’t know what happened to her former self, the eleven-year old little girl. She drowned, didn’t she, along with half the other folk of Bandit Creek in 1911? Somehow, she’s grown four furry legs complimented with a large wolf head and body. Scared and alone, she reaches out to Quinn and a strong bond is formed. Jazira learns Quinn, and his mother, are threatened by a wealthy powerful citizen of Bandit Creek. She is determined to protect her new family, no matter what.

Christmas Eve finds Quinn staring up at the adorned tree and muttering a quiet prayer. Will the Spirits of Christmas grant his wish, or will the evil surrounding Bandit Creek prevail once again?

I'd also like to direct readers to http://freshfiction.com/blog/, where they'll begin a giveaway on December 22nd.

Thanks for stopping by!