Here we are, ladies. The last weekend of summer and time for our last round of semi-finals. Next week, we pick Mr. Summer! Today’s contestants are all crowd favorites. Since I’m in New Orleans, I’m serving Hurricanes and beignets. Grab a lounge chair, eat and drink, and vote! Who’s it going to be? Gilles, George, or Cowboy?

I’m in New Orleans! Here’s my starting point today. Registration for the conference starts at noon so Heidi and I are off to explore. I’ve always wanted to ride the St. Charles Streetcar from beginning to end (from the Quarter all the way to the Uptown area and Tulane, and then back. That’s my plan for this morning. We’re going to hope the streetcar and ride, looking at the lovely mansions in the Garden District, and then returning…

…hopefully in time for a trip to Jackson Square and the Café de Monde for café au lait and beignets. Last year, Heidi and I sat at the table right behind the street musician. As for all that powdered sugar? I figure I’ll do enough walking to justify those calories! Just sayin’!

See y’all later! And don’t forget…Brunch tomorrow!

Hey, guys. It’s me, Iffy, again. You know my interview yesterday? Well, I just wanted to share another picture of Professor Michael Shannahan. I think there’s more to him that what he let on yesterday! A friend of a friend of a friend emailed this undercover picture of Michael to Silver. He looks…not so friendly or scholarly in this picture. What do you guys think?

Silver and I are on the road today! Yippee! New Orleans here we come! Feel free to talk among yourselves, especially about FAERIE FIRE, but NO SPOILERS! Silver promises to check in as she can! It might be from her iPhone so replies will be short and sweet. Don’t forget Saturday! Semi-finals for the Mr. Summer contest. And comments all this week go in the random drawing for cool swag. Catch you guys later!

Hi, guys, Iffy here. Silver is off packing and otherwise getting ready for our trip to New Orleans. *happy dances* I can’t wait to head out tomorrow! However, we have somebody special to visit with today. But…before I introduce our guest, I want ya’ll to go back to Deirdre’s interview. Read the comments…especially that last one! *squeee* Yes! You read that right!!!! *swoon*

Okay. Back to business. Today, my guest is Professor Michael Shannahan. You met him briefly last week in Deirdre’s excerpt. He is a professor of Irish Literature at Georgetown University and is quite the musician. He performs with the Irish band, Celtic Connection, when he isn’t being all scholarly. Welcome to Penumbra, Michael. Can I get you something to drink?

A bit of tea would hit the spot, thank yee. And thank yee for invitin’ me here t’day. *glances at the title* Though I’m wonderin’ what yee’d be meanin’ by that bit up there?

I have it on good authority that there’s more to you than you admit.

*chuckle* I’m a professor, cailín . Nothing more. Ah, well, beside the bit of music and singin’ on the side.

So, it was just a “slip of the tongue” when you admitted to Moira that Seamus O’Roarke was a member of the IRA?

O’Roarke is scum and gives all Irishmen a bad name.

So how did you know about his…affliations?

I have friends at the British embassy, luv. Nothing nefarious, I assure you.

If you say so. How about Brian Boru? Do you know who he is?

*spits on floor* That bloody terrorist is nothing more than a killer of children and is worse than the very scum of the earth.

Wow. You really don’t like him much. But do you know who he is? MI6 and the CIA both know that’s an alias.

*shakes his head* Do you have a nip of Irish I could put in my tea? And if I knew who he was, I’d do my best to see him come to justice.

Yeah, you and Duncan both.

I’ll admit there are times I wish Ross the best of luck in his hunt.

Well, how about I share the excerpt of the first time you and Moira met while we wait for questions from our readers. You’ll stay around to answer, yes?

‘Twould be happy t’stay an’ visit, cailín .

****
Moira waded into the sea of motley greens swirling through the hotel lobby. An inebriated young man stumbled up to her, a bright green button proclaiming “Kiss me, I’m Irish” dangling from his lapel. Weaving drunkenly, the man tried to plant a kiss on Moira’s lips.

From a vantage point across the room, a slender man watched as she politely steered the drunk away. He wondered if everything he’d heard about the senator’s daughter was true. She had her thick blonde hair twisted into a business-like knot at the nape of her neck. Small, tasteful emeralds, her only ornamentation, glimmered at her ears and throat. The long-sleeved, high-necked black velvet cocktail dress she wore looked almost chaste, even though the fitted bodice and flared skirt showed off a good figure, though one more curvaceous than the current fashion. A Kelly green rose, the same color as the satin shawl draped over her arm, accented the flounced skirt. The colorful touches did little to alleviate the austere picture she presented. The girl probably was all business and no play, as he’d heard through the grapevine.

A laughing couple pushed through the door behind her. He shared her wince at their use of theatrical Irish brogues. In a hurry and paying no attention, they brushed past. The man stumbled into her and Moira teetered on her high heels, fighting to regain her balance.

He arrived beside her in moment, his hands steadying her as he whispered conspiratorially in her ear, “At least they’re only Irish once a year, cailín.” Moira pulled away and turned sharply to face him. “Michael Shanahan.” He extended his hand in introduction.

“Moira O’Connor,” she replied, taking his hand. Moira smiled as their fingers touched.

“Am I that amusin’, then?” His voice came out gruffer than he’d intended, but something about her knowing smile put his guard up.

“Not at all,” Moira assured. “In fact, I think you are a most studious man.”

Michael looked askance, puzzled by her statement. “I guess me secret’s out then, but how did yee know?”

“Know what?” Moira looked perplexed.

“That I’m a professor.”

She smiled again as she shook her head slightly. “I didn’t know,” she admitted. “How interesting.”

Michael watched her for a long moment before finally smiling back at her, even though his suspicions weren’t allayed. “You must be very intuitive, Miss O’Connor.” His voice carried a slight edge, and he’d dropped his broader accent. Though a true Irishman, he could wear his accent as needed. “I see your father hasn’t arrived yet,” he continued. “I was sent to fetch the two of you and escort you to the dinner.”

****
So, readers, any questions for our professor?

This brings us to our last week of preliminaries! There’s no way I couldn’t include a threesome of those hunky men in Stetsons! So, here are your choices. Pick one to move on to the semi’s. So, who’s it gonna be, cowgirls? The Cowboy and his horse, Chaps Cowboy, or Saddle Up Cowboy?

The beer is cold, the BBQ is hot. Grab your ropes and spurs, ladies, and lets pick our last entry!

And I HATE when I mess up times and dates. *headdesk* Don’t forget the LASR chat today and tomorrow. Free prizes, books, Amazon gift cards, and I’ll be hosting tomorrow afternoon (Sunday) from 4:00-5:00 Eastern Time!

Now find a cowboy to vote for!

Okay, since I was so tacky last week, I’m turning the tables on myself. Here are three of the characters from my books. Who moves forward to Mr. Summer Semis? Ciaran (Faerie Fate), Abhean (Faerie Fate, Fire & Fool), or Deke (Fairy Tales Can Come True)?

Pull up your chaise lounge, grab a mimosa and some munchies and lets dish about these guys. Who should move on to the next round? And why?

This isn’t getting any easier! This week we have Gilles Marini, Gerard Butler, and Hugh Jackman. *bwahaha* *ducks and runs*

Vote early and vote often!

Yay! It’s Wednesday again. All day! And I get to be in charge!!!! First, though, while we’re waiting for Mr. O’Roarke to show up, Silver asked me to let you guys know that she has a special announcement to make tomorrow so be sure to come back! And if you are here for the Anniversary Party, the Nook icon is hidden so look around. If you want to learn about winning the Nook from The Long and Short of It, click on that blue button over there on the side bar. This commercial announcement was brought to you by the makers of…books!

And here’s our special guest fianally arriving. Hi, Seamus. C’mon in and have a seat. Shadow peeps, this is Seamus O’Roarke. Say hi to the folks.

*grumble* There’s places I’ve to be, girlie, so let’s be gettin’ this show on the road.

You’re from Ireland, right?

I am. Dublin, in fact. What’s it to ya?

Back up there, Seamus. The readers just want to get a sense of your personality and background. In FAERIE FIRE, you’re described as being black Irish. Want to tell us what that means?

And what do ya think it means? I’ve the colorin’–black hair and blue eyes that link me to the very Tuatha de Danaan themselves.

*glances over her shoulder at Abhean and rolls her eyes* Oh? Rly? Let’s move on. You have an antiques shop in Bethesda, right?

In fact I do, though I doubt such as yerself could ever afford m’wares.

I’ve heard rumors you run other things back and forth to Ireland, too.

Is that a question then? Neither you nor the effing be eye can be provin’ it.

Don’t like the FBI much, huh? So tell us about Bradford Williams?

What about the man? He collects antiques. I sell them. There’s nothing more to tell.

Why do you have it in for Moira O’Connor?

Bloody, effing bitseach. Thinks she to the manor born what with her holier than thou airs. She’ll get hers. And get it the hard way she will. That’s a promise.

Oh? You don’t think Duncan Ross will have something to say about that?

*spits on the floor* Yeah. Well, Duncan bloody Ross will get his, too. And that’s all I’ll be sayin’ about it.

Ewwww! Gross, dude! Go on. Get out of here. Especially since I have a juicy bit of excerpt to share! FYI, Moira and her father, the senator, are attending a St. Patrick’s Day celebration where the senator is the guest of honor. Michael Shannahan is a dapper little fella who teaches Irish Literature and he is their escort for the evening. Dinner’s over and the band is playing jigs.

Looking determined, Michael appeared at Moira’s side. “May I have a dance with the loveliest cailín in the room?” he asked, complete with a gallant bow.

Moira studied him for a moment. A slight man in his forties, he stood only an inch or two taller. Ruddy cheeks complimented his curly brown hair while clear, blue eyes met her own with a steady gaze. She stood up and offered her hand to the little scholar. “And when did you last kiss the Blarney Stone, Professor?” she teased.

On the dance floor, Michael, quite nimble on his feet, led her through the intricate steps of a traditional Irish jig. She had no trouble keeping up with him. He looked both surprised and impressed. The jig ended and the band began a more sedate tune. Michael never missed a beat as he continued dancing with her. He twirled her away, but before he could reclaim her, a new pair of hands grabbed her shoulders.

“Time yee danced with a real man, m’darlin’,” a husky voice growled in her ear.

Moira crinkled her nose at the smell of stale whiskey on the man’s breath. Before she could pull away, he grabbed her around the waist, his strong fingers brutally biting into the soft flesh of her sides. She couldn’t stifle the shudder running through her as the man whisked her away between other dancers. Her new partner led her in a dizzying dance across the floor, and she quickly lost sight of Michael. She stumbled and the brute pulled her up against him, molding his fleshy body to hers. Fear stabbed through her middle and she gagged.

“Let me go,” Moira demanded through clenched teeth.

“What? An’ let the prize of the evenin’ slip through me fingers?” the man growled. “Yer daft, girl, if yee think I’m lettin’ yee get away.”

She glared up at him, assessing her opponent. The man had to be over six feet tall with broad shoulders and a barrel chest. His body was thick and she guessed he weighed more than two hundred and fifty pounds. Some women might have considered him handsome, with his jet-black hair and blazing blue eyes. Black Irish and in more ways than one.

Enough was enough. She pressed her palms against his chest, and leveraged as much distance between them as his rough grip on her waist would allow. With a little room to maneuver now, she brought the spike of her left shoe down sharply on the man’s right instep. His eyes widened with the sudden pain, but before he could react further, Moira shoved her left knee high between the man’s legs. He immediately released his hold on her waist, and she stumbled back, as much from the malevolence radiating from him as from her sudden freedom.

Michael caught up to her seconds later. “Are you all right?” Panting from his mad dash through the other dancers, he could barely get the words out.

“Who is that man?”

“Seamus O’Rourke.” Michael almost spat the name out as he steered her across the floor away from the other man.

She glanced over her shoulder. O’Rourke hobbled over to a chair on the edge of the dance floor. Turning back to Michael, she asked, “What do you know about him?” She glared at the little Irishman in front of her.

Michael shrugged. “Not much. He came over from Belfast about six months ago.”

“IRA?”

Her question caught Michael off guard and he answered without thinking, “We can’t prove it for sure.”

Moira flashed him a knowing smile. “There’s definitely more to you than meets the eye, Michael Shanahan.” She kept her voice low and touched him on the arm. “Thank you for the dance.”

So…what do you guys think? If you have any questions for Seamus, I’ll email him.

Iffy is up to her little pigtails in plotting her interviews tomorrow. She won’t tell me anything about it, but that it’s one of the bad guys. We can all be surprised together.

I keep thinking I should do a rundown of RWA10, but so many people already have. I do have pictures. I’ll share them instead.

Here is my “station” at the Literacy signing, along with the gal next to me, Marcia James. She “collects” writers with the same last name.

Here is NYT’s Best Selling author Kate Carlisle and NRCA winning author Jennifer Lyons, BFFs in real life, and friends of mine. (Oh, yeah. I’m one of the cool kids now!)

On Saturday afternoon, I was invited to high tea at the Grand Floridian Hotel. Lovely place and fun times with the hostess with the mostest, Lucienne Diver (author and agent extraordinaire…and whose mother loves FAERIE FATE!)

Here’s our very own Miss Liza, me, and Paula R. in front of the Dolphin fountain in the lobby. That last picture? That was the hike between hotels. Uhm…yeah. REALLY glad I had comfortable shoes! Just sayin’….

So, shadow peeps, what do you want to know about RWA 10. You ask, I’ll answer. (Don’t forget to comment to win swag!)

Sorry about yesterday. I got home late Thursday night, unpacked, visited with family and critters and crashed. Woke up Friday sick as dog. Con crud is always so wonderful. Not! Problem is, Lawyer Guy is sick, too. We spent our anniversary sniffling, sneezing, coughing and going to bed early. However, I could not fail my peeps for our Mr. Summer contest.

Here’s our second round of semis. Pick one and one only to move forward to the finals. We have Mr. Jeans, Joe Monte whoever, and Army guy.

The scavenger hunt to celebrate Long and Short of It’s Third Anniversary is still going on. The Nook icon is hidden somewhere on the site if you go looking for it. Click the LASR button in the side bar for more info.

Be sure to check back Monday, too. I’ll be starting a new contest here on Penumbra to unload some RWA booty. In the meantime, I’m headed back to bed.