During the entire month of May I’m hosting a reverse blog tour. Rather than send y’all to other people’s blogs to read about me, which you already do if you’re a regular here, I’m introducing you to some amazing and talented authors from all walks of life and genres.

I’m delighted today to sit down with the witty and brilliant Daisy Banks. Daisy writes hot and touching romances, has an eye for beauty in the world around her, and is a lot of fun to talk to ^_^ But I’ll let you find that all out for yourself, as she very kindly answers my questions below.

Describe your ideal writing environment
Daisy: A warm place, with a desk and a comfortable chair is my ideal place to write. The cold makes my brain and my fingers seize up. I’d love to have a place in the sun to write, somewhere close enough to hear the surf meet the shore. I stayed in a villa in Portugal some years ago. The property had a wonderful roof garden with shade from the mid-day heat and a view out to the sea. I called it my dream tower; I have very fond recollections of writing there. Yes, I even write when I’m on vacation.

At present, I write in my kitchen, it’s always warm here, and I’m close to the coffee pot too. My big wish is to buy a new and more comfortable chair. There isn’t a wonderful view of the surf or anything else as all the windows downstairs in my home are stained glass because I live in a converted chapel. This is a good place to write though and helps concentrate my thoughts. Some people might think living in a converted chapel a bit odd or even creepy, but it doesn’t feel that way here. Any lingering spirits are kindly, and I like to think of all the joyful things the chapel has seen, weddings and christenings, and the Christmas events where children sang. A place that has captured so much happiness is a good place to write.

Spring or fall?
Daisy: Oh my, I love both these seasons. The bravery of daffodils standing in a rainstorm like soldiers fighting back the winter, and the bloom of fragile bluebells, they possess such a wonderful ephemeral beauty. I don’t know if there is a collective noun for a group of bluebells, I think they should be known as a harmony of bluebells. Walking among the delicate and fragrant flowers of a bluebell wood has to be one of the most calming things a person can do. Perhaps this year spring feels more special than usual, as winter has been so harsh to us all.

Fall, autumn as I call it, is also a season full of wonderful things. The shortening days, the changing quality of light, the spectacle of the leaves as they enter the last phase of life and explode into colors to challenge any artist, all these bring me renewed joy each year. Morning mists and hazy sunshine enhance the everyday world and make the mundane mystical. The first frosts riming the spider webs in silver to make me want to wear the incredible designs as jewelry, fall has so much beauty about it. I have always found fall makes me want to travel, not to run from the season but to explore more of its power.

I am torn in how to answer this question. Perhaps it’s best if I simply say each, and I believe every season, has its own beauty. The year as it passes gives us a precious offering from our world to make us stop and stare, and teach us we walk with magic all the time.

What’s the biggest thing you’ve ever won?
Daisy: LOL. I have rarely won anything. I did once win a disposable camera in a raffle at the school where I worked, and as a child, I won a bet on the Grand National horse race, the bet being placed by my grandfather. Each year our whole family picked a horse to back from the long lists of contenders in the National, and we each bet a shilling or so, and that year I won. I think the disposable camera was worth most in monetary value but beating my brother because my horse won in the race was a bigger deal to me. I recall I spent my winnings in the local bubble-gum machine, and I have to say, no, I didn’t share with my brother, being about seven he’d lost his front teeth at the time and couldn’t blow bubbles.

What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?
Daisy: This is quite a difficult question. I do wish I could write something exciting like, I did a bungee jump, or swam with sharks, but no, I’ve not done anything like that. I once crossed the world to be with the person I loved. I gave up my job, my home and got on a plane; perhaps some people might think that rather crazy.

What question do you always wish someone would ask (you or someone else) in an interview, but no one ever does?
Daisy: What’s your fee for appearing? Now that’s a question no one ever seems to ask in any interview. Seriously, though, I’d like to be asked about my long-term goal as a writer, no one has asked me that yet, and it’s not a question I’ve seen in other interviews. Long term, ten years on will I still be writing? I’ve no doubt; I may have graduated to voice activated software. The technology is improving all the time, and eventually I think will be good enough to use for writing romance. Writing is a passion, something I love doing. I hope I’ll continue to learn and grow as a writer so I can give the readers the best experience I can offer them.

You paint an amazing picture of the world around you, Daisy, and you’ll have to let me know what your fee for appearing was 😉 Anyone and everyone else, feel free to ask Daisy anything else you’d like to know!

Daisy’s book, Your Heart My Soul is a unique and fantastic romance about love that won’t be stopped by time
Does love last beyond death? The ghost of Sally Addleforth has no doubt. But shamed and disfigured by her murderer, her spirit lingers, hidden from the patient soul of her man, William Reliance Smith.

Libby Chesterton is an American in England, and she’d rather go home than face the problems her British inheritance has created. Her dilapidated store, with its frightful contents, proves more trouble than it may be worth.

Gareth Saunders, antiques expert and psychic, catches a bout of Lancelot fever as he helps his adorable client with the store and the spiritual possession threatening to overwhelm her. Wedding bells will ring—one way or another.

Two sets of lovers struggle on this plane and another to find their way out of chaos to reach each other…

Want a little more of a taste? I have an excerpt to tease you as well
Gareth raced back from the café, squashing the lid on a massive take-out cup of heavily sweetened coffee for Libby. He found her right where he’d left her after she fell from the counter: on the floor, in the arc of brilliant sunlight, halfway out in the small lobby halfway in the shop. The sun highlighted her dark hair with fire-bright chestnut sparks. He struggled to accept both what appeared to have happened and that he’d called her back safe and whole. He’d never dealt with anything as forceful as the entity in this shop.

Poor, sweet angel. She looked shell-shocked, stared up to him with eyes almost all black pupils still, her face so pale, he worried she might faint.

Though the boards were dirty and uncomfortable, he knelt beside her, and offered her the cup. “Here, sip this.”

She took a tiny mouthful, swallowed, and again. “What happened?”

Her voice wavered, and his uncertainty that the words were truly her own grew.

“A brief kind of spiritual possession. For a short time, the voice of another person spoke through you.”

“Oh, God!”

“Don’t panic, I’m fairly certain she’s gone now.”

Libby clutched his hand. Her nails dug deep into his flesh, and her fingers trembled. “Are you sure? Please say she can’t come and go as she wishes. She can’t, can she?”

“Relax, calm down. No, I believe she can’t. Though I have to warn you she’s very powerful, and you, well you have to be a gifted receptive to receive such a visitation.” He slid his palm over her smooth hair, stroked along, and caressed her shoulder. She needed reassurance, and to his mind, touch offered her the best he could give her at present. “I’ve not known anyone else this has happened to. All this is new to me.”

She opened her eyes so wide the whites shone all the way round. “It won’t happen again?”

He shook his head. “Not if I can help it. I’ll have to research about this kind of spiritual interaction. The power of this level of connection is unusual. Such things happen, but they are extraordinary.” Deliberate in his effort to calm her, he avoided use of the word possession again. Libby appeared terrified by the idea, and at present, he couldn’t blame her, but he must try to make her understand what was happening. “I’m afraid you will have to face the fact we might need to talk with the entity again,” he warned. “Though not today, I’m fairly certain. We’ve done enough in the shop for now, and you’re coming back to my apartment.”

“I am?”

Who is Daisy Banks and where can you find her?
Daisy Banks is from the Black Country, the heartlands of the Midlands in the UK. She is proud to count as her ancestors the people who lived in the narrow, blue brick paved streets, who delved for coal or bent the metal to their will. A legacy to be proud of. Daisy is married and spends her time writing now that her boys are adults. She loves traditional romantic songs and ballads. She is interested in antiques, art and architecture, enjoys travel, and occasionally cooks a meal that doesn’t stick to the pan.

You can find out more about Daisy at her website. daisybanksnovels.yolasite.com