Traci Ashbe Dark Epic Fantasy Author

I was on the bus, traveling to Halifax where I’d be presenting my book to a group at Dalhousie University, and I was quite excited. Yes, I know. I should have been wary—after all, it was Angela, my publisher’s ineffectual publicity agent who had arranged the event. She had also arranged those fateful talks in Ottawa and Montreal, the ones no one had shown up for or known about. Foolishly, I do tend to be an optimist.

Outside, it had started snowing. Serious snow.

“We’re running way behind schedule,” said the bus driver.

Well, no problem. My talk wasn’t until tomorrow afternoon. Because I was in a cheery mood, I made the mistake of saying something to the young woman seated beside me—how was I to know this very round, ruddy creature was a monument to logorrhea?That I had opened a sluice gate.

She was soon giving me…