The Moss Covered Stones Spoke To Me

My initial encounter with the ruins of a castle occurred during my visit to enchanting, magical Ireland in the early 2000s. I can vividly recall the moment I gently laid my hand on the chilly, damp, moss-covered stone, and a peculiar sensation washed over me. It was as though the very stone itself harboured the echoes of bygone eras, and in the whispering breeze that brushed past me, there was a subtle plea, urging me to delve into the lives of those who had walked these ancient grounds before.

With that single touch, a profound connection was established, and I found myself transported back in time, immersed in the hopes and dreams of generations long past, as well as the profound sense of loss and sorrow they had endured. My heart ached as I grieved for all that had been lost to the relentless march of time. The castle's ruins became more than just a historical relic; they were a portal to the collective human experience, a tangible link to our shared history, and an invitation to bear witness to the stories etched into the very stones that crumbled beneath my fingers.

I knew that one of my books needed me to be in Ireland, I needed to be in Ireland, and within the pages of the fifth instalment of The Hexagon Series, titled "Gypsy Love," readers will embark on a captivating and enchanting romantic odyssey.