Deborah MacGillivray
Author with Montlake/Amazon Publishing; Kensington Zebra Historicals; Prairie Rose Publication; Dorchester LoveSpell; Highland Press; Droemer Knaur (Germany); Random House Kodansha Ltd (Japan); AST (Russia); Romances Nova Cultural (Brazil), writing Scottish Medieval Historicals and Contemporary and Paranormal Romances. She has seven books and fourteen novellas in print.
A member of Authors Guild; IWOFA - Infinite Worlds of Fantasy Authors http://iwofa.net. On Staff at for Paranormal Romance Reviews and co-host for PNR's The Haunt; former reviewer for The Best Reviews and Sensual Romance Reviews, and used to review for Rambles.com, a Celtic e-magazine. A former member of RIO Reviewers International Organization, and served as their Award of Excellence Chair (2003-2005), and was assistant editor of their monthly newsletter. She served as 2nd Vice President of Hearts Through History (2004-2005), an online RWA Chapter; was also Web Chair (2003-2005) and was editor of their monthly newsletter The Bard Scroll (2003-5). A member of RWA and History Fiction Writers of Britain.
She was resident historian at WAXING POETIC (1999-2001). She also had a joint company with artist Carmon Deyo called CLAN RAVEN LTD. She wrote tales of Pict-Celt lore or tales from her family; Carmon turns them into the most beautiful jewelry in silver and gold. Their joint effort ‘THE THREE FACES OF THE GODDESS’, a highly original look at the Pict-Celt Goddesses, won awards and impressed Barnes and Noble enough to sponsor a month-long show in Texas of the works in September 2000, launched with a cocktail party.
“After Christian's death he'd just existed. He felt nothing, just a sense of emptiness. In some ways he welcomed that hollowness inside of him. It was easier to be numb, not caring beyond the basic needs to survive. But with spring's return, some intangible force stirred inside him, as if his emotions had been frozen through dead of winter. Now it was time to live again. His spirit awakened.”
“Witch's spell or not, he would take her, possess her- own her. It wasn't his intent when he kissed her. Fires of damnation! He never planned to kiss the wench! It just...happened.”
“Words wound deeper than any knife, my lord. Often they fester and never heal.”
“He pulled her against his chest, letting her feel his heart thunder its rhythm. Kissing her hair he whispered, the desperation raw, "You are no dream...but flesh and blood. Tell me you are real...oh, please...be real." "Aye, I am real.”