I’m happy to welcome award-winning author Margaret Izard. Today, Margaret shares her creative journey and new release, Highlander’s Holly & Ivy.

Here’s Margaret!

What was your inspiration for this book?

Both of my Scottish Christmas romances were born from a single idea that has always inspired me: tradition. The ones we inherit, the ones we cling to, and the ones we create when life demands something new.

Thistle in the Mistletoe was inspired by Roderick MacDougall and Mary Comyn, two quiet background characters from Stone of Love whose connection stayed with me long after the book ended. I kept wondering what their winter would look like in the Highlands, surrounded by candlelight, feasts, clan customs, and the small comforts that become anchors in difficult times. Their shared morning carrot cake became the emotional symbol of their story—proof that even the simplest ritual can hold an entire love between its layers.

Highlander’s Holly & Ivy came from a very different spark: a tiny wedding announcement I found in an old Scottish newspaper about a Highland solicitor marrying an “English rose.” That single line opened the door to Alex MacDougall and Iris Erskine’s romance, set in the uncertain years after Culloden. Their love became a story about which traditions survive upheaval, which must change, and how two people can build new ones together. The holly and the ivy—evergreen, rooted, resilient—became the perfect metaphor for their bond.

In the end, both books were inspired by the same truth: holiday traditions are stories we pass from one heart to another. And in the Highlands, as in real life, love is always the heart of every tradition worth keeping.

Describe your writing space.

My writing space didn’t start out glamorous.

For years, I tried writing in the main chair in our great room—also known as Grand Central Station in my house. With triplets, pets, and the natural chaos of family life, that experiment didn’t last long.

Everything changed after a vacation when I fell in love with the cozy little study nook in our rental. It inspired us to convert the old wet bar in our game room into a tiny study-and-beverage corner. Now it’s my office. It’s still open to the rest of the home—close enough to life, but tucked away enough for imagination to thrive.

This little corner has become the heart of my romantasy universe.

My outlines sprawl, my books come to life, and my dragons, fae, and Highlanders all find their beginnings right there. It’s warm, practical, creative, and unmistakably mine.

Besides writing and reading, what are some of your hobbies?

Outside of writing and reading, my hobbies are wonderfully eclectic. I collect earrings—far too many—and each pair feels like a tiny piece of wearable art. I’m a huge musical-theatre fan, so there’s usually a soundtrack playing somewhere in the house. I love to cook and can lose entire evenings watching cooking videos before trying new dishes in my kitchen.

I also adore traveling and exploring new places, especially the ones that feed my imagination. And when I’m home, you can usually find me in the garden, tending to plants with the same care I give my characters. Add in my obsession with holiday decorating—Halloween through Christmas is practically a sport in our house—and you’ve got a good picture of my creative life outside writing.

Any advice for aspiring writers?

My advice for aspiring authors is simple: write.

Put the words on the page—even if they’re messy, even if they feel terrible, even if they’re nothing like the story in your head. You can’t edit a blank page, but you can shape and polish something that exists. And you should—re-read, revise, and refine as many times as it takes.

I’m a huge plotter, so outlining is my best friend. Sometimes my outlines run over 200 pages and even include bits of dialogue. Planning gives me direction and lets me fix big problems before I ever start drafting. You don’t have to outline like I do, but find the system that keeps you confident and moving forward.

Remember to read widely, write often, and don’t try to do this alone. Community matters. Other writers matter. Support makes the journey easier.

And finally—give yourself grace. This is a craft, not a sprint. Show up, be consistent (I’m a 9–5 writer myself), and trust that your voice deserves to be heard.

If you start, you’ll finish. If you don’t…your book stays a dream.

What are you working on next?

As the year unfolds, I’m stepping into a bittersweet milestone: the release of Stone of Destiny, book 7, the final book in the Stones of Iona series, on February 9th. This world—its Fae realms, time crossings, fierce Highland warriors, and fragile threads of destiny—has lived in my imagination for years. Saying goodbye to it feels like finishing a long, beloved journey.

Bound by destiny, torn by fate—their love stood unbroken, victorious over all.

In this final installment, Kat MacArthur—still grieving her brother’s loss to another time (Stone of Faith)—finds herself drawn again to Ceallach, the Fae warrior she’s loved from a distance. Their connection has always simmered beneath the surface, but now the Gathering of the Iona Stones threatens to tear them apart.

Ceallach is bound by duty to the Stones, haunted by prophecy, and terrified that loving a mortal could cost Kat her life. When dark forces rise to seize the Stones and their power, he faces an impossible choice: defy destiny or surrender to love.

This is a story of sacrifice, fate, longing—and the kind of love that refuses to die, even when the world demands it.

What Comes After: The Dragons of Tantallon?

As one saga reaches its end, a new one unfurls its wings.

Next, I’ll be turning my focus to my next series, Dragons of Tantallon, a sweeping romantasy series that follows three dragon-shifting brothers cursed by their ruthless father, Balor, the exiled King of the Formoire Fae.

Born of forbidden love between a Fae and a human woman, these brothers defied their father’s darkness. They risked everything to return the Stones of Hope, Faith, and Love to the Good Fae—and Balor repaid them with a curse: immortality without a soul mate… and eternity sealed in crystal if they fail to complete the ancient bonding ritual.

Each book will follow one brother’s journey, as well as their offspring, through magic, temptation, danger, redemption, and fated love. Their choices will determine whether the curse ends—or if the realms fall into shadow.

Magic. Romance. Sacrifice. Soul mates. The fate of two worlds rests in their hands.

2026 brings the end of one epic tale… and the beginning of another.

If you’ve walked the path of the Iona Stones with me, I cannot wait to welcome you into the world of the Dragons of Tantallon. The magic continues—just with wings, fire, and a legacy waiting to be broken.

Blurb

A Christmas Companion book to the Stones of Iona Series.

In a land torn by politics and heritage, Alex MacDougall—Scotland’s Lord Justice Clerk—balances loyalty to the British crown and his secret role in preserving outlawed Scottish traditions. When tasked with retrieving a mystical stone tied to Scotland’s destiny, he crosses paths with Lady Iris Erskine, an Englishwoman captivated by Scottish culture. Disguised as Ivy, Iris masquerades as a highland lassie to be close to the dashing highlander.

Love blossoms between Alex and Ivy as tensions simmer between the English and Scots. While Iris vexes over revealing the truth to her handsome Scot, Alex grapples with his family’s secret duty to protect magic Fae stones. With his beloved targeted and hidden truths emerging, the world he once knew dissolves before his eyes.

Can two hearts bound by fate be enough to stave off an evil Fae intent on destroying the MacDougall Clan, or will Alex lose all he loves?

Excerpt

The man in the blue plaid from last week approached and took Laurel’s hand. “Laurel Comyn, I am happy to see ye this week.” His regard drifted to her. “And yer friend as well.” His eyes went to her arisaid, “A Comyn. She’s ye…?”

Laurel shifted closer to him as she waved to Iris. “John MacArthur, my cousin Ivy Comyn.”

Mabina spoke from beside her. “She’s mute, John. Lost her voice.” Iris nodded and moved her hand to her throat.

A voice deep and rich called out over the crowd. “Welcome all!”

Everyone turned and perched on a box he stood—him, the man in the red plaid from last week. His deep black hair fell to his shoulders loose. As he raised his flask, his muscles undulated under the fabric of his shirt. Her focus traveled down, and today, he didn’t wear trews under his plaid. Bare knees exposed above his woolen socks and boots fit for working on a farm were on his feet. Her knees became weak, and she reached out to Laurel as she stumbled.

Laurel took her hand. “First time ye seen bare knees, lassie? Does the same to me every time.” When Iris’ gaze returned to him, his eyes were on her.

He nodded her way and called out. “To whisky and Scotland!” The crowd repeated his toast, and everyone broke out in conversation.

Laurel turned to speak to John, leaving Iris beside the crowd. Many mingled and spoke lively. Men offered others sips from their flasks as the women huddled together, gossiping about whatnot. Iris picked up a Gaelic word here and there. Taigh for house and bonnach for bannock. She enjoyed the rich brogue of the men’s voices and the rolling of the r’s in the women. Their outspoken banter brought a smile to her face.

A gust of wind blew through the area, clearing the slaughterhouse stench but brought on a chill. Iris went to cover her head, and her arisaid fell on one side.

“Here, lassie, allow me.” His rich baritone voice sent chills down her spine, and as she turned, she came face to face with—him.

He’d caught her plaid and wrapped it around her body, tucking it into the folds so it stayed put in the breeze. “My ma taught me the simple fold to keep her plaid in place.” His hand lingered on the fabric near her face. “Comyn, ye are a Comyn, like my ma.”

She swallowed and shivered again, but not from the cold. The light blue of his eyes lit up the night as they followed hers. She glanced down again, unsure what to do without a voice to converse with.

When her face rose, his eyes crinkled. “Have I scared ye lass?” His hand dropped, and he blew his breath. “I didn’t mean to.” She stared at him, a highlander she craved to be near, her highlander. He cleared his throat. He’d asked her something. Iris shook her head, her hand going to her throat. She opened her mouth, and nothing came out but air, hoping to get her point across.

Her Highlander’s eyebrows rose. “Ye can’t speak?” Iris shook her head.

His smile bent kind of sideways. “I am Alex, Alex MacDougall.” He took her hand in his and caressed it. “What shall I call ye then?”

Iris’s focus went to the greenery décor, and he followed. “Holly?” She shook her head, her gaze never leaving his.

He grinned. “Ivy then?”

Author Bio and Links

Margaret Izard is an award-winning author of historical fantasy and paranormal romance novels. Her latest awards are 2024 Reader’s Favorite Honorable Mention for Stone of Love and 2024 Spring BookFest Silver Award for the same title. She spent her early years through college to adulthood dedicated to dance, theater, and performing. Over the years, she developed a love for great storytelling in different mediums. She does not waste a good story, be it movement, the spoken, or the written word. She discovered historical romance novels in middle school, which combined her desire for romance, drama, and fantasy. She writes exciting plot lines, steamy love scenes and always falls for a strong male with a soft heart. She lives in Houston, Texas, with her husband and adult triplets.

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Giveaway

Margaret Izard will be awarding a Highlander’s Holly & Ivy swag box* ($100 value) to a randomly drawn winner *US Only*. Find out more here.

Follow Margaret on the rest of her Goddess Fish tour here.

I’m happy to welcome Portuguese-British novelist M G da Mota. Today, she shares her new release, Verb Tenses.

Blurb

Thirty-four-year-old Raquel Whiteman has it all: beauty, a high-powered career, a very rich fiancée, a loving brother and a stepfather she adores. Life is good. Until her mother commits suicide. Clearing the paraphernalia of her mother’s life she finds old photographs and journals which plunge her into a search for the truth about her real father and early childhood, forsaking everything including her engagement to travel a path she is powerless to resist. Like a giant wave the past travels fast and comes crashing down on her, flooding her mind with incomprehensible fragmented memories and continuous questions – What? Why? Why?

Excerpt

The little girl opened her eyes wide, trying to pierce the darkness. She lifted her head off the pillow, listening intently. All she could hear was the wind blowing wildly, the thunder, and the ocean, raging, beating against the sand and the surrounding cliffs. The house shook with the fury of the storm, as if the sea were angry at its presence and wanted to wash it away. Scared, the little girl pulled the covers over her head and squeezed her eyes shut, hoping for sleep. Images of fairy tales floated into her mind. She remembered the story her mother’s best friend had read earlier. It was the story of a little girl, like herself, who went on a summer picnic with her teddy-bear friends. She smiled. A feeling of warmth spread in her chest, her body relaxed, her mind began to drift; and then, she heard it.

A scream. A horrible scream, louder than the storm, from somewhere in the house. Jerking upright, heart thumping, her breath accelerated, became noisy, difficult. She stared into the darkness, listening. There was no mistake. The screams continued then stopped, abruptly. There was a short silence, then voices. Angry voices. Then the sound of glass splintering on the floor. She whispered, afraid, ‘Mummy … mummy, I’m scared.’

Lightning slashed the darkness, briefly brightening the room through the gaps in the shutters. Thunder was deafening. Trembling the little girl rolled out of bed and walked to the door. Opening it slowly she peered into the hall. Light spilled out from the open door of her mother’s bedroom. Relief flooded through her. The storm had woken Mummy too. Running in she cried, ‘Mummy, I’m scared of—’.

Author Bio and Links

M G da Mota is Margarida Mota-Bull’s pen name for fiction. She is a Portuguese-British novelist with a love for classical music, ballet and opera. Under her real name she also writes reviews of live concerts, CDs, DVDs and books for two classical music magazines on the web: MusicWeb International and Seen and Heard International. She is a member of the UK Society of Authors, speaks four languages and lives in Sussex with her husband. Her website, called flowingprose.com, contains photos and information.

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Giveaway

M G da Mota will be awarding a $20 Amazon/Barnes & Noble gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Find out more here.

Follow the author on the rest of her Goddess Fish tour here.