Sunday, June 6, 2010

I made the local news!

I'm so excited, I just had to share even though it wasn't for my books.:P It's
the first time I've been in the paper.
I attended a National Cancer Survivor Day celebration and was interviewed for
our Local Newspaper. My married last name is Macklin. I'm a two year survivor
and attended the event with a good friend, also a breast cancer survivor, but
still fighting thyroid cancer.

Here's the link:\

also, for those interested in viewing, our local News station, Wlox, did a story
on it. It's hard to spot me, but I'm in the audience. It was a wonderful &
uplifting day.\

Take care ya'll,
Where enchantment transcends realms...
Firefae and Saje are available at

Friday, March 12, 2010

Firefae got a 4.75 star review!!!

Night Owl Romance Reviews gave Firefae 4.75 stars. Wooohooo! Doing the Happy Dance here!

Take care,

Saturday, January 30, 2010

What is your idea of a HOT Fireman contest!!!

In celebration of my erotic rosette, Firefae's release at, I want to here from you. Come enter Firefae's contest! You could be the winner of a beautiful cross-pendant bookmark.

Have fun and good luck,Deb

Friday, January 15, 2010

Firefae releases 1/29/10!

Sometimes a fire is too tantalizing to extinguish.
Mark your calenders:
My next erotic short, Firefae, is releasing 1/29/10 from
After extinguishing a brush fire, firefighter Gunner Crews wakes up to find himself in a miniature world of fairies and enslaved by Sera, the fiery temptress responsible for igniting the flames he and his team have just put out. Determined to return to his own world—not to mention size—Gunner's plans of escape are dampened by the smoldering passion stirred to life by the lovely firebug. Can he fight the flames the Firefae ignites within him, or will he succumb to a firestorm too hot to resist?
Excerpt: Excerpt:
The fireman twitched and opened his lids. Eyes, the color of indigo, attempted to focus, and then fluttered closed again. Their hue, like sapphires sparkling in the sunlight, entranced her. Drew her to him almost like he possessed enchantment of his own. She dropped on her knees and bent, placing her lips almost to his. Only the width of a feather separated them. The scent of spicy maleness filled her nostrils. What would he taste like? The thought hastened her pulse. She brushed her mouth to his. Warm downy softness caressed her lips. A small groan escaped him and his arms moved as he deepened her kiss. Rich peach-flavored elements of muscadine, blended with a hint of wildness, filling her mouth. Her heartbeat quickened further as his lips parted and his warm tongue caressed hers. Never before had she experienced anything like this. His hands rose, as if to embrace her, and reality came rushing in like a hell storm. What was she doing? Sera broke away, stood up and tried to force away the attraction she felt for him. But she wanted to kiss him again. Lie with him. A human? The lout! It was his fault. His allure was so strong, even in his slumber he drew her like a moth. And what happened to moths flying too close to a flame? They got burned. Well, no more. She narrowed her eyes and took a step back. She needed to focus, take hold of the situation, and wait for him to awaken. Then the confrontation would begin. Her stomach tightened. He wouldn’t like the fact that he’d been kidnapped to the fairy region.
Remember to mark those calenders. Gunner and Sera's story is almost here. :)
Take care,

Sunday, November 1, 2009

November Contest!!!!

****Month long November contest****
Coffeetime Romance and More is hosting a month long contest for me and Saje. Enter for a chance to win a beautiful pair of cross pendant earrings.

Hope ya'll have a Happy Thanksgiving and fall,


Monday, October 26, 2009

Stephen King Tribute

Stephen King: What the master of horror teaches about romance.

I got busted reading "Carrie" in science class. I trembled with the thought of surviving a pandemic with "The Stand."

Stephen King: A romantic hero? Maybe atypical but absolutely! Let’s look at why:

Stephen knows loss. He grew up with an absentee father and a mother who took charge, a woman who made her living working hard and caring for her sons. She tended to her children's mental and spiritual health as well as caring for her extended family. A woman who provided an inspiration of strength for those who knew her. She died far too young. A loss a young man shouldn't have to face, but her strength was passed on to her children. instead of blaming the fates, they carried on. His modest background gave him sensitivity to the working class and some vital insight about the human condition.

Stephen went to college He worked his way through school as a janitor.
It was in college Stephen met Tabitha. As writers they connected.He admired her for her intelligence and creativity, as she is a writer as well. It was Tabitha who rescued "Carrie" from the trash and demanded her husband finish the manuscript. He was smart enough to listen to his wife, and finished the work. He has loved and dedicated his life to his lady, Tabitha, his college sweetheart. Together they’ve faced and overcome his drug addiction and the physical challenges that came from a severe motor vehicle accident.

He has been a father to his children for the long haul.
He has overcome personal tragedy and offered support to budding authors with his "On writing" book.He fought a drug addiction during his marriage. It takes courage to admit you have a problem and to ask for help. It is even more courageous to make private pain public so others can be inspired to seek help too, even though doing this gives the mean spirited an easy target.

Stephen was given another horrific challenge when he was hit by a car. Months in physical therapy allowed him to walk again, but the steps were slow, a grueling struggle to heal. Despite the damage to his body Stephen didn’t fall into despair. The self is the greatest enemy, the love of his family his greatest asset. Tabitha was with him every step of the way, no matter how trying.

Horror is all around us. We see the evils humans do; it drags us into emotional mire. Hearing the news is enough to make us want to hide under our beds or just get through the day so we can make it back to the sanctuary of our homes. Through it all love makes it bearable, infusing us with the power to look evil in its face and claim victory.

The master of horror, by his own strength and perseverance is the model of a true hero.

Saturday, September 26, 2009

Author Interview

Hi ya'll, and Happy Fall. Can you believe October is right around the corner? I love this season; all the colors, a little cooler. Anyways, lets get down to business. I had the pleasure of interviewing author, Anida Adler. Her book, The Ancient, is out at Loose Id. So sit down with a warm cup of coffee and check out the interview. Afterward, leave a comment for your chance to win this cute Shannon O'Shamrock bear. One winner will be randomly drawn from the tour's comments.

Deborah: Hi, Anida. Thanks for stopping by to answer a few questions. Can you tell us a little about your latest release?

Anida: What would you do if you fell in love with the goddess of death? Tadhg Daniels faces this dilemma when he’s visited by Morrigán, an immortal he thought was only a myth. The attraction is instant and mutual, but she came to warn him his death is imminent. There’s a way he can gain immortality, but it will involve sacrifices the sensitive poet might not be prepared to make. Banished god Dian Cecht has discovered Morrigán can release him from his eternal prison, but Tadhg stands in his way. Time is running out, and the shackles are waiting.

Deborah: Sounds very interesting. What or who inspired you to write it?

Anida: Tadhg and Morrigán made a brief appearance in my first novel, The Pebble (Amira Press 2009, author name Nadia Williams). I was intrigued by this odd couple, and just had to tell the world how the two of them got together.

Deborah: How long have you been writing, and did you know at a young age you wanted to be an author?

Anida: I wanted to be an author from a very young age, and wrote little stories all my life. I gave up this dream as unrealistic in my teens, but near the end of 2003, my husband encouraged me to sit down and write a book. I did, and haven’t looked back since.

Deborah: Do you have a special place in your home where you like to write? If so, what does it look like?

Anida: My writing desk used to be crammed between the television and the fireplace in the sitting room of our house. I wrote wearing headphones and listening to loud music to drown out the noise - I don’t really watch TV myself. Last month, we moved to a new place, and I now have a wonderful writing spot by a window overlooking the Cooley Mountains

Deborah: Okay, it’s time for a list of your favorites.

Anida: Color - Red or blue.
B. Number - Six.
C. Food - Hmmm. Depends on my mood, but I’d say pizza.
D. Drink - Sweet white wine, though nothing beats a pint (shorthand for a pint of beer, but I suppose you all know that!) with a good friend.
E. Music - I adore Jason Mraz, and love most of his music.
F. Author - Terry Pratchett, no hesitation, no contest. A very close second would be Diana Wynne-Jones.
G. Actor/Actress - I’m very fond of Brad Pitt, mainly because of the personality I see in there. Second would be Hugh Jackman, mainly because of the body I see out there. I think Angelina Jolie is very talented, and I also identify strongly with the life journey she’s had.
H. Movie - Stardust.

Deborah: Yes, Hugh Jackman is one hot man. :) If you were stranded on a deserted island and you could have only one person there with you, who would it be, and why?

Anida: My husband, Micky. He is my best friend and the person I get along with best. I also have a really good friend, composer Lewis Smith , who is my other soul mate, in a way. I’d be very sad to not have him around, but knowing Lewis he’d make a plan to get us off the island to come to Belfast for a pint.

Deborah: Lol. What advice would you give someone just starting out in this business?

Anida: Have talent. That’s the harsh reality, you do have to have a talent for writing to be an author. It’s not something you can learn. Persevere. Stick your ego in your pocket and forget it’s there. Persevere. Read every writer’s manual you can lay your hands on. Persevere. Join a good writer’s workshop. Finally, don’t forget to persevere.

Deborah: And last but not least, is there anything else you would like to tell your readers? Perhaps something that no one would guess about you?

Deborah: My alter ego, Nadia Williams, also has a website with an attached blog You might enjoy tales of my cycling adventures, which you can find here

Deborah: Again, thank you for stopping by. It has been a pleasure talking with you. Take care.

Again, you can find The Ancient at Loose Id.

The Ancient:


What would you do if you fell in love with the goddess of death?

June 1945 - Tadhg Daniels sees a woman clad in strange clothes and a feathered cloak, but she’s invisible to everyone else. He’s convinced his mind has been unhinged by the horrors of the D-day landings four days before, but when she appears to him again, the woman proves she is real. She is Morrigan, goddess of death, come to warn him his life is about to end.

Morrigan is disturbed by the man she meets. He looks in her eyes unflinching, while all others avoid her gaze. She’s never found such a strong will to survive in any of her charges before. He refuses to accept he’s going to die.

There is a way for Tadhg to cheat death, a secret Morrigan has guarded for millennia. Morrigan can save him if she takes him as her lover, but sex with the goddess of death will change him. He needs time to decide if he’s prepared to give up his humanity in order to be with her forever.

But Tadhg is not the only one who knows Morrigan’s secret. Someone else wants to take by force the gift she can bestow. And he’ll stop at nothing to get it.

Excerpt 1:

Rat-tat-tat, rat-tat-tat, and two more German soldiers lay dead on the ground that had soaked up the blood of so many good men. The smell of cordite stung his nose and roiled nausea in his stomach. He glanced down at their faces, a seasoned soldier, judging from the lines etched around his mouth, beside him a boy not much older than Stephen.

Not now, not now. There had to be time enough to let the agony of taking life from others flow through his heart. He shoved past Morrigán. Someone fell beside him, and he pulled the trigger, shot and killed, wounded, maimed, and moved on. Bullets zinged an inch past him, and he tumbled into a shell hole beside Mark, breath racing in his chest.

And she was there, beside him, silent, waiting.

“I will not die,” Tadhg growled, but rising fear clutched cold fingers at his throat.
“You’re right there, my friend.” Mark clapped his shoulder. “We’re going to get through this shit together and go horseback riding when this fuckup is over.” He turned his attention back to the fighting, back to the air cloyed with hatred, anger, despair, and fear, and killed more Germans so they would not kill him. “Come on!” Mark shouted to Tadhg and launched himself over the lip of the hole.

Tadhg glanced at Morrigán and hesitated. Her gaze rested on him, and he saw eternity in her eyes. “No, Morrigán. No.” And with that he followed Mark, lifted his body from safety -- and felt the bullets slam into his chest as if time had slowed to a trickle. He fell and slid back into the shell hole, stared up at the blue sky in stunned disbelief.

Sound receded until he lay in utter silence among screams of pain and anger, in the midst of pounding boots and rattling guns. He felt no pain, but it was difficult to breathe, and something wet bubbled on his lips.

Morrigán crouched beside him. Why did she look angry? “You want to live, poet? You want to live no matter what?”

Again he felt that odd sensation of a part of him accepting, looking forward to entering the land of shades. He could blend with the power of running horses, exist in the steaming joy of early morning gallops across dewy fields. Yet inside him, another part rebelled, struggled for life, even as he sensed the last few grains of sand sink to the narrow waist of the hourglass of his measure of days. And as he lay dying, he rested his gaze on Morrigán’s beautiful, pearl-white face, and the part that wanted to live grew, filled him, became all of him.

“Tadhg, answer me. Do you want to live, no matter what the price?”

He couldn’t speak. Dear God, she offered him a chance, and now, because his lungs were filling with blood, he could not force his voice to reach out for what he craved with his entire being. Blackness tinged the edges of his vision; he fought to hold the receding image of her face. He nodded his answer, and she reacted in an instant, flicked her cloak over his body, and Tadhg felt himself falling, falling into a landscape of terrible dreams.
Thanks, again, Anida, for taking the time to answer a few questions so we can get to know you a little better.
Take care,