Many stories lie at the heart of Kira, Daughter of the Moon, but the beginning emerged while I was writing Through the Fire, my award-winning historical romance novel with a The Last of the Mohican’s flavor. I hadn’t planned a sequel to Through the Fire, but vivid dreams of a plot line connected with that story came to me, and not only while I was asleep. Characters and scenes, or snatches of scenes, also flashed across my mind during waking hours. Although the best place for musing on a story dwells in that dreamy realm between wake and sleep.
I’m not sure how much time passed with me mentally filing away snatches of imagery before I actually began writing what grew into Kira, Daughter of the Moon. But these glimpses of a related novel led me to include certain elements in Through the Fire that later surfaced in Kira, Daughter of the Moon, including a treasure I can’t go into without giving away too much. And dead doesn’t necessarily mean gone. And I do mean dead, not the ‘you thought they were dead but weren’t really kind of stuff.’ I’m talking ghostly here.
No, you don’t have to read Through the Fire first to appreciate Kira, Daughter of the Moon, as the story is written to stand alone, but it would certainly enhance your experience. You may ask why it took me so long to complete this novel. Because I struggled with various portions, most importantly the ending–rather critical. I also originally wrote it entirely from the heroine, Kira’s, point of view, then went back and labored to add Logan’s. I should add that Logan is terrific. One of my all-time favorite heroes and a joy to work with. Keep in touch, dude.
Back to the saga of writing and rewriting ‘Kira’ – a journey I undertook annually, usually in the spring when the story is set. Gradually, the novel took form, but that ending still daunted me until, finally, I clearly envisioned how it went without lingering doubts.
No trouble. Ha! Nearly drove me insane getting it right. Who knows, maybe I am bonkers. “Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia.” ~E. L. Doctorow
As for me, I’ll just go and talk ‘amongst my selves’ while I work on my next project, or so it seems at times when the characters vie for space in my already overcrowded mind. Who said or did what–quick! Write it down. It’s a mad scramble when the muse is with me. Nothing, when the voices are silent. I must listen well.
After all my blood, sweat, and tears, if you don’t like Kira, Daughter of the Moon, I’ll have my two-year old grandbaby, Chloe, give you the stink eye (no one does it better). If you’re a fan, she’ll do her super happy face. Feeling down? She’ll sing you ‘Soft Kitty.’
This great quote sums up my writing motto: “I try to leave out the parts that people skip.” ~Elmore Leonard
Logan McCutcheon returns to colonial Virginia after seven years in the hands of Shawnee Indians. But was he really a captive, as everybody thinks? He looks and fights like a warrior, and seems eager to return to those he calls friends and family.
Kira McClure has waited for Logan all those years, passing herself off as odd to keep suitors at bay––and anyone else from getting too close. Now that he’s back, he seems to be the only person capable of protecting her from the advances of Josiah Campbell and accusations of witchcraft. And to defend the settlers against a well-organized band of murderous thieves.
“My secret in exchange for yours.”
Tantalizing. He was drawing her into his snare, but she couldn’t resist asking, “How do you know I’ve a secret?”
“To begin with, you’re hiding in a tree. What from, a wild beast?”
“Near enough. You.”
He smiled. “Was I to think you a large red bird, or overlook you entirely?”
Drawing her remaining shreds of dignity around her like a mantle, she said, “This isn’t one of my best hiding places.”
“That would be telling.”
The strengthening breeze tossed the branches around them as he considered. “You never could keep secrets from me, Cricket. I’ll discover them and you.”
An assertion she found both disturbing and oddly heartening.
His lips curved as if the deed were already done. “Why were you hiding? Am I so very frightening?”
“Oh––I feared you were some sort of warrior.”
The humor faded from his eyes. “I am.”
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