Thursday, May 19, 2016

Aleigha Siron ~ an interview and her novel ~ Finding My Highlander

Aleigha Siron


After more than twenty years writing and delivering management and other training programs for modest-sized to Fortune Five Hundred companies, and ten years developing community crisis-intervention training programs, Aleigha turned her writing efforts to her first loves, fiction, and poetry. Her poetry has appeared in numerous anthologies and university presses over the past few decades. Following a difficult period in her life, she discovered solace in romance novels that inspired her to write in this genre. As she says, "who doesn't desire a guaranteed happy-ever-after scenario?" Always interested in the concept of time-travel, she knew her first few stories would follow that theme.

When not writing, her trusty four-legged companion/helper, Strider, accompanies her on sunset walks along the shore. During these quiet walks under an expansive sky, with the whoosh of waves across the sand and her gaze drifting over the rolling sea, her best glimmers of inspiration come to mind. Following the recent discovery of distant Scottish ancestors, she embarked on a trip to the Highlands. Although she had already developed the characters for Finding My Highlander, her trip to the Highlands enriched the characters and enhanced the story direction. This is her first full-length romance novel. Aleigha is working on a prequel to Finding My Highlander, and another time-travel novel set in a later period.


Q: How would you describe yourself as a color?
 A:  Periwinkle. I even love the sound of that color. My office is painted periwinkle blue; it’s a soothing color, a shade sometimes seen after sunset but before complete darkness on a full-moon night. I seek to find that cool, blue place in my mind when I meditate.

Q: Tell me one thing about each of the four seasons you like. It can be anything.
A:  Winter = the hushed silence of the world after a deep snowfall.
      Spring = first budding of trees and flowers; life renewing itself.
      Summer = lazy days, by the seaside or under the shade of towering trees.
       Fall = my absolute favorite - the fiery drape of autumn colors and crispness in                     the air. 

Q: If you could morph into any creature what would it be?
A:  I feel a strong affinity to a diverse group of creatures: the butterfly first—there is a long story for the butterfly, then wolf, deer, elephant, but if I were to morph into only one creature, I’d be a wolf.

Q:  If you don’t mind me asking, why?   
A:  First, they are magnificent, intelligent creatures. They have a powerful mythic quality. And I admire their strength, the fact that they usually mate for life, and maintain strong family ties. The history between the wolf and man stretches tens of thousands of years, and their community structure developed parallel to that of man. 

Q: Texting, love it or hate it?
 A:  On the hate side. The screen and keypad are too small and annoying. But I’m getting better at using it because of persistent family members.


Q:  How did you come to write your genre of choice?
A:  Right now, I’m writing time-travel romance. Romance became my go to reading material during a long recovery from an accident. My current focus on time-travel romance is because the entire concept of time-travel has always fascinated me.  Think of the very first time-travel novel or movie you ever saw. For me it was Alice in Wonderland, and The Wizard of Oz. Some may argue they aren’t time-travel stories, but I think they perfectly fit that genre. Both girls traveled to some strange, mysterious, and wonderful worlds.

Q:  What do you think is the hardest part of writing a book?
A:  All of it. That probably isn’t a politically correct answer, but it is true. A story can rumble about in my brain for months and months, even years before I pen the first line. And then, I have to give breath to the characters, figure out what they want, what they need, what makes them afraid or courageous, and where they need to go. It’s very daunting, but despite being terrified, the process energizes me and I’m alive in a completely different way when I write.

Q:  Describe your favorite heroine.
A:  Strong and feisty with a certain shielded vulnerability.  I prefer heroines who are slightly older than the nineteen to twenty-two year olds normally featured in romance novels. I want to portray women who possess some maturity and already know something about themselves, but are still on their journey of self-discovery.

Q:  Describe your favorite hero.
A:  I love a hero who can touch his sensitive side, even when it terrifies him. If a man isn’t afraid of his strengths, has the ability to move beyond his self-imposed defenses to find the inner weakness that frightens him, and can expose his heart, he is the strongest of heroes.


Q: What are you working on now? Would you like to share anything about it?
A:  I’m working on a prequel to Finding My Highlander. It’s the love story of my female protagonist, Andra’s, parents.  Another story, set in the Regency period, has been knocking to get out of my head for two years. I’ve started character sheets, the first few chapters, and preliminary research.

Q: Do you have a new book coming out soon? Tell us about it.
A:  I tend to be a slow writer. But the next book will probably be about Andra’s parents. I have two others early stages, including the Regency story, but they both require extensive research so I can’t say which one will push me to the finish first.

Q: How can we find you? Do you have a web page, FaceBook page or any buy links?
A:  Contact me:
WWW (Aleigha’s WebPage)

Aleigha Siron’s Book page at Tirgearr Publishing

Tirgearr Publishing Home Page


Buy links:
Amazon us:

Amazon uk:





Q: Are you currently participating in a blog tour? If you are let’s tell everyone where you’re going to be so they can catch up with you again.

A: Lucy Felthouse of Writer Marketing Services is managing my blog tour my stops are listed below:

16th May:
17th May:
18th May:
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30th May:
31st May:
1st June:
2nd June:
3rd June:
6th June:
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On a windswept cliff above San Francisco Bay in 2013, 27 year-old Andra Cameron, the last member of her family, prepares to scatter her family's ashes to the wind. An earthquake catapults her to the Scottish Highlands in 1705. She wakes, aching and bloody, to the sound of horses thundering through the trees. Terrified and with no other options, Andra accompanies these rugged warriors. She can't deny the undeniable attraction that ignites between herself and the handsome but gruff Kendrick. Will she trust him to provide protection in the harsh reality of 18th century Scotland and with her secret, or will she find a way to return home to the 21st century?

Laird Kendrick MacLean and his men, escaping a recent skirmish with their worst nemeses, clan Cameron and their Sassenach allies, are shocked to find an injured, unprotected female in their path. How could she not know her kin and how had she landed in the middle of the wilderness alone? His men suspect she's a spy or a witch. Still, Kendrick will not abandon an injured woman, even if she speaks unusually accented English, and her name is Cameron. Will he ransom her to others or will their closed hearts open to each other? Although he questions her every utterance, this feisty, outspoken woman inflames his desire like no other.

“Lass, can I help you?” His voice was softer than the others, his stance relaxed, composed, despite the dirt and blood splattered over his massive arms and clothing. He seemed to be a quiet, gentle man, though physically as imposing as the others.

“You could bring me my bag.”

He moved his hand from behind him and cautiously extended her mother’s old carpetbag. “Do I need to check it for weapons?” A slight crinkle lifted the corner of his mouth. A piece of leather cord tied wavy, light-brown hair at the nape of his neck and tight braids spilled alongside sharp, scruffy cheeks. His eyes were dark and shadowed.

“Thank you…it’s Rabbie, correct?”

“Aye,” he nodded.

Andra granted him a guarded smile. “I’ll pull no further weapons if you promise to be kind.” The slight attempt at humor from both of them eased the tension coiled in her gut.

He swept an arm gracefully in front of him and bowed, “Always, m’lady, as I learned at me mother’s knee.” Then he left her to tend the horses.

She searched her bag for the washcloth, hand towel, and first aid kit she always carried when traveling. The washcloth came to hand first. She dipped it into the cold water and wiped the dried and clotted blood from her face and hair. Then she dunked her head in the pool several more times.

“I seem to be awake,” she whispered, just for the comfort on her own voice. “My surroundings feel solid enough,” she pounded her fist on the dirt, “so it must be real. Accept it, Andra, and decide what to do next.”

She could hear the men speaking Gaelic, hushed yet clearly distraught about the condition of their clansman. They gathered near another pool of water several yards from where she knelt. She watched them over her shoulder for a few minutes struggling to fit the scene into her new reality. A million questions rose in her throat.

“Not now. Patience and observation are what’s required. All will be revealed in time.” What a stupid cliché.

Should she offer her help with their friend; would they accept it? She could not sit here and do nothing when one of them was seriously injured. Besides, anxiety always spurred her to take action. Her father had always said, “Move, keep busy, and don’t let dust gather under your feet.” With her father’s words ringing in her ears, she approached the men cautiously, keeping her eye on the mean one, Struan.

“May I be of assistance?” She stood with her feet firmly planted on the hard-packed, dirt floor, her head held high, one hand pressed flat against her side, the other rested on the cross dangling on her chest. It took an extreme effort to control her trembling body. Her palms moistened with sweat. She steadied her focus on Kendrick. His strong hands moved carefully over his brother’s body. The mean one harrumphed and growled.

A growl? Really?

Kendrick looked up, concern etched on his face. His dark, probing eyes bore through her. “Are you a healer, then?” he asked.

“Not a healer exactly, but I have cared for ill and injured persons and have some training in first aid. I wish to help if you’ll permit me.”

“I dinnae ken your meaning. What’s the first aid of which you speak? As you can see, we give him aid, but if you can do anything to help save my brother’s life, I will gladly accept your offer.”

The mean one growled again. “Don’t trust her, she’s the enemy and will just as soon slit his throat.”

Ignoring the slur, she continued, “Have you determined the extent of his injuries?”

“Aye, his shoulder is dislocated, several fingers broken, which we have straightened and bound as best we’re able. We need to stitch multiple, deep wounds, and he’s lost a lot of blood, though blood no longer flows freely.”

The injured man lay on a plaid, stripped completely naked, his kilt torn away from his battered body. Mud, blood, and all manner of vile debris caked the hard planes of his bronzed chest. Andra couldn’t identify the severity or location of all his injuries. He moaned but appeared unconscious, or so she assumed, since he hadn’t opened his eyes. Clumps of dried blood crusted over wounds on one leg and foot. Dark, matted refuse covered the entire other leg.

His manhood lay flaccid against his thigh, and none of the men seemed concerned about his state of undress in front of a strange female. She stood quietly, waiting for several breaths.

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