This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Margaret Izard will be awarding a Highlander's Holly & Ivy swag box* ($100 value) to a randomly drawn winner *US Only*. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
*Inside the box: Kissletoe Holiday Crystal Ornament, signed copy of book, Highlander’s Holly & Ivy book bag, Insulated wine glass with Highlander’s Holly & Ivy logo, Dublin shot glass with etched Highlander’s Holly & Ivy logo, Highlander’s Holly & Ivy bookmark, Highlander’s Holly & Ivy recipe card, Wild Rose Press (publisher) 2026 calendar delivered in custom printed Margaret Izard Author Book Swag Box.
Writers love to talk about their “writing caves,” but mine is less of a cave and more of a deliberately claimed corner of the world—small, cozy, and filled with just enough quiet magic to let stories breathe. It didn’t start out that way. For years, I tried to write in the main chair in our great room, which I jokingly call Grand Central Station. With pets padding through, adult children chatting, and the natural bustle of daily life, it was hardly the spot to conjure dragons or weave Fae enchantments. I lasted mere minutes before realizing that space would never work.
Everything changed after a vacation when we stayed in a lovely rental that had the most charming little study nook. Something about it—compact, inviting, tucked just enough out of the way—stuck with me. I came home thinking, I need a space that feels like this.
We didn’t have to search the house for possibilities. We already knew the perfect answer: the old wet bar in our game room. It was a space that we never used wisely, more decorative than functional. Instead of removing the entire unit, we reversed the cabinets, transforming that little alcove into a practical and intimate writing/beverage nook. It felt immediately right—like the space had been quietly waiting to become something new.
Now it’s my sanctuary. It’s still connected to the rest of the home—I can hear life happening around me—but it gives me just enough separation to slip fully into the worlds I create. My desk fits neatly into the nook, framed by shelves holding research books, sticky notes, color-coded outlines, and character inspiration boards. Soft lighting casts a warm glow over everything, inviting me to settle in every morning at nine and disappear into the page.
And disappear I do.
From this tiny corner of the house, entire realms come alive. My dragons stretch their wings, my Fae scheme and flirt, and my Highlanders battle fate, love, and ancient magic. Every book, every outline, every twist of the megaverse begins here.
It may not be a sprawling office or a turret in a castle, but it’s mine. And sometimes, all a writer truly needs is a quiet nook, a steady chair, and a space that feels like it belongs to the stories.
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?
Enjoy an Excerpt
Iris strode down the street beside her faithful maid, Laurel. “Miss, yer Gaelic is awful, and that accent.”
Iris clipped her reply. “What of my accent?”
Laurel groaned. “It’s English, very English. Ye’ll stand out like a sair thumb among all the Gaels.”
She wrapped the plaid, no arisaid tighter around her. “Sair, you mean sore?” She kept walking. “I am dressed like you. I can walk like you. I’ve un-styled my hair.”
Laurel barked a laugh. “Ye walk like royalty, and no matter how much Gaelic ye learn, ye still sound like the Queen of England.”
Iris stopped and turned to her maid. “I want to meet your people. Not because of the novelty.” Laurel rolled her eyes, making Iris smile. “Well, aye, the novelty, but I want to learn the culture, about yer people.”
Laurel’s eyes crinkled. “Ye really want this lass?” Iris nodded. Laurel took her arm in hers as they continued at a slower pace. “Then we need a plan, a canny one at that.” She breathed. “Ye’ll be my cousin. Ye wear the Comyn plaid, so ye’ll be a Comyn. Stay beside me, and for all that is holy, don’t speak. We’ll say ye have a throat injury, so ye can’t talk.”
Iris stopped. “But what if I have a question or something to say?”
Laurel pulled her along the lane. “Ye don’t have anything to say, and questions are for later. Just watch and listen. No talking.” They came up to the bridge—many had already gathered as the slaughterhouse's smell blew their way. Iris held her wrap to her nose, wondering how they tolerated the stink.
A woman approached and took Laurel into a hug. “So glad I am to see ye today.” Laurel hugged her back. “Mabina, glad I am to be here.” She waved to Iris. “My cousin, who is mmmm…”
Iris’ eyes went wide. She didn’t want to use her real name and be found out before it was all over. She panicked and glanced around. The pub beside the bridge already had decorations for the holiday season, and holly and ivy graced the doorway.
She pointed to the ivy, and Laurel grinned. “Ivy. Ivy Comyn.” She leaned over, whispering to Mabina, “She doesn’t talk, an old injury from a redcoat who tried to have his way with her. Her throat don’t work no more.”
The woman tsked, “Sorry I am to hear it, Ivy.” Iris nodded as the plaid fell away from her head.
Mabina smiled. “Ye are a pretty thing, though.”
About the Author:
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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