MEN AT WORK - WILL THE REAL JIMMY THOMAS PLEASE STAND UP

So, my lovely bloggers, I hardly need waste time on introducing my guest today as every romance author worth their pen and PC knows the delectable Jimmy Thomas, the millennium’s answer to Leonidas {only without the leather underpants} For those of you who have been hiding under a rock, his official bio can be found here

http://www.facebook.com/JimmyThomasDotCom/info

But ladies, do we really know him? I set out to discover the true Jimmy Thomas

So, Mr. Thomas, what to ask you? I am sure you are so bored with the same old so let’s make this fun. Twenty short, sharp questions to give my readers and your loyal supporters an insight into what makes Jimmy tick. Here we go….

1. Tea or Coffee - Coffee at home or office, passion fruit tea or raspberry tea when eating out

2. Beer or wine - Whichever she is drinking

3. Dogs or cats - Both :)

4. Blondes or Brunettes - Both :)

5. Rock or R and B - Both (rock for rocking out, R and B for rocking in ;)

6. Mariah or Whitney - To just listen to or have sex with? ;) Neither for listening; too slow... either for the
later ;)

7. Beach or mountains - MOUNTAINS - waterfalls, hiking trails, camping, nature; that's my thing! :)

8. Team Edward or Team Jacob - Shame on you... Team Jimmy Thomas ;)

9. Boxer or briefs {or none} - boxer-briefs or none.

10. Gollom or Dobby - Gollom

11. Football or Basketball - NFL Football: New England Patriots!

12. Nadal or Federer - Do I look like I watch tennis? ;)

13. McDonald's or KFC - Either, but only a few times a year

14. Gaga or Katy Perry - Both

15. Angelina or Jennifer - Angelina

16. Armani or Ralph Lauren - Armani

17. De Niro or Pacino - Both, but if I had to pick one... Pacino

18. Baths or showers - Alone: showers, with a girl: both

19. Batman or Superman - Batman (Prefers super hero abilities to be of one's own skills, not powers given to them)

20. Marriage or Bachelorhood - Marriage


Thank you so much for your candor and good answers - diplomatic at times. Lol.

So there you have it. ladies. Feel free to comment and let's see if we can get Jimmy to drop buy and comment on your comment. I will ask him to chose the most humorous and the winner will receive a free copy of my Dreamweek.

Thanks for dropping by and stay tuned for next week's Men at Work.

Viviane

Romance Novel Cover "Hero" video montage:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=NF7jZH5Ynds

2011 Romance Novel Cover Model Calendar:
http://www.jimmythomas.com/2011-Calendar.htm

Romance Novel Cover Model (2,202 covers)
www.JimmyThomas.com

www.RomanceNovelCovers.com

www.modelmayhem.com/jimmythomas

www.facebook.com/JimmyThomasDotCom

Jimmy's Favorite Quotes:

"Don't think you are, know you are" - Laurence Fishburne, The Matrix

"One who lacks courage to start has already finished" - Unknown Author

"Nothing is real unless you believe in who you are" - Sylvester Stallone, Rocky III

"It's not how many people you know, it's how many people know you." - Jimmy Thomas

"Knowing is not enough, we must apply. Willing is not enough, we must do." - Bruce Lee

"If you always do what you've always done, then you'll always be what you've always been." - T.J. Jakes

"Tell me and I will forget. Show me and I may remember. Involve me and I will learn." - Chinese proverb

“It's the possibility of having a dream come true that makes life interesting.” – Paolo Coelho, The Alchemist

"Great minds discuss ideas. Average minds discuss events. Small minds discuss people." - Eleanor Roosevelt

"It's the magic of risking everything for a dream that nobody sees but you" - Morgan Freeman, Million Dollar Baby

"We are not human beings having a spiritual experience; we are spiritual beings having a human experience." -
Theologian Pierre Tielhard de Chardin

TAKING THE 'MASS' OUT OF CHRISTMAS

Good evening, folks, from a fairly warm Corfu, Tis the season to be jolly or is it? So many people I have spoken to this year have told me the same thing. Christmas no longer holds any meaning for them. Leaving the religious issue aside, Christmas, for most, used to mean a time of joy, families getting together, good food and the sharing of gifts as symbolic representation of the birth of Christ. As a child, I used to adore Christmas. I reveled in the smells wafting from the kitchen. All homemade in those days, folks. My mother made her own cake, mince pies, puddings, own stuffing, fresh turkey. Of course, a few French delicacies where added. My mother made the most scrumptious liver pate and a salmon mousse for which she is renowned on four corners of the globe. Long after I believed in Santa, it was still a thrill waking up to exciting packages under the tree. As children growing up in the 60’s and 70’s, Christmas and birthdays was the time for receiving that gift you’d longed for all year. There was none of this, don’t worry, dear, mum will order it on Amazon – all-year-round spoiling that goes on today. The amount of money spent nowadays on unnecessary food and mountains of gifts is, quite frankly, in my opinion, obscene.

Oh I hear the battle cry go up – but you would do the same if you had the money. I beg to differ. I do not share this modern obsession with collecting ‘stuff’ just because I can. And where is the joy and thought that used to go into Christmas shopping? Again, back to my youth. Walking through the town with my sisters, to the background chorus of Christmas carols, choosing one totally useless but straight from the heart present for our mother – usually a gift box of Yardley soap and talc but she loved it. Now, I have even heard of folk calling each other up, Next catalogue open on their knees while they tell each other what to buy for themselves. Oh tidings of great joy – not!

Christmas should be about {again, I am not getting into a religious discussion} sharing quality time with friends and family, enjoying good food without excess and raising a glass {or two} to the promise of a better year. So folks, I dare you. Fill your kids’ stocking with a tangerine and a handful of walnuts, cancel the enormous Toys R Us and Amazon order, snuggle up with a mince pie and a glass of mulled wine and shove in a dvd of It’s a Wonderful Life.

Viviane http://www.vivianebrentanos.com/ http://www.facebook.com/pages/Viviane-Brentanos-Author-of-Womens-Contemporary-Fiction/72889240497

SEASONAL SIX SENTENCE SUNDAY

Hello, folks. I see it has been a while since I participated in this great blog share. All I can say in my defense is, for months I lost myself in my now completed saga romance but – hey 160k of passion, angst, betrayal will do that to you. Time to come down to earth and what better way than to present you with a Christmas six sentence teaser from Cold, Cold Heart – my contemporary romance. “Alexander Thompson! How many times have I told you not to open the door toFather Christmas?” The man standing on her porch was indeed dressed as Santa Claus, complete with wig, beard, rounded specs and a huge bulging sack slung over his shoulder. Rachel peered at him, wondering if they did You've Been Framed on Christmas Day. She drew in her breath. Behind the Benny Hill glasses, two beautiful blue eyes stared at her. “Daniel.” Want to find out why a mega star of the music industry dresses up as Santa Claus? Read on…..

Blurb: Who is Daniel Hayes? Why does a man who has everything - fame, fortune and the world at his feet feel so empty? What is his interest in Rachel Warner, a girl from a quiet Home Counties English town? Why does she hold the key to his happiness? Daniel Haynes is the man we have all dreamed of; the pop star we all wanted to marry when we were 16 but he only has eyes for Rachel. Rachel Warner - Why does Daniel's interest in her threaten her ordered yet unsatisfying life? Why does she have to live with the shadow of her ex-father-in-law breathing over her shoulder? Excerpt…. “I'm crushed.” The eyes crinkled. “Okay, you got me. And to think I paid a fortune for this crazy gear.” “Aw.” Alex's face dropped. “So you're not Santa?” Gaze drifting to the huge sack, the frown turned to a grin. The goody bag this stranger carried looked promising. “No, I'm not. Sorry.” Daniel crouched down. “But I bet you're Alexander. Your mother has told me all about you.” “You know my mum?” Alex pulled himself up to his full height of four feet and went into Man of the House mode. “In that case, I suppose it's safe for you to come in. He can come in, can't he, Mum?” He looked to Rachel for guidance. Rachel nodded, lost for words. Closing the door, she leaned against it, trying to catch her breath. Alex proudly led their visitor into the room, her parents looking on, their curiosity bouncing across the room. She could hardly blame them. Rachel put her hand on her heart, a heart pounding so wildly she thought she might faint. This isn't happening, she told herself. But underneath the shock, butterflies of joy beat their wings in her stomach. Excitement flowed through her veins. He came back! She glared down at the apron. Oh but what a time to turn up. She looked like a housewife from Take a Break magazine. Counting to ten, she went over to him. He'd removed the wig, beard and glasses. Her stomach plunged into deep space. He was so bloody sexy! Sensing her scrutiny, Daniel turned to her, his eyes reaching into her very soul. He smiled, bathing her in a shower of light. How did she think she was ever over him? “Rachel.” The way he said her name sent shock waves reverberating through the room. Rachel heard her mother's sharp intake of breath; she’d figured it out. “Daniel.” Rachel swallowed. “It'sit's nice to see you.” Lynn, now back downstairs, threw Rachel a look of disgust. “Pathetic,” she mouthed. Rachel ignored her. She and Daniel were locked in their private world. Daniel broke free first. “Uhdo you think I could get out of this suit?”He unbuttoned the heavy red coat. “It's real hot in here.” “I'll say,” Lynn muttered. She gave Rachel a sly pinch. “Don't just stand there like a zombie.” Rachel couldn’t move. “Aren't you going to introduce us, dear?” Mum to the rescue. She beamed up at Daniel, who, without costume, wore the familiar closefitting jeans and black polo necked sweater. Daniel held out his hand. Her father took it. He didn't seem quite as eager to welcome this stranger as her mother did. But then, fathers were naturally more suspicious. Before Daniel said another word, Tanya tugged on the back of his leg. Hands on hips, she scrutinized him with deadly intent. “I've seen you on MTV,” she proclaimed. “You're that Daniel Haines. My mum says you're hot. She says you've got the cutest—” “Thank you, Tanya.” Lynn fixed her with an if-you-know-what's-good-for-you-you'll- shut-yer-gob glare. “Daniel, how nice to see you again.” Grabbing hold of Daniel's hand, she tossed back her red mane for maximum effect. “Remember me? The show?” “How could I forget?” He took her hand and kissed the back of her fingers.”You were sensational.” Rachel watched in fascination. Daniel had rendered Motor-Mouth Lynn speechless. Lynn being Lynn, made a quick recovery. “Let's all sit down and have some wine, shall we? You are staying for lunch, aren't you, Dan? May I call you Dan?” Daniel winced. “To be honest, I kinda hate Dan. Daniel is good.” “Whatever.” Gripping Rachel's shoulder with all the finesse of a pterodactyl, Lynn pushed her towards the kitchen. “Rachel, your help please?” At the kitchen doorway, Rachel froze. Tanya was on a mission. “Do you know Rhianna??” Tanya blew a bubble the size of a football. Alex giggled. “Who? Oh, no, sorry, I haven't had that pleasure yet.” “Can you do rap? Do you know 50 Cent?” Tanya continued with the relentless interrogation. “Rap is for morons.” Alex pretended to be sick. “Be quiet, you two, and leave the poor man alone.” Her mother shooed them away. “Now, Daniel.” She fixed him with her what-do-you-want-with-my-daughter-and- when's-the-wedding wide smile. “Why don't you tell us all about yourself?” Rachel cringed. Bloody hell, he’d be safer with the kids. Before she could go and rescue him, Lynn yanked her into the kitchen. “You just had to go down and answer the fecking door, didn't you?” Lynn confronted her, the proverbial smoke coming out of her ears. She pulled the wine from the fridge. “You've ruined everything.” “You cow.” Lunging for the cork-screw, Rachel waved it close to Lynn's face. “You knew he was coming. But how—” “Brian.” Lynn extracted the corkscrew from her fingers. “It doesn't matter now. Pull yourself together. I'll see to this while you get up those stairs pronto. A major salvage job is required, I think.” She stopped in the doorway and sighed. “It's so not fair. He is so fecking shaggable.” Rachel hastily removed the awful apron. Hands still trembling, she opened the oven door to check on the slowly browning bird. The mundane action helped calm her nerves. Casting a quick glance around the now pristine kitchen, she thanked God for her mother's efficiency. “Right, Rach.” She closed her eyes. “Up those stairs before Lynn kills youoh!” “I came for more glasses. Apparently the kids are real partial to Chablis.” Daniel stood so close his warm breath fanned her face. With the slow, boyish grin that turned her insides to jelly, he slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her even closer. “Are you mad at me?” His gaze probed hers, thumb stroking her cheek, sending sparks shooting all the way down to her toes. She almost imagined them curling up. “Mad?” She barely got the words out. She found it hard enough just concentrating on standing. “Why should I be?” “Becauseyou said you didn't want to see me again.” “I ..l lied.” She felt him aroused, pressing against her. She recalled the feel of him in her hand – inside her. “I've missed you.” His mouth hovered close to hers. “Daniel...” Arms around him, she buried her face in his neck, breathing in the heady scent of him and wanting so much more. “None of that in the kitchen, please. It's mucky.” Tanya stood in the doorway, balancing on one leg, so obviously delighted to catch her prim old Auntie Rachel doing something rude. Rachel drew back from Daniel and made a hasty escape. Heading for the stairs, she heard Tanya say, “You're wasting your time with her, you know. My mum's much more fun. For more information about me, my work and where to purchase my books, please check out my brand new website http://www.wix.com/vivianebrentanos/stories-of-life

BLOG HOP DAY - WHAT KIND OF CHARACTER WOULD I LIKE TO BE?

 Yes, folks, despite the too hot and humid temperatures, despite the 7 day a week working shift, I am joining in with this week's blog hop. And what a great question it is.
Of course, you writers amongst out there know there is a part of us in all characters we create {yes, even the nasty ones.} I ran through all of my female creations in my head and decided, I wouldn't want to be any of them - even though they end up with a great guy. Too much angst and hardship on the journey. I don't do pain. So, I turned to books I have read and still had problems.
   I quite fancied being the Bride in Kill Bill because she is so kick-arse but too much slicing and cutting involved. Scarlett O Hara - one of my favourite heroines but, hell no; I couldn't handle the corset. So then I came up with the perfect character. one that could have complete freedom to be what they wanted, when they wanted and, most important, if anyone pissed them off big time, they can simply leave. Yes - I want to be a ghost.

But one of those ghosts that can take on human form from time to time and then I could possess Rachel Weiss and have a raunchy time with Daniel Craig. Oh - and I would definitely take over Anna Kournikova for a few nights. Enrique wouldn't know what hit him. Oh the possibilities are endless: Gerard Butler, Russell Crowe. Oh wait  -this question was about fictional characters. Hey - I am writer. I can change the rules. Oh - here's a good one.

I would possess the bodies of all the world leaders {sort of a collective haunting} and get them to stop wars, save the environment and ban Justin Beiber and make Lady Gaga overall Presidentess of the world. At least we would have some fun.

Oh - I nearly forgot. As a ghost I could realize my dream and get to play guitar with AC/DC. I am sure Angus wouldn't mind me filling his shorts for a day.

BUT - most of all, as a ghost, I would team up with dear Michael Jackson and we would haunt every single person who made his time on earth a living hell and all while we were dressed in Thriller costumes. We'll get them yet, Michael.

Viviane

THURSDAY BLOG HOP - THE GOOD, THE BAD AND THE UGLY

Great question and one that could apply to my hotel guests. They come in all shapes and sizes:most good, some bad {you know the kind - complain because they don't have a jacuzzi even though they only paid 17 euros for half-board}. And then we have the downright ugly. I suppose I can't elaborate on that or I will have the EU politically correct police on my back. Sigh - the world is no fun anymore.
Oh well, back to my characters. In most of my novels, I begin with my main female character being slightly spoiled, a little cold and cynical and then I watch as she thaws out under the direction of a cool, often equally tough guy. Occasionally, my hero will be so kind and gentle he is verges on gay but then, he will prove he is strong and ready to fight for his love. I like to keep a balance. I believe people are multi-layered and even if, for example, my secondary characters{i.e bullying ex-husbands, intransigent fathers} appear as evil as Hitler, I like to provide a little insight as to why they behave the way they do. The secret to believable characters is to keep it real.
And now a sneaky promo example. My soon to be released single title, Cold, Cold Heart stars one luscious, cool, kind-hearted, generous, so gentle Daniel Haines. He would die for his love, give up everything for her but then...she hurts him so much, something inside him snaps. Read on......

* * * *

“My my, don’t we look a pretty picture?”
Samantha stood in the loft apartment doorway of, arms folded, and her usually soft eyes laden with censure.
She breezed past him. “My god, Daniel, this place is a hovel.” She wrinkled her nose. “What is going on with you? What are you doing to yourself? You're fast becoming notorious, you know, according to what I've read in the papers.”
“I’m having fun,” he replied glibly. He crossed to the bottle-strewn coffee table and poured himself a whisky. “Want one?
Samantha knocked the glass from his hand, sending the Waterford crystal crashing onto the hardwood floor.
“For God's sake, it's only ten in the morning!”
“Is it?” He glanced at his watch, confused because he had been out of it for the best part of the weekend. Those Aerosmith boys sure did know how to throw a party.
“Look at you. You are a mess!” Sam studied him, expression one of exasperation. “Oh but I'd like nothing more than to grab you by the scruff of your neck and slap some sense into you. “
“I'm fine, Sam.” He stared at the whisky bottle longingly. “… just a little hung over, that's all.”
“Hung over? You look as if you've been hung, drawn and quartered.” She pushed him in the direction of the master bathroom. “Go and get yourself cleaned up and I'll fix us some breakfast. And then you and I are going to talk. But first, by the looks of you, you need some clean clothes. It is safe in there, isn't it?” She jerked her thumb in the direction of the bedroom. “Or do I have to step over a pile of nymphets?”
Daniel couldn't help but smile. So Samantha did read the tabloids. “Sorry, clean out of nymphets these days.”
Twenty minutes on, showered and shaved and dressed in faded jeans and a ‘Beethoven Rocks’ T-shirt, Daniel felt halfway human again. “Mmmm...” He sniffed the air appreciatively “That coffee smells good. I haven't drunk a decent cup in weeks.”
“No, I don't suppose you have.” Sam fixed him with her most intimidating schoolmarm stare. “All I could find in the kitchen was some milk masquerading as yogurt. Not to mention the pile of empty whisky bottles I tripped over. I had the doorman order up some bagels. I hate New York, but at least I can indulge in one of its famous delicacies.” Holding a rancid dishcloth at arm’s length, Sam wrinkled her nose. “Why don't you hire a maid? Because it doesn't look as if you gave your string of thoroughbred fillies much time to be domestic.”
“Now now, Sam.” He licked the cream cheese from a bagel. “It's not like you to be facetious and for your information—although I must say it’s none of your business—there have only been six 'fillies' in as many months. The press does tend to exaggerate. They see me talking to a woman and right away I'm f…sorry…sleeping with her.”
“Daniel.”
Sam sat next to him, looking totally out of place perched on the retro eighties-style chrome barstool. Her classic-cut Chanel suit was not quite up to the job.
“Being crude doesn't suit you. Stop trying to be something you're not. In this day and age six partners is irresponsible.”
“No worries there.” Daniel gave her a sardonic smile. “I bought shares in a rubber company.
Samantha's face reddened.
Daniel noted her discomfort with this foray into the dark and devious world of promiscuity. “That was uncalled for. I’m being a jerk, I know. I shouldn't joke. But I must confess, dear stepmother, my sexual reputation is nothing more than one big media hype. I haven't slept with anyone in months.”
“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to judge you.”
“Not as sorry as my 'stable of bimbos.'“ Lifting the mug to his lips, he grinned. “Of course, now the word on the street is that I must be gay. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned—or women in my case. So be it. Who cares? Maybe I am. Now wouldn't that be one in the eye for dear old Dad—a homosexual son. It's almost worth considering just to see his face. Or maybe I could do transsexual?”
“Stop it.” Samantha gave him a playful swat. “Now you're being ridiculous. Of course you’re not gay. This is about Rachel, isn't it?”
Daniel slammed the mug down on to the green granite counter. “Rachel! I wondered how long it would take you to bring her up. Why does it always come back to her? If it's not Mai, it's Ralph, and now you? You're all on my case. Get over her. I have.”
“You can't fool me, dear.” She caught hold of him by the sleeve as he made to get up and walk away. “Your excessive behaviorI think it’s your way of punishing
her.”
“How perceptive of you, and so early in the morning, too.” Daniel put up his hands. “Okay, you've got me. I stand guilty as charged. I admit it. I'd hoped that Rachel did see those pictures—God knows I put enough energy into posing for them—because I wanted her to hurt as she hurt me. I wanted her to die inside every time she saw me in the arms of another woman. I hope it killed her when she imagined me making love to them. I wanted“ He struggled to compose himself. “But now, Sam? I don't know what I want. I feel so numb inside. For so long she's all I thought about, all I craved. I put her on a pedestal. I worshiped her. But in the endwellI realized she wasn't so perfect. Then that's good, isn't it? Because it means I'm free of her.” He ran trembling fingers through his hair.
Sam's dubious frown made him laugh. “And I'm so full of crap, aren't I? I'll never be free of her. Oh, Sam, you know me so well.” He sighed. “But you are right about one thing. I can't go on like this. I was a fool for thinking I could drown my sorrows in the bottle. Unfortunately, the effects are only temporary. Every morning when I wake up she is still here.” Daniel took her hand and placed it on his heart. “She just won't go away, Sam, and I don't know what to do anymore.”
Huddling over the counter, he buried his face in folded arms. If it had been anyone else but Sam he wouldn't have allowed himself to break down. He knew she possessed the sensitivity not to try and comfort him.
“Call her, Daniel.”
He looked up and wiped away the tears.. “No, Sam. I'm all through with self-punishment. I'm not going to humiliate myself again. She had me twisting and turning this way and that. I went down on bended knees for her, and I won't do it again.” He stared into the coffee mug. “No. The next move, if there ever is one, must come from her. If she wants me then she knows how to find me.”
“This isn't like you. You were never so hard.”
“Well, maybe I've finally grown up.

Aw, bless...oh I do love my Daniel...and Rachel needs a kick up the backside.
Take care.

Viv

http://corfu-author.tripod.com


http://museithotpublishing.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=68&Itemid=82

SIX SENTENCE SUNDAY-A BIT BELOW THE BELT? I DON'T THINK SO

Hello and welcome back to Six Sentence Sunday.

As I prepare for the imminent release of Cold, Cold Heart, I thought I would post a six from this tale that, I suppose, reflects my mood of the day....a lot of the time, men are just a bunch of.... best leave that blank. I usually steer away from posting sentences with sexual reference but I think this little speech by my heroine, Rachel, will strike a chord with anyone who has ever wanted to exact revenge on someone who has mistreated them in the past.

Rachel is confronting her ex-husband, Richard, a spiteful man who has spent the past five years trying to make her life a living hell. Fueled by too many cocktails, she finally finds the courage to give him a taste of his own medicine…..

“You once asked me a question, well, now here's your answer. Yes, he was a bloody fantastic fuck and he made me come every time. In fact, all he had to do was say my name and I came. You never made me come once in four years of marriage. Oh and just one more thing…” Rachel smiled at him ruefully. “I'm sorry to have to tell you, Richard, but you really do have an incredibly small cock!” She raised her empty glass to him. “Have a nice life!”

A round of applaud for Rachel, folks.

Want to read more? Before you do, check out all the other great Sunday Sixes.

Blurb:
Daniel Haynes has the world at his feet- fame, fortune, so why does he feel so empty inside? What is his interest in Rachel Warner, a girl from a quiet Home Counties English town? Why does she hold the key to his happiness?
But Rachel Warner is scared. Daniel's interest in her threatens her ordered yet unsatisfying life because she has to live with the shadow of her ex-father-in-law breathing over her shoulder. Can she let go of her fears?


Excerpt:

Rachel awoke to a herd of wildebeests stampeding in her head. She opened one eye, half-expecting to see Simba come charging through her bedroom, but only the cold, December rain beat down against the windowpane. Funny, she thought, I don't have Georgian windows.
Both eyes now open, she lay still, wondering where her body had gone. I've got no legs. I've died and they've donated my body to medical science, the bastards.
“Alex!” she gasped. “I'm late!” She sat up – and wished she hadn't bothered. The room spun faster than Torvill and Dean. If hell existed, she was definitely in it. She clung to the quilt and hung on for dear life as the bed rose and hovered above the ground a la The Exorcist or was it Bedknobs and Broomsticks? She couldn't remember. She just wanted to die and die quickly.
The door crashed against the wall, and die she did. Lynn bounced in with a tray of coffee and a packet of painkillers in her hands.
“Wakey, wakey!”
She slammed the tray down on the bedside table and the entire London Symphony Orchestra percussion section went off in Rachel's sponge-filled brain. She pulled the duvet over her head.
“And how are we feeling this morning?”
Lynn's flat, Belfast tones grated at the best of times but the way Rachel felt, if she'd had a gun she would have cheerfully shot her. “Why are you shouting? And what are you doing in my bedroom?”
Lynn burst into a rousing chorus of U2's “Beautiful Day.” “I'd just like to point out, my dearest friend,” she pulled the duvet down and off Rachel's face, “that a: I am not shouting, and b: It’s not your bedroom. It is my spare room.”
“And how, may I ask, did I get here?” Rachel tentatively pulled herself up into a sitting position. She winced; those wildebeests were still on the rampage.
Lynn swept open the bedroom curtains. “Ask you certainly may. Being such a kind, considerate, caring friend, I brought you. It's the least I could do, seeing as you provided me with a most memorable and highly entertaining evening. I haven't had so much fun sincewellactually, I can't remember.” Lynn grinned at her. “And naturally I could hardly take you home to 'mummy' in that state, could I now?”
“And what state might that have been?” Rachel reached out for the mug of coffee. Unfortunately, her shaking hand was having none of it.
“Give it here.” Lynn sat down on the edge of the bed and held the mug up to Rachel's lips. “Honestly, Rach, you Brits are pathetic when it comes to drink.”
“Drink?” Hot liquid hit her raw stomach. “But I don't drink.”
“Well, you do now, and quite impressively, too. It was some performance.”
“Performance?” Rachel squeaked, a cold dread creeping over her.
“Oh, yes.”
“Was I very drunk?”
“Oh, yes.”
“I thinkI think I remember Richard.” Rachel racked her brain. “Did Idid we get into a fight?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Will you stop saying that?” Rachel banged her fist down on the bed. “Oh, now look what you made me do.” A red, hot knife buried itself in the back of her skull. “Quick! The drugs. I need drugs.” She downed two pills wishing it was morphine, and collapsed against the pillows. “Okay, what did I do?”
Lynn rubbed her hands together in glee and gaily regaled her with an animated account of the evening's events.
Rachel covered her eyes. She'd never be able to show her face in Wyeston again. “I said that? I don't believe you.”
“Oh, believe it.” Lynn's face split from ear to ear with a grin the size of Zippy's. “I've waited a long time for the prim Miss Warner to tell Richard to fuck off. And that's not all. You said cock, too—and come. Three times. It was inspiring.”
Wailing, Rachel burrowed under the duvet. Life as she knew it was well and truly over.
“Give over.” Lynn tugged at the cover. “You're quite the heroine, you know. Everyone was dead impressed, except Jimmy of course. Apparently that pot cost a fortune.”
“I broke a pot?” Rachel poked her nose from around the top of the cover.
“Naw, you just threw up in it.”
Rachel eyed her giggling friend through slanted eyes.
“You made that up. You're enjoying this, aren't you?”
“I'll say. But it was when I got you home that things became fascinating.”
“There's more?”
“Not much.” Lynn paused to admire her fingernails. “Only that you finally confessed that you are most definitely not over a certain luscious-lipped, blue-eyed boy.”
“I am.” Rachel protested.
“Of course you are. That must be why you keep a picture of him under your pillow.”
“I so do not.” Rachel threw back the duvet and slid her legs over the side of the bed. The conversation was too dangerous for her liking. She made a shaky attempt to get to her feet, but her knees buckled.
“Get back into bed.” Lynn scoffed. “It's too sad to watch. I'll go and run you a nice, hot bath. Then I'll whip up a big Irish breakfast. Best cure for a hangover. I should know; I've had a few.”
Rachel groaned. The thought of one of Lynn's greasy fry-ups made her heave. “Where are the kids?” She closed her eyes against the fresh wave of nausea. How did people put themselves through this torture weekend after weekend?
“Your dad has taken them to Kidzone. They're fine.”
“So, it's not a school day then?” Relief flooded through her battered and bruised mind. She didn't have to go to work after all. She could stay in bed forever and hide from the world.
But Lynn would have none of it. Ten minutes later, Rachel found herself dragged from her cocoon and unceremoniously pushed into the rather decadent Romanesque bathroom.
“In!” Lynn ordered.
Rachel stared down dubiously into the swirling waters of the Jacuzzi. “Breakfast will be ready soon.”
“You should have been a prison warden!” Rachel yelled after her retreating back, and then clutched the sink. The floor moved beneath her. It wasn't The Exorcist after all. It was End of Days.

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CLIFFHANGERS - STORY OF MY LIFE

Cliffhanger? My life is a cliffhanger. I go to bed every night , wondering, first – will I wake? {Always a good start.} second – did I remember to buy coffee

three – did Sir Maximus eat his way through my PC wire and and last, but most important, what will Lady Gaga wear today?

{Quite like this idea. Wonder if it is wireless?}

Sorry – this question is supposed to be about cliffhangers in writing. I don’t know if it is anything I have considered. I think, especially when reading a psychological thriller, cliffhangers are given. In romance, I think they are more subtle. I do agree that the end of each chapter must draw the reader into the next, perhaps ending a chapter with our two lovers almost coming together but not quite.
Cliffhangers in movies are my favourite and it would seem it has become the norm to leave us with one at the end of a movie, laying the path open for a sequel. Three sagas I can think of, off hand. Lord of the Rings, of course, Revenge of the Jedi {just who is the ‘other’ that is mentioned.} And the first part of Deathly Hallows. Heavy stuff.
The we come to my favourite t.v shows – two of which have recently ended on an nail-biting cliffhanger. Big Bang Theory – did Penny really sleep with Raj?

Greys Anatomy – will Derek and Meredith get back together? Will Owen calm down and forgive Christina? Great stuff and making damn sure I tune in next season.
Okay, time for shameless promo, here. In the second but last chapter of my soon to be released Cold, Cold Heart, I leave my reader with an almighty cliffhanger – will or won’t they?

A blurb, I hear you all beg, an excerpt…your wish is my command

A world-famous rock star, a struggling single mum afraid to love. Will this explosive mix bring happiness or disaster?
Daniel Haynes has the world at his feet- fame, fortune, so why does he feel so empty inside? What is his interest in Rachel Warner, a girl from a quiet Home Counties English town? Why does she hold the key to his happiness?
But Rachel Warner is scared. Daniel's interest in her threatens her ordered yet unsatisfying life because she has to live with the shadow of her ex-father-in-law breathing over her shoulder. Can she let go of her fears?

Excerpt

There he stood again…like Jaws. Just when she thought it safe to go back in the waterda da da da daand so on. “It's late,” she blurted out, because at that moment she couldn't think of anything else to say—at least nothing coherent.
“May I come in?” he asked quietly.
“No!” she shot back before thinking it through. The sight of Daniel Haines standing on her excuse-for-a-porch had her shell-shocked.
“Okay.” He gave that wry little smile. “Now let's see how this could play out.” He rubbed at his chin. “Mmmmyou don't let me in, I stand here and bang on your door until you do, by which time the neighbors come out, see me and wonder what I'm doing here. They then probably call the Sun or worse, the Star, and—”
Grabbing him by his sleeve, she dragged him into her home, slamming the door behind him. “You certainly know how to play dirty, don't you?” She snapped “Sorry but I'm desperate.” He looked around her humble abode. “Hey, nice place.”
“Now you're being facetious.” She folded her arms across her chest, all too aware she wore nothing more than a skimpy pair of pajama shorts and a revealing camisole top that had “come and get me” stamped across the front.
“Don't be so damn touchy, honey.” He turned to her, gaze flickering over her body.
Unease stabbed in her chest. “Touchy?” She stepped back, indignation threatening to choke her. “You've got a bloody nerveshowing up here in the middle and I'm not your honey.” The absurdity of the situation sank in. She wondered if she'd fallen asleep after all and was in the middle of a bad dream. Only it wasn't so bad because he did look rather hot in habitual black. He took a step closer to her and she smelled the fresh, clean scent of damp hair. He'd obviously come straight from the shower. Now she understood how Alice in Wonderland must have felt and for one scary moment she thought she might faint. He must have sensed it too and put his hand on her shoulder.
“Are you okay? You look pale.”
“Lowblood pressure,” she garbled.”Just what are you doing here and how did you find me?”
“Your receptionist, Lucy isn't it? She was very helpful, although I have to admit I didn't play fair. She gave me your address and I got my driver to bring me here.”
Rachel went into panic mode. “Please don't tell me you have a limo parked outside my driveway.”
“You don't give me a lot of credit, do you? I'm not that stupid. I sent him away.”
“A bit presumptuous of you, don't you think? Your audacity never ceases to amaze me. How did you know I'd let you in? Especially after you wasted my entire evening.”
“I didn't.” Daniel gave her that lazy smile. He held up his cell. “I can call him back anytime. It's not fair keeping him out so late, I admit, but as I said, I was desperate.” The smile disappeared, as, with trembling hand, he reached out to her again.
Rachel's mouth went dry but she held her ground. “And just why were you so desperate?” For one tension-filled moment he said nothing. He just stared into her eyes, pulling her in, drawing her to him until she thought she suffocated. She had to look away.
“I had to see you again. I couldn't leave town knowing you thought so badly of me, knowing I'd upset you.”
“You didn't upset me.” Rachel pushed him away. She turned her back to him. Once again he'd read her so easily. “Why should you have upset me? I meanyou're nothing to me I—”
“I saw you, Rachel.” He slipped an arm around her waist and, gently, turned her around to look at him. “I saw your face.” His voice was a soft caress. “And I know what you were thinking, but that's not what was happening.”
“It doesn't matter—”
Daniel put a finger to her lips. “It matters to me.”
Rachel listened, feeling a complete fool as he explained about the competition winners.
“I did ask Mai to cancel, but in the end I couldn't. The girls would have been so disappointed. I'm so sorry, but you do understand, don't you? Mai was supposed to let you know, butI guess she forgot.”
Her head was ready to explode. A mixer-tap of sensation ran through her body. Her madly beating heart felt too big for her chest. She shivered. The light in his eyes thrilled her and yet she was frightened. He held her in both arms now, fingertips searing through her flimsy attire. “Please“ She faltered. “Please don't touch me.” She removed his hands from her waist. “I don't understand. Why does my opinion of you matter so much?”
“Because.” He caressed her cheek.

Thank you for listening

Viviane