tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68855417398291803392024-03-14T02:23:38.583+00:00Aurelia B. RowlWhere love is an adventure...Aurelia B Rowlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17679519080629201534noreply@blogger.comBlogger264125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885541739829180339.post-83842404941510402292015-10-14T13:17:00.000+01:002015-10-14T13:17:20.550+01:00DELETED SCENE: 'Hangover' from A Girl Called MaliceSometimes when you are preparing a story for publication, it becomes necessary to cut exchanges or entire scenes from books to improve the flow of a story. It's just the way it goes, and one of the many things that happen during various rounds of editing, but that's not to say it's easy. It can be heartbreaking when you have to bid good bye to a character, no matter how much sense it makes.<br />
<br />
There is one particular scene from <b><i><a href="http://www.aureliabrowl.com/a-girl-called-malice.html" target="_blank">A Girl Called Malice</a></i></b> that I was particularly sad to see go, and it involved a secondary character who I really enjoyed writing. While he did at least get to stay in the story and keep a couple of his scenes, my favourite scene with him never made it past the cutting room floor. Seeing as a whole year has now passed since its release, I thought I would share the scene here with you today.<br />
<br />
Please bear in mind this is a scene that never made it past the second round of edits, so is relatively unpolished, and was subsequently rehashed to become the version you'll find in the final, published, version.<br />
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So, are you ready?<br />
<br />
Then allow me to re-introduce Craig...<br />
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<h3 style="text-align: center;">
Chapter thirteen: Hangover<br /><i>(taken from an early draft of <a href="http://www.aureliabrowl.com/a-girl-called-malice.html" target="_blank">A Girl Called Malice</a>)</i></h3>
<br />
All too soon, the morning after the night before arrived and it struck with a vicious punch. True to their word, the guys hadn't let me pay for anything. And there was definitely champagne involved. I tried to open my eyes but the jackhammers drilling inside my brain morphed into a choir of pneumatic tools so I clamped my eyelids shut again. Feeble and weak, my whimper got stuck in my parched throat.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Welcome to my first legal hangover.</i><br />
<br />
At some point during the early hours, I vaguely recalled stumbling out of the club and into the pre-dawn chill. I didn't remember tripping and splitting my head open though. Nor did I remember getting flattened by a bus but my body definitely hurt enough for both events so I didn't think it right to rule them out. My mouth had a vile fluffy feel to it, as if I'd eaten the balls of cotton wall I generally used to remove my makeup.<br />
<br />
The stale taste of booze and cigarettes confirmed that I hadn't brushed my teeth before falling into bed. Whose bed was it though? It certainly wasn't mine; that much I could tell without opening my eyes: the pillow was too hard and the linen didn't smell of summer blossom fabric conditioner. The harder I pushed to remember, the worse the pounding intensity in my head so I called a temporary ceasefire.<br />
<br />
Without warning, the mattress creaked and dipped immediately behind me and then a hand grasped my hip, hot and heavy against my skin. I jerked fiercely unleashing a wave of nausea with the force of a tsunami. Movement really wasn't good and I groaned mournfully, barely clinging onto the contents of my stomach. Cold sweat broke out on my forehead and my heart rate tripled. I didn't dare let out the breath I was holding for fear it would open the floodgates yet the thumb stroking the curve of my waist was strangely soothing.<br />
<br />
I should probably just be grateful I was safe and warm in a bed as opposed to slumped in a bush or shop doorway somewhere. No way could I go back to sleep though. Not until I knew where I was, and more importantly, to whom the gentle fingers belonged. By process of elimination, it had to be either Craig, Matt, Warren, Ian, or Danny since they were the ones I left with. At least I didn't think I'd left the club with them and then hooked up with somebody else afterwards; that would be bad even for me.<br />
<br />
I risked opening one eye and peered through the narrow slit to look for clues. The room was blessedly dark so I opened both eyes then waited for the battering to subside and for my eyes to adjust. Light filtered around the edges of the thick curtains, enough for me to make out wallpapered walls that had seen better days. It looked too formal and high quality to be a regular guy's bedroom—and I'd seen a few bedrooms—plus the room didn't have a homely vibe about it at all.<br />
<br />
Admittedly neither did mine but I hoped my situation was the exception rather than the norm. Too smart to be a bedsit, it had the feel of a hotel room. Finally, something made sense. We all worked in the same hotel and since none of the guys knew where I lived, going back to the hotel was the obvious choice. The decor looked too shabby for it to be a room in use but it could easily be one of the staff rooms.<br />
<br />
<i>A-ha. </i><br />
<br />
Danny and Warren both lived at home with their parents which ruled them out and Ian shared a flat with his best mate. That narrowed it down to either Matt or Craig. Which one though? My gaze settled on a dark wooden dressing table pushed into the corner with a stool perched beneath it. Draped over the stool was a waistcoat; the same sort of waistcoat all bar staff and waitresses had to wear as part of their uniform. I had one just like it and there wasn't an apron or paper hat in sight.<br />
<br />
Mystery solved.<br />
<br />
I peeked over my shoulder to confirm my suspicions and sure enough, I found Craig fast asleep right behind me. Something else to be grateful for, considering some of the creeps and cling-ons I'd ended up with in the past. Craig was a mate, nothing more. Last night alone proved I wasn't looking for a boyfriend, and he hadn't shown any signs of jealousy so I had nothing to worry about. Better still, my car was parked in the car park where I'd left it ready for my discreet getaway.<br />
<br />
Ever so carefully, I lifted Craig's hand off my hip and placed it on the mattress. I grabbed the edge of the quilt and tucked it behind me to prevent a draft from waking him as I slipped out. Cold air whipped around me in a frenzy until my skin goosed and made my nipples hard as bullets. Butt naked, a shiver started in my legs and rapidly worked its way up to my teeth.<br />
<br />
<i>What the hell?</i><br />
<br />
I clamped my lips together to muffle the insane chattering sound and scanned the floor for my clothes. Another shiny foil wrapper lay on top of a heap next to the bed implying the party had continued once we'd got back. Shame I couldn't remember any of it. Maybe. Beneath the wrapper and intermingled with Craig's shirt and trousers, I finally spotted the hem of my skirt poking out and moved gingerly towards it, hoping to avoid another drumroll in my head.<br />
<br />
Blinding lights flashed behind my eyes and the room pitched and swayed. The slightest movement proved too much and standing still was a challenge. Ignoring the fact that I was a death's door, I had to be miles over the drink-drive limit. I'd be a fool to get behind the wheel of a car when I couldn't get dressed without falling over. Even if I walked I'd never make it all the way home, especially in heels, and crawling was simply out of the question. There was nothing else for it, I'd just have to wait it out and deal with the repercussions later. Ideally much later...like never later.<br />
<br />
<i>Home?</i><br />
<br />
My brain chose to drip feed the major highlights of the day before, the ones I'd spent the night running from without success. It hadn't been a bad dream; I had nowhere to call home anymore. Out of options, I peeled back the quilt then climbed back into the warm nest. The mattress creaked again but this time when Craig's hand reached for me, I gladly accepted it and let him pull me against the firm contours of his body. Hot enough to double as a radiator, his body heat soon saw off the last of the chill.<br />
<br />
Snuggled up tight against him, I gave in to the drowsiness and let sleep come. When I next opened my eyes, it wasn't nearly as painful. No jackhammers, no overwhelming urge to puke, just a ravenous thirst and a gurgling tummy. Exploring the rest of my senses, I realised Craig no longer lay curled behind me. I sent my hand out to investigate but found nothing so I rolled over and discovered the bed was empty.<br />
<br />
Artificial light shone beneath a doorway and the sound of running water came from behind the wall along with the faint scent of bodywash. I couldn't be bothered to move so I just lay there, waiting. Two or three minutes later, the shower cut off and a damp Craig emerged from a door in a cloud of steam. He came to a stop next to the bed and glanced in my direction.<br />
<br />
"Sorry, did I wake you?" he asked, upon seeing my eyes open.<br />
<br />
"No-no, I was awake." I sat up and pulled the duvet with me, dragging it up to my chin. The snarky voice in my head laughed at my delayed attempt at modesty. It had a point so I released my vice-like grip and crossed my arms loosely over my abdomen. "Turn the light on if you like."<br />
<br />
Craig leaned forward and reached for a switch on the wall. "Are you sure?" he asked, hesitating.<br />
<br />
"Yeah." I squinted, waiting for the glare of the full lights. "Go on, go for it."<br />
<br />
"OK." He flicked the switch for the lamp instead with its much softer glow then sat on the edge of the bed. "How's your head?" he asked, sounding far too perky as he studied me.<br />
<br />
"Um...better than it was earlier."<br />
<br />
"I bet." Craig let out a low chuckle that sent stray drops of water running down the nape of his neck. The drops trickled across his collar bone then gathered pace as they ran down his chest and past his navel before getting snagged by the towel wrapped around his waist. "There's some Alka Seltzer in the bathroom, d'you want me to fix you some?"<br />
<br />
"Oh yeah, that'd be great."<br />
<br />
He nodded and got off the bed but returned seconds later. "That was a pretty wild night last night," he said, handing over a fizzing, hissing, glass of water. "I'm amazed you're awake, let alone able to form a sentence." <br />
<br />
"You're telling me," I said, faking a laugh. "To be honest, I can't even remember half of it." And the half that I could remember, I would much rather forget.<br />
<br />
"I can't say I'm surprised. I think I'd still be in a coma."<br />
<br />
Not sure what else to say, I faked another laugh and raised the glass to my mouth. The bubbles tickled my nose as I downed the foul tasting water in one go. Craig pressed his index finger against the corner of my mouth to catch an escaping drip. Apprehension coiled in my stomach ready to strike. We were getting into awkward territory and a change of subject was in order.<br />
<br />
"What time is it anyway?" I asked, making a show of looking around. "It looks like it's getting dark out."<br />
<br />
"It is," he said, removing his hand as I'd hoped. "It's half-five, and I'm due behind the bar at six but stay as long as you need."<br />
<br />
"Half five?" My shriek combined with my sudden jerk threatened to set off the pneumatic tools again. "How can it be half five already?" I said more calmly. "What happened to the rest of the day?"<br />
<br />
"Well we didn't get in 'til nearly five and even then we didn't go straight to bed. Well, not to go to sleep, I mean." A grin played over his lips and a hot flush filled my cheeks. "It was probably gone six when you crashed."<br />
<br />
"Crashed? That doesn't sound so good."<br />
<br />
"Nah, it was brilliant," Craig said, laughing at the memory. "One minute you were awake and the next you were out cold. The fire alarm could have gone off beside your ear and I reckon you'd have slept through it."<br />
<br />
"Oh. Well I was pretty tired." At least one of us could find it funny. "Didn't you say you have to get ready for work?"<br />
<br />
"Shit. Yeah, good point." He stood and let the towel fall to the floor, clearly having no modesty issues in front of me. "There's not much in the way of food I'm afraid, I usually get my meals in the staff room," he said, shoving his legs first into his boxers and then into his black trousers.<br />
<br />
At the mention of food, hunger replaced the twisting knot in my gut, eliciting a growl to echo the sentiment.<br />
<br />
Craig grinned. "I'm sure the kitchen would rustle something up for you and send it up. Do you want me to ask?"<br />
<br />
"No, it's fine, I'd best get going." I'd figure out the 'where' part later but after the last night's performance, sleeping in my car was preferable than staying in the hotel.<br />
<br />
"You sure?" he asked, sliding his arms into his shirt<br />
<br />
I nodded.<br />
<br />
"OK. Well there's some biscuits on the shelf there," he said, dipping his head towards a bookcase. "Just help yourself."<br />
<br />
"Thanks, Craig." I shuffled to the edge of the bed then swung my legs out. The draft was a stark reminder that I didn't have a stitch of clothing on and I hesitated, torn between dragging the sheet with me or bolting for the bathroom.<br />
<br />
Craig paused mid-button and surveyed me using the reflection in the mirror. "Please tell me you haven't gone all shy?" Amusement danced in his eyes. "Not after last night's performance."<br />
<br />
True.<br />
<br />
The guy had seen me strip tease in front of an audience, shagged me in public, brought me home, stripped me himself and apparently screwed me again yet here I was playing Little Miss Bashful. Ridiculous. A flicker of my old attitude sparked within me and gave me the strength to fling the sheet aside and stand tall. "What do <i>you</i> think?" I asked, pouting back at both of him as I struck a sexy pose.<br />
<br />
His eyes widened and he had to cough to clear his throat. "You're looking pretty good to me." He fumbled the next button into the wrong buttonhole. "Too good."<br />
<br />
I answered with a giggle and pointed a finger at his shirt. "So I see."<br />
<br />
"Huh?" He looked down to inspect his shirt and groaned. While he fixed the buttons into their correct holes, I risked a couple of steps towards my clothes. The world stayed on its axis and the thumping inside my head was bearable so I squatted down and snatched the scant pieces of fabric in my arms then tossed them onto the bed.<br />
<br />
What was left of them.<br />
<br />
Minus my knickers, I had no choice but to go commando which in a short skirt was nothing short of crazy. My clothing crisis got worse when I lifted my top over my head. It reeked of alcohol, cigarettes and stale perfume. The stench reached into my throat and made a grab for my stomach. I wretched and swayed, yanking the top off my head before drooping over the bed, palms planted onto the mattress as I fought to stay upright.<br />
<br />
"Hey are you all right?" Craig raced around the bed with his arms out, poised to catch me if I fell.<br />
<br />
"Yeah, it's just...this." I poked a toe at the fabric. Even from an arm's length away it had the power to amplify my headache and crank it up to super-strength.<br />
<br />
"Fucking hell, that stinks." He picked up my top then launched it at the door. "Do you want to borrow a shirt of mine?"<br />
<br />
"Yeah, I better had." I couldn't go walking around in nothing but a bra, skirt, and high heels. "If you're sure."<br />
<br />
He nodded once and crossed to his wardrobe then rummaged through the hangers until he came across a pale pink shirt. "How about this one?" he said, holding the shirt out to me.<br />
<br />
"Cheers," I said, stuffing my arms into the sleeves and pulling the oversize shirt on.<br />
<br />
"No worries." Craig watched me fasten the middle buttons, leaving the rest open so I could tie the tails in a knot across my midriff. "It looks far better on you than it ever did on me anyway."<br />
<br />
"More flattery, huh?" I said, flirting out of habit rather than consciously trying.<br />
<br />
"Of course." Craig grinned then checked his watch. "Right, I'd better go. Are you sure you don't want anything sent up?"<br />
<br />
"No honestly. I'm just gonna call a taxi and head...off." I'd almost said home.<br />
<br />
"OK." Craig turned and walked away but then he pulled up short of the door. "And you're certain you'll be gone by the time I finish?"<br />
<br />
"Why have you got a hot date?" I'd said it as a joke but the grin on his face told me all I needed to know. "Eww! Please tell me you're at least going to change the sheets first?"<br />
<br />
He tipped his head back and laughed. "You're such a girl. Oh, that reminds me. Your money is in the bedside cabinet." He pointed to the drawer on his side of the bed. "I didn't want to leave all that cash lying around, you know, just in case. Your keys are in there too."<br />
<br />
"Excellent, thanks. I'll er... You um..." I swallowed back the bile that made a bid for escape. "Have a good night, yeah?"<br />
<br />
"You too." He reached for the door handle and twisted it, flooding the room with bright light from the corridor as he opened the door. "See ya."<br />
<br />
"Bye, Craig," I called as he pulled the door shut between us. The moment the latch clicked into place, I sighed and dropped the tough girl routine.<br />
<br />Aurelia B Rowlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17679519080629201534noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885541739829180339.post-68917635066668114202015-04-19T20:35:00.000+01:002015-04-19T20:35:48.579+01:00Throwback...An Interview With Lena (Facing The Music)Eighteen months or so ago, Lena, one of the characters from my <b><i><a href="http://www.aureliabrowl.com/facing-the-music-series.html" target="_blank">Facing the Music</a></i></b> series, got to go on tour with <b><i><a href="http://www.aureliabrowl.com/popping-the-cherry.html" target="_blank">Popping the Cherry</a></i></b> and had an interview with fellow Carina author, Katlyn Duncan. The original post is no longer available, so I shall share it here on my own blog instead.<br />
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<i>Remember that this interview is from September 2013, so pre-dates the events in <b><a href="http://www.aureliabrowl.com/a-girl-called-malice.html" target="_blank">A Girl Called Malice</a></b>...</i><br />
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<h4>
<b>Hi Lena! Tell us a little about yourself.</b></h4>
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<span style="color: purple;"><i>Hi Katlyn! I'm Valentina, but everybody calls me Lena. I'm seventeen and I'm in my first year at sixth form college, which I guess in a bit like your high schools in America, so I'd be what, a sophomore? Is that the last year before senior year?</i></span><br />
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Who are your BFF(s)?</h4>
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<span style="color: purple;"><i>Ah now that would be Gemma, my soul sister. She's been my best friend since I was about eight years old and I practically live at her house. It makes me cringe to say it, but if I'm allowed a second best friend, then that would be Flick, well, Felicity, but she's always been known as Flick. She's the calm, collected one, compared to Gemma's flair for the dramatics.</i></span><br />
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<h4>
Who is your current crush?</h4>
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<span style="color: purple;"><i>Oh no... you're not going to catch me out with that one - jeez, I can't even admit it to myself - so I shall stick with Edward Cullen from the Twilight Saga.</i></span><br />
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<h4>
Tell us your first reaction to Operation: Popping the Cherry?</h4>
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<span style="color: purple;"><i>Oh man, am I blushing? Talk about a shock. It was horrific, I just wanted the floor of the canteen to open up and swallow me and I very nearly stormed out of there, regardless of all the stares I was attracting with my shrieking.</i></span><br />
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What is your ideal perfect date?</h4>
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<span style="color: purple;"><i>Do you know what? I don't really have one. There's the tried and tested dates, like dinner or the cinema, but I'm just as content with a bag of chips and a healthy debate.</i></span><br />
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If you had a genie, what three wishes would you ask for?</h4>
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<span style="color: purple;"><i>Ohhh, that's a tough one. A crystal ball would be great, just so I had some clue as to what I'm supposed to do. Or maybe I could wish for some kind of 'Wizard of Oz' simulation game so I could play at being the tin man, the lion and the scarecrow? Love, courage and common sense could be handy right about now. My last wish is easy, I really really want to pass my driving test, especially as I have a car on the driveway taunting me and just failed my test because of the stupid examiner.</i></span><br />
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<h4>
Where do you see yourself in five years?</h4>
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<span style="color: purple;"><i>Hey what's with all the difficult questions? I don't even know what I want to do after sixth form yet, let alone five years from now. Mum and Dad want me to follow them into Law, but it doesn't appeal in the slightest. If I do go on to University - that's College to you - then it would be to study something like English Literature. I might just go and get a job and skip the whole university thing though. I guess only time will tell but something tells me I've got some difficult decisions to make...</i></span><br />
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<h4>
And that's it.</h4>
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If you'd like to find out more about Lena and her crazy posse of friends - as well as her enemies - make sure you check out <b><i>Popping the Cherry</i></b> and then go straight into <b><i>A Girl Called Malice</i></b>, where Lena also has a huge part to play.</div>
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<h2>
<span style="color: #674ea7;">Facing the Music...</span></h2>
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<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #38761d;">Book one: Popping the Cherry</span></h3>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.aureliabrowl.com/popping-the-cherry.html" target="_blank">Buy links/more info</a></td></tr>
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<b><i> You only get one first time . . .</i></b><br />
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From driving tests to relationships, Valentina Bell thinks she’s a failure, with a big fat capital F. At this rate, she’s certain she’ll be a virgin for ever. So Lena’s friends plan Operation: Popping the Cherry to help her find the perfect man first time.<br />
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Yet somehow disastrous dates with bad-boy musicians and fabulous evenings with secretly in-the-closet guys aren’t quite working out how Lena planned.<br />
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Soon Lena’s avoiding Operation: Popping the Cherry to spend time with comforting, aloof Jake, her best friend’s older brother, who doesn’t make her feel self-conscious about still clinging to her V card. But could Jake show Lena that sometimes what you’re looking for most is right by your side?<br />
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A <b><i>Forever</i></b> for the twenty-first century<br />
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<span style="color: #38761d;">Book two: A Girl Called Malice</span></h3>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Z12eytSzxPw/VTP85_mk9nI/AAAAAAAACnA/WufJiHssFcM/s1600/3D-Book-A%2BGirl%2BCalled%2BMalice%2B(JPEG).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Z12eytSzxPw/VTP85_mk9nI/AAAAAAAACnA/WufJiHssFcM/s1600/3D-Book-A%2BGirl%2BCalled%2BMalice%2B(JPEG).jpg" height="320" width="271" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.aureliabrowl.com/a-girl-called-malice.html" target="_blank">Buy links/more info</a></td></tr>
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<b><i>It’s not easy being the Queen Bee. Alice Taylor should know. </i></b></div>
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You know that girl. The one that the whole school’s social life seems to revolve around. Alice used to be that girl until she decided to quit sixth form college. Suddenly her ‘friends’ aren’t so interested in following her around and her attention-grabbing behaviour is about to get her kicked out of home. With nowhere to go and no one to turn to, her world starts spiralling seriously out of control.</div>
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Only new friend Zac Newton seems to believe in her. Lifeguard and poolside hottie, Zac is quite literally her lifesaver. But then, he’s never met ‘Malice’, her mean-girl alter ego, and Alice wants to keep it that way. She knows this is her last chance for a fresh start until her sordid past catches up with her at the worst possible moment.</div>
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As everything Alice has worked towards comes crashing down around her, she realises that the hardest thing of all is being yourself…</div>
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<b><i>You can keep up with all things 'Facing the Music' here:</i></b><br /><br /><h2 style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.aureliabrowl.com/facing-the-music-series.html" target="_blank">Website</a> <a href="http://www.facebook.com/facingthemusicseries" target="_blank">Facebook page</a> <a href="http://pinterest.com/aureliabrowl/facing-the-music-novels/" target="_blank">Pinterest board</a> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/series/116899-facing-the-music" target="_blank">Goodreads</a></h2>
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Aurelia B Rowlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17679519080629201534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885541739829180339.post-37341466227267711282015-04-02T15:34:00.000+01:002015-04-02T16:01:24.245+01:00Cover Reveal... Game of Scones by Samantha TongeThe big day is here, and the cover for Samantha Tonge's latest novel, <b><i>Game of Scones,</i></b> can now be unveiled...<br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: large;"><i><b>A story of icing and flour…and how love doesn’t always go to plan!</b></i></span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>Growing up, Pippa Pattinson’s summers were spent in the idyllic Greek island fishing village of Taxos. There she spent many long hazy days determinedly ignoring thoughts of the life her parents had mapped out for her (a dreary-but-secure accounting job and obligatory sensible husband!) Instead she daydreamed of running her own tea shop – serving the perfect scones –with mocha-eyed childhood friend Niklaus by her side…</b></span></i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><i><b>Arriving back in Taxos for the first time in years, with suave boyfriend Henrik, Pippa barely recognises the tired little town – but is relieved to catch glimpses of the quaint, charming village she’s always loved. Together Niklaus and Pippa put together a proposal to save Taxos from tourist-tastic ruin, and at the heart of their plan is Pippa’s dream project - The Tastiest Little Tea Shop in Taxos. It’s time for Pippa to leave her London life behind and dust off her scone recipe that’s guaranteed to win over both locals and visitors. And amidst the rolling pins and raisins, it seems romance is blossoming where she’s least expecting it…</b></i></span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>If you’re a fan of Lindsay Kelk or Lucy Diamond then don’t hesitate to step into Samantha Tonge’s truly delightful tea shop.</b></span></i></blockquote>
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<h2>
<span style="color: purple;">Pre-Order Now...</span></h2>
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<i><span style="color: #666666;">ISBN: 9781474034029</span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #666666;">Release date: 20th April 2015</span></i><br />
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Amazon <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B00ULP98BQ?ie=UTF8&camp=3194&creative=21330&creativeASIN=B00ULP98BQ&linkCode=shr&tag=aurbrow-21&linkId=DCP6KQMXDJL23FIH" target="_blank">UK</a> ¦ <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00ULP98BQ?ie=UTF8&camp=213733&creative=393177&creativeASIN=B00ULP98BQ&linkCode=shr&tag=aubro-20&linkId=B3UZP7BHTF6VME4Y" target="_blank">US</a> ¦ <a href="http://www.amazon.com.au/Game-Scones-deliciously-summery-read-ebook/dp/B00ULP98BQ" target="_blank">AUS</a><br />
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<br />Aurelia B Rowlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17679519080629201534noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885541739829180339.post-79630996978078406452015-03-31T11:22:00.000+01:002015-03-31T11:22:40.106+01:00Spotlight On... Under My Skin by Zoe MarkhamIt gives me great pleasure to introduce my fellow Carina UK author, Zoe Markham, on my blog today to celebrate the release of her debut YA novel, <i><b>Under My Skin</b>,</i> so make yourself comfy and check out the prologue and first chapter...<br /><br />**insert creepy music**<br />
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<i><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><b>Inside we are all monsters…</b></span></i></blockquote>
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<i><span style="color: blue;"><b>Chloe was once a normal girl. Until the night of the car crash that nearly claimed her life. Now Chloe’s mother is dead, her father is a shell of the man he used to be and the secrets that had so carefully kept their family together are falling apart.</b></span></i></blockquote>
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<i><span style="color: blue;"><b>A new start is all Chloe and her father can hope for, but when you think you’re no longer human how can you ever start pretending?</b></span></i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify;">
<i>A contemporary reworking of a British horror classic, Under My Skin follows seventeen-year-old Chloe into an isolated world of darkness and pain, as she struggles to understand what it really means to be alive. </i></blockquote>
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<i>Set against the familiar backdrop of everyday, normal teenage worries, Chloe's world has become anything but...</i></blockquote>
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<h2>
<span style="color: #4c1130;">Prologue</span></h2>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
Risen</h3>
<br />
You know that split second when you wake up and the line between your nightmares and reality is blurred? The darkness and the icy burst of fear in my stomach tell me it’s a dream; but the damp, decaying smell and the unfamiliar sound that I can’t quite put my finger on feel horribly real. I don’t move, and I try not to make a sound. I even hold my breath, and just listen. There’s a faint beeping noise close by, only it’s distorted somehow and I can’t focus on it. As I’m trying, I notice something else behind it, a harsh sort of <i>rasping,</i> rising and falling in the background. The more I try to isolate the sounds, the harder they get to hold on to. Maybe if I just lie still, and try not to panic, I’ll slip into a different part of my dream; a nicer part, one involving Tom Hiddleston reading to me in bed or... only I don’t know because I can’t lie still, I’m starting to shiver with the cold. The beeping sound is changing – it’s getting louder and faster now; uneven, frantic almost. I shiver harder, and then the rasping stops and the beeping switches down to just one, low, continuous tone and it’s panic one, Chloe nil. I shoot bolt upright in what doesn’t feel anything like my bed, and force my eyes open, except… I don’t. They don’t. I don’t move. My brain’s screaming: <i>Up, UP! Get up!</i> But nothing happens. I can’t move.<br />
<br />
It’s the worst kind of nightmare, the kind where you’re trapped inside your own head, only I don’t think any nightmare could feel this real, for this long. I should’ve woken up screaming by now. And someone should be here: Mum, turning the light on, telling me it’s all right; or Dad, shouting <i>What’s all the noise about.</i> Only there’s no one.<br />
<br />
And then the beeping stops, and I think maybe it’s over.<br />
<br />
In the sudden, brief silence that follows I hear Dad’s voice after all, and he <i>is</i> shouting, and the relief is almost as intense as the panic was, but it’s hard to make out what he’s saying. I don’t know if it’s <i>Chlo</i>, or <i>No</i>, and then after a few seconds of him saying it over and over I’m not even sure it’s really him at all. I don’t know what to feel any more, until light explodes around me, light a million miles away from the warm yellow glow of my bedside lamp, and I get my answer: <i>Pain.</i> I feel pain. It’s everywhere, all at once, and I don’t know where I end and it begins. I don’t know how I’m going to feel anything <i>but</i> pain ever again. The light’s coming from <i>inside</i> me, ripping me into a thousand burning pieces and I don’t know who or what I am any more, only that I don’t want to <i>be.</i><br />
<br />
My mind must have been the last thing to shatter. A tiny of piece of it comes back with the same, steady beeping. The voice is there too – closer, clearer this time: a voice as torn and as broken as what used to be me. It’s Dad, but it’s not Dad. <br />
<br />
‘I can’t do this,’ it says. ‘I can’t do this on my own.’<br />
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<h2>
<span style="color: #4c1130;">Chapter One</span></h2>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
Moving </h3>
<br />
I’ve been lying on the backseat of the car, hidden under a heavy blanket, for over an hour now – and all he’s worried about is the kettle. I’m not entirely convinced he’s got his priorities right.<br />
<br />
I can’t feel my legs and I’m shaking with cold even though it’s the middle of summer and roasting outside. For anyone else it would be unbearably hot in here; a death sentence even. For me? Well, sore subject. <i>Don’t think about it. Don’t.</i><br />
<br />
So, apparently I was supposed to pack the kettle and all the tea stuff in an easy-to-get-at box. To be honest, given the fact that we had to move under the cover of darkness, like thieves in the night, I really think he should give me a break. It’s not like any of this is my fault. Not directly, at least. Anyway, how does he think it feels, having to hide in here like some kind of dangerous freak that people need protecting from? <i>Don’t, don’t think about it. Be angry, take the mick, do anything but think about it.</i><br />
<br />
‘It’s for your own safety, Chlo,’ and ‘I’m doing all of this for you, Chlo,’ is all I’ve heard all morning – but it doesn’t feel like it’s ‘all for me’ at the moment.<br />
<br />
<i>‘The one thing I ask you to do,’</i> he hisses, as he slams the door.<br />
<br />
<i>‘Wait!’</i> I hiss back. <i>‘Dad! How much longer are they going to –’</i><br />
<br />
Too late. He’s gone.<br />
<br />
I genuinely don’t see why it’s such a problem. If I was a removal man, well, woman, I’d bring a flask if I was that bothered. And what the hell is taking them so long?<br />
<br />
I roll over onto my stomach to try and get more comfortable, but fail.<br />
<br />
‘It was <i>not</i> the “one thing” you asked me to do,’ I mutter angrily. Anger is good. Anger means you don’t have to think.<br />
<br />
<i>You need to pack up your room, Chloe … You can help with the rest of the house, Chloe … Most of this stuff up in the loft is yours, Chloe.</i> It’s been endless. There was hardly any stuff in the basement flat, packing up there took less than an hour. Our old house, though, that was a different story. Seventeen years’ worth of memories flooded out as soon as he opened the front door. I could still <i>smell</i> Mum’s perfume when we went inside. You’d think he might have realised how much something like that would hurt. It’s only been six months. I still cry every day; still have the nightmare every night. The sodding kettle was the last thing on my mind. <br />
<br />
He didn’t even want me to go with him at first, ‘If anyone sees you, Chloe…’ Yeah, it would have been Game Over for both of us. But I wanted to say goodbye to the place. I had to practically <i>beg</i> him. In the end, he took me when it was dark; when all our old neighbours, who we never knew anyway, were fast asleep and dreaming sweetly. Government agents too, I imagine, if they even sleep (they never sound human when he talks about them.) I sat in the shell of our old living room, where everything felt damp and musty from being empty for so long and nothing like the cosy, family space it used to be. And I thought of all the nights me and Mum had sat on the sofa under a blanket, armed to the teeth with Pringles and Coke, watching vampire flicks. The cheesier and sillier the better. Mum even liked the ones that sparkled.<br />
<br />
He never thought about that, did he? He actually expected me to be thinking about tea bags. <i>Bloody men.</i><br />
<br />
It’s another half hour before the lorry starts up and I finally hear it roll away down the drive. I can hardly pull myself up from the seat, I’m so cold, and Dad has to help me out of the car like I’m a toddler, not a teenager, dragging my blanket along behind me. Both my legs are numb, and walking is agony. I catch sight of my reflection in the window as I stagger into the cottage, and get a painful reminder of just why I had to stay out of sight.<br />
<br />
I look … well, let’s face it … I look like some kind of dangerous freak that people need protecting from.<br />
<br />
<i>Don’t. Don’t think.</i><br />
<br />
I look away fast, but not fast enough. The image of the dangerous, unthinkable stranger in the window stays with me.<br />
<br />
Dad doesn’t say anything, he just goes straight through to the big fireplace in the living room and starts artfully arranging logs, like he knows what he’s doing; like we’re the kind of people who’re comfortable with large open fires and not the sort who regularly deal with crappy economy seven night storage heaters.<br />
<br />
I just hope he gets it going quickly. I’m freezing.<br />
<br />
There’s a wide, expensive looking rug right in front of the fireplace, and I awkwardly kneel down on it as I try to wrap the blanket back around me. There are boxes piled high to the side of me, and I send one of them flying as I swing my arm around. Dad flies off the handle. Again.<br />
<br />
‘Chloe! Can you <i>try</i> to be careful – Oh, <i>Christ,</i>’ he bellows, fumbling with the firelighters before petulantly throwing the whole packet into the fireplace. He storms out of the room and starts noisily clattering around with boxes somewhere else.<br />
<br />
And I thought it was supposed to be us teenagers who were the stroppy ones?<br />
<br />
I don’t say anything, there’s no point, he’s not exactly in a listening mood right now. I shuffle forward and grab the matches from where they’ve fallen on the rug, and with a shaking hand I set light to the crumpled newspaper sitting temptingly underneath the greasy pile of firelighters. A bright, dancing inferno forms in front of me as they quickly catch, and I feel the intensity of the heat slowly starting to come through. I close my eyes and bask in the warmth, like some kind of freakishly oversized, domesticated lizard.<br />
<br />
When I can finally feel my extremities again, and when I think Dad might have had enough time to calm down, I part company with the blanket and shuffle down the hallway to look for him. I find my way through into the kitchen, taking two more boxes down with me en route. I’m wearing two XL hoodies which seriously bulk me out, and still limping hard on my left leg; it’s a wonder I don’t take a load more out for good measure. I wait for fresh shouting, but when none comes I shove the fallen boxes to one side with my good foot, and stumble further into the room.<br />
<br />
There’s no sign of Dad, but the back door’s wide open and I slam it shut against the unwelcome coolness of the air. ‘It’s warmer out than in!’ he’ll say when he sees it. Well, not to me it isn’t.<br />
<br />
There are at least a million boxes stacked up in here, and it looks like I’m on my own. I suppose I’m going to have to get used to that. I sigh, and aim a boot at one of them, which doesn’t help. I’m wearing my classic black, eight-hole DMs. My ‘shit kickers’ Tom used to call them, <i>Watch out, Chlo’s got her shit kickers on!</i> I’m not good for kicking much of anything any more, I don’t have the balance. I still like wearing them though. I suppose they remind me of how I used to be.<br />
<br />
I miss Tom so much. That seems to be all I do these days, miss people. Oh and cry; I do a lot of crying.<br />
<br />
I have a quick look around to try and distract myself, and end up thinking how much Mum would’ve <i>loved</i> this room. This is what she always dreamed of: a big, detached cottage out in the country, far away from all the noise and hassle of London. She would’ve been so excited, even though it’s just a rental. Dad would <i>never</i> have considered renting when she was alive, ‘dead money’ he always called it. I bet he wouldn’t call it that now. It’s a bit too close to home.<br />
<br />
Mum would’ve kept the kettle and the mugs and everything out too. She probably would’ve even made a little picnic for everyone – sandwiches, sausage rolls and crisps and what have you. Everyone would’ve been laughing and joking and drinking tea. No one would’ve been shouting, or swearing. Or crying.<br />
<br />
I rub my eyes with my sleeve, furiously trying not to dissolve into tears and then wincing as I get a painful reminder that I’ve got my new contact lenses in. I can’t stand the things; the cringe factor of actually putting something <i>on</i> my eyes like that totally freaks me out, which is pretty ridiculous considering everything that’s happened. That’s me though: ridiculous. I’m part tragedy, part freak show, and my whole situation is just too unbelievable for words.<br />
<br />
<i>Be angry. Take the piss. Don’t think.</i><br />
<br />
I make a half-hearted effort to focus on the unpacking, but it feels pointless. We’re only going to be here for a couple of months, and I’m not really sure why we’re even bothering.<br />
<br />
If Tom was here, he’d be legging it out back to the wood Dad told me about, the one at the end of the garden. He’d scope out the best spots for camp fires, like we were ten-year-olds; or he’d be up in the attic Dad mentioned, going crazy over the view and trying to climb out of the skylight to take a selfie with all the sprawling fields in the background. We’d have a box-unpacking race, and whoever finished last would have to order the pizza. Then we’d eat our way through mountains of it, burning the boxes in the fireplace as we went, and I could catch up on six months’ worth of school gossip in one glorious all-nighter.<br />
<br />
But I’m never going to see Tom again. <br />
<br />
Come to think of it, I’m probably never going to eat pizza again either. So it’s a pretty pointless line of thought, all things considered.<br />
<br />
I pick at a thick line of packing tape on the biggest box, and try to guess what Dad might have done with the scissors.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
*</div>
<br />
I lose myself in slowly emptying the boxes until early afternoon. I don’t have a watch, and I haven’t unpacked the clock yet, but I’m going by the noises emanating from my stomach. I can’t see anything of outside because Dad’s pulled all the blinds and drawn all the curtains, and I daren’t touch them. We’ve got the fire, the heating, and the lights on, all in the middle of the day in the middle of the summer. He’ll have a fit when he gets the bills. Or, I suppose he won’t, not any more.<br />
<br />
‘You need to keep out of sight at all times, Chlo.’ ‘Don’t draw attention to yourself, Chlo.’ Like there’s any way I’d actually go out of my way to draw attention to myself, looking like this. To be honest, I’ll be quite happy if no one pays me any attention ever again.<br />
<br />
I unbox our battered old microwave and struggle to haul it over to the countertop. I’m out of breath when I drop it down; I definitely need to work on strengthening my muscles. I’m still so <i>feeble,</i> almost embarrassingly so, if today’s anything to go by. Dad says in an ideal world I should join a gym, do a proper induction and work out a tailored fitness plan with some skinny, Lycra-clad dictator, but that’s never going to happen. I mean, he won’t even let me out of the cottage. But even if he would, there’s no way I could face the thought of being somewhere like that – a room filled with noisy machines, loud music and sweaty people – it’s my idea of hell. I wouldn’t even have gone before this all happened – back when I was a normal (ish), confident, cheery soul who pretty much wasn’t afraid of anything or anyone. A lifetime ago, it feels like. Anyway, I’m <i>really</i> not equipped to sweat heavily in public any more; it plays absolute havoc with my skin. I’d terrify all the hordes of toned souls clean out of the building. It’s a pitiful thought, really, but it does kind of make me smile at the same time. <i>Teenage zombie sends yummy mummies flying.</i><br />
<br />
When Dad finally reappears with armfuls of logs for the fire, he’s <i>still</i> muttering on about the kettle.<br />
<br />
I keep my head down and start to get things semi-organised in the kitchen, and when I limp back through it looks like he’s already pretty much got the living room sorted. The empty cardboard boxes are neatly folded and stacked, presumably ready for when we leave. And I realise I’m going to be in trouble because I just kicked in all the ones from the kitchen and chucked them by the back door. I’m tired, and I ache, and I really don’t care any more. If it’s that big a deal then I don’t get why we’re unpacking in the first place.<br />
<br />
My arms are feeling almost as heavy as my legs now, and I slump down onto the new sofa. The fire’s blazing, and I lie back as I watch Dad plug the TV in and monkey about with the settings.<br />
<br />
I want to close my eyes for a bit, but I don’t want to fall asleep with my lenses in, and I daren’t ask him if I can take them out just yet. He’ll do the resigned parental sigh, and then tell me I need to get used to them, and I’ll ‘never get used to them if I don’t wear them.’ So I look around the room instead, and try to understand why he’s rented a place this big just for the two of us. I know money isn’t a problem now, not after his ‘keep quiet or else’ pay-out from the government, but the cottage is <i>immense.</i> There are no neighbours for a mile or so in any direction, there’s an actual <i>wood</i> at the end of the back garden, which may or may not contain a Magic Faraway Tree, and out front there are two double garages (<i>ideal</i> for our one car), and an epic driveway, which is basically half a mile of twisty private dirt track leading up to the cottage. All it needs is a moat, and we’ve got our very own castle.<br />
<br />
It’s mad that it’s actually ours; until Dad finds out what he needs to know.<br />
<br />
If I’d been younger, if Mum had been with us, if our lives hadn’t somehow turned into a surreal, waking nightmare, this place would’ve been the most amazing thing ever; like actually waking up in the middle of an Enid Blyton novel. Even as a cynical, broken teenager I’m still half expecting Dad to bump into Silky and Moonface when he takes the bins out. It’s not home though, for all its storybook qualities. I don’t think anywhere can ever really be home again.<br />
<br />
Dad heads upstairs, and I know I should be helping him, but the heat in here is delicious and I can’t make myself move. I stare hard at the flames, trying to find patterns, images, anything that I can lose myself in. It’s like one of those 3D magic pictures, I stare until my eyes water but I don’t see a thing except orange. My eyes were pretty ruined by what happened. I can see a lot better with Dad’s drops, and my contacts in, they’re way better than the clunky glasses he got me, but it’s never going to be like it was before. Nothing’s ever going to be like it was before.<br />
<br />
Muffled swearing drifts down from somewhere above, and footsteps thunder down the stairs before Dad bursts into the room waving two mugs and a box of tea bags at me.<br />
<br />
‘In the box marked ‘Bathroom’! Honestly, Chlo!’<br />
<br />
Well, I don’t know what he expected, to be honest. I’m not exactly organised at the best of times, and it hasn’t been the best of times for a long time.<br />
<br />
‘They both have sinks in,’ I tell him. ‘I wasn’t that far off. Give me a break.’<br />
<br />
That earns me raised eyebrows and a pointed look. I suppose I’ve been on a break for a while now. At least he’s not shouting at me. That’ll be the thought of imminent tea working its magic.<br />
<br />
‘How many boxes are left in the kitchen?’ he asks.<br />
<br />
I shrug, and slowly, painfully unfold myself from the sofa to follow him through. He starts rummaging through the impressive layers of mess that I’ve heaped onto the kitchen table. He’s going to whine at me any minute now about – yep – here we go …<br />
<br />
‘Oh <i>Chloe,</i> how hard is it to collapse the boxes and stack them? This lot are useless now.’ He starts flinging the crushed boxes over his shoulder like some kind of deranged terrier. ‘They’ll have to go out for the recycling. I need this all cleared by the morning. I’m going to have to leave early until I can figure out the traffic, and the best way in, and I don’t want to be tripping over all this lot in the dark.’<br />
<br />
I want to make a comment about the wicked sorcery of electric lights, but I stop myself just in time.<br />
<br />
‘Come on then,’ he sighs. ‘Pull your finger out Chlo and let’s get this lot cleared between us. The sooner it’s done, the sooner we can settle down and have a rest.’<br />
<br />
He sighs as he starts straightening out all the crumpled newspaper that I’ve flung about. Like they won’t recycle it unless it’s in mint condition. Why does he <i>do</i> that?<br />
<br />
This has all got to be crazy for him too, I know that. But it’s no picnic for me, and this was all his choice when it comes down to it. His <i>fault</i> – although I’d never say that; not to his face anyway. He’d say it wasn’t a choice at all, and that any parent would’ve done the same in his shoes. I don’t know about that. It’s not something your average parent would think of. Thank god. All this time together, and I can easily have our conversations in my head now. We barely used to speak, before. <br />
<br />
We’re both throwing stuff into drawers, and getting in each other’s way, and the silence outside of my head starts to feel oppressive. Dad cracks first.<br />
<br />
‘Just… finish up in here as best you can, will you. It’s almost done.’ he snaps, rubbing red-rimmed eyes heavily underlined with dark shadows. I feel bad, noticing for the first time just how tired he really is. It was a long drive down, and we left before it was even light. He’s got to be running on fumes now.<br />
<br />
‘I’m going to go up and put your bed together,’ he says, heading for the door, but then he turns back to look at me. I suppose I must look pretty rough too, even more so than usual, because his voice softens as he says, ‘Once I’ve got that done, I’ll find us the nearest Chinese and order in a massive takeaway, ok?’<br />
<br />
I’ve been meaning to ask ever since he first told me about the cottage, but I kept forgetting and it looks like I’ve run out of time now, so I just blurt it out and hope for the best. ‘Can I have the attic room?’<br />
<br />
He sighs, and I know I’ve already lost. ‘Chloe, it’s just an empty shell up there. There’s no storage space, or heating even, and you need the en suite. I had the removal men put all your things in the master bedroom. You’ll be much better off in there. And it’s the nicest room in the house.’<br />
<br />
I sigh back.<br />
<br />
‘I’m not saying you can’t go up there, but you’re going to struggle with that ladder, and you need to be warm.’ He rubs his eyes again. ‘We’ve got those fan heaters you could use up there, but I haven’t unpacked them yet and god only knows where they are. I picked you the room that’ll be easiest on you.’<br />
<br />
He’s trying, I know he is. And I’m trying too, mostly. He’s risked everything for me, and I know I need to meet him halfway, but it’s hard sometimes. And I can’t help thinking that if he’d been like this before – this caring, protective figure who’s always around, instead of the work-obsessed, distant parent who never came home – none of this would ever have happened in the first place. <i>It’s all his faul– Don’t, don’t think.</i><br />
<br />
He crosses the room and pulls me into a bear hug, and I can’t think of a thing to say.<br />
<br />
‘Can we just try and make the best of it?’ he asks. ‘As soon as I get settled in at the hospital I’ll be working on the vaccine every spare minute I can find. It could only take a few weeks, Chlo, if I can just catch a lucky break. As soon as I can get you some long-term supplies made up, we can think about getting out of the country and <i>really</i> starting over. We just need to get through this bit first, and keep our heads while we’re at it. I know it’s not going to be easy, but we’re so close, Chlo. We’re almost there.’<br />
<br />
He goes to kiss my forehead but I flinch and pull back. I’ve been by the fire with both my thick hoodies on, and I’m so self-conscious like this. I don’t feel like I’ve been sweating, and he always says there isn’t any smell, but… when I think about what I <i>am</i>… I mean, there <i>must</i> be. You never think about… <i>them</i>… being fragrant. I can’t bear the thought of it. He gives me a sad smile and squeezes my shoulder before heading off up the stairs.<br />
<br />
I work hard at sorting out the last of the kitchen things, and there, right inside the very last box at the bottom of the pile, is the kettle. If kitchen implements could talk I swear this one would be laughing at me. As I pull it out, I spot the UHT milk tucked in neatly underneath it.<br />
<br />
I get the kettle on at last, hoping that tea will maybe go some way towards an apology for how whiny and useless I’ve been today. I wrestle the last of the cardboard and newspaper over to the back door while it brews, and then head slowly and awkwardly upstairs with a full mug in each hand. I don’t know where anything is up here yet, but I follow the swearing to the room where Dad’s attacking a bed frame with a screwdriver, and park his mug on the windowsill before flopping onto the mattress lying on the floor with mine. I take slow sips, and try to get my breath back. I’m so unfit now. I’ve done way more today than I have since it happened, and I’m really struggling now. It makes me tired just watching Dad. He doesn’t stop until my bed is bed-shaped once more, and then he drains his mug in one go, and sighs in appreciation.<br />
<br />
‘Oh, god, that’s better,’ he says, and I can actually see him starting to relax right in front of me. As if someone’s released a valve somewhere, and he can breathe again. I wish tea could do that for me.<br />
<br />
‘Up you get then,’ he tells me, and as he hauls my mattress up onto the frame he catches sight of the longing look I give it. ‘Go on then,’ he says kindly. ‘Why don’t you lie down and have a nap, while I try and find somewhere we can get ourselves an enormous takeaway. I think we deserve it.’<br />
<br />
He pulls a contact lens case from his pocket and hands it to me, and I fire him a grateful smile in return. I couldn’t remember to put the kettle in the right box, but he somehow remembers to keep everything I could ever need close to hand at all times.<br />
<br />
He pulls my duvet up over me, and I’m asleep before he’s even left the room.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<h2>
<span style="color: #4c1130;">Buy It Now...</span></h2>
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To carry on reading - and I'm sure you'll want to - you'll need to exercise your 1-click finger and buy yourself a copy, so here are the links you will need...</div>
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<i><span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="color: #444444;">ISBN: 9781474031974<br />Release date: 31st March 2015</span></i><br />
<br />
Amazon <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B00TOR142I?ie=UTF8&camp=3194&creative=21330&creativeASIN=B00TOR142I&linkCode=shr&tag=aurbrow-21&linkId=6YAV7WK4MBD7FLH2" target="_blank">UK</a> ¦ <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00TOR142I?ie=UTF8&camp=213733&creative=393177&creativeASIN=B00TOR142I&linkCode=shr&tag=aubro-20&linkId=3BTHXTVMTSBRAM3G" target="_blank">US</a> ¦ <a href="http://www.amazon.com.au/Under-My-Skin-Zoe-Markham-ebook/dp/B00TOR142I" target="_blank">AUS</a><br />
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<a href="https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Zoe_Markham_Under_My_Skin?id=81-zBgAAQBAJ" target="_blank">GooglePlay</a>Aurelia B Rowlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17679519080629201534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885541739829180339.post-2291821277561331002015-03-16T12:30:00.000+00:002015-03-17T13:35:23.719+00:00FREE BOOK... Popping the Cherry *updated*<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-E_9NkKGOZuA/VQbIG-tyNrI/AAAAAAAACkA/ahAETPB9CkU/s1600/Free%2Bpromotion.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-E_9NkKGOZuA/VQbIG-tyNrI/AAAAAAAACkA/ahAETPB9CkU/s1600/Free%2Bpromotion.gif" height="400" width="307" /></a></div>
<br />
Big news!!<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b><i><a href="http://www.aureliabrowl.com/popping-the-cherry.html" target="_blank">Popping the Cherry</a></i></b> has been picked up by <a href="https://itunes.apple.com/gb/book/popping-the-cherry/id681206885" target="_blank">Apple/iTunes</a> has part of their <b>'first in a series'</b> promotion which means you can pick up the first book in my <b><i><a href="http://www.aureliabrowl.com/facing-the-music-series.html" target="_blank">Facing the Music</a></i></b> series for absolutely nothing.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">Yep, it's FREE!</span></b></div>
<br />
If you've got an iPad, iPhone, iPod Touch or Mac, go and grab your copy <a href="https://itunes.apple.com/gb/book/popping-the-cherry/id681206885" target="_blank">HERE</a>.<br />
<br />
Oh, and fear not, Kindle and Kobo users, the promotion has been price-matched by <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B00E8F97LQ?ie=UTF8&camp=3194&creative=21330&creativeASIN=B00E8F97LQ&linkCode=shr&tag=aurbrow-21&linkId=62Y6GO7GZRE6LAIG" target="_blank">Amazon</a> and <a href="https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/popping-the-cherry" target="_blank">Kobo</a> too but I'm not supposed to shout too loud about that<nudge wink="">.<br /></nudge><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>UPDATE: Now free on <a href="https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Aurelia_B_Rowl_Popping_the_Cherry?id=HQYzAAAAQBAJ" target="_blank">Google play</a> and <a href="http://www.nook.com/gb/ebooks/popping-the-cherry-facing-the-music-book-1-by-aurelia-b-rowl/9781472018052" target="_blank">NOOK</a> as well!</b></div>
<br />
<br />
Go, tell your friends and help spread the word.<br />
<br />
And as if that wasn't exciting enough, allow me to unveil the brand new trailer...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/-_r9xBHMTR4/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="320" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/-_r9xBHMTR4?feature=player_embedded" width="480"></iframe></div>
<br />Aurelia B Rowlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17679519080629201534noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885541739829180339.post-43412592128235907502015-02-12T10:58:00.000+00:002015-02-12T10:58:21.714+00:00Sneak Peek... Tied Up With Love by Amelia ThorneIt is my great pleasure to welcome Amelia Thorne back onto my blog today, to share a tantalising peek at her new release, <i><b>Tied Up With Love</b>,</i> which is out on Valentine's Day.<br />
<br />
<b><i>That's THIS Saturday, folks!</i></b><br />
<br />
If you haven't yet discovered this warm, witty, and downright funny author, then what are you waiting for?<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zpvHCxBMwSU/VNx7ROyDr1I/AAAAAAAACig/kR_PbZWda_A/s1600/Tied%2BUp%2Bin%2BLove%2B05-09a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zpvHCxBMwSU/VNx7ROyDr1I/AAAAAAAACig/kR_PbZWda_A/s1600/Tied%2BUp%2Bin%2BLove%2B05-09a.jpg" height="400" width="250" /></a></td></tr>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify;">
<b><i><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;">‘We’re from KMW. Do exactly as you’re told and you won’t get hurt...'</span></i></b></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: blue;"><i><b>Being grabbed off the street, blind folded, tied up and thrown into a van was not what Izzy expected to happen when she stepped out the door that morning. But when an accidental kidnapping at the hands of the sexy Ethan Chase and his 'Kidnap My Wife' sexual fantasy business leads to just that, Izzy seizes the chance to turn her misfortune into a brilliant new job opportunity…</b></i></span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: blue;"><i><b>Since then, life has been one big tangle of new client meetings, fake kidnapping pick-ups, and handling the temperamental, but drop dead gorgeous 'bad boy' Mr Chase. But, as liberating as being tied up in Ethan's life is, Izzy knows the time is fast approaching when she must make some decisions and take charge of her future. The only question is: will Ethan allow himself to be a part of it?</b></i></span></blockquote>
<br />
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;">Chapter One</span></h2>
<br />
<div class="indent">
Izzy watched as the grey van skidded round
the corner and tore down the street towards her. The driver definitely seemed
to be in a rush. The van had blacked out windows, a foreign plate and was being
driven really badly. It careened across the empty road, mounted the pavement right
in front of her and stopped just before hitting a lamppost. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
She was standing outside a recording
studio and for one deliciously exciting moment, Izzy thought someone famous
might step out, with mirrored shades and a huge entourage. Admittedly, the
recording studio was generally used for making advertising jingles, but
allegedly Chesney Hawkes had once been there.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Izzy inched closer. Nothing exciting ever
happened in her sleepy little town of Greater Chessingburyford. Maybe today…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
The van doors were suddenly thrown open
and out stepped the biggest man she had ever seen in her entire life. His elf
ears were huge and stuck out into comical points, his enormous eyes were
magnified behind thick rimmed glasses. He looked friendly, kind of sweet, like
a big puppy. So it came as the biggest shock in the world when he yanked a
cotton bag over her head, threw her over his shoulder and bundled her into the
van.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Izzy heard the van door close, plunging
her into darkness. As the van took off, Izzy’s brain finally caught up with
what had just happened. She had been kidnapped.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
She was lying on the floor of the van <span lang="EN-US">–</span> it was dusty and she could see a pair of
black boots out the bottom of the bag. The legs attached to them knelt by her
side.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘We’re from KMW. Do exactly as you’re told
and you won’t get hurt. Put your hands in front of you.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Izzy obeyed, suddenly feeling a sick wave
of panic consume her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Rope was tied around her wrists, and
although it wasn’t tight it immediately chafed her skin.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
KMW? Who the bloody hell were they? Like
KGB or FBI? What did they want with her? More importantly, what were they going
to do with her? Would she be beaten and tortured? Would they kill her once they
were finished?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Her throat was dry but she managed to find
her voice. ‘What do you want?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Someone wants to see you. We’re taking
you to Oakwood House now. It’s in the middle of nowhere so no one will hear you
scream,’ Black Boots said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Izzy heard herself take a deep shuddering
breath. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘I don’t have any money.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘I don’t think it’s your money he’s
after.’ Another male voice, which somehow Izzy associated with the huge man who
had abducted her. He laughed and the lewdness of it sent shivers down her
spine. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Leave it out Gizmo,’ Black Boots said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Strong hands were suddenly around her arms
and she was pulled up and sat in a chair. ‘When we get to the house, we’ll take
you in and down to the basement. It’s been requested that you’re tied to the
bed. After that you’ll be left alone.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Izzy felt physically sick, her heart was
racing in her ears, cold sweat prickled down her back.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘She’s shaking,’ Gizmo said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘I know,’ Black Boots said, with a note of
worry in his voice. ‘Look we’ll be there in a minute. We need to gag you.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
The bag was pulled from her head and she
blinked in the muted light, getting her first glimpse of Black Boots. He was
young, maybe early twenties. He was good looking and had brown eyes and warm
skin of Mediterranean colouring. He proffered the bandana and she flinched away
from him. Gizmo, she noted, was calmly reading the paper.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Please, let me go. I’m rubbish in bed,
your boss or client will be very disappointed.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Black Boots narrowed his eyes as he looked
at her. ‘You don’t know what this is about, do you?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Izzy shook her head.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Crap, he’s supposed to tell you. We say
it time and time again, they have to tell them.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘We’re here,’ called the driver and she
looked over to see the back of a shaved head in the driver’s seat. Izzy felt
the van come to a halt.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Black Boots pushed his hair from his face
and sighed. ‘Dave asked us to bring you here, you don’t need to worry.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Dave?’ Izzy asked and Black Boots nodded.
Who the bloody hell was Dave? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
The door to the back of the van was
suddenly thrown open, bright sunlight temporarily blinding her. As she opened
her mouth to speak, Black Boots slipped the bandana in her mouth and tied it
round the back of her neck.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Gizmo stood up and ducked to get out the
van, then turned round and in an easy movement lifted her carefully back over
his shoulder again. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
She had never been as scared in her life
as she was right then. She had read about this sort of thing in the papers, but
never thought for one moment it would ever happen to her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
They were quickly inside and she had a
chance to see dark wood flooring before Gizmo was carrying her down some stone
stairs. He walked into a dimly lit room and laid her on the bed. Black Boots
knelt on the bed next to her and lifted her arms above her head to tie them to
the headboard.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Something snapped inside of her, there was
no way she was going to let this happen. She lashed out with her feet, kicking
Gizmo in the side of the face. He leapt back with a wail, she elbowed Black
Boots in the nose and blood spurted from it satisfyingly. She leapt up and ran
but only managed to get two feet before Gizmo had grabbed her and dragged her,
kicking and wriggling back to the bed. Black Boots quickly held her feet down
while Gizmo tied her hands proficiently to the headboard. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Jesus,’ Gizmo rubbed his head. ‘Anyone
would think she doesn’t want to get shagged.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Black Boots touched his nose. ‘This is
exactly why she should have been told. I don’t get paid enough for this.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Izzy wriggled against her restraints,
pulling on the rope so hard it made her wrists sore.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Good luck to her husband, that’s all I
can say, she’s going to skin him alive,’ Gizmo said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
There were footsteps on the stairs and
Black Boots looked towards them. ‘Why the hell didn’t you tell her? That’s part
of our agreement. She’s petrified.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘I did,’ said a voice, veiled in the
darkness. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Izzy strained her eyes to look at her
kidnapper and slowly he emerged into the light. A thin, scrawny looking man
with glasses peered at her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Who the hell is that?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Your wife,’ Gizmo said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘No she bloody isn’t.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Black Boots looked back at her, his tanned
cheeks suddenly going pale. ‘That’s not your wife?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Scrawny Man shook his head. ‘I’ve never
seen her before in my life.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
They all stared at her. Maybe there was
some little ray of hope. They’d clearly kidnapped the wrong person and now she
would be set free.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Hang on a minute,’ Scrawny Man said. ‘If
she’s here, who the hell has got my wife?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘No one, there are no other teams. Your
wife is probably still standing at the pick-up point. Or gone home, bored of
waiting.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Bloody hell, I’ve paid four hundred
pounds for this and you can’t even pick up the right woman. I bought Viagra and
everything.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Look, Ethan will be in touch with you. We’ll
arrange a full refund or an alternative date but right now we have the very
small matter of abducting a complete stranger off the street to deal with.’
Black Boots gestured to Izzy in exasperation and Scrawny Man nodded.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Right, of course. If the press get hold
of this I want full anonymity.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘The press won’t get hold of this <span lang="EN-US">–</span> besides, you’re not actually doing
anything wrong.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Scrawny Man nodded again. ‘I better call
my wife.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Izzy watched as he retreated back up the
stairs. Gizmo and Black Boots continued to stare at her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘What are we going to do now?’ Gizmo
asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘I can’t believe you grabbed the wrong
woman.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Me? You told me it was her.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘The boss is going to kill us,’ Black
Boots said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘We could not tell him.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘How do you suppose that’s going to work?
We let her go now, she’ll go straight to the police. The police will come
straight to Ethan with your description, you’re hardly inconspicuous.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Gizmo paled. ‘I’m not going back to jail,
no way.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Izzy moaned against her gag and Black
Boots approached her like she was a caged wild animal. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Carefully he removed the bandana from her
mouth.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Please, let me go. There’s obviously been
some terrible mistake. I promise, I won’t go to the police. I won’t tell
anyone.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Black Boots looked back at Gizmo. Gizmo
shook his head, ‘She’s seen our faces. There’s no way I’m letting her go.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Are you insane? We’re not criminals. What
are you going to do with her, kill her and dump her body where no one will ever
find her?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Izzy’s heart, which had been slowing when
she realised she wasn’t the intended target, started galloping again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Please. Please don’t hurt me.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘We’re not going to hurt you.’ Black Boots
leaned over to untie her from the headboard. But as she sat up Gizmo marched
over and pulled the bag back over her head.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘What are you doing?’ Black Boots said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘We’ll take her to the boss, he’ll know
what to do.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Jesus, Gizmo, we’re just making this
situation worse.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
But Gizmo, it seemed, wasn’t to be talked
out of this. He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder again. She saw
the stone steps and then the gravel outside, and she was back inside the darkness
of the van a moment later.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="indent" style="text-align: center;">
*<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
The van journey was quite short but Gizmo
and Black Boots were silent.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
They surely weren’t going to kill her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
But she had seen their faces, she knew the
van’s number plate off by heart. Why would they let her go?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
How had it come to this? Her day had
started so normally. Since being fired from her job two weeks before, she
hadn’t had to get up too early, but her beloved cat Pete had woken her up
demanding to be fed. She’d studiously ignored the first trickle of bills that
had arrived on her doorstep. There were bound to be many more to come. She’d
fed the cat, fed herself the remains of the cereal, gone for a run and spent
three hours applying for different jobs. Bar maid, waitress, secretary,
cleaner, bin man <span lang="EN-US">–</span> or in her
case, bin lady <span lang="EN-US">–</span> sports
coach, carpenter and driver’s mate, she’d applied for them all. She came across
well on the phone, she had good experience and was never sick. She worked hard
and most people seemed interested until they asked the fateful question. ‘Why
did you leave your last job?’ Being fired for breaking her boss’s nose was not
a selling point. Most people rapidly lost interest after that.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
She’d wandered down to the college to see
if there were any more free courses she could sign up for but she’d already
done most of them. She’d just been on her way to meet her Aunt Sophie for
coffee when Gizmo and Black Boots had crashed into her life.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
The van stopped and she heard them climb
out, leaving her alone in the darkness.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘WHAT?’ roared a voice nearby as no doubt
their boss, Ethan, was just informed they had kidnapped the wrong person.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘WHAT?’ roared Ethan even louder as he was
no doubt told she was still tied up in the van with a bag over her head. He
sounded like a man not to mess with and Izzy found herself shaking again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
She heard running footsteps and the van
door was thrown open. The bag was yanked from her head and she looked into the
fierce blue eyes of the most freaking gorgeous man she had ever seen. He was
huge, not quite as big as Gizmo in height but certainly the same broadness. He
had curly dark hair and the same Mediterranean skin tone as Black Boots, which
made the azure blue eyes stand out even more. In fact his eyes didn’t belong in
someone so dark and they made him look interesting and unusual. He stared at
her for a moment. Was he checking her out? Izzy nearly laughed at this crazy
thought <span lang="EN-US">–</span> she was
dressed in tatty leggings, an oversized hoodie and battered knee high boots,
there was definitely nothing sexy about her, but the look in his eyes was
undeniably hunger, as if he wanted to eat her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
He moved forward to grab her and Izzy
flinched away from him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘I’m not going to hurt you, I promise. I’m
Ethan Chase. I’m so sorry about all this. Let me make you a cup of tea and I
will explain everything.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
He took her arms in surprisingly gentle
hands, pulled her to her feet and helped her down from the van.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Her legs were shaking and she wasn’t sure
if she could stand.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Are you ok to walk? Here, let me help.’ <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Before she could answer, Ethan swept her
up into his arms and carried her like a baby into his office. Gizmo and Black
Boots were standing to one side, looking sheepish.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Get out, both of you.’ <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
They hurried out and Ethan placed her in a
chair. He knelt next to her and started to undo the rope around her hands. The
office was a mess. There was a big desk with a phone that was ringing quietly. Paperwork
was strewn everywhere, in piles on the floor, even on the big comfy sofa in the
corner. There was a very swish looking computer with some kind of diary on the
screen and mouldy coffee cups in various degrees of decay were all over the
floor, windowsills and on top of the filing cabinet.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Sunlight was spilling through the open
door and Izzy looked out at the fields and trees stretching as far as the eye
could see. She tried to pick out landmarks so she knew where she was, but apart
from a distant church, it was a landscape of green.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
She would escape. She was a fast runner,
she knew this. When she went jogging, she could run for very long distances and
barely break into a sweat. Gizmo and Black Boots were lurking by the van but
she could run in the other direction, leap over that fence and be down the hill
before they could get anywhere near her. She looked at Ethan. He was very
strong though. The shirt he was wearing did seem to be bulging at the arms. Even
his exposed tanned forearms were muscular. The element of surprise would help
her. With her hands released she put her head in them and pretended to cry.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Now, there’s no need to cry, I know it
was scary for you, and I’m really sorry for that…’ he leaned in to comfort her
and she punched him as hard as she could in the face, sending him sprawling on
the floor.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
She leapt out of her chair and ran through
the door.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Jesus, not again,’ Black Boots said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Gizmo, stop her,’ roared Ethan.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
She ran towards the fence, but her legs
were shaky with the adrenaline that was coursing through her and she couldn’t
run as fast as she needed to. Gizmo lumbered towards her, she swung her fist in
his direction but he caught both hands and threw her over his shoulder again. She
fought against him but with one strong arm round her legs she could do very
little to stop him. He plonked her back in the chair again, grabbed the rope
that Ethan had taken from her hands and tied her to the chair.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Ethan had a blue ice pack pressed to his
eye, making him look like an obscure pirate. With his thin lips and his dark
eyebrows slashing downwards across his forehead, he was definitely pissed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Now you will listen to me…’ Ethan started,
his voice sounding like a growl.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘HELP!’ Izzy screamed. ‘SOMEBODY HELP ME. HELP!’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Ethan rolled his eyes and moved into the
little kitchen. As Izzy continued to scream, she watched him pour two mugs of
tea and put a splash of whisky in one of them, then he came round and sat on
the desk in front of her. He waited patiently for her to stop screaming, but if
she screamed for long enough someone was bound to come. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
After yelling for help for a good minute
or two with no sign of anyone coming to her rescue, Izzy flopped back in the
chair, exhausted.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Finished?’ Ethan said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Izzy nodded in defeat. He clearly wasn’t
going to hurt her, and with her not being the intended target she might
actually get to go home tonight with all her fingers still attached.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Good. Now you’ll listen to me. We’re a
company called “Kidnap My Wife.” We offer a service to couples who want to
spice up their sex life by staging a kidnapping. We agree a time and place with
the couple for the wife to be waiting at, we turn up in our van, kidnap the
wife and take her to our house down the road where the husband is waiting. What
happens next is a variation on a theme, the wife can be tied to a bed, or a
chair, the husband normally acts out some kind of fantasy for him or her, and
they end up having sex. It’s all above board and legal and hugely popular. We’ve
been operating for about five years now. With the popularity of <i>Fifty Shades of Grey</i> our list of clients
has gone through the roof. It seems all women like to be tied up and threatened.
Claire Reynolds was our client today, you look a lot like her I’m afraid and were
in the right place at the right time. She must have been running late. You have
my complete and utter apologies. I can assure you this type of thing has never
happened before.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Izzy blinked at him. It all sounded very
plausible. She looked around the office for any evidence to this and sure
enough she could see several headed sheets of paper with the ‘Kidnap My Wife’
logo on the top.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Now I’m going to untie you, you’re going
to drink this tea and we can talk about some kind of compensation before I take
you home.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
He knelt next to her and untied the rope
with skilful fingers. The bruise on his eye looked painful.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘I’m sorry I punched you,’ Izzy said,
quietly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
He didn’t say anything as he shoved the
cup of tea into her hand.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
She went to take a sip but the smell of
whisky was strong and she pulled a face.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Drink it.’ Ethan glared at her and she
quickly took a big gulp. The whisky burned the back of her throat but at
another scowl from Ethan she took another big sip.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Here.’ He passed her the ice pack. ‘Put
this on the back of your hand, it will be sore tomorrow.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
She obliged and watched him go back round
the other side of his desk. He shifted a big pile of papers from there onto the
floor and sat down watching her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘So how much to make you forget about
this?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Compensation? That hardly seemed fair, yes
she had been terrified but it had been a genuine mistake. All three men were
going to have bruises to show for their accidental brush with her. Surely that
made them even.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Shall we say two thousand pounds?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Izzy choked on her tea and she saw the
small smug smile of satisfaction from Ethan, knowing she had been bought.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Two thousand pounds. Bloody hell. That
would give her spending money for her trip to Australia. If she was careful, it
would pay for her bills and her food too, for the next five weeks until she
left.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Ethan rifled through the papers on his
desk until he found the cheque book. He quickly filled it in and offered it across
the table towards her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
She looked at the three zeros, shining
temptingly with their wet ink. Why shouldn’t she take it, she had been traumatised
after all. But a small business like this, two thousand pounds could be the
make or break of it. What if this money was the difference between paying their
bills and putting food on their table? What if giving her money would bankrupt
them? She wouldn’t take it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
The phone rang incessantly between them
and suddenly an idea formed in her head. It was mean and underhand but right
then she didn’t care.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘I don’t want your money.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Ethan looked confused by this.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘I want a job.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
His eyebrows shot up. ‘Are you kidding?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘I’m not giving you a job.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘I’m sure the police would be very
interested in my story. Taking you to court and suing you for traumatisation
would be long and messy. Poor Gizmo out there could end up behind bars again. The
papers get wind of this and it’s all over for your company.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
His eyes flashed. The cheque was crumpled
in his tight fist. He stood up, towering over her. ‘That’s blackmail.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
She stood up too, though this did nothing
to diminish the height difference between them. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘That’s correct, it is. I’m good though. I
can type a hundred and twenty words per minute, I did events management as part
of my business studies degree, so something like this is perfect for me. I have
years of secretarial experience in various different roles. I work hard, I will
be here nine to five every day to answer your phone. I’ll clear up all this
mess and establish some proper system round here. You’re obviously good at what
you do to run this company for five years and still be standing, but I’m
guessing you’d be better suited in the field. If I’m here dealing with the
paperwork and the phone calls then you can have two teams out doing the
kidnapping. You and Baldy in one van and Gizmo and Black Boots in the other. And
most importantly I can implement procedures that will assure this kind of thing
never happens to anyone else ever again.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Izzy could see the vein in his neck
pulsing away but he didn’t say anything so she pushed home her trump card.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘I’ll be going to Australia in just over
five weeks, so even if you hate me being here, in five weeks I’ll be gone.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘How long are you gone for?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Six weeks initially, maybe longer. I may
get a job out there so I’m not sure if or when I’d be coming back. I wouldn’t
expect you to hold my job open for me when it could be months before I return.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘You’ll need good references.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Izzy shook her head. ‘No references.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
He narrowed his eyes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘You gave Gizmo a job despite his criminal
record, you can give me a job on face value too.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Gizmo is my brother. I don’t know you.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Six weeks.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Three. Then if I’m not happy you leave
without a word.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Fine, but you’ll still pay me for those
three weeks. Six hundred pounds a week.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Three hundred.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Four hundred and fifty or I walk out of
here now and go straight to the police.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
He glared at her, breathing heavily
through his nose. ‘I want you here at eight-thirty tomorrow morning.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
She nodded, barely able to believe her
luck.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘And you’ll dress a lot smarter than
you’re dressed now.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
She nodded again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Now get out of my sight.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
She hurried out the door into the warm
welcome sunshine and Gizmo straightened from leaning on the van, ready to catch
her again if need be.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Gizmo,’ Ethan called over her shoulder. ‘Take
her home.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Gizmo opened the van door for her
chivalrously and she ran towards it before Ethan could change his mind.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Wait.’ Ethan appeared in the doorway. ‘What’s
your name?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Isabelle Franklin.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Ethan nodded and walked back inside,
slamming the door between them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="asterisks" style="text-align: center;">
*<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
The Frog and Sausage was warm and cosy,
with little booths under turret type roofs and winding stairs that led to
further seating areas. It was one of Izzy’s favourite places in the world. The
food was amazing, the customers friendly and laidback and right now she was
sitting next to a roaring fire listening to the rain howling outside. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
It didn’t sit right with her, blackmailing
Ethan into giving her a job. She just wasn’t that sort of person. Being
underhand and conniving was not part of her make-up. She would just have to
prove to Ethan that she was a hard worker and that he hadn’t made a mistake in
hiring her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
The door slammed open and amongst the
leaves and rain that blew in, so did a bedraggled yeti, hair like a bush,
struggling with her umbrella. The yeti forced the door closed, dumped the now
broken umbrella in a stand near the door and planted a wet kiss on Izzy’s cheek
before sitting down at the table and taking a big glug of cider.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Izzy smiled at her. Bex always made a
dramatic entrance. Bex swept the tangle of blonde hair out of her face, ran her
fingers through it and seconds later the effortless beauty that Bex so easily
pulled off had returned. Izzy always thought that Bex could be a supermodel,
being so tall. She had big pouty lips that many women would pay good money to
have, flawless skin, big blue eyes and a great pair of breasts. She was
stunning. Unfortunately the fashion industry didn’t see beauty in size twenty
women, which was their loss, Izzy thought.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Good day at the office?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Bex shrugged. ‘My teeth fell out when I
was with a visitor. It was hardly the professional image I was going for.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Bex’s job was as far removed from the
glamour of the catwalk as it could be. Working for The London Dungeon as one of
the historical characters meant she spent most of the day wearing filthy
clothes and looking as ugly and hideous as she possibly could be.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘I’m sure teeth falling out works quite
well with what you do, adds to the gore.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘When your fake black teeth fall out
leaving behind a perfect set of white gnashers, it kind of lacks the
authenticity my job requires. I couldn’t find my teeth this morning so I had to
borrow someone else’s and of course they didn’t fit and kept falling out. For
the most part I managed to hide it, but during one big speech they fell out,
straight onto the floor. The visitors all just burst out laughing, I was
gutted. I had to quickly pick them up and put them back in, but they were
already covered in ten tons of fur and dirt. It felt like I was chewing on
fluff for the rest of the day. But I did scare the crap out of a few grown men
and made a few children cry so yes, it was a pretty good day.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘You’ll miss it when you leave.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Yes I will. How was your day?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Izzy felt the smile stretch on her face. ‘I’ve
got a job.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘That’s fantastic, well done Iz, doing
what?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Have you heard of a company called, “Kidnap
My Wife?”’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Bex’s face fell. ‘Isabelle Franklin, what
have you got yourself involved in?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘It’s nothing dodgy. It’s a fantasy role
play thing. We kidnap men’s wives and take them to some big house and the
husbands tie them up and have sex with them.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘How is that not dodgy?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘It’s not, the wives know about it. Think <i>Fifty Shades of Grey</i> on a lesser scale.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘So people pay to be kidnapped and tied
up?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Yes.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘And what’s your job in all of this
sordidness, you better not be the one being tied up.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘No <span lang="EN-US">– </span>office work, answering calls and all that.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Bex was clearly still not happy about it. ‘Who
do you work for?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Ethan Chase.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Her eyes widened. ‘Ethan Chase? Oh god
honey, you don’t half pick them. Couldn’t you get a nice sensible job in a
library or somewhere safe like that, working for some eighty year old man that
loves poetry and bird watching?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘What’s wrong with Ethan?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘What’s right with him? His family have a
terrible reputation, if you’d grown up round here you would have heard of him. He’s
a total womaniser too, different woman every week. He lays on all the charm,
wines and dines them and they’re putty in his hands. Then he shags them and
never speaks to them again.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Well that’s ok then, I don’t plan to
sleep with him <span lang="EN-US">–</span> just work
for him.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Or under him.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Bex…’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Is he fit?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Izzy shrugged. ‘If you like that sort of
thing.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘And what sort of thing is that?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Big, muscular, blue eyes that look inside
you.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘So yes then. Just don’t be another notch
on his bedpost. My friend’s sister went out with him. He took her to dinner,
shagged her and she never heard from him again. She did say he was like a god
between the sheets though and if she had the chance to do it all over again she
would in a heartbeat.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Izzy stared at her glass, not quite sure
what to do with this information.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Good with his tongue too, if you know
what I’m saying.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘I think everyone in this pub knows what
you’re saying. He’s my boss. I’m not going to sleep with him. How awkward would
that be once it turned sour <span lang="EN-US">–</span> which it sounds like it would do. And he would have
to be a complete idiot to sleep with one of his employees. Rule number one,
don’t mix business with pleasure.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘So you’re not attracted to him at all?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘No.’ That was a lie. She knew it and Bex
knew it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Does he have a nice arse?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘I hadn’t noticed.’ Though Izzy knew Bex
had seen her blush. Thankfully she was momentarily saved by the arrival of a
cowboy, wearing jeans over beaten brown boots, a blue shirt rolled at the
sleeves and a black Stetson.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Mmm, now that’s a rump I’d like to get my
teeth into,’ Bex said, her eyes suddenly dark with lust.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
She stood up and stalked over to the
unknowing cowboy, sank her talons into his behind and nipped at his ear. To his
credit, he only jumped a little bit, then he whirled round and gathered her
close, kissing her so deeply it was almost pornographic.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Put her down,’ called Brian the landlord
as he plonked a pint down on the bar. ‘You don’t know where she’s been.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Bex parted from her conquest and he
whispered into her ear. Bex giggled. ‘Give me half hour.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
He whispered in her ear again and her eyes
widened. ‘Ten minutes then.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Clearly satisfied with this response, he
dipped his hat in Izzy’s direction and walked back out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Bex stared after him for a moment, and
then finally recovering herself she re-joined Izzy at their table.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘I’m in love with my fiancé, did I ever
mention that?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Only a few thousand times. You should
have asked Gabe to join us for a drink.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘He’s gone home to sort a few things out.’
Bex ran her tongue across her teeth unconsciously and Izzy tried to block out
from her mind what exactly Gabe had gone to sort out. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Izzy quickly changed the subject. ‘So
apart from the womanising are there any other reasons I shouldn’t work for
Ethan?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Well rumour has it he’s a drug dealer.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Come on, I don’t believe that for a
second.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘I’m just saying what I’ve heard. Whenever
things get stolen in this area, everyone points to his family. They’ve never
had any money or real jobs but they all live in nice houses. He’s got a hell of
a temper.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Izzy had already borne witness to some of
that, she could cope with grumpiness. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Quite violent, I hear.’ Bex took another
big gulp of cider.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘With women?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘No, I’ve not heard that, but he’s got
into quite a few punch ups in his time.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Maybe wrong place, wrong time.’ <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Wrong man more like. He hit a policeman
when he was younger.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Although Izzy was not surprised about
this, she still felt like she needed to defend him. ‘I prefer to judge people
on the type of person they are now, not who they were in the past. We all have
a history, ours is hardly squeaky clean.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Bex had the good grace to blush, but it
was only fleetingly. ‘A leopard never changes its spots.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘You’re so cynical for someone so young.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘And you’re so naïve for someone so old.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Eight months Rebecca Dale, eight months
older than you does not make me old.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Look, your decrepitness aside, the whole
Chase family is a bad lot from what I hear, one of them went to prison.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Gizmo. Ethan’s brother. He’s been in
prison.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Sexual assault. I’m sure it was.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Izzy felt affronted on Gizmo’s behalf. ‘That
definitely wasn’t Gizmo. He’s not the type to do anything like that.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘So rapists are all a type are they, tall,
white, brown hair, evil look in their eyes?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘No, but Gizmo is … kind of innocent.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Izzy had chatted to him when he had driven
her home earlier and it had become obvious very quickly that he had a sweet
childlike naivety. He loved Ethan with a fierce loyalty that was incredibly
endearing. He loved his job, loved the frost on the trees that clung to the
bare branches like fur. He loved his dog Sampson so much that there were
fifteen <span lang="EN-US">photo</span>s in
Gizmo’s wallet that Izzy had seen. After ten minutes in the van with his
exuberant enthusiasm Izzy had fallen a little bit in love with him too. There
was no way he could be a rapist.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Of Mice and Men, that’s all I’m saying,’
Bex said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘He’s not stupid Bex, nor is he violent.’ <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘You always like to see the best in
people.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘And you always like to see the worst.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘I’m a realist.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘I’m an optimist.’ <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Bex smiled. ‘And that’s why I love you. Just
be wary of him, both of them, and if they lay one finger on you <span lang="EN-US">–</span> you tell me and Gabe, we’ll sort them
out.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Izzy decided, then and there, that she
wouldn’t tell Bex how she had met Ethan and Gizmo in the first place.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Bex fished around in her bag and pulled
out a pot of green cream. She stuck her fingers in and scooped out a dollop
which she rubbed into her hands. It stank of a peculiar combination of
coriander and green tea. Bex was always carrying these homemade concoctions
around with her, but her skin always looked radiant and blemish free so it must
have some benefits. Bex had made cures for dry skin, spots, scars, burns and
chapped lips to name but a few. Izzy was sure she probably had a truth telling
ointment and one for eternal life somewhere up her sleeve. Five hundred years
before, Bex would have been burned at the stake.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Do you have anything for sweat spots?’
Izzy sniffed at the green gloop.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Where are the spots?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘On my bum. I bought some new jogging
pants and I wore them once and they made me sweat so much I came out in spots. Most
of them have gone but one little bugger remains.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘You’re such a classy bird, I do wonder
why you’re still single. Please tell me you’ve done something about your scary
bikini line. Last time I saw it, it was like some kind of terrifying swamp
monster was trying to escape from your pants.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Izzy blushed. ‘Admittedly I have let
things lapse a bit lately. It’s hard to find the motivation when the only
person that sees it is me.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘And me. And to be honest darling, that’s
not something I ever want to see again. Come on then, show us your spot.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘I’m not pulling my jeans down in the pub
for all and sundry to see.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Bex stood up and frogmarched Izzy into the
nearest toilet. ‘Drop them.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Izzy rolled her eyes. She had known Bex
since before she could walk. There were no secrets between them. Izzy unzipped
her jeans and slipped them down a bit so Bex could inspect the spot.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘Bloody hell, Iz, that’s huge. It’s got a
life of its own that one. It probably has its own brain cells, its own
thoughts. We should give it a name. Bert.’ Bex prodded it and Izzy winced. ‘Hello
Bert.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Just then the toilet door swung open and a
very glamorous women walked in. The Frog and Sausage had a very strict dress
code. Jeans, t-shirts, hoodies, trainers, wellies and the occasional cowboy hat
were all welcome. This lady looked like she’d come straight from Ascot with her
tailored suit jacket and matching silk dress.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
She took one look at Izzy with her bum out
and Bex bent over to inspect the spot up close and hurried back out again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Bex burst out laughing and Izzy groaned.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘I’m going to the loo whilst I’m in here,
get another round in will you?’ Bex handed Izzy a tenner.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Izzy walked out into the pub and saw Ethan
with the Ascot Lady. His eyes caught hers and Izzy felt something shift inside
her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
‘I just walked in on two lesbians about to
have sex.’ Ascot Lady was saying, pulling her jacket tighter around her as she
looked around The Frog with disgust. ‘It’s obviously some kind of sordid gay
bar. I’d like to leave.’ <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Ethan still didn’t take his eyes off Izzy
and Ascot Lady turned round to see what he was looking at. ‘That’s one of
them,’ she hissed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Great. Just great.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div class="indent">
Ethan put his arm round Ascot Lady’s
shoulders and ushered her out. He glanced back over at Izzy as he walked out
and she was sure there was a smirk on his lips.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="indent" style="text-align: center;">
*<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="indent">
<br /></div>
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<div class="indent">
<i><b><br /></b></i></div>
<div class="indent">
<i><b><br /></b></i></div>
<div class="indent">
<i><b><br /></b></i></div>
<div class="indent">
<i><b>Tied Up
With Love</b> is out on February 14<sup>th</sup> but you can pre-order your copy
here: </i><span lang="EN-US"><i><span lang="EN-GB"><a href="http://amzn.to/1xJPpra">http://amzn.to/1xJPpra</a></span></i></span></div>
Aurelia B Rowlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17679519080629201534noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885541739829180339.post-86117770617435031262015-01-31T18:31:00.001+00:002015-01-31T18:33:38.636+00:00Enter The Dragon...<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yMA7iZ-P_po/VM0b84iyGtI/AAAAAAAACiM/eUIctT4tKwI/s1600/Green%2BDragon%2B(Image%2Bcourtesy%2Bof%2BAKARAKINGDOMS%2Bat%2BFreeDigitalPhotos.net).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yMA7iZ-P_po/VM0b84iyGtI/AAAAAAAACiM/eUIctT4tKwI/s1600/Green%2BDragon%2B(Image%2Bcourtesy%2Bof%2BAKARAKINGDOMS%2Bat%2BFreeDigitalPhotos.net).jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy of AKARAKINGDOMS <br />
at <a href="http://www.freedigitalphotos.net/" target="_blank">FreeDigitalPhotos.net</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b>...but not that sort of dragon.</b><br />
<br />
No, this one will hopefully help me to get my words down and also increase my productivity.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oo2t4BXp2ro/VM0R930r2JI/AAAAAAAACh8/yiezeZb2mnM/s1600/Dragon%2BNS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oo2t4BXp2ro/VM0R930r2JI/AAAAAAAACh8/yiezeZb2mnM/s1600/Dragon%2BNS.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a></div>
It's no secret that I sometimes have trouble with my hands and wrists. After a particularly bad week last week, with me somehow spraining my wrist (goodness knows how!), I went ahead and bought Dragon NaturallySpeaking dictation software. Straight out of the box, I have to say that I'm impressed, especially since I'm actually dictating this blog post today.<br />
<br />
<b><i>How cool is that?</i></b><br />
<br />
Come Monday, I'll be cracking on with <i><b>Facing the Music #3</b>,</i> but I will be using my voice instead of my fingers to type. I don't doubt that dictating my novels will take some getting used to, but so far so good. I've already figured out how to use DragonNS with Scrivener and can see it improving my word count considerably. I suspect dictating the words will also help me to curb the temptation to edit every sentence as I go, too, so I'll hopefully get my first drafts down faster... and with two overdue deadlines, that could certainly come in handy!<br />
<br />
If anybody is interested, I'll do an update post at the end of next week once I've used the dictation software a bit more and got to grips with it better.<br />
<br />
<b>Wish me luck!</b><br />
<b><br /></b>Aurelia B Rowlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17679519080629201534noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885541739829180339.post-64116541241039982612015-01-06T13:29:00.000+00:002015-01-06T14:17:00.736+00:00Well, Hello 2015!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rJ_1cj36LXg/VKve0kn3uwI/AAAAAAAAChM/blVW6x2E0bE/s1600/MM900041007.GIF" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rJ_1cj36LXg/VKve0kn3uwI/AAAAAAAAChM/blVW6x2E0bE/s1600/MM900041007.GIF" /></a></h2>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #741b47;"><br /></span></div>
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #741b47;">...and a Happy New Year to you all!!!</span></h2>
<br />
Wow!<br />
<br />
Another year has flown by in the blink of an eye but I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and New Year with those near and dear to you.<br />
<br />
After two months of having either my husband at home or my children off school with illness, today is the first day that I have been home alone and able to get down to some work. So, to kick off my blog for 2015, it's time to look back over the past twelve months and come up with some goals for the next twelve months.<br />
<br />
<h2>
<span style="color: #6aa84f;">The Year in Review...</span></h2>
<br />
2014 was, to put it bluntly, a bit of a nightmare and I am very glad that it's over.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
My husband was made redundant at the beginning of the year and then found himself starting yet another new job at the end of the year, which we hadn't planned on, so there was a lot of stress and upheaval in the Rowl household as I'm sure you can imagine. Thankfully everything seems to have worked out for the best but I hope he gets to finish this year with the same employer. My birthday was also a bit of a strange one and we have been plagued by various viruses over November and December, but - touch wood - we are all better now.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Writing proved a massive struggle last year, with my mind elsewhere rendering me unable to focus on projects as well as I would have liked. Amidst all the chaos and uncertainty of those early months, I had to force myself to sit down and write <i><a href="http://www.aureliabrowl.com/a-girl-called-malice.html" target="_blank"><b>A Girl Called Malice</b></a></i> and it took absolutely everything out of me, both mentally and physically as I fought to get Alice's story down on paper. I succeeded in getting Alice's story out within a year of <i><a href="http://www.aureliabrowl.com/popping-the-cherry.html" target="_blank"><b>Popping the Cherry</b></a>, </i>which was my biggest target, alas what turned out to be my biggest triumph of 2014 (and my writing career to date) also turned out to be the most disheartening experience.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
For whatever reason, readers aren't picking up my pride and joy. Despite the amazing reviews when readers do give Alice a chance, sales are still in the lower end of double figures (as far as I can tell). I would be lying if I stated that it didn't bother me. My already shaken confidence and wavering self-esteem took a beating which, combined with everything else going on around me, took its toll and I guess I hit burnout or something like that. Needing time to regroup, I abandoned my NaNoWriMo project and decided on a complete break once the revisions for the re-released <i><a href="http://www.aureliabrowl.com/christmas-is-cancelled.html" target="_blank"><b>Christmas is Cancelled</b></a></i> had been completed.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I spent the last two months of 2014 doing the bare minimum, instead enjoying time with my husband and children and relaxing <i>(read: recovering from yet another lurgy the kids brought home from school)</i> over Christmas and New Year. I'm pleased to say that the break has done me the world of good and I am finally getting ideas once more, where prior to the break I had nothing. My self-imposed break also gave me plenty of time to reflect on just how much I have achieved in a relatively short space of time so I ended the year on a positive note.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Now with all of that out in the open, it's time for me to continue my annual tradition of setting new year's resolutions for the year ahead but first, let's check back to see what my <a href="http://blogspot.aureliabrowl.com/2013/12/goodbye-2013-hello-2014.html" target="_blank">resolutions for 2014</a> were and see how I did...</div>
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<h4>
<i><span style="color: #444444;">1) Read 26 books</span></i></h4>
<br />
Despite my fears that I wouldn't be able to get much reading done, I am delighted to say that I smashed my small target of a book a fortnight and ended the year having read 60 books. Woohoo!!<br />
<br />
<h4>
<i><span style="color: #444444;">2) Get another 'Allie' book published</span></i></h4>
<br />
I managed to achieve this by default with the publication of my short story, <i><a href="http://www.allieaburrow.com/for-one-night-only.html" target="_blank"><b>For One Night Only</b></a></i>, being released as a standalone 'Flirt' in addition to the anthology that was released in 2013. Considering the year I had, I am still chalking this one up as a win even though it wasn't new material.<br />
<br />
<h4>
<i><span style="color: #444444;">3) Volunteer at a charity event</span></i></h4>
<br />
2014 saw me hang up my fundraising boots in favour of volunteering yet I successfully completed both in the end. First off, I took part in a 'bag packing' event at a local supermarket in aid of <a href="http://www.mummysstar.org/" target="_blank">Mummy's Star</a>, which will continue to be my chosen charity for 2015. Secondly, my husband and I accompanied our children as they walked 10K around Tatton Park to raise funds for Marie Curie, smashing their fundraising target so I am very proud of them indeed!<br />
<br />
<h2>
<span style="color: #6aa84f;">The Year Ahead...</span></h2>
<br />
The good news is that I enter 2015 in a much better state of mind than 2014 ended and I am raring to go.</div>
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My childrens' birthdays both fall within the next seven days, with my daughter turning 6 and my son turning 8, so my big push to get the new writing year started will have to wait until next week - as ever - but I shall be getting on with research and planning in the meantime. Speaking of birthdays, this year is a biggie for me...yup, this is the year that I turn 40 and I am determined to celebrate it somehow!!!</div>
<div>
<span style="background-color: yellow;"><br /></span>
Anyway, enough waffling, it's time to come up with my resolutions for 2015...<br />
<br />
<h4>
<span style="color: magenta;"><i>1) Read 50 books</i></span></h4>
<br />
Buoyed by the success of last year, I've raised my game for 2015 and pledged to read 50 books which you can keep up with here:<br />
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/challenges/3082-2015-reading-challenge" style="font-family: georgia,serif; font-size: 1.1em; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none;">2015 Reading Challenge</a><br />
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/challenges/3082-2015-reading-challenge"><img alt="2015 Reading Challenge" src="https://d.gr-assets.com/challenges/1420220454p2/3082.jpg" style="border: 0 none; float: left; margin-right: 10px;" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/6976785-aurelia-rowl">Aurelia</a> has<br />
read 2 books toward her goal of 50 books.</div>
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/user_challenges/1895611">2 of 50 (4%)</a></div>
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/user_challenges/1895611" style="font-size: 10px; text-decoration: none;">view books</a></div>
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<h4>
<span style="color: magenta;"><i>2) Get at least two books written and released</i></span></h4>
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With two books still under contract for <i><a href="http://www.aureliabrowl.com/facing-the-music-series.html" target="_blank"><b>Facing the Music</b></a></i> #3 and #4, I am not short of work to be getting on with, especially since the deadlines for both have already passed. [Oops] They are both full-length novels though, so I doubt I will get both of them released this year but they surely can't be as difficult to write as <i><b>A Girl Called Malice</b></i> (she says!). </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Now I know that I should make both <b><i>Facing the Music</i></b> stories a priority since they are already contracted, however I really don't want to make my readers wait any longer than they have to for the sequel to <i><b>Christmas is Cancelled</b></i>, Phil's story, so that is my other main target for 2015 in addition to <i><b>Facing the Music #3</b></i>.<br />
<br />
Ideally, I'll get a new 'Allie' book finished too, but one thing I've learned from the past 12 months is that sometimes things happen beyond my control and not to beat myself up.<br />
<br />
<h4>
<span style="color: magenta;"><i>3) Get disciplined</i></span></h4>
<br />
I know that I usually have a charity/community theme for my third resolution and I will continue to volunteer for charity events that come up but I feel this resolution needs to take precedence. It is no secret that I am an internet junkie and I will often lose entire mornings or afternoons on social media with nothing to show for it. This year, I need to get tough and be more disciplined. While the kids are at school, I need to limit my 'social' time to short coffee breaks and lunchtime, then use the rest of my alone time to write or research so don't be alarmed if you see a lot less of me between the hours of 9am to 3pm, from Monday to Friday.<br />
<br />
Can I just add that this is the quite possibly the most challenging resolution that I have ever set for myself? EEK!!<br />
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<h4>
<b><i><span style="color: magenta;">And if that lot isn't enough...</span></i></b></h4>
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Way back in September 2012, I set myself a goal of having 'x' amount of books published by the time I turn 40. The 'x' ranged from five to ten so eventually plumped for the middle ground of seven. The good news is that *technically* I have already had six books published, however that includes a re-release so should perhaps only be considered as five which leaves me with just nine months to get two books released.</div>
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No pressure then, eh? Ha!!</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></i></b> <b><i><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">Over to you, have you set any goals for 2015?</span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">How did your 2014 go?</span></i></b></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<h2>
<span style="color: #6aa84f;"> Related Posts</span></h2>
<br />
> <a href="http://blogspot.aureliabrowl.com/2013/12/goodbye-2013-hello-2014.html" target="_blank">Goodbye 2013, Hello 2014</a><br />
> <a href="http://blogspot.aureliabrowl.com/2014/09/summer-is-over-so-its-back-to-work.html" target="_blank">Summer is over so it's back to work...</a><br />
> <a href="http://blogspot.aureliabrowl.com/2013/01/new-years-resolutions-2013.html" target="_blank">Happy New Year for 2013</a><br />
> <a href="http://blogspot.aureliabrowl.com/2012/09/goal-setter.html" target="_blank">Are You A Goal Setter Too?</a><br />
> <a href="http://blogspot.aureliabrowl.com/2011/12/new-years-resolutions-for-2012.html" target="_blank">New Year's Resolutions for 2012</a><br />
<br /></div>
</div>
Aurelia B Rowlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17679519080629201534noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885541739829180339.post-49144900028307850082014-12-01T10:57:00.000+00:002014-12-01T10:57:46.694+00:00NEW RELEASE... Christmas Is CancelledAlmost two years since my debut book took its first steps into the big wide, world and launched my publishing career, <i><a href="http://www.aureliabrowl.com/christmas-is-cancelled.html" target="_blank">Christmas Is Cancelled</a></i> has been back on the editing table and is now back on sale, better than ever.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jq2CfJghDj0/VHw8yokqzSI/AAAAAAAACgM/OieNNi7e6yo/s1600/9781474008440_Cover%2B(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jq2CfJghDj0/VHw8yokqzSI/AAAAAAAACgM/OieNNi7e6yo/s1600/9781474008440_Cover%2B(2).jpg" height="640" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b><span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><i>It’s impossible to forget…</i></span></b></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: red;">Matilda ‘Tilly’ Carter has had the week from hell – and now, with all trains cancelled, it looks like Christmas will be too! With a mascara-streaked face, a broken heel and nowhere to go, there’s never been a worse time to run into the man who once broke her heart. Especially when he looks better than ever. </span></i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><b><i>The one that got away…</i></b></span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: red;">For Dean, Christmas has always been hard. The Tilly standing before him is no longer the firecracker of his memories—even if the way she makes his heart race hasn’t changed at all. He is determined to uphold the promise that kept them apart nine years ago. But spending a cosy Christmas with Tilly would break a better man and each accidental touch, heated look and stolen kiss is taking its toll on Dean.</span></i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i><span style="color: red;">After all this time, can the magic of Christmas bring Tilly and Dean together at last? </span></i></blockquote>
<br />
<h2>
<span style="color: #6aa84f;">Buy It Now...</span></h2>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jq2CfJghDj0/VHw8yokqzSI/AAAAAAAACgM/OieNNi7e6yo/s1600/9781474008440_Cover%2B(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jq2CfJghDj0/VHw8yokqzSI/AAAAAAAACgM/OieNNi7e6yo/s1600/9781474008440_Cover%2B(2).jpg" height="200" width="125" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/23198528-christmas-is-cancelled" target="_blank">Add to Goodreads</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<i><b>Released:</b> 1st December 2014</i><br />
<i><b>ISBN:</b> 978-1-474-00844-0</i><br />
<br />
Amazon <a href="http://ow.ly/DFaxR" target="_blank">UK</a> ¦ <a href="http://ow.ly/DFau9" target="_blank">US</a> ¦ <a href="http://www.amazon.com.au/Christmas-Cancelled-Aurelia-B-Rowl-ebook/dp/B00OV3UXC2" target="_blank">AUS</a><br />
<a href="https://itunes.apple.com/gb/book/christmas-is-cancelled/id936827109?mt=11" target="_blank">iBooks</a><br />
<a href="http://ow.ly/DFazG" target="_blank">Nook UK</a> ¦ <a href="http://ow.ly/DFaAT" target="_blank">Barnes & Noble</a><br />
<a href="http://ow.ly/DFaDk" target="_blank">Kobo</a><br />
<a href="http://ow.ly/DFaHK" target="_blank">Google Play</a><br />
<br />
For more purchase options, please go to <a href="http://www.aureliabrowl.com/christmas-is-cancelled.html" target="_blank">my website</a>.<br />
<br />
I hope you love the new and improved <i><b><a href="http://www.aureliabrowl.com/christmas-is-cancelled.html" target="_blank">Christmas Is Cancelled</a></b></i> and hope that it helps get you in the mood for Christmas.<br />
<br />
Happy reading!Aurelia B Rowlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17679519080629201534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885541739829180339.post-31272823914550550632014-11-11T14:52:00.000+00:002015-01-06T15:06:37.204+00:00Pinterest Board... Facing the Music novelsIt's been on my to-do list for some time, but at last, I have finally got started on a Pinterest board for the <a href="http://www.aureliabrowl.com/facing-the-music-series.html" target="_blank">Facing the Music novels</a>; featuring teasers, outfits, recipes, settings, inspiration, and more.<br />
<br />
I will also be creating character sheets for each of the main characters over the coming months, as well as getting stuck into writing book 3, so be sure to follow the board to stay up to date with the latest pins.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-pin-board-width="600" data-pin-do="embedBoard" data-pin-scale-height="200" data-pin-scale-width="80" href="http://www.pinterest.com/aureliabrowl/facing-the-music-novels/" target="_blank">Follow Aurelia B. Rowl's 'Facing the Music' Board on Pinterest.</a><!-- Please call pinit.js only once per page --><script async="" src="//assets.pinterest.com/js/pinit.js" type="text/javascript"></script></div>
Aurelia B Rowlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17679519080629201534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885541739829180339.post-3762297342500941562014-11-10T09:58:00.000+00:002014-11-10T09:58:55.443+00:00Competition Time and a Thanksgiving Recipe with... Gina Henning<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XoIHPy1Z3PQ/VF6VOIsSGuI/AAAAAAAACfQ/932adAw1Gig/s1600/Pecan%2BPie%2BBLOG%2BTOUR2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XoIHPy1Z3PQ/VF6VOIsSGuI/AAAAAAAACfQ/932adAw1Gig/s1600/Pecan%2BPie%2BBLOG%2BTOUR2.jpg" height="147" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
The <i>How to Bake the Perfect Pecan Pie</i> Blog Tour runs from November 7th until November 18th, each day of the tour a different character will share their favorite recipe for Thanksgiving. Stop by and see what’s cooking in the Hauser kitchen and be sure and enter the giveaway for a $50 Williams-Sonoma Gift Card, just in time for Thanksgiving!<br />
<br />
<b>Martin Hauser’s Favorite Thanksgiving Recipe</b><br />
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The back office at the Hauser home has been converted into a mini-video recording studio for each member of the Hauser family along with two special guests to share one of their favorite Thanksgiving recipes other than the pecan pie.<br />
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<b>Hauser Family File:</b> Martin Hauser is married to Leia Hauser and the father of Luke, Megan, and Lauren. When Martin isn’t at work or enjoying great meals prepared by his family, he can be found at the golf course.<br />
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“Roll the tape.”<br />
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Martin strolls into the room and nods at the camera. He’s just returned home from playing golf with his friends.<br />
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“Alright, my favorite recipe to share, besides the pie.” He raises and eyebrow and pushes his lips out to form a masculine duck face. Martin places his index finger over his lips and taps them twice.<br />
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“A few years ago, Megan made the best stuffing I’ve ever had and believe me I’ve had my share of stuffing over the years.” He laughs and pats his stomach.<br />
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He eyes the camera. “Apparently, Megan got this recipe from one of those Food Network chef people.” Martin pulls out a piece of paper from his khaki shorts. “Here it is.” He holds the paper up to the camera.<br />
<u></u><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u><u><span style="font-size: large;">Megan’s Cornbread Stuffing Recipe (Courtesy of Tyler Florence)</span></u></u></div>
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<u><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"><br />
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">2 tablespoons butter 2 onions, chopped<br />
6 large cornmeal muffins, cubed Handful fresh sage leaves, chopped<br />
1 egg 1/4 cup heavy cream<br />
1/4 cup chicken stock Salt and freshly ground black pepper<br />
</span><br />
<i><br />
</i> <i>Directions:</i><br />
Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F. Melt the butter in a medium skillet over medium heat. Add the onions and cook, stirring, for about 10 minutes, or until soft and caramelized. Add sage and scrape into a large mixing bowl. Add the cornbread pieces, season well with salt and pepper, and give it a good toss until it's well combined. In a separate bowl, whisk together the egg, cream, and stock, and pour that over the cornbread. Stir the stuffing together and stuff the cavity of the turkey. You could also spoon it into a buttered baking dish and put it in the oven along with the turkey. Bake until hot and crusty on top, about 30 minutes.<br />
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*Don’t miss the Hauser family Thanksgiving, available now from all these fine eBook Retailers:<br />
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="background: white; color: #0007e0; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/How-Bake-Perfect-Pecan-Pie-ebook/dp/B00OORC2HY/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1414640635&sr=1-1&keywords=how+to+bake+the+perfect+pecan+pie" target="_blank">Amazon US</a> ¦</span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="background: white; color: #121212; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span><span lang="EN-US"><a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/How-Bake-Perfect-Pecan-Pie-ebook/dp/B00OORC2HY/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1414640262&sr=1-1&keywords=how+to+bake+the+perfect+pecan+pie" target="_blank"><span style="background: white; color: #0007e0; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;">Amazon UK</span></a></span><span lang="EN-US" style="background: white; color: #121212; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;"> ¦ </span><span lang="EN-US"><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/how-to-bake-the-perfect-pecan-pie-gina-henning/1120667969?ean=9781474020251" target="_blank"><span style="color: #9494ff; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;">Nook US</span></a></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #121212; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;"> ¦</span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="background: white; color: #121212; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span><span lang="EN-US"><a href="http://www.nook.com/gb/ebooks/how-to-bake-the-perfect-pecan-pie-by-gina-henning/9781474020251" target="_blank"><span style="background: white; color: #0007e0; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;">Nook </span></a><a href="http://www.ginahenning.com/books/"><span style="background: white; color: #0007e0; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;">GB</span></a></span><span lang="EN-US" style="background: white; color: #121212; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;"> ¦<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><span lang="EN-US"><a href="https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Gina_Henning_How_to_Bake_the_Perfect_Pecan_Pie?id=qdniBAAAQBAJ" target="_blank"><span style="background: white; color: #0007e0; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;">Google Play</span></a></span><span lang="EN-US" style="background: white; color: #121212; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;"> ¦ </span><span lang="EN-US"><a href="http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/how-to-bake-the-perfect-pecan-pie" target="_blank"><span style="background: white; color: #0007e0; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;">Kobo</span></a></span><span lang="EN-US" style="background: white; color: #121212; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span><span lang="EN-US" style="background: white;"><b>¦ </b></span></div>
<a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/how-to-bake-perfect-pecan/id931627328?mt=11&uo=4" style="background-image: url(https://linkmaker.itunes.apple.com/htmlResources/assets//images/web/linkmaker/badge_ibooks-sm.svg); background: url(https://linkmaker.itunes.apple.com/htmlResources/assets//images/web/linkmaker/badge_ibooks-sm.png) no-repeat; display: inline-block; height: 15px; overflow: hidden; width: 65px;" target="itunes_store"></a><br />
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<b><span style="color: #134f5c; font-size: large;"><i>A warm pie. A tasty guy. Happy Thanksgiving indeed.</i></span></b></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: #134f5c;">Lauren Hauser is home for the holidays, and she’s been given a challenge: preparing her grandmother’s pecan pie. The problem? Lauren’s not famed for her baking skills. In fact, while her sister would win Star Baker every week, and her mom at least knows a sieve from a spatula, Lauren’s bakes have always been more dangerous than delicious!</span></i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: #134f5c;">Still, no Thanksgiving would be complete without dessert…which is why Lauren finds herself searching for pecans on Thanksgiving Eve. Stumbling into a gorgeous stranger laden down with bags of pecans seems like a holiday miracle…but despite Jack’s kissable lips he’s frostier than a snow cone…and out of sight before she can say ‘Macy’s Parade’!</span></i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: #134f5c;">As the clock counts down to Thanksgiving dinner, Lauren is running out of time. And without her grandmother’s perfect pecan pie it won’t be a very Happy Thanksgiving! What Lauren needs is a knight in shining armour. And it might just be that the magic of Thanksgiving will find her one after all…</span></i></blockquote>
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<h2>
<span style="color: #45818e;">Competition Time...</span></h2>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a class="rafl" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/d43499e02/" id="rc-d43499e02" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a><br />
<script src="//widget.rafflecopter.com/load.js"></script><br />
Here is also the link: <a href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/d43499e02/">http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/d43499e02/</a><br />
<br />
<h2 style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #45818e;">Blog Tour...</span></h2>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Be sure to stop by these blogs for sneak peeks and secrets from the Hauser Family!</div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
7th November – <a href="http://www.candysraves.com/" target="_blank">Candy’s Raves</a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
8th November – <a href="http://avidbookcollector.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Avid Book Hoarder</a></div>
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9th November – <a href="http://www.krystenlindsay.com/" target="_blank">Krysten Lindsay</a></div>
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10th November – <a href="http://www.aureliabrowl.com/" target="_blank">Aurelia B Rowl</a></div>
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11th November – <a href="http://rosieamber.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Rosie Amber</a></div>
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12th November – <a href="http://hollymartinwriter.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Holly Martin</a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
13th November – <a href="http://www.karenaldous.co.uk/inspiration-for-the-chateau/" target="_blank">Karen Aldous</a></div>
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14th November – <a href="http://rebeccaraisin.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Rebecca Raisin</a></div>
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15th November – <a href="http://www.ebookreviewgal.com/" target="_blank">eBook Review Gal</a></div>
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16th November – <a href="http://mikajolie.com/" target="_blank">Mika Jolie</a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
17th November – <a href="http://www.katieoliver.com/ko/blog" target="_blank">Katie Oliver</a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
18th November – <a href="http://www.ginahenning.com/blog" target="_blank">Gina Henning</a></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XoIHPy1Z3PQ/VF6VOIsSGuI/AAAAAAAACfQ/932adAw1Gig/s1600/Pecan%2BPie%2BBLOG%2BTOUR2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XoIHPy1Z3PQ/VF6VOIsSGuI/AAAAAAAACfQ/932adAw1Gig/s1600/Pecan%2BPie%2BBLOG%2BTOUR2.jpg" height="147" width="400" /></a></div>
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Aurelia B Rowlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17679519080629201534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885541739829180339.post-6137545831770146382014-11-03T08:00:00.000+00:002014-11-03T08:00:18.419+00:00Competition Time with... A.L. Michael<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Santa, Baby</span></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: large;"><i><b>(Or: Writing a Christmas Teenage Pregnancy Story without Cliche)</b></i></span></div>
<br />
The problem with writing is that eventually you realise that every single story has been done before. The thing you’ve got to cling to is that (hopefully) no-one else has done it with your voice.<br />
<br />
I’ve blogged before about how certain topics come with a level of responsibility to the reader, to not appear one-sided or judgemental. When I write about sex, I try and write about safe sex, about mutual, consensual, crazy-about-you sorta sex. There is never going to be a moment where I write ‘don’t worry about the condom’. Yes, I know it happens in real life, but I want my characters, whilst fallible, to be working towards something positive.<br />
<br />
So when I decided to write a pregnant teenager, I was faced with the same situation. Pregnancy happens. There’s meant to be a new romantic comedy movie coming out soon where the story is about a girl getting an abortion. The reason there aren’t often movies or books (or romantic comedies) about that response to pregnancy is that there is no story after that. I mean, unless she falls in love with the nurse, or meets a guy in the waiting room, that isn’t the beginning of a story. So whilst I’m pro-choice, I had to be sure there was a reason Megan would keep her baby. There is a part in the book where Megan discusses her own views, and why she feels like a hypocrite. Writing about pregnancy is a really big thing! You want to show that young mothers can do amazing things, but you also don’t want to make it seem easy. Raising kids is never easy.<br />
<br />
It’s way too easy to get bogged down in the ‘what’s my message’ feeling of a book, when, really, you just need to let your characters get on with what they want to get on with. They’re human. Or they’re meant to be. The majority of real life people are motivated by their thoughts, beliefs, feelings and desires. Not by what other people think. So...I wrote a story about a young girl who was trying to please everyone else, and protect everyone, and was lonely and sad, and made a couple of bad choices. But the book is about how even when you’ve done an amazing job, when you’ve ‘made good’ and you’re living the best life you possibly can, you can still be scared that you’ll be defined by that one mistake, even if it turned out to be a great decision.<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5Tmu5dSgX_Q/VEzJmU-cpEI/AAAAAAAACe4/xqhstrLaR-Q/s1600/IMG_3794.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5Tmu5dSgX_Q/VEzJmU-cpEI/AAAAAAAACe4/xqhstrLaR-Q/s1600/IMG_3794.jpeg" height="400" width="250" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;"><b>Megan McAllister is home for Christmas…whether she likes it or not!</b></span></i></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><i>Christmas is about family…and for Megan family means two people: herself, and her daughter Skye. It doesn’t mean her parents who, ten years ago, saw her pregnancy as anything but a miracle. And it definitely doesn’t include her irresistible ex-boyfriend Lucas Bright.</i></span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><i>So <b>‘Driving Home for Christmas’</b> has never been top of Megan’s festive playlist. But for Skye, she knows she needs to spend the holiday season with the people she’s left behind. She can do this. Even if the thought of meeting Lucas under the mistletoe still has her feeling like she’s drunk one-too-many Snowballs!</i></span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: #cc0000;">But somewhere between the hanging of stockings and the crackle of wrapping paper, Christmas starts to sparkle. And Megan begins to wonder if family could be bigger than her and Skye after all…<b>Pop the buck’s fizz, stoke the fire and prepare to giggle the festive season away with AL Michael!</b></span></i></blockquote>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5Tmu5dSgX_Q/VEzJmU-cpEI/AAAAAAAACe4/xqhstrLaR-Q/s1600/IMG_3794.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5Tmu5dSgX_Q/VEzJmU-cpEI/AAAAAAAACe4/xqhstrLaR-Q/s1600/IMG_3794.jpeg" height="200" width="125" /></a></div>
<i>Released: 28th October 2014</i><br />
<i>ISBN: 9781472096517</i><br />
<br />
Amazon <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B00O297Y5O/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1634&creative=19450&creativeASIN=B00O297Y5O&linkCode=as2&tag=aurbrow-21&linkId=US56ACDOISEQFTMU" target="_blank">UK</a> ¦ <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00O297Y5O?ie=UTF8&camp=213733&creative=393177&creativeASIN=B00O297Y5O&linkCode=shr&tag=aubro-20&linkId=WIIXXBHEU6M4YOIJ" target="_blank">US</a><br />
<a href="http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/driving-home-for-christmas-3" target="_blank">Kobo</a> ¦ <a href="http://www.whsmith.co.uk/products/driving-home-for-christmas-/9781472096517" target="_blank">WHSmith</a><br />
<a href="http://www.nook.com/gb/ebooks/driving-home-for-christmas-by-a-l-michael/9781472096517" target="_blank">Nook UK</a> ¦ <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/driving-home-for-christmas-a-l-michael/1120438730?ean=9781472096517" target="_blank">Barnes & Noble</a><br />
<a href="http://www.ebooks.com/1809167/driving-home-for-christmas/michael-a-l/" target="_blank">eBooks.com</a><br />
<a href="https://play.google.com/store/books/details/A_L_Michael_Driving_Home_for_Christmas?id=9gqpBAAAQBAJ" target="_blank">Google Play</a><br />
<a href="https://itunes.apple.com/gb/book/driving-home-for-christmas/id930470952?mt=11" target="_blank">iBookstore</a><br />
<a href="https://www.blinkboxbooks.com/#!/book/9781472096517/driving-home-for-christmas" target="_blank">BlinkBox (Tesco)</a> ¦ <a href="http://www.sainsburysebooks.co.uk/book/Driving-Home-for-Christmas-A-L-Michael/7963149" target="_blank">Sainsbury</a><br />
<br />
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #cc0000;">Competition...</span></h2>
<br />
To win a Driving Home for Christmas goodie bag, including merchandise, festive treats and a £10 Amazon giftcard!</div>
<div class="Body">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a class="rafl" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/215cb6ef1/" id="rc-215cb6ef1" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a><br />
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Aurelia B Rowlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17679519080629201534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885541739829180339.post-5831194265394087892014-10-22T12:45:00.000+01:002014-10-22T12:45:51.384+01:00COVER REVEAL... Christmas Is CancelledI didn't think I could love the new cover for <a href="http://www.aureliabrowl.com/christmas-is-cancelled.html"><i>Christmas is Cancelled</i></a> more than the original one but I am delighted to have been proved wrong...I mean, look... it's <b>SPARKLY!!</b><strong style="background-color: white; color: #6d6d6d; font-family: 'Gentium Basic'; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><br /></strong>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hHreVDZEs4g/VEeXA29ea3I/AAAAAAAACeM/sCmvE7fMqwU/s1600/9781474008440_Cover%2B(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hHreVDZEs4g/VEeXA29ea3I/AAAAAAAACeM/sCmvE7fMqwU/s1600/9781474008440_Cover%2B(2).jpg" height="640" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/23198528-christmas-is-cancelled" target="_blank">Add to Goodreads</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><div style="text-align: center;">
This new and improved <a href="http://www.aureliabrowl.com/christmas-is-cancelled.html"><i>Christmas is Cancelled</i></a> will be released on December 1st and should be up for pre-order soon.</div>
</span><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
The web page for <a href="http://www.aureliabrowl.com/christmas-is-cancelled.html"><i>Christmas is Cancelled</i></a> is currently caught in the awkward limbo between old version and new, but I will be updating the page as soon as the new details and links become available so keep your eyes peeled.<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
As the first story I ever wrote, this one will always have a special place in my heart so I am thrilled that I got the chance to update it, making the story even stronger, and I hope you love it too.<br /><br /></div>
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Aurelia B Rowlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17679519080629201534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885541739829180339.post-88791051513570694512014-10-18T09:00:00.000+01:002014-10-26T16:20:56.748+00:00Competition Time with... Amelia Thorne<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><i><span style="font-size: x-large;">Beneath the Moon and the Stars</span></i><span style="font-size: large;">by Amelia Thorne is out now.</span></span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JOzv_CfZUps/VEDwDL_q80I/AAAAAAAACdg/uRTowdUxZls/s1600/Beneath%2Bthe%2BMoon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JOzv_CfZUps/VEDwDL_q80I/AAAAAAAACdg/uRTowdUxZls/s1600/Beneath%2Bthe%2BMoon.jpg" height="400" width="250" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple; font-size: x-large;"><b><i>Home, sweet home…</i></b></span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;">Joy Cartier has been to some of the most beautiful places in the world – but none of them have ever felt like home. So moving into a tiny cottage in the idyllic village of Bramble Hill, walking distance from her childhood home, seems like the perfect plan.</span></b></i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify;">
<b><span style="color: purple;"><i>That is, until she gets there. The surly inhabitants of </i>Britain’s Friendliest Village<i> are anything but welcoming. Even her neighbour, reclusive Hollywood star Finn Mackenzie, takes one look at her and walks in the other direction.</i></span></b></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify;">
<b><span style="color: purple;"><i>But when the village animosity steps up a gear, it is the infuriatingly brooding Finn who keeps coming to her rescue. Slowly Joy begins to realise that maybe a happy home isn’t about </i>where<i> you live, but who you’re with…</i></span></b></blockquote>
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<h2>
<span style="color: #6aa84f;">Giveaway...</span></h2>
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To celebrate the launch Amelia has a fab prize bundle to giveaway. You could win these gorgeous hand carved wooden necklaces, a £15 iTunes voucher and a £50 theatre ticket voucher.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9WJcgq4r2ZQ/VEDwDesestI/AAAAAAAACdk/eevW6yfQhls/s1600/IMG_20141011_182628.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9WJcgq4r2ZQ/VEDwDesestI/AAAAAAAACdk/eevW6yfQhls/s1600/IMG_20141011_182628.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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All you have to do is copy one of the pre-prepared tweets below, tweet it and you’ll automatically be entered into the draw to win this prize bundle. The more you tweet, the more times you’ll be entered.<br />
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You can even make up your own tweet about the book, just as long as it has the book link to amazon, (<a href="http://amzn.to/1sdZ0rw">http://amzn.to/1sdZ0rw</a>) the hashtag #BeneathTheMoon and Amelia’s Twitter name <a href="http://www.twitter.com/amelia_writes" target="_blank">@Amelia_Writes</a> in the tweet you’ll be entered into the draw.<br />
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The competition will run until <b>midnight</b> (UK time) on <b>Sunday 26th October</b> and the winner will be announced on Tuesday 28th October so plenty of time for tweeting. Every time you tweet, you’ll be entered into the draw.<br />
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<span style="color: #6aa84f;">The Tweets...</span></h3>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #292f33; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">Beneath The Moon and the Stars by </span><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><a href="https://twitter.com/Amelia_Writes"><span lang="EN" style="color: #2b7bb9; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">@Amelia_Writes</span></a></span><span lang="EN" style="color: #292f33; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"> is out now, a gorgeous story of love, friendship and secrets <br />
</span><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><a href="http://amzn.to/1sdZ0rw">http://amzn.to/1sdZ0rw</a></span></blockquote>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #292f33; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Beneath the Moon and the Stars by </span><a href="https://twitter.com/Amelia_Writes"><span lang="EN" style="color: #2b7bb9; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">@Amelia_Writes</span></a><span lang="EN" style="color: #292f33; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> has it all; beautiful men,a feisty heroine and a gorgeous lovestory <br />
</span><a href="http://amzn.to/1sdZ0rw">http://amzn.to/1sdZ0rw</a></blockquote>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #292f33; font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;">Beneath the Moon and the Stars by </span><a href="https://twitter.com/Amelia_Writes"><span lang="EN" style="color: #2b7bb9; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">@Amelia_Writes</span></a><span lang="EN" style="color: #292f33; font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;"> has it all; 3 gorgeous men,2 adorable dogs, 1 beautiful love story<br />
</span><a href="http://amzn.to/1sdZ0rw">http://amzn.to/1sdZ0rw</a></blockquote>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #292f33; font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;">Beneath the Moon and the Stars by </span><a href="https://twitter.com/Amelia_Writes"><span lang="EN" style="color: #2b7bb9; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">@Amelia_Writes</span></a><span lang="EN" style="color: #292f33; font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;"> is a gorgeous story of love, secrets and misguided revenge<br />
</span><a href="http://amzn.to/1sdZ0rw">http://amzn.to/1sdZ0rw</a></blockquote>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #292f33; font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;">Beneath the Moon and the Stars by </span><a href="https://twitter.com/Amelia_Writes"><span lang="EN" style="color: #2b7bb9; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">@Amelia_Writes</span></a><span lang="EN" style="color: #292f33; font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;"> has secrets, revenge, a diamond thief & a beautiful love story<br />
</span><a href="http://amzn.to/1sdZ0rw">http://amzn.to/1sdZ0rw</a></blockquote>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #292f33; font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;">Beneath the Moon and the Stars by </span><a href="https://twitter.com/Amelia_Writes"><span lang="EN" style="color: #2b7bb9; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">@Amelia_Writes</span></a><span lang="EN" style="color: #292f33; font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;"> has 3 gorgeous men, 2 weddings and a whole heap load of secrets<br />
</span><a href="http://amzn.to/1sdZ0rw">http://amzn.to/1sdZ0rw</a></blockquote>
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Good luck!!<br />
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Aurelia B Rowlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17679519080629201534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885541739829180339.post-58681488828917240812014-10-15T09:00:00.000+01:002014-10-25T19:16:47.642+01:00Rebecca Raisin Cordially Invites You...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QBb_zpgVi6w/VDzyflFBv4I/AAAAAAAACc8/hT0akfBXh5E/s1600/ChristmasWeddingInvite%2Bcopy.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QBb_zpgVi6w/VDzyflFBv4I/AAAAAAAACc8/hT0akfBXh5E/s1600/ChristmasWeddingInvite%2Bcopy.png" height="400" width="397"></a></div>
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<span style="color: #6aa84f;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Released Today!</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple; font-size: x-large;"><i><b>You are invited to the wedding of the year!</b></i></span></div>
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<i><b><span style="color: purple;">Snow is falling thick and fast outside the Gingerbread Café and, inside, its owner Lily is planning the wedding of the year. Her wedding! She never dreamt it would happen, but this Christmas she’ll be marrying the man of her dreams — in a Christmas-card-perfect ceremony!</span></b></i></blockquote>
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<b><i><span style="color: purple;">The gingerbread is baking, the dress is fitted and the mistletoe’s in place — for once, everything’s going to plan. That is until her mother-in-law arrives... Suddenly, Lily’s famous cool is being tested like never before and her dream wedding is crumbling before her eyes.</span></i></b></blockquote>
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<i><b><span style="color: purple;">In the blink of a fairy light, the Gingerbread Café has been thrown into chaos! Lily thought she had this wedding wrapped up, but with so much to do before she says ‘I do’, can Lily get to the church on time — and make this Christmas sparkle after all?</span></b></i></blockquote>
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<span style="color: #6aa84f;">Excerpt...</span></h2>
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<b><span lang="EN-AU" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Chapter One<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Ten days<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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</div><a href="http://blogspot.aureliabrowl.com/2014/10/christmas-wedding-gingerbread-cafe-rebecca-raisin.html#more">Continue>></a>Aurelia B Rowlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17679519080629201534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885541739829180339.post-60967566973960524292014-10-13T08:00:00.000+01:002014-10-13T08:00:09.745+01:00Twenty Questions with... Kathleen McGurl<div>
I am delighted to welcome fellow Carina UK author Kathleen McGurl onto my blog today, author of <i><a href="http://www.carinauk.com/the-emerald-comb" target="_blank">The Emerald Comb</a></i>, released a couple of weeks ago.</div>
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Grab a brew and make yourself comfortable for a round of twenty questions that features John O'Groats, Orinoco (yes, the Womble), and wise words from Joe Konrath.</div>
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<span style="color: #6aa84f;">ACT ONE – all about you…</span></h2>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JvznaD7W-kU/VDpVpRMpNTI/AAAAAAAACcc/l9BBq2DCTt4/s1600/Kathleen%2BMcGurl%2Bauthor%2Bphoto%2Bsmall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JvznaD7W-kU/VDpVpRMpNTI/AAAAAAAACcc/l9BBq2DCTt4/s1600/Kathleen%2BMcGurl%2Bauthor%2Bphoto%2Bsmall.jpg" height="175" width="200" /></a></div>
<i style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="color: #666666;">Kathleen McGurl lives near the sea in Bournemouth, with her husband, sons and cats. She began her writing career creating short stories, and sold dozens to women’s magazines in the UK and Australia. Then she got side-tracked onto family history research – which led eventually to writing novels with genealogy themes. She has always been fascinated by the past, and the ways in which the past can influence the present., and enjoys exploring these links in her novels. </span></i></i><i></i><br />
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<i><span style="color: #666666;">When not writing or working at her full-time job in IT, she likes to go out running or sea-swimming, both of which she does rather slowly. She is definitely quicker at writing.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #666666;">You can find out more at her website, <a href="http://kathleenmcgurl.com/">http://kathleenmcgurl.com/</a>, or follow her on Twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/KathMcGurl" target="_blank">@KathMcGurl</a>.</span></i></div>
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<b>1) Have you always been a writer or is it something you fell into?</b></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">I was always going to be a writer, when I had the time! From a young age it was something I aspired to. During my first maternity leave, before my son was born I started a novel. Then the baby came along, he wasn’t a sleeper and I found I hadn’t the time to write. Also, this was back in the mid-nineties and we had no computer. I’ve since found that I need to type a first draft for best results! It was about 10 years ago that I finally, properly started writing and since then I have not looked back.</span></i></div>
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<b>2) Do you have a particular writing style or ritual?</b></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">Style-wise, I think I have two ‘voices’. There’s one I use on my womagwriter blog which is chatty and friendly, and worked well for my two ‘how to write’ books. Then there’s the voice I use for novel writing. </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">Writing rituals – no. I have none. I just sit down on the sofa when I have time, and get on with it, trying not to be too distracted by social media!</span></i></div>
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<b>3) Is there a book or an author that has influenced you in your writing?</b></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">I think writers are influenced to some extent by everything they read, and I have always read a wide and varied selection of books. I love timeslip or dual timeline novels, and those by Kate Morton and Katherine Webb are my favourites, so I guess I’ve been more influenced by those two authors than anyone else.</span></i></div>
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<b>4) Is there one piece of writing (or life?) advice that has stuck with you, or that you would like to share?</b></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">Yes. I think it was on Joe Konrath’s blog that I came across the quote - There’s a word for a writer who never gives up: Published. </span></i></div>
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<b>5) Can you tell us three things about yourself that we probably don’t already know?</b></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">Ooh! Right then, here goes:</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">1 – I once cycled from John O’Groats to Land’s End, carrying camping gear on my bike panniers. It took 3 weeks and it rained every day.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">2 – I love sewing and craft skills, and have reupholstered nearly every item of furniture in my house and my mum’s flat. I gave up doing upholstery when I began writing. Now the sofas are wearing out again – maybe I’ll need to go back to it!</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">3 – I have a full set of Womble pencil top figures, collected when I was 10. My favourite is Orinoco.</span></i></div>
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<b>6) What five luxury items or gadgets would you hate to be without?</b></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">1 – My Kindle. Love it to bits.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">2 – Moisturiser. Though it’s more of an essential than a luxury.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">3 – My fit-flops. World’s most comfortable footwear.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">4 – My laptop. Current one is a hand-me-down from my son. You know your kids have grown up when they start passing their electronics on to you rather than the other way round.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">5 – My leather jacket. After coveting one for 25 years I finally bought it earlier this year and now I don’t understand how I managed without it.</span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #6aa84f;">ACT TWO – all about your new release…</span></h2>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o6Kx4Ck5LdY/VDmBM---_6I/AAAAAAAACcA/5mxfScPD_pc/s1600/The%2BEmerald%2BComb%2BV3%2Bcover%2Bsmall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o6Kx4Ck5LdY/VDmBM---_6I/AAAAAAAACcA/5mxfScPD_pc/s1600/The%2BEmerald%2BComb%2BV3%2Bcover%2Bsmall.jpg" height="400" width="250" /></a></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">Some secrets are best left buried...</span></i></b></blockquote>
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<span lang="EN-US"><i><span style="color: magenta;"><b>One afternoon, Katie takes a drive to
visit Kingsley House, the family home of her ancestors, the St Clairs. She
falls in love the minute she sees it. It may be old and in desperate need of
modernisation, but it is her link to the past and, having researched her family
tree extensively, she feels a sense of belonging to the crumbling old estate.</b></span></i></span></blockquote>
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<span lang="EN-US"><i><span style="color: magenta;"><b>When it suddenly comes up for sale, she
cannot resist persuading her family to sell up and buy it, never telling them
the truth of their connection with it. But soon the past collides with the present,
as the house begins to reveal the secrets it has hidden for generations. Does
Katie really want to discover what she has come from?</b></span></i></span></blockquote>
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<b>7) Congratulations on your recent release of <i>The Emerald Comb,</i> what was your inspiration for writing Katie's story?</b></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">I’d researched my own family tree, and wrote a novella based on it (self-published as <b>Mr Cavell’s Diamond</b>). Then I started thinking, what if you dug up more than you bargained for? What if you discovered skeleton’s in your family history closet? And so <b>The Emerald Comb</b> was born.</span></i></div>
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<b>8) Did the story flow from your finger tips or did some scenes take a bit of cajoling?</b></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">The historical section flowed well. The contemporary sections took more work as they had to fit around the historical story. If I get stuck on a scene I tend to leave it and push on with the next one. Chances are when I come back to it I’ll decide I don’t need the difficult scene anyway.</span></i></div>
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<b>9) How long did it take for the initial spark of the story to make it onto the page and then onto the publisher’s desk?</b></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">Hmm, let me think. I started writing it in March 2012. It was complete by the summer of 2013 and I submitted it to some agents around that time. But it was a year later in June 2014 that I sent it to Carina and was offered a two book deal on the back of it.</span></i></div>
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<b>10) Do you have a favourite paragraph or sentence from your story that you would like to tantalise us with?</b></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">What a great question! I think this bit, from the prologue, will do nicely:</span></i></div>
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<span style="color: blue;">Read this only after I am dead, after I am buried. Read this and understand why you must never sell Kingsley House. You must live in it until the end of your days, guarding its secrets, as I have.</span></blockquote>
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<b>11) Over to you, what can you tell us about <i>The Emerald Comb,</i> to make us rush out and buy it?</b></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">There’s a lot of fascination with family history research. The TV programme Who Do You Think You Are has been very popular. My character Katie thinks she knows her ancestry but has she got it right? Her ancestors had dark secrets which they’ve buried deeply – can Katie ever uncover the truth?</span></i></div>
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<b>12) What can we expect from you next? Is there something you are working on right now? </b></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">I’m working on another timeslip novel – this one is part 1944 and part contemporary, and has a supernatural element.</span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #6aa84f;">QUICK FIRE ROUND – it’s pop quiz time…</span></h2>
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<br /></div>
<div>
<b>13) Plotter or pantser?</b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
<i><span style="color: purple;">Plotter. Mostly.</span></i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>14) Digital books or print books?</b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
<i><span style="color: purple;">Both. Print for keepers, digital for holidays/long journeys/reading in bed.</span></i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>15) Tea or coffee?</b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<i><span style="color: purple;">Both! Tea first then coffee, and back to tea in the afternoon.</span></i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>16) Extrovert or introvert?</b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<i><span style="color: purple;">Introvert.</span></i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>17) Facebook or Twitter?</b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<i><span style="color: purple;">Facebook. Though Twitter’s growing on me.</span></i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>18) Christmas or birthday? </b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<i><span style="color: purple;">Christmas. Definitely. </span></i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>19) Morning person or night owl?</b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<i><span style="color: purple;">Neither – middle of the day for me!</span></i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>20) Sweet or savoury?</b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<i><span style="color: purple;">Savoury. Except chocolate, obviously.</span></i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>And that’s a wrap!</b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Thank you so much for taking part, Kath, I wish you every success with your new release.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
To discover even more about Kathleen McGurl, and to keep up with her latest projects, you can visit her at:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
<div>
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://kathleenmcgurl.com/" target="_blank">Website</a> <a href="https://www.facebook.com/KathleenMcGurl" target="_blank">Facebook</a> <a href="https://twitter.com/KathMcGurl" target="_blank">Twitter</a></h2>
<div>
<br /></div>
<h2>
<span style="color: #6aa84f;">Buy it now…</span></h2>
<div>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o6Kx4Ck5LdY/VDmBM---_6I/AAAAAAAACcA/5mxfScPD_pc/s1600/The%2BEmerald%2BComb%2BV3%2Bcover%2Bsmall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o6Kx4Ck5LdY/VDmBM---_6I/AAAAAAAACcA/5mxfScPD_pc/s1600/The%2BEmerald%2BComb%2BV3%2Bcover%2Bsmall.jpg" height="200" width="125" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/23259850-the-emerald-comb" target="_blank">Add to Goodreads</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<i><span style="color: #666666;">Release date: 22nd September 2014</span></i></div>
</div>
<div>
<i><span style="color: #666666;">ISBN: 9781474007504</span></i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<a href="http://www.carinauk.com/the-emerald-comb" target="_blank">Carina UK</a></div>
<div>
Amazon <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B00N1XRS3K?ie=UTF8&camp=3194&creative=21330&creativeASIN=B00N1XRS3K&linkCode=shr&tag=aurbrow-21&linkId=BSYT4455EJDJKARO" target="_blank">UK</a> ¦ <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00N1XRS3K?ie=UTF8&camp=213733&creative=393177&creativeASIN=B00N1XRS3K&linkCode=shr&tag=aubro-20&linkId=62RSETELPESIRS2Y" target="_blank">US</a></div>
<div>
<a href="http://www.nook.com/gb/ebooks/the-emerald-comb-by-kathleen-mcgurl/9781474007504" target="_blank">Nook UK</a> ¦ <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-emerald-comb-kathleen-mcgurl/1120322210?ean=9781474007504" target="_blank">B&N</a></div>
<div>
<a href="http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/the-emerald-comb" target="_blank">Kobo</a></div>
<div>
<a href="https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Kathleen_McGurl_The_Emerald_Comb?id=DsF0BAAAQBAJ" target="_blank">Google Books</a></div>
<div>
<a href="https://itunes.apple.com/gb/book/the-emerald-comb/id915378161?mt=11" target="_blank">iBooks</a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Aurelia B Rowlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17679519080629201534noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885541739829180339.post-80545098625237187182014-10-03T12:59:00.000+01:002014-10-03T12:59:03.184+01:00NEW RELEASE: A Girl Called MaliceAfter a year in the making, the time has finally come for Alice to make her mark on the world.<br />
<br />
I have plumbed the depths of my emotions and spent an obscenely unhealthy amount of time trapped inside the head of one very messed up character and I couldn't be more proud of Alice's story and her eventful journey.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6cwbuM6c8lA/VC6JKaVWWJI/AAAAAAAACbk/U-HpLg_FWJY/s1600/A%2BGirl%2BCalled%2BMalice2%2B(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6cwbuM6c8lA/VC6JKaVWWJI/AAAAAAAACbk/U-HpLg_FWJY/s1600/A%2BGirl%2BCalled%2BMalice2%2B(2).jpg" height="400" width="250" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="color: #351c75; font-size: x-large;">It’s not easy being the Queen Bee.</span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="color: #351c75; font-size: x-large;">Alice Taylor should know.</span></i></b></div>
<div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #351c75;"><b><i>You know </i>that<i> girl. The one that the whole school’s social life seems to revolve around. Alice used to be that girl until she decided to quit sixth form college. Suddenly her ‘friends’ aren’t so interested in following her around and her attention-grabbing behaviour is about to get her kicked out of home. With nowhere to go and no one to turn to, her world starts spiralling seriously out of control.</i></b></span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #351c75;"><i><b>Only new friend Zac Newton seems to believe in her. Lifeguard and poolside hottie, Zac is quite literally her lifesaver. But then, he’s never met ‘Malice’, her mean-girl alter ego, and Alice wants to keep it that way. She knows this is her last chance for a fresh start until her sordid past catches up with her at the worst possible moment.</b></i></span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify;">
<i><b><span style="color: #351c75;">As everything Alice has worked towards comes crashing down around her, she realises that the hardest thing of all is being yourself…</span></b></i></blockquote>
<br />
<h2>
Giveaway...</h2>
<br />
To celebrate the release, I am running a <b><u>giveaway</u></b> on Facebook and Twitter; all you have to do is share a photo of you with A Girl Called Malice open on your ereader or tablet. Simple!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-i4UkrPOFbTU/VC6JDchr4NI/AAAAAAAACbc/HOnNYvcuqZA/s1600/Malice_release%2Bweekend%2Bgiveaway.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-i4UkrPOFbTU/VC6JDchr4NI/AAAAAAAACbc/HOnNYvcuqZA/s1600/Malice_release%2Bweekend%2Bgiveaway.gif" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<h2>
Buy it now...</h2>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6cwbuM6c8lA/VC6JKaVWWJI/AAAAAAAACbk/U-HpLg_FWJY/s1600/A%2BGirl%2BCalled%2BMalice2%2B(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6cwbuM6c8lA/VC6JKaVWWJI/AAAAAAAACbk/U-HpLg_FWJY/s1600/A%2BGirl%2BCalled%2BMalice2%2B(2).jpg" height="200" width="125" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18884761-a-girl-called-malice" target="_blank">Add to Goodreads</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<i>Released: 3rd October 2014</i><br />
<i>ISBN: 978-1-474-00755-9</i><br />
<br />
Amazon <a href="http://ow.ly/C531N" target="_blank">UK</a> ¦ <a href="http://ow.ly/C53bc" target="_blank">US</a><br />
<a href="http://ow.ly/C53uQ" target="_blank">Kobo</a><br />
<a href="http://www.nook.com/gb/ebooks/a-girl-called-malice-by-aurelia-b-rowl/9781474007559" target="_blank">Nook UK</a><br />
<a href="https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Aurelia_B_Rowl_A_Girl_Called_Malice?id=ecaXBAAAQBAJ" target="_blank">Google Books</a><br />
<a href="http://www.sainsburysebooks.co.uk/book/A-Girl-Called-Malice-Aurelia-B-Rowl/7957948" target="_blank">Sainsbury's</a><br />
<a href="https://www.blinkboxbooks.com/#!/book/9781474007559/a-girl-called-malice" target="_blank">Blinkbox (Tesco)</a><br />
<a href="http://www.ebooks.com/1793780/a-girl-called-malice/b-rowl-aurelia/" target="_blank">eBooks.com</a><br />
<br />
<br />
More links will be added to the <i><a href="http://www.aureliabrowl.com/a-girl-called-malice.html" target="_blank">A Girl Called Malice</a></i> page of my website as they go live.<br />
<br />
I hope you love A Girl Called Malice...and Alice...as much as I do!<br />
<br />
Happy reading,<br />
Aurelia x<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Aurelia B Rowlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17679519080629201534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885541739829180339.post-37228909939652480862014-09-22T16:22:00.000+01:002014-10-14T11:50:01.353+01:00COVER REVEAL... A Girl Called MaliceIt's all getting very exciting with the standalone sequel to <i><a href="http://www.aureliabrowl.com/popping-the-cherry.html" target="_blank">Popping the Cherry</a></i> less than a fortnight away from release, and today I am delighted to reveal the cover for <i><a href="http://www.aureliabrowl.com/a-girl-called-malice.html" target="_blank">A Girl Called Malice</a></i>...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7dRL61EAiuw/VCAlVEOl5xI/AAAAAAAACX4/mgA_LPXzpjM/s1600/A%2BGirl%2BCalled%2BMalice2%2B(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7dRL61EAiuw/VCAlVEOl5xI/AAAAAAAACX4/mgA_LPXzpjM/s1600/A%2BGirl%2BCalled%2BMalice2%2B(2).jpg" height="640" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<b><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;"><i>It’s not easy being the Queen Bee. Alice Taylor should know. </i></span></b></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: purple;">You know <i>that</i> girl. The one that the whole school’s social life seems to revolve around. Alice used to be that girl until she decided to quit sixth form college. Suddenly her ‘friends’ aren’t so interested in following her around and her attention-grabbing behaviour is about to get her kicked out of home. With nowhere to go and no one to turn to, her world starts spiralling seriously out of control.</span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: purple;">Only new friend Zac Newton seems to believe in her. Lifeguard and poolside hottie, Zac is quite literally her lifesaver. But then, he’s never met ‘Malice’, her mean-girl alter ego, and Alice wants to keep it that way. She knows this is her last chance for a fresh start until her sordid past catches up with her at the worst possible moment.</span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: purple;">As everything Alice has worked towards comes crashing down around her, she realises that the hardest thing of all is being yourself…</span></div>
</blockquote>
I am so ridiculously excited that it's almost time for you to get your hands on Alice's story; I hope you learn to forgive her and let her into your hearts.<br />
<br />
On that note, I shall be back with the pre-order/buy links as soon as they are available but in the meantime, I'd love it if you could add it to your TBR list today...<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18884761-a-girl-called-malice" style="border: none;" target="_blank"><img alt="Popping the Cherry" src="https://www.goodreads.com/images/atmb_add_book-70x25.png" /></a></div>
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<script src="http://www.goodreads.com/book/add_to_books_widget_frame/18884761?atmb_widget%5Bbutton%5D=atmb_widget_1.png" type="text/javascript"></script>Aurelia B Rowlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17679519080629201534noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885541739829180339.post-71333740155258029062014-09-19T10:07:00.000+01:002014-09-22T16:43:10.505+01:00Revealed...a brand new look for Popping the CherryI can hardly believe it but <i><a href="http://www.aureliabrowl.com/popping-the-cherry.html" target="_blank">Popping the Cherry</a></i> celebrates its first anniversary today and I am delighted to reveal that it has a whole new look...<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wk9b7FPbdZU/VBvxjuNUTXI/AAAAAAAACXY/y_I4UdBC4ns/s1600/Popping%2Bthe%2BCherry%2BRJ%2B(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wk9b7FPbdZU/VBvxjuNUTXI/AAAAAAAACXY/y_I4UdBC4ns/s1600/Popping%2Bthe%2BCherry%2BRJ%2B(2).jpg" height="640" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Buy links and first chapter <a href="http://www.aureliabrowl.com/popping-the-cherry.html" target="_blank">HERE</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Isn't it lovely?<br />
<br />
If you've not yet read it, get in quick before book two, <i>A Girl Called Malice</i>, is released in a matter of weeks.Aurelia B Rowlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17679519080629201534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885541739829180339.post-54253415199551157002014-09-10T11:30:00.001+01:002014-09-10T11:30:54.506+01:00Summer is over so it's back to work...<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DioTNTQMvSY/VBAj8bwXSOI/AAAAAAAACXA/SF5iFI_tePQ/s1600/english_countryside%2B(needs%2Bcredit%2Bto%2Bimage%2Bwww.freeimages.co.uk%2Bor%2Bsize-isnt-everything.co.uk).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DioTNTQMvSY/VBAj8bwXSOI/AAAAAAAACXA/SF5iFI_tePQ/s1600/english_countryside%2B(needs%2Bcredit%2Bto%2Bimage%2Bwww.freeimages.co.uk%2Bor%2Bsize-isnt-everything.co.uk).jpg" height="133" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(c) <a href="http://www.freeimages.co.uk/" target="_blank">Image credit</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Hey everyone!<br />
<br />
The school holidays are over and the kids are back at school so I figured an update was long overdue, especially with lots of exciting stuff still to come this year.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AifhTLhdhjE/VBAlKD9CS2I/AAAAAAAACXI/TWUXeJvtu_k/s1600/2014-08-09%2B19.22.41.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AifhTLhdhjE/VBAlKD9CS2I/AAAAAAAACXI/TWUXeJvtu_k/s1600/2014-08-09%2B19.22.41.jpg" height="200" width="112" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">WalkTen (c) ABR</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Our summer started with the kids' sponsored 10K walk at Tatton Park to raise funds for Marie Curie, which The Hub and I therefore did too, but it was a lovely evening rounded off beautifully with fireworks.<br />
<br />
We then took ourselves off to North Wales for a couple of weeks over the holidays. The weather wasn't great but we still managed to get around several castles, a spooky house in Conway, the Welsh Mountain Zoo, and various jaunts to the beach.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-k6DBcktrZb8/VBAcDcbjWOI/AAAAAAAACWw/OqRkNMicB8k/s1600/2014-08-27%2B17.27.21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-k6DBcktrZb8/VBAcDcbjWOI/AAAAAAAACWw/OqRkNMicB8k/s1600/2014-08-27%2B17.27.21.jpg" height="50" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Puffin Island (N. Wales) (c) ABR</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The good and bad thing about where we stay is the lack of phone signal, let alone no WiFi, so I always find it hard when I'm such an internet junkie. On the upside, I got a lot of reading done once the kids were in bed for the night which you can see on my 'Just Finished' shelf on Goodreads if you're interested.<br />
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/6976785-aurelia-rowl?shelf=just-finished&utm_medium=api&utm_source=grid_widget" style="text-decoration: none;">Aurelia's just-finished book montage</a><br />
</h2>
<div class="gr_grid_container">
<div class="gr_grid_book_container">
<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18718354-bewitched-bothered-and-bewildered" title="Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered"><img alt="Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered" border="0" src="https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1382908836s/18718354.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="gr_grid_book_container">
<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/20468473-let-s-call-the-whole-thing-off" title="Let's Call The Whole Thing Off"><img alt="Let's Call The Whole Thing Off" border="0" src="https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1389094298s/20468473.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="gr_grid_book_container">
<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22070303-reasons-not-to-fall-in-love" title="Reasons Not to Fall in Love"><img alt="Reasons Not to Fall in Love" border="0" src="https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1400733076s/22070303.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="gr_grid_book_container">
<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/9419029-simply-irresistible" title="Simply Irresistible (Lucky Harbor, #1)"><img alt="Simply Irresistible" border="0" src="https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1328310103s/9419029.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="gr_grid_book_container">
<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17411944-the-millionaire-tempted-fate" title="The Millionaire Tempted Fate"><img alt="The Millionaire Tempted Fate" border="0" src="https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1361719264s/17411944.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="gr_grid_book_container">
<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/19165486-making-it-good-enough" title="Making It Good Enough (Good Enough, #3)"><img alt="Making It Good Enough" border="0" src="https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1386111794s/19165486.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="gr_grid_book_container">
<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22371287-one-hundred-proposals" title="One Hundred Proposals"><img alt="One Hundred Proposals" border="0" src="https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1402651097s/22371287.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="gr_grid_book_container">
<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22375706-the-bookshop-on-the-corner" title="The Bookshop on the Corner (A Gingerbread Cafe story #3)"><img alt="The Bookshop on the Corner" border="0" src="https://s.gr-assets.com/assets/nophoto/book/50x75-6121bf4c1f669098041843ec9650ca19.png" /></a></div>
<div class="gr_grid_book_container">
<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17930779-the-language-of-spells" title="The Language of Spells"><img alt="The Language of Spells" border="0" src="https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1368805138s/17930779.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="gr_grid_book_container">
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On the writing front, the year so far has been all about Malice, the mean girl from <b><i>Popping the Cherry</i></b>, and getting her story down on paper. All being well, <b><i>A Girl Called Malice</i></b> will be hitting the virtual shelves on October 3rd and I <u>cannot wait</u> for you to read her story. In associated news, <b><i>Popping the Cherry</i></b> is being repackaged with a new cover to tie in with <b><i>A Girl Called Malice</i></b> so I hope to have those to share with you soon. All very exciting!<br />
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Also coming soon is the re-release of <b><i>Christmas is Cancelled</i></b> on December 1st and I cannot begin to tell you how thrilled I am for my debut story to be taken under the Harlequin wing. Sadly it will mean a new cover, even though I adore the original one, but I have high hopes for what the Carina UK team will come up with.<br />
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Next up is an 'Allie' project but after that, it's back into the world of <b><i>Popping the Cherry</i></b> to get stuck into books 3 and 4. I've already been given the nod by my editor so book 3 is going to be Nathan's story and book 4 will be Flick's story assuming everything goes to plan. Even though the books are all interlinked, with the storyline and timelines overlapping, you can read them as standalone stories and out of order if you don't mind the spoilers in the subsequent books.<br />
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If anybody is interested in joining my team, <b><i>Aurelia's Antics</i></b>, on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/AureliasR2R/" target="_blank">Facebook</a> and/or <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/group/show/106616" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> to get sneak previews and hidden insights along with access to advance review copies, just send a request to join or get in touch.<br />
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Anyway, even waffling, I have a book trailer to make and much to do (including a new release as Allie this month) so I'd better crack on with it. Next time I post, it will hopefully be with gorgeous new covers so make sure you're following me.<br />
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Bye for now,<br />
Aurelia x<br />
<br />Aurelia B Rowlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17679519080629201534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885541739829180339.post-14502153163630163312014-07-31T11:37:00.000+01:002014-07-31T17:14:13.876+01:00Twenty Questions with... A.L. MichaelI am delighted to welcome fellow Carina UK chum, A.L. Michael, onto my blog today, author of <i><a href="http://www.carinauk.com/the-last-word" target="_blank">The Last Word</a></i>.<br />
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You can read even more about her and her London roots <a href="http://www.carinauk.com/writing-london-romance-and-sarcasm-in-the-city" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
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<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6aa84f;">ACT ONE – all about you…</span></h2>
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<i><span style="color: #999999;">A.L. Michael is a twenty something writer from London. She works as a creative facilitator, running workshops in creative writing, writing for wellbeing, and children's lessons. She has a BA in English Literature with Creative Writing, an MA in Creative Entrepreneurship, and is working towards an MsC in Creative Writing for Therapeutic Purposes. She is not at all reliant on her student discount card.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #999999;">When she's not writing or talking about writing, she bakes, runs, plays with her puppy, and gets continually distracted by shiny things on Pinterest.</span></i></div>
<br /><br /><b>1) Have you always been a writer or is it something you fell into?</b><br />
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<i><span style="color: purple;">Always, absolutely always. I decided at 11 that it was what I wanted to do, and I never wavered.</span></i><br />
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<b>2) Do you have a particular writing style or ritual?</b><br />
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<i><span style="color: purple;">When I was younger I’d make a black coffee, have a cigarette and sit down to write. The only thing missing from the cliche was a beret and some bongos. Now I just sit and get on with it. Usually I do admin in the morning, and by early afternoon I’ve worked my way into it.</span></i><br />
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<b>3) Is there a book or an author that has influenced you in your writing?</b><br />
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<i><span style="color: purple;">I think the books you read when you’re younger really influence you, and Sarra Manning always had a big effect. I read her column and her books through reading J17 Magazine as a kid, and just was absorbed. I still read her books now. It was the first time I thought ‘there are authors out there, who do this as their job, who are real people’. It was an exciting thought!</span></i><br />
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<b>4) Is there one piece of writing (or life?) advice that has stuck with you, or that you would like to share?</b><br />
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<span style="color: purple;"><i>It’s my main one, and it’s sort of a pet peeve: if you’re talking about writing, you’re not writing. Don’t waste time telling people about your characters or that line in chapter 12 that’s just genius- WRITE! I feel like talking dilutes your story, and it stops it being about you. The writers I know who want to talk about their work all the time never seem to finish a book.</i></span><br />
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<b>5) Can you tell us three things about yourself that we probably don’t already know?</b><br />
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<i><span style="color: purple;">I’m half Greek Cypriot.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: purple;">I can only sing ‘How Much Is That Doggy In The Window’ backwards, because Mum thought it would be funny.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: purple;">I am obsessed with Corgis.</span></i><br />
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<b>6) What five luxury items or gadgets would you hate to be without?</b><br />
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<i><span style="color: purple;">My Mac! Do everything on it to the point where it may as well be attached.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: purple;">My Iphone- ditto.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: purple;">Benefit make-up, because it’s magical and the designs are all really cool.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: purple;">Wine! That’s a luxury, right?</span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: purple;">My Kindle- I’m a convert. Plus I have less back pain from lugging around books in my bag all the time.</span></i><br />
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<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6aa84f;">ACT TWO – all about your new release…</span></h2>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RbEPBCsG4wU/U9o6DfpUBGI/AAAAAAAACVU/42kh5I0PaNg/s1600/9781472095237_Cover.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RbEPBCsG4wU/U9o6DfpUBGI/AAAAAAAACVU/42kh5I0PaNg/s1600/9781472095237_Cover.jpeg" height="400" width="250" /></a></div>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: magenta;">Tabby Riley’s online life was a roaring success. Her blog had hundreds of followers, and legions of young fans ardently awaited her every Tweet. Her real life was a bit more of a disappointment. Living in a shared flat in North London, scratching a living writing magazine articles on ‘How To Please Your Man in Bed’ wasn’t where she thought she’d be at twenty-six – especially when there was a serious lack of action in her own bedroom.</span></i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: magenta;">Although that might all be about to change when she’s offered a position at online newspaper The Type as a real journalist – and gains a sexy new editor, Harry Shulman, to work with. Harry’s confident, smooth talking, and completely aware that he drives Tabby mad. Which is fine, because Tabby’s dated an editor before, and it’s never happening again. Ever. But as her reputation at the paper grows, Tabby has to wonder: is it time to get out from behind the screen and live her life in the real world?</span></i></blockquote>
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<b>7) Congratulations on your recent release of <i>The Last Word,</i> what was your inspiration for writing Tabby’s story?</b><br />
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<i><span style="color: purple;">I felt a lot like Tabby at the time of writing it- I was mid-twenties, in a bit of a career slump, and nothing seemed to be changing. I wanted to write about what it felt like to be a graduate, in one of the greatest cities in the world, and feeling stagnant and irritated that these big dreams weren’t happening.</span></i><br />
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<b>8) Did the story flow from your finger tips or did some scenes take a bit of cajoling?</b><br />
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<i><span style="color: purple;">It happened pretty naturally, but I think that’s because I was writing it just for me. I’d never planned to even show it to anybody!</span></i><br />
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<b>9) How long did it take for the initial spark of the story to make it onto the page and then onto the publisher’s desk?</b><br />
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<i><span style="color: purple;">I wrote it over a few months, maybe five or so? Then I left it until I saw Carina accepting submissions, did some editing, and sent it off. I think they got back about six weeks later. So in total it was just under a year from creation to being accepted.</span></i><br />
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<b>10) Do you have a favourite paragraph or sentence from your story that you would like to tantalise us with?</b><br />
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<span style="color: blue;">‘So, how are you, Tabby? Good weekend?’ </span></blockquote>
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<span style="color: blue;">Tabby thought back to the five am trip back on the nightbus, and how she’d narrowly avoided throwing up in a rubbish bin on the side of the road, ‘I’d call it a success. You?’</span></blockquote>
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<span style="color: blue;">‘Oh, absolutely a success.’ How did he get his eyes to twinkle like that? And his voice had lowered to a deliciously dirty level. Her lips quirked up, and then she shook it off, trying to get back to professionalism. If there was anything she’d learnt since her journalistic fall from grace all those years ago, it was ‘Do not trust your editor’. And whilst Harry was cute, he was also an arsehole. An arsehole who was there to make money from her. So there was no point playing nice.</span></blockquote>
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<b>11) Over to you, what can you tell us about The Last Word, to make us rush out and buy it?</b><br />
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<i><span style="color: purple;">There’s lots of snarky, sarcastic banter between the characters, lots of sexual tension and great friendships. I let me characters actually have the right comebacks at the right time, because I never do!</span></i><br />
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<b>12) What can we expect from you next? Is there something you are working on right now?</b><br />
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<i><span style="color: purple;">My next novel, <b>Without You To Hold</b>, comes out in the autumn, and it’s Christmassy and lovely, and I’m really excited about it. After that a return to snarky, angry girls of London in <b>The Young and Bitter Club</b>, which will be out in the new year.</span></i><br />
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<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6aa84f;">QUICK FIRE ROUND – it’s pop quiz time…</span></h2>
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<b>13) Plotter or pantser?</b><br />
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<i><span style="color: purple;">Tiny bit of plotter, mostly pantser</span></i><br />
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<b>14) Digital books or print books?</b><br />
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<i><span style="color: purple;">Both! Digital mostly, print for beautiful editions.</span></i><br />
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<b>15) Tea or coffee?</b><br />
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<i><span style="color: purple;">Tea, unless I need a massive boost.</span></i><br />
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<b>16) Extrovert or introvert?</b><br />
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<i><span style="color: purple;">Highly functioning introvert</span></i><br />
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<b>17) Facebook or Twitter?</b><br />
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<i><span style="color: purple;">Facebook</span></i><br />
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<b>18) Christmas or birthday? </b><br />
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<i><span style="color: purple;">Birthday</span></i><br />
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<b>19) Morning person or night owl?</b><br />
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<i><span style="color: purple;">Morning</span></i><br />
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<b>20) Sweet or savoury?</b><br />
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<i><span style="color: purple;">Sweet</span></i><br />
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<b>And that’s a wrap!</b><br />
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Thank you so much for taking part, Andi, I wish you every success with your new release.<br />
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To discover even more about A.L. Michael, and to keep up with her latest projects, you can visit her at:<br />
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<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.almichael.com/" target="_blank">Website</a> <a href="http://www.twitter.com/almichael_" target="_blank">Twitter</a> <a href="http://facebook.com/almichaelwriter" target="_blank">Facebook</a></h2>
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<h2>
<span style="color: #6aa84f;">Buy it now…</span></h2>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RbEPBCsG4wU/U9o6DfpUBGI/AAAAAAAACVU/42kh5I0PaNg/s1600/9781472095237_Cover.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RbEPBCsG4wU/U9o6DfpUBGI/AAAAAAAACVU/42kh5I0PaNg/s1600/9781472095237_Cover.jpeg" height="200" width="125" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/21855688-the-last-word" target="_blank">Add to Goodreads</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<i><span style="color: #999999;">ISBN: 9781472095237</span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #999999;">Release date: 27th May 2014</span></i><br />
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<a href="http://www.carinauk.com/the-last-word" target="_blank">Carina UK</a> / <a href="http://www.millsandboon.co.uk/the-last-word" target="_blank">Mills & Boon</a><br />
Amazon <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B00JMGU0NA?ie=UTF8&camp=3194&creative=21330&creativeASIN=B00JMGU0NA&linkCode=shr&tag=aurbrow-21&linkId=7E6BAHOL3XVEECRL" target="_blank">UK</a> / <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00JMGU0NA?ie=UTF8&camp=213733&creative=393177&creativeASIN=B00JMGU0NA&linkCode=shr&tag=aubro-20&linkId=6CS56MJ22DKSF2T4" target="_blank">US</a><br />
<a href="https://itunes.apple.com/gb/book/the-last-word/id860736208?mt=11" target="_blank">iBooks</a><br />
Nook <a href="http://www.nook.com/gb/ebooks/the-last-word-by-a-l-michael/9781472095237" target="_blank">UK</a> / <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-last-word-a-l-michael/1119274689?ean=9781472095237" target="_blank">B&N</a><br />
<a href="http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/the-last-word-17" target="_blank">Kobo</a><br />
<a href="https://play.google.com/store/books/details/A_L_Michael_The_Last_Word?id=NomDAwAAQBAJ" target="_blank">Google Play</a><br />
<a href="https://www.blinkboxbooks.com/#!/book/9781472095237/the-last-word" target="_blank">Blinkbox</a> (Tesco)<br />
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<br />Aurelia B Rowlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17679519080629201534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885541739829180339.post-54752816041298613792014-07-26T10:00:00.000+01:002014-07-26T17:19:29.962+01:00Twenty Questions with... Terri NixonI am delighted to welcome Terri Nixon onto my blog today, author of <i><a href="http://www.carinauk.com/a-rose-in-flanders-fields" target="_blank">A Rose in Flanders Fields</a></i> released last week by Carina (Harlequin UK).<br />
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Even better, you can snap up a copy for a bargain price in honour of the 100 year commemoration of WW1.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LxB9UAdE6ic/U9PTf3iXGgI/AAAAAAAACTk/zBDYYrC2LNw/s1600/Sale+banner.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LxB9UAdE6ic/U9PTf3iXGgI/AAAAAAAACTk/zBDYYrC2LNw/s1600/Sale+banner.gif" height="178" width="400" /></a></div>
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<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6aa84f;">ACT ONE – all about you…</span></h2>
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<i style="text-align: justify;">Terri was born in Plymouth, England in 1965. At the age of 9 she moved with her family to Cornwall, to a small village on the edge of Bodmin Moor, where she discovered a love of writing that has stayed with her ever since. She also discovered apple-scrumping, and how to jump out of a hayloft without breaking any bones, but no-one's ever offered to pay her for doing those.</i></div>
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<i>Terri now lives in Plymouth with her youngest son, and works in the Faculty of Arts and Humanities at Plymouth University, where she is constantly baffled by the number of students who don't possess pens.</i></div>
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<b>1) Have you always been a writer or is it something you fell into?</b></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">I’ve written (mostly nonsense) for as long as I can remember; all through school I was the sad one who gave a secret fist-pump under the desk whenever the word ‘essay’ was mentioned. I used to write stories for my friends, featuring boys they fancied – my first taste of “fan-fic!” </span></i></div>
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<b>2) Do you have a particular writing style or ritual?</b></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">This will sound odd, and probably counter-productive, but the first thing I do is open and play Bejeweled Blitz! It’s the best way to relax the mind, zone out of reality and into wherever/whenever I’m writing about. I play two or three games, thinking about the book, then I’m ready to go! I keep it open for when I hit snags, and while I play I talk – usually out loud – about the problem, and the solutions nearly always appear. Plus, I get kick-ass scores because I’m not thinking about the game! ;)</span></i></div>
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<b>3) Is there a book or an author that has influenced you in your writing?</b></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">The <b>‘Outlander’</b> series by Diana Gabaldon, which I’ve been reading and re-reading for more years than I can actually work out. Diana writes relationships and situations of intense beauty and brutality, so real you can’t help but live the story instead of just reading it. Her writing is just superb, and her characters are faceted, flawed and vibrant, never black and white – I dream of writing with the same fire and flair. </span></i></div>
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<b>4) Is there one piece of writing (or life?) advice that has stuck with you, or that you would like to share?</b></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">This is something I received in a handwritten note from Dean Koontz some time ago, after I wrote to him, and I look at it every day: </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: blue;">“Good luck with your own writing. Do it always for the love of doing it, and in my experience the success will follow. Although also in my experience, perhaps slowly!”</span></i></blockquote>
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<b>5) Can you tell us three things about yourself that we probably don’t already know?</b></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">Ooh-er. Okay, let’s think!</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">1. I was a founder member and chair of a motorcycle club. So I’m a bona fide, fully-licensed biker chick!</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">2. I did a solo (static line) parachute jump 2 weeks before I got married, back in the middle-ages.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">3. I played “Ronnette” (one of the three singing girls) in a production of Little Shop of Horrors in the Barbican Theatre here in Plymouth. Also back in the mists of time. I’m very dull nowadays…</span></i></div>
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<b>6) What five luxury items or gadgets would you hate to be without?</b></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">1. My laptop.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">2. My phone.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">3. My Kindle</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">4. Savoury snackage</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">5. Wine. Yes, I really am that shallow!</span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #6aa84f;">ACT TWO – all about your new release…</span></h2>
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<i><span style="color: magenta;">Driving an ambulance through the mud in Flanders, aristocrat Evie Creswell is a long way from home. At Oaklands Manor all she had been expected to do was to look pretty and make a good marriage. But with the arrival of World War One everything changed…</span></i></blockquote>
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<i><span style="color: magenta;">And Evie, to the horror of her family, does not choose a husband from her blue-blooded set; instead she weds artist Will Davies, who works as a butcher’s apprentice. Soon she is struggling nightly to transport the wounded to hospital, avoiding the shells and gas attacks – her privileged home life, and her family’s disappointment at her marriage, a lifetime away. </span></i></blockquote>
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<span style="color: magenta;"><i>And while Evie drives an ambulance in Belgium, Will is in the trenches in France. He withdraws from her, the trauma of his experience taking hold. Evie has the courage to deal with her war work, but it breaks her heart to think she is losing Will’s love. Can their marriage survive this terrible war? That is, if they both get out alive…</i></span></blockquote>
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<b>7) Congratulations on your recent release of <i>A Rose in Flanders Fields.</i> what was your inspiration for writing Evie’s story?</b></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">Thank you so much! Evie was a character in the previous book, <b>Maid of Oaklands Manor</b>, although not the main character. She was, if you like, my main character’s main character! I liked the way she came through in Oaklands, she showed herself to be sparky and slightly rebellious, and I’d already decided I wanted to explore what she got up to during the war years, perhaps as a companion novella looking at some of the other characters, since Oaklands was told in the first person. Happily it turned into a full-length novel though. Again, it is written in the first person which hopefully brings the reader deeper into her mind during an extremely turbulent time.</span></i></div>
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<b>8) Did the story flow from your finger tips or did some scenes take a bit of cajoling?</b></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">It’s a fairly complex storyline, so it took a lot of planning, and the research had to be as spot-on as I could make it, but each individual scene came very easily once I’d fixed in my mind where I wanted to go with it. Both books in this series, and now the third, which I’m working on now, have flowed very naturally and have been a joyful experience to write. I’ve loved every minute!</span></i></div>
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<b>9) How long did it take for the initial spark of the story to make it onto the page and then onto the publisher’s desk?</b></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">As I mentioned before, I’d had the initial idea while Oaklands was being written, so all-in-all it took about 2 years from conception to acceptance. But it was written very quickly once I got going!</span></i></div>
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<b>10) Do you have a favourite paragraph or sentence from your story that you would like to tantalise us with?</b></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">It seems logical to give you the first sentence here! </span></i></div>
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<span style="color: blue;">“The explosion was more than a noise, it was a pressure and a fist, and a scream that started in the pit of my stomach and flashed outward through every nerve.”</span></blockquote>
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<b>11) Over to you, what can you tell us about <i>A Rose in Flanders Fields,</i> to make us rush out and buy it?</b></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">At a time when the world is remembering the outbreak of the Great War, this book takes you through it in the company of a young woman of great determination and courage, who is faced with the grim reality that sometimes the only choices you have left are the wrong ones. Yet those choices must still be made. </span></i></div>
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<b>12) What can we expect from you next? Is there something you are working on right now? </b></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">The third book in the Oaklands Manor Trilogy, <b>Daughter of Dark River Farm</b>, tells the story of Kitty, Evie’s former companion in Flanders, now a Land Girl in Devon. Kitty’s experience at the Western Front forms a major part of the events in <b>A Rose in Flanders Fields</b>, and we continue it in book 3.</span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #6aa84f;">QUICK FIRE ROUND – it’s pop quiz time…</span></h2>
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<b>13) Plotter or pantser?</b></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">Happy pantser, with a twist of obsessive plotter!</span></i></div>
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<b>14) Digital books or print books?</b></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">Print. But I do love my Kindle!</span></i></div>
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<b>15) Tea or coffee?</b></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">Coffee</span></i></div>
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<b>16) Extrovert or introvert?</b></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">Is there such a thing as a painfully shy extrovert? That’s me.</span></i></div>
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<b>17) Facebook or Twitter?</b></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">Both! Far too much!</span></i></div>
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<b>18) Christmas or birthday? </b></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">Christmas, all the way. I’m a big kid.</span></i></div>
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<b>19) Morning person or night owl?</b></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">Morning person. Particularly for writing.</span></i></div>
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<b>20) Sweet or savoury?</b></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">Savoury! (see ‘luxury item’ #4!)</span></i></div>
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<b>And that’s a wrap!</b></div>
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Thank you so much for taking part, Terri, I wish you every success with your new release.</div>
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To discover even more about Terri Nixon, and to keep up with her latest projects, you can visit her at:</div>
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<a href="http://www.facebook.com/terri.authorpage" target="_blank">Facebook</a> <a href="http://www.twitter.com/TerriNixon" target="_blank">Twitter</a> <a href="http://www.terrinixon.com/" target="_blank">Website</a> </h2>
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<span style="color: #6aa84f;">Buy it now…</span></h2>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DNmW5VT5e2U/U81DeIVUnEI/AAAAAAAACTU/HftU9ok0gqI/s1600/Cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DNmW5VT5e2U/U81DeIVUnEI/AAAAAAAACTU/HftU9ok0gqI/s1600/Cover.jpg" height="200" width="125" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22611246-a-rose-in-flanders-fields" target="_blank">Add to Goodreads</a></td></tr>
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<i>Released: 17th July 2014</i></div>
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<i>ISBN: 9781472096470</i></div>
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<a href="http://www.carinauk.com/a-rose-in-flanders-fields" target="_blank">Carina UK</a></div>
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Amazon <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B00KQOI5AW?ie=UTF8&camp=3194&creative=21330&creativeASIN=B00KQOI5AW&linkCode=shr&tag=aurbrow-21" target="_blank">UK</a> / <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00KQOI5AW?ie=UTF8&camp=213733&creative=393177&creativeASIN=B00KQOI5AW&linkCode=shr&tag=aubro-20&linkId=HYKE2JNDLUT2TBGD" target="_blank">US</a></div>
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<a href="https://itunes.apple.com/gb/book/rose-in-flanders-fields-oaklands/id885628940?mt=11" target="_blank">iBooks</a><br />
<a href="http://www.nook.com/gb/ebooks/a-rose-in-flanders-fields-the-oaklands-manor-trilogy-book-2-by-terri-nixon/9781472096470" target="_blank">Nook UK</a> / <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-rose-in-flanders-fields-terri-nixon/1119932246?ean=9781472096470" target="_blank">B&N</a><br />
<a href="http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/a-rose-in-flanders-fields-the-oaklands-manor-trilogy-book-2" target="_blank">Kobo</a><br />
<a href="https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Terri_Nixon_A_Rose_in_Flanders_Fields_The_Oaklands?id=b-u2AwAAQBAJ" target="_blank">Google Play</a></div>
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<a href="https://www.blinkboxbooks.com/#!/book/9781472096470/a-rose-in-flanders-fields" target="_blank">Blinkbox (Tesco)</a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Don't forget, you can snap it up for just 99p/99c for a limited time only!</b></div>
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<h2>
<span style="color: #6aa84f;">Excerpt…</span></h2>
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We’d arrived in the late autumn of 1914 and collected as much bedding as we could find, but the luxury of gathering equipment, setting up what we’d imagined would be our sweet little dressing station, with comfort and curtains, and hot drinks for the Tommies, was not to be. We were thrown into it right away, attached to the Unit a couple of miles away, and, with no field telephone, we quickly grew acccustomed to the shrill whistle of the runner on his bicycle as he summoned us to duty. Days blurred into long, cold nights, weeks into months while we battled extremes of boredom and terror, and we faithfully wrote our sunny, “gosh it’s exciting being in the thick of it!” letters home so our parents could boast about us to their friends. Heaven forbid they should find out what we actually did, night after night, I’m not certain Mother would have sat quietly at home if she’d known.</div>
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Our own tentative excitement had been bashed out of us after the first, awful night. With nothing of our own base ready, we’d volunteered our services at least and turned out to help the Red Cross, lining up with the other drivers at the railway station. The trains had come in; old, rattling things in these early days of the war, filled from end to end with wounded. Weeping men; silent men; angry, bewildered men; men numbed with misery and mute with horror … dear God, was Will in danger of becoming one of these?</div>
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We’d sat, still and shocked, while the orderlies loaded us up and barked our load: four stretchers, one sitter, and then driven, somehow, to the sergeant at the gate. ‘Four stretchers, one sitter,’ I repeated, stumbling over the impersonal words that were supposed to somehow explain the softly moaning, tangled mass of humanity I was carrying.<br />
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He consulted his clip-board. ‘Number Five.’ He waved us through, and we were on our way. Where was Number Five? I was utterly lost, both mentally and geographically, but we found Number Five hospital mercifully quickly and were unloaded. Then it was back again; the train was still crammed with men awaiting their turn. Or their deaths. As dawn raked the sky with glorious pink rays that belied the tragedy beneath it, Boxy and I returned, in trembling silence, to our beds. Different women. Grown up in the space of a few horrific and nauseating hours.</div>
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Aurelia B Rowlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17679519080629201534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885541739829180339.post-45981106670659781912014-07-21T07:58:00.000+01:002014-07-21T07:58:52.459+01:00Spotlight on... Flying with Fire by Emma Mills<a href="http://www.witchbloodthenovel.com/2014/07/flying-with-fire-mini-tour.html" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" target="_blank"><img alt=" photo c81f4cf5-62d1-40c8-aba5-1d219f79b6fc_zpsb95436c9.jpg" border="0" src="http://i1267.photobucket.com/albums/jj560/EmmaMwriter/c81f4cf5-62d1-40c8-aba5-1d219f79b6fc_zpsb95436c9.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a><br />
It is my pleasure to welcome bestselling Indie author, Emma Mills, back onto my blog for her mini blog tour to celebrate the release of <i><b>Flying With Fire</b></i> - you can check out the rest of the tour by clicking on the tour poster - and, oh boy, do I have a teaser for you!<br />
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HINT: Make sure you scroll all the way down since there is a giveaway too ;-)<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tyAhkYB_CGc/U8u9izxVhBI/AAAAAAAACS4/ViUXibmCivE/s1600/Teaser.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tyAhkYB_CGc/U8u9izxVhBI/AAAAAAAACS4/ViUXibmCivE/s1600/Teaser.gif" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(click to enlarge)</td></tr>
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<h2>
<span style="color: #6aa84f;">The blurb...</span></h2>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0MIFGjgviec/U8u3U0NWIBI/AAAAAAAACSo/uCvufHnoMjA/s1600/FWF+Official+Cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0MIFGjgviec/U8u3U0NWIBI/AAAAAAAACSo/uCvufHnoMjA/s1600/FWF+Official+Cover.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<b><i><br /></i></b>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify;">
<b><i><span style="color: magenta;">Nobody who enters Ravenwood school will ever be the same again.</span></i></b></blockquote>
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<span style="color: magenta;"><i>Fifteen year old Brooke has been in care all her life. Now she finally has an adoptive family who don’t want to send her back to The Home; but their solution for her problems is much more dangerous.</i></span></blockquote>
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<span style="color: magenta;"><i>A secret boarding school for possessed children. A boarding school where any unnatural behaviour will be stamped out. A boarding school with no escape; where witchcraft is punished and vampires are murdered in the sunlight.</i></span></blockquote>
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<i><span style="color: magenta;">Brooke is the only one with the power to escape the security wards, yet she must find a way to help them all before it is too late.</span></i></blockquote>
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<h2>
<span style="color: #6aa84f;">Buy it now...</span></h2>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0MIFGjgviec/U8u3U0NWIBI/AAAAAAAACSs/duOr6uPLOTk/s1600/FWF+Official+Cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0MIFGjgviec/U8u3U0NWIBI/AAAAAAAACSs/duOr6uPLOTk/s1600/FWF+Official+Cover.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22586159-flying-with-fire" target="_blank">Add to Goodreads</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<i>Released: 17th July 2014</i><br />
<i>ISBN: 9781310402968</i><br />
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Amazon <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B00LV5EIKQ?ie=UTF8&camp=3194&creative=21330&creativeASIN=B00LV5EIKQ&linkCode=shr&tag=aurbrow-21" target="_blank">UK</a> ¦ <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00LV5EIKQ?ie=UTF8&camp=213733&creative=393177&creativeASIN=B00LV5EIKQ&linkCode=shr&tag=aubro-20&linkId=7H6PNX5E6AT2Z4AQ" target="_blank">US</a><br />
<a href="https://itunes.apple.com/gb/book/flying-with-fire/id897655164?mt=11" target="_blank">iBooks</a><br />
<a href="http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/flying-with-fire" target="_blank">Kobo</a><br />
<a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/451915?ref=AureliaBRowl" target="_blank">Smashwords</a><br />
Nook <i>(keep checking back!)</i><br />
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<span style="color: #6aa84f;"><br /></span></h2>
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<span style="color: #6aa84f;"><br /></span></h2>
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<span style="color: #6aa84f;">Giveaway...</span></h2>
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<a class="rafl" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/d7ee5c5/" id="rc-d7ee5c5" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a><br />
<script src="//widget.rafflecopter.com/load.js"></script><br />
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<br />Aurelia B Rowlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17679519080629201534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885541739829180339.post-69214520464165773342014-06-25T19:22:00.001+01:002014-06-26T21:02:57.904+01:00Cover reveal for... Flying With Fire by Emma MillsIt is my pleasure to bring to you the cover of the forthcoming novel from Emma Mills, <i>Flying With Fire,</i> along with a sneak preview...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WAC6jX8Do6A/U6sRqQoMxoI/AAAAAAAACRA/0Nv4n9aeb1o/s1600/Slide1.GIF" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WAC6jX8Do6A/U6sRqQoMxoI/AAAAAAAACRA/0Nv4n9aeb1o/s1600/Slide1.GIF" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(click to enlarge)</td></tr>
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You can read a longer excerpt <a href="http://www.witchbloodthenovel.com/p/wbthe-prologue-book-trailers.html" target="_blank">here</a> and add it your <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22586159-flying-with-fire" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> shelf today.<br />
<br />Aurelia B Rowlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17679519080629201534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885541739829180339.post-37891931092286814392014-06-17T10:49:00.000+01:002014-06-17T10:49:20.547+01:00Spotlight on... The Bookshop on the Corner by Rebecca Raisin<br>
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<b><span style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"><i>Who said that only real heroes could be found in fiction?</i></span></b></blockquote>
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<span style="color: magenta;"><i>Sarah Smith had an addiction – she was addicted to romance novels. The meet-cute, the passion, the drama and the gorgeous men! Now this wouldn’t have been such an issue if she hadn’t been the owner of the only bookshop in Ashford, Connecticut.</i></span></blockquote>
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<span style="color: magenta;"><i>Ever since her close friend Lil, from The Gingerbread Café, had become engaged she had been yearning for a little love to turn up in her life. Except Sarah knew a good man was hard to find – especially in a tiny town like Ashford. That was until New York journalist, Ridge Warner stepped into her bookshop…</i></span></blockquote>
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<span style="color: magenta;"><i>Love could be just around the corner for Sarah, but will she be able to truly believe that happy-ever-after can happen in real-life too!</i></span></blockquote>
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Praise from <i>Mia March,</i> author of <i>The Meryl Streep Movie Club,</i> and <i>Finding Colin Firth.</i><br>
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<span style="color: purple;"><i>"How I wish this magical little bookshop was around the corner from my house! Brimming with heart, hope, and wisdom, THE BOOKSHOP ON THE CORNER is a wonderful novel about love, life, friendship, romance, books galore, and finding that happy ending."</i> –Mia March.</span></blockquote>
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<span style="color: #6aa84f;">Buy it now...</span></h2>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/21796832-the-bookshop-on-the-corner" target="_blank">Add to Goodreads</a></td></tr>
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<span class="textexposedshow">Amazon <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B00JBGZKJK?ie=UTF8&camp=3194&creative=21330&creativeASIN=B00JBGZKJK&linkCode=shr&tag=aurbrow-21" target="_blank">UK</a> / <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00JBGZKJK?ie=UTF8&camp=213733&creative=393177&creativeASIN=B00JBGZKJK&linkCode=shr&tag=aubro-20" target="_blank">US</a> / </span><a href="http://bit.ly/1fTDwWW" target="_blank">AUS</a></div>
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<a href="https://itunes.apple.com/au/book/bookshop-on-corner-gingerbread/id850630026?mt=11" target="_blank">iBooks</a><span class="textexposedshow"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Find The Bookshop on the Corner here:</h4>
<a href="http://www.pinterest.com/rebeccaraisin/the-bookshop-on-the-corner-by-rebecca-raisin/">Pinterest</a> <a href="http://thecornerbookshop.wordpress.com/">Blog</a><div class="MsoNormal">
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Find Rebecca here:</h4>
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/RebeccaRaisinAuthor">Facebook</a> <a href="http://rebeccaraisin.wordpress.com/">Blog</a> <a href="http://www.twitter.com/jaxandwillsmum">Twitter</a></div>
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<b><span style="color: #6aa84f;">Read on for an excerpt...</span></b></h2>
<a href="http://blogspot.aureliabrowl.com/2014/06/bookshop-on-corner-rebecca-raisin.html#more">Continue>></a>Aurelia B Rowlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17679519080629201534noreply@blogger.com1