Saturday, 23 April 2011


Time again for Six Sentence Sunday. I was remiss last week but I plead being too immersed in my wip which, I am now proud to say, is no longer wip but complete. I have posted from this m.s before - usually an angst ridden six but I thought I would go with something more light hearted today....

He stood, leaning against his desk, legs crossed at the ankles, arms folded in the stance she knew so well. The navy suit was businessman efficient. He’d always looked good in dark colours. But some things never change. Rebecca bit back a nervous giggle. Mr. J was still crap at ties.

A Private Place is as yet unpubbed but I am hoping to find a home for it soon. This tale holds a very special place in my heart. Here is a blurb and short excerpt:


Rebecca Harding is intelligent, witty and sometimes downright annoying. She is also damaged. To the outside world, she presents an image of a young woman in control, confident and cynical but no one knows her torment. In her nightmare, she is alone.
But then, Max Jackson enters her life when it is teetering on the brink. Despite a rocky start to their relationship, he becomes her salvation.
Max is the only person who knows the truth. He understands her fears and wants to protect her fragile heart. In Rebecca, he recognizes a kindred spirit. He would give anything to take away her pain but he comes to realize Rebecca has read more into his concern. He would rather die than hurt her but life throws him a curve ball, leaving him no choice but to walk away.


Chapter One

Max Jackson rested his head against the mullion window, watching the rain drum out its incessant beat. He wondered if he would ever get used to England’s capricious climate. A mundane deliberation. The weather was the least of his worries. What did he know about teaching? So, he wasn’t a total novice but an honors degree was no substitute for experience.
Tom, ever loyal, had faith in him – which was more than could be said for Max’s father. If he had, Max wouldn’t even be here, so no point heading down that long, sorry road, especially two days before the start of term and especially when he hadn’t even downed his first beer.
Raising the bottle to his lips, his gaze fixed on the photograph on top of the cast-iron fireplace. Kate’s cool beauty failed to invoke a gut-wrenching reaction. That spoke volumes. Max lobbed the empty bottle into the wastepaper basket. He wouldn’t think about Kate. What was done was done.
He supposed he ought to go shopping. His stomach couldn’t handle another greasy take-away. Beans on toast it was. If he hurried, he’d make the tiny corner shop there and back in time for the rugby match. Besides, a walk in the rain just might clear the dusty cobwebs from his head.
Grabbing a black brolly from the stand, Max smiled at his reflection in the hall mirror. So English gentleman.
* * * *
Max slammed his beans onto the shop counter feeling anything but gentlemanly. His free-with- two- gallons- of- petrol umbrella had taken one look at the vigorous wind and had flown away with it. Water ran in cold rivulets down his neck and under his collar. Oh to be back in Sydney.
“Good afternoon. Just this, please and –”
“Hi, Mary.”
A riot of dark hair breezed in front of him.
The young voice was breathless, arrogant and not in the least bit sorry.
“Bloody pervert dog.” She threw down some coins and grabbed a Mars Bar from the chocolate stand. “Vicky left the front door open again and Wally made a break for it and I know he’s heading for Mrs. Blair’s poodle. The only way I can entice him home is with one of these.” She waved the chocolate bar precariously close to Max’s nose. “Stupid old bat. Why doesn’t she get her done? She really ought to pay me stud fees. I –”
“Excuse me but I do believe I was before you.” Patience on rice paper thin, Max attacked her with his best Aussie tough guy glint.
It didn’t have much effect. Eyes, the colour of velvet chocolate homed in and speared him with a look of such disdain that he squirmed. By the expression on her haughty face, he knew he’d been judged and definitely found wanting. Obviously deciding he’d taken up enough of her time, she turned back to the awaiting Mary.
“Thanks.” She picked up her change. Grabbing her Mars Bars, she spun on her Converse heels. “Bloody Colonials”
Max stared after her, speechless. “What.....” he turned to the smiling Mary. “….was that?”

Enjoy and a Happy Easter to all

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Monday, 18 April 2011

Monday Muser's Mad Question Time - Marsha Moore

Kalimera from a warm, sunny Corfu,

It is Easter weak - a huge event in the Greek Orthodox calender and Corfu is the place to be. The island is world famous for its spectacular celebrations and throughout the week, I will be posting pics and snippets of information. But on to todays Mad Muser question.

In the Hot seat, we have Marsha Moore, Muse It's very own 'mermaid' so who better than to answer my fun question...

Walt Disney comes back from the dead and is disgusted with the movies being produced in his name. He appoints you the task of revamping…yes, you guess it….The little Mermaid and making it a real-life movie as opposed to animated. What present day movie stars would you use to play a} Ariel b} Prince Eric and {have fun with this one} c}Ursela the sea witch.

Over to you Marsha...

This is an appropriate question since I’m certainly the Muse mermaid expert, having written Tears on a Tranquil Lake, a love triangle/adventure among a mermaid, a merman, and a pirate captain.
My taste in movies, actors, and actresses tends to be rather quirky. While Ariel is a sweet character, I’d likely select an actress capable of some spunk, wittiness, and dimension alongside her caring gentleness. My first choice would be Drew Barrymore. My second choice would be Renee Zellweger.
For Prince Eric it’s an easy choice--Johnny Depp. He’s one actor who can be convincing, charming, and funny in a fantasy setting and plenty sexy at the same time. I write fantasy romance and through five books, I have yet to not find a role for that man’s intriguing personality. The upcoming Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides has mermaids! Yeah! Cannot wait!
For Usela, another no brainer—Helena Bonham Carter. Who else could be crazy, wacky, devilish enough? And to hold her own with Mr. Depp? And to feel totally comfortable in a wild tentacled costume?

Mmm...interesting choices, Marsha. Thank you for your'professional' input.
What to know more about Miss Moore? Read on...
Marsha A. Moore is a romantic and a writer of fantasy romance. She loves being creative and enjoying the creativity of others in all art forms. Her other artistic pursuits include watercolor painting and drawing. She moved from Toledo to Tampa in 2008 and is happily transforming into a Floridian. Crazy about cycling, she usually passes the 1,000 mile mark yearly. She is learning kayaking and loving it. She’s also a yoga enthusiast and never has enough days spent at the beach, usually scribbling away at new stories with toes wiggling in the sand.

Tears on a Tranquil Lake:

What a surprise for a young woman, to find herself suddenly transformed into a mermaid.
Ciel’s first thought – track down the merman who changed her and make him reverse his magic.
Unable to find him, survival in her new world becomes paramount. She eagerly accepts help from a dashing pirate captain who takes a fancy to her, lavishing her with finery. When her merman does show up, he competes for her affection. One look into his eyes makes her life more complex -- he is her soul mate.
Which man will she choose – pirate captain or merman? Which life – human or mermaid? Caribbean adventures and dangers chase Ciel as she searches for decisions and the key to her happiness.

Warning: This book contains Haitian vodou, sultry wenches, foul-mouthed scalliwag pirates, overindulgence of fine Caribbean rum, and amorous encounters on deserted beaches.

ISBN: 978-1-926931-29-6

Hooked? Read a short excerpt...
Excerpt from Chapter 1, Tears on a Tranquil Lake, fantasy romance

The ‘gator wanted to drown me….make me an easier meal. A chill passed through my body and I shivered. Feverish heat built up inside me, spreading from my head and torso down my limbs. Eventually the wild drumbeat of my heart obliterated everything. I panicked and tried to move, but lacked control of my muscles. Immobile and helpless, I could only listen. The throbbing pulse dimmed as the lake’s waters claimed my life. I submitted…mind blank to all except the faint thump. For an immeasurably long time I heard its rhythm fading away. Seconds or dozens of minutes, I didn't know; altered perception foiled my judgment. Then, a touch against my face—shattering my delirium.Fear engulfed my barely conscious mind. What was it? Death seemed welcome compared to experiencing an alligator attack upon my body.
Something soft caressed my lips, not at all like hard reptilian scales. My sense of touch heightened. Encouraged by returning consciousness, I struggled against the darkness. My eyes searched, yet still failed to see.
Soon, I understood the feeling of lips pressing upon mine. Their burning heat made me panic. I tried to jerk back, but had no muscle control, no way to resist. They forced my lips apart, and a fiery tongue thrust inside my mouth.
In short time my limbs tingled with renewed sensation. Attempting to thrash my arms, I found them both secured.The mysterious tongue persisted, searing my own.
Strangely, the warmth moved across my entire body and I calmed, mesmerized by this unusual kiss. In some curious manner it restored my consciousness. Peacefulness spread over me, and I accepted this connection as my life force. Our kiss grew pleasurable and I slipped my tongue along the other. Waves of passion rippled through my body and I desired whatever being touched me. Wanting to know more, I opened my eyes. Light pained my limited vision.
A hazy image flashed in front of me.
I pulled back, ending the kiss and viewed a sweep of dark hair turning away, moving up toward the surface.
Marsha's links..

So, folks, there you have it; an insight into Marsha's world. Who would you choose to play Areil? Please leave a comment for a chance to win a copy of Tranquil and tune in next Monday when Killarney Sheffield will be here to battle with whatever task my devious mind can come up with.