I was a Medical Transcriptionist in the Department of Pathology at a local hospital until my retirement five years ago.

I’ve been writing Banish The Dragon for many years, not that it’s such a long novel but I would write a few pages, crumple a few pages and then write a few more. It’s only in the last couple of years that I decided either finish it or give it up. 

I married my high school sweetheart and we’ve been happily married for 43+ years. My husband is a funny and very romantic guy and has been my biggest fan and supporter since he read the first draft of my novel Banish The Dragon.

We have two adult children ““ our son lives in San Diego and our daughter lives a short drive from us here in Winnipeg. We have two beautiful grandchildren. 

We’ve travelled extensively ““ England, Scotland and Ireland (many times), France, Spain, Australia and most of the US. 

We have a very territorial Shih Tzu named Chopstix (Shih Tzu’s were originally bred in China). He’s a small dog with a barrier-breaking snore that can be heard anywhere in the house.

Blurb for Banish The Dragon

Forced to choose an English bride, Simon Radcliffe marries the beautiful Katherine Maguire but it’s his cousin Jonathan who saves Katherine, time and again, from ravishment. Months later, the marriage annulled, Katherine travels from Seven Oaks plantation to Carlyle, New York, where she finds love and Jonathan Radcliffe, slayer of dragons.

Excerpt – Chapter One

Two men met in a small village, too distant to be swallowed up by the ever-expanding city of London. The day, cold and gloomy, mirrored the mood of the two as together they approached the beckoning warmth of the alehouse.  Pushing the heavy wooden door open, the two eyed those already gathered together for their evening pint and a chance to exchange views on the vagaries of life. An inviting fire crackled in the hearth, the flames dancing wildly as a small gust of wind blew across the room at the opening of the portal.

A momentary lull in a myriad of conversations fell over the smoke-filled room as the shorter of the two strangers stepped hesitantly inside, pausing briefly in the doorway. Good-natured glances containing only mild curiosity were directed at the new arrivals, for the villagers were accustomed to travelers halting temporarily in their quiet hamlet. Finding nothing noteworthy about either, the villagers soon returned to the business of enjoying their ale and the camaraderie of their fellow merrymakers.

Lord Talbot, a portly figure of a man, stepped forward into the dimly lit room, brushing fussily at the droplets of rain on his woolen cloak. A ruddy complexion overpowered his thinning ginger-colored hair and wispy moustache. Pale eyes swept the room, seeking a private corner and, upon spying such a nook, haughtily beckoned the daunting figure who waited, unmoving, behind him. He struck out across the room, weaving his way through the closely packed benches and tables until he reached the corner he sought, hoping the whole distasteful business could be conducted without interruption.

Tall and imposing, the second man lingered in the doorway a moment before following his companion. He absently used his hat to brush away the raindrops that still clung to his cloak, revealing a head of blond curls and an arrogant expression on his handsome face, dominated by cold blue eyes. He surveyed his surroundings and, finding nothing untoward, crossed the room, carrying himself with an air of nonchalant grace. Broad shoulders and long legs completed the picture of a man not to be trifled with.

The remoteness of their scarred table discouraged the rowdier patrons from attempting to join their hushed conversation, should any of them have been so inclined, and both men felt safeguarded from anyone imprudent enough to eavesdrop. A nod to the tavern keeper soon had a bottle of wine delivered to their table by a buxom barmaid who, although long past the age of comeliness, still entertained a distant hope of earning a shilling or two from either of the two richly garbed gentlemen. Coins were paid for the bottle and the disappointed barmaid was curtly dismissed as the two fell into earnest conversation, oblivious to the raucous din of the room.

The older of the two peered apprehensively at the younger man, nervously licking his thin, dry lips before speaking.

“Now sir, I have spoken to my wife and she, well, let me just say only that she went into transports of joy when I explained your dilemma.” The blond head nodded slightly but offered no other encouragement. Stuttering nervously, Lord Talbot continued. “I told her only of your urgent need of a wife. I, ah, well, I made no mention of how we came to meet””nor shall I. And I am trusting you, sir, on your word as a gentleman, to return my markers, discretely mind you, once the marriage vows are spoken.”

Having finished speaking, Lord Talbot mopped his damp brow with a wrinkled handkerchief. His face had taken on an even pinker hue than the one he normally exhibited, and through thinning strands of hair, beads of perspiration could be seen, despite the relative coolness of their poorly lit corner. His pudgy fingers toyed nervously with wispy strands of his moustache as he waited on the younger man’s reply.

The blond head, after slight deliberation, wordlessly nodded his agreement. In the dim light, Lord Talbot could barely discern the younger man’s eyes, but as he had already gazed into their icy blue depths in a London gaming room four days prior, he was reluctant to be regarded again in so chilling a manner. Again mopping his brow, he leaned back, satisfied with the precise presentation of his proposal, having rehearsed it repeatedly on the long ride from Marlow Court to the city. He had suffered a sense of panic when at first he couldn’t locate the man but as the day progressed, he had chanced upon the Yankee’s cousin, who had directed him onward, and now here they were and the deal was all but done.

The younger man spoke, quietly but with the assurance that his words would be heeded.

“You do understand my terms, Lord Talbot? The girl must be unencumbered by kin, no matter how distant the connection. I’ll have no long-lost aunt or cousin knocking at my door in either the near or distant future, seeking my financial assistance so they might live out their mundane lives in comfort, with no effort on their part.”

“Yes, yes, my dear sir, I do assure you the girl is an orphan””totally alone in the world.” He cleared his throat nervously, annoyed at the ominous threat the man seemed to exert over him, and continued, “Why, it was only when I returned home these two days past that I learned my Uncle Hector’s widow had died. I arrived just in time to attend the burial and it was lucky I did. My tenants would have held such an affront against me and I need their support if I am to rebuild the fortunes of the estate.” He paused as he gathered his thoughts.

“You see, sir, the property was entailed and as the closest male heir, I am now Lord Granville Talbot of Marlow Court.” He smiled weakly before continuing, sensing that the Yankee was unimpressed with either his title or his holdings. “I felt I had to show deference to the villagers on the loss of their beloved lady and to ensure them that the future of her great-niece, even though the girl, who is no kin of mine, was being looked after.” He paused as he poured the last of the wine into his glass. “It was at that precise moment, sir, standing by her grave, that I recalled your conversation from our previous meeting and knew the sound I was hearing was opportunity knocking.” Again he dabbed at the beads of perspiration that had formed on his brow.

“The girl’s parents apparently died of some pestilence years ago in Ireland, leaving their only child an orphan. At that point in time, she had only one relative in the world, her great aunt, Maude, my Uncle Hector’s wife. The girl’s parents had lived in relative obscurity in their crumbling manor, almost penniless and living hand-to-mouth, and what little was left of their estate went toward paying off debts. The village priest, seizing the chance to rid his parish of unwanted baggage, packed the girl off to England posthaste. Hector and Maude, who were childless by the way, cheerfully took her in, raising her as if she were their own beloved daughter.”

The man rambled on, his companion listening absently. “Uncle Hector did not appear to begrudge the addition to his household. Since the death of their only child, a son, these many years past, the two of them have simply rattled aimlessly around the manor, taking little interest in the land or the village until this piece of Irish baggage arrived. In his correspondence with my father, Uncle Hector claimed the girl was just the breath of fresh air he and Lady Maude needed. Although my inheritance was secure, the doddering old fool lived years longer than he should have before departing this world.

“Now, as to her lack of dowry, sir. My uncle was not the wisest of managers and consequently nothing was put aside in the way of coin for the girl’s future. I might be able to manage a small purse but with all the expenses in recent months, it would be very modest indeed. As I’ve already made clear, the girl is no kin of mine and I feel no responsibility for her. Truth be told, Mr. Radcliffe, she’s been a thorn in my side since our arrival at Marlow Court.” Looking up, he hoped he hadn’t spoken too freely, giving the man cause to have second thoughts. Hoping to entice him further, he carried on, “I must admit, sir, the girl is a rare beauty. I suspect this is the reason my wife is so eager to be rid of her.”

He sighed deeply. “Our union has been blessed with both a son and a daughter, making my wife’s worries two-fold. Firstly that our son, who is obviously smitten by the girl, dreams of claiming her for his wife, a disaster not to be borne according to my Hester.” He took a long drink, wiping his mouth fastidiously with an already stained corner of his sleeve before resuming his narrative. “And secondly, as long as such a comely maid resides in our village, no suitor from the surrounding countryside will come seeking our daughter’s hand, for once a man lays eyes on the Irish lass, no dowry would likely be large enough to attract an offer of marriage for our Fiona.”