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

Monday Muser's Mad Question Time- KAY DEE ROYAL

Well, it is official. Greek summer time is definitely here. Hot, hot, hot. In a few days I should begin my seasonal job at the hotel. Kids and tourists beware. Anyway, enough of me and on to my Mad Muser guest of the week. Without further ado, I would like to introduce Ms. Kay Dee Royal. With time travel seemingly the flavor of the - well - when has it not been, I asked Kay this

If you had to pick one period of history to which you could return, when would it be and why?

Her answer is amazing. Read on and please feel free to comment. Kay will have a nice prize for the best comment

Hello Viviane and Everyone.

Thank you for inviting me in to answer one of your Monday Author questions. This one gave me the license to tell something I’ve held tight inside me for years.

“If I had to pick one period of history to which I could return, when would it be and why?”

I didn’t think about this one too long because for my whole life, as long as I can remember anyway, I’ve had a reoccurring dream…
The colors and textures spring into form so vivid, fluffy white clouds, blue sky, purple hazy mountains, deep green forest, and a dramatic mix of color in the wildflowers along the stream.
A light breeze cools the film of moisture on my face and under my arms, results of my hoeing a fair-sized garden.
I’m wearing an ankle length cotton dress with some type of billowing sleeve that gathers loosely at my wrist, and it appears to have a full-sized apron covering my front and tying in the back. It’s a crisp morning, only my bare neck appreciates it because I rolled my hair into a thick bun at the base of my skull.
My husband fishes with a long branch and something tied to it acting as line. I see him from where I’m working. He’s after breakfast in the narrow stream not far from our meek home. Our dog barks at my husband’s heels every time he casts out his line.
Mountains touch the sky all around me in the distance, like our homestead is tucked inside a valley. Trees also lay a parameter around our meager area.
I suppose in this day and age what I’m describing could be recognized as a Hobby Farm – not many animals, only a few chickens, goats, a couple cows and horses, enough for a single family.
Our home might be considered large by some because it claims a full front porch with a roof. Smoke coils up from a stone chimney. I notice windows with cloth curtains, but I’m unsure if glass fills the openings. I’ve never actually gone inside.
Wooden fence enclosures keep the animals from running off, but it doesn’t keep small animals from gaining access underneath, like our dog…or wolves and coyotes I suppose.
When I awaken from this dream, my feeling has always been that I’ve actually lived this life, and it was a good life. It has made me crave living in a location like this. I think that’s why I love natural rustic areas so much.
It’s only a dream though, right? I don’t know. This dream has always made me thoughtful because it’s so real to me, so surreal, like I was physically there in that lifetime, in that period of history. Have you ever wondered about reincarnation?

Kay

Wow, thank you, Kay. Next time you step back in time, please take me with you. Wat to know more about Kay? Read on

Bio:
Kay Dee Royal writes paranormal and fantasy romance—maybe because it's also her favorite genre to read! She pens tales with wild, rugged heroes and strong, intelligent heroines. She'll give them both a few shadowy secrets, making her stories intriguing and fun. She resides in Southern Michigan with her family (her dogs, her cats, her caged husband... you get the idea)

Here is a blurb and excerpt from her Muse release, Big Girls Don't Cry

Blurb:

After the tragic loss of her twin sister, Brea works hard to prove herself worthy of her adoptive parent’s extra attention. She focuses on the success of the rustic resort her parents deeded to her.
Priorities change when sexy twin wolves in human form walk into Brea’s life.
A dangerous rogue abducts her, but whom, if anyone comes to her rescue?


Excerpt:

Brea watched Grey’s truck drive down the dirt path until she couldn’t see it through the trees. She shivered, instantly missing the warmth of Grey’s body next to hers. She looked one more time down the path in case Grey changed his mind about leaving her.
Did I misread Grey’s intentions? Gads, I threw myself at him. Maybe he isn’t into oversized women after all. I’m such an idiot!
Brea stepped through the door of her little stone cottage. She’d never questioned her size before, always fit her just fine. Not questioning it now either. Right now she needed cozy. As crappy as she felt over Grey’s quick departure, her head throbbed like the residual effects of a hangover, but it didn’t hinder her from throwing a few logs into the fireplace. Once a nice flame got going, she absorbed the comfort of its warmth. She lay back on her divan in front of the beautiful stone hearth.
Brea pulled her favorite blanket with images of howling wolves over her and laid her head on a matching throw pillow. Her whole room reflected her love of wolves, through pictures, statues, lamp shades, and her shelves full of books about them. She needed their comfort right now to take away Grey’s rejection of her.
Brea closed her eyes for a moment, fighting an overpowering sadness. Exhaustion finally pulled her into sleep.
* * * *
A haunting wolf howl crept into Brea’s dream. It wouldn’t stop; it was so loud…until Brea snapped awake. She sat up in darkness, not even embers glowed inside the hearth, moonlight streamed in through her sliding glass door with enough light to help her maneuver through the room. She went to the glass door to draw the curtains closed, but instead she was drawn to what lay beyond her porch.
Brea opened the door, stepped out, and walked over to the railing of her ground-level deck. She saw the light of the moon cut a path across the calm lake water to the sandy shoreline fifty feet away. Chilled damp air settled over her bare arms.
She glanced to the south tree line leading into miles of forest. Something shifted the shadows of the trees, maybe an animal hiding. She didn’t hear the rustle of dry leaves that usually accompanies animal movement in the forest.
A wolf howled a short distance from Brea. Its sound reverberated against the stone cottage wall behind her, sending a shiver from her skin into her bones. She knew wolves had been sighted a few miles away, but never at the resort. For as long as she’d lived in Northern Michigan, she’d never actually seen one. Now, she was about to have a very personal experience with one.
Brea had studied them enough to know not to move or she’d spook it. She heard it breathing and slowly turned to look. Wet, warm moisture carried on the slight breeze, settling on, around, and inside her.
The moon and all its light vanished behind an ominous cloud. Two glowing green orbs appeared to float in front of her. Somewhere in her consciousness she recognized the green eyes and the assailing breath.
A direct order, something she must do, jogged her memory, compelling her. She couldn’t look away. Her body became weightless, fluid and she wanted to follow. She moved forward, off the deck, following…following something that called her. She heard it and knew she must hurry.
Suddenly hands gripped her from behind, stopping her progress.
Another warm moist breath infiltrated her senses with the scent of pine, musk, and cloves. Her need to follow disintegrated like the ash of a spent campfire. Brea came awake in the middle of the forest. Strong arms wrapped around her waist.
“It’s alright, Brea. I think you were walking in your sleep.” Grey’s voice whispered through the layers of fog that began to break apart in her mind. “Brea, take a deep breath.”
Brea turned to face Grey.
“What…I’m…it’s night.” She couldn’t seem to grasp a total thought, other than being in the middle of the forest and in Grey’s arms. What was she doing here? What was he doing here?
Grey picked her up and carried her. She heard a wolf howl, so did Grey. He stopped and raised his face. Brea watched him sniff the air. She shrugged it off, her mind in no condition to make a judgment call of what he was doing, especially for something as strange as Grey sniffing the air.
The muscles in his arms tightened, squeezing her closer to him. He ran. How he could navigate through the trees in the darkness and carry her weight, Brea couldn’t fathom, but then her brain didn’t seem to be functioning with all lobes either. She closed her eyes and tucked her head into his shoulder, like a child in his arms, safe and loved.
Loved? Where did that come from?
Grey stepped onto Brea’s deck, walking through the open sliding glass door into her cottage.
“Gads, I left my door open?”
“Like I told you, I think you were walking in your sleep. Have you ever done that before?” Grey set Brea down on the divan and went back to the door to slide it closed. He switched on a small lamp in the corner and proceeded to re-build the fire in the hearth.
“I’ve never walked in my sleep that I’m aware of. I mean I’ve never woke up in the middle of the forest in the middle of the night. I guess I’m lucky you were there. Why were you there?”
Brea watched Grey’s sleek animal-like movements, stealthy, sure-footed, with muscles rippling. Again she saw him lift his head and sniff the air. His eyes glowed silver, reminding her of other glowing eyes and a shudder quaked down her body.


Links:

http://www.kaydeeroyal.blogspot.com

http://ravencraftrealm.blogspot.com

Big Girls Don’t Cry Wolf Amazon: http://tinyurl.comeqn6zoe

BGDCW Muse Store: http://tinyurl.com/2gyh8gj

Monday Muser's Mad Question Time -Liam Stalls

Good morning happy campers. Oooh - a man in the hot seat today. Welcome. We need more of you. So, here is your question, Liam.

If you could arrange an audience with God, what would you dare suggest he had got seriously wrong in his grand design. What advice would you offer him to remedy it?

Good morning, Viviane, and thank you for hosting me today...then again...what a question. God has an overall plan, so in those who believe in God he got it down pact. If you...and you did...ask me I would say to take care of our children. My heart breaks (and yes, men do have hearts) to hear and see children inflicted with adult diseases, or any other disease that sees their lives cut short. This I wish He would have planned around our children and kept them save.


Good and thought-provoking answer, Liam. We see so much suffering around us, it is sometimes hard to believe God intends this. I don't think he does. I think he made man flawed. Hey, we were an experiment and sometimes experiments go wrong. Maybe my view is a tad controversial but this is what this blog question is all about. What do you think God's plan is? Do you all share Liam's wish? Please leave a comment and I am sure Liam will find a way to reward you. Meanwhile, here is a blurb and excerpt from his...how can I say... naughty but deliciously fun little tale Enchanted Bathroom....oh if only my bathroom was so much fun.

Enjoy.

Blurb:
Sandy Warner finds more than she bargained for in the Three Lillies bathroom. Overcome by the moans and groans from the couple in the next stall, she begins to fantasize a hunk obeying her every wish.
Richard Leere didn’t expect to find the woman of his dreams flustered in his restaurant. After a surprise grab to his groin, he smiles.
Sandy, unsure if the man before her is real or her imaginary hunk, steps back. After an embarressing moment, she now must decide if she should make a move while the smile is plastered on his face, or apologize and walk out with her dignity.

Excerpt:

Having finished the pukes and cussing I took out my handy mouthwash and rinsed several times at the mirror and sink area. The door opened and I heard footsteps approaching. When I looked up I had to take a double take...

“Miss, are you all right? I heard...well...someone being sick and just wanted to make sure no one needed my help.”

I stared at him from the mirror. My hunk! My imaginary hunk stood behind me. In a daze I turned around and grabbed his crotch.

“Hey!” He stepped back.

I must have turned all shades of red because I felt the embarrassed heat flaring my cheeks and neck.

“I’m...so...sorry.” I just grabbed this guy’s crotch. What am I? Nuts? “I just wanted to make sure you were real and not a part of my fantasy. Oh my God, you must think I’m nuts.”
Totally surprised, he didn’t run out like a mad man. He actually approached me and...

Purchase link:
http://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/index.php?page=shop.product_details&flypage=flypage.tpl&product_id=101&category_id=9&option=com_virtuemart&Itemid=1&vmcchk=1&Itemid=1

Monday Muser's Mad Question Time - Elizabeth Coldwell

Good morning all,
And another week is upon us. I think we are all still here. For those of you that are not and may have been raptured - well, you don't know what you are missing. My guest today is the lovely Elizabeth Coldwell and her question is ...

You are putting together a four course romantic dinner for two - you and a celeb of your choice. You have to choose each course from a different country. What would you choose? Remember -a way to a man's heart is through his stomach.

I think you will find her answer quite mouth-watering. I know I did. I have added her to my list of future dinner guests.Take the floor, Liz.

This is a great question, as if there’s one thing I really love to do apart from write, it’s cook. I shan’t name my celeb, if only because I’m pretty sure no one reading this will have heard of him! My mystery man used to play for the football team I support, and now he works as a coach for another club – if you’re really eager for a description, he’s very tall and dark-haired, with big hands and a nice smile. I know he likes to read, so I’d be able to discuss the great variety of books available from all those talented Muse authors, as well as quizzing him about his experiences in football (okay, so that last bit might sound boring to some of you, but I’d enjoy it!).
But, more importantly in relation to the question, what would be on my menu? My four courses would involve a starter, a fish course, a main course and a dessert, and I don’t want to spend a lot of time in the kitchen, because that would mean I couldn’t spend as much time with my guest. To start, I’d go with fresh Dutch asparagus, lightly griddled and served with lots of melted butter. Some of the best asparagus in the world is grown in the Netherlands, as I know from having eaten it there in the past, and not only is it supposed to have aphrodisiac qualities, there’s something very sensual about licking all that butter off your fingers.
For the fish course, the obvious choice would be oysters, but I’m not a great lover of shellfish – and oysters are a bit of a cliché, anyway. Instead, I’d choose some nice Swedish gravad lax. Cured salmon, with a delicious dill sauce – very good for the brain, because for me, being able to connect with someone on a mental level is just as important as any physical attraction you may feel for them. I’ve never been a great fan of pretty but stupid types…
The main course would have to be a classic French steak au poivre, with frites and a green salad. Unless you’re dealing with a vegetarian, what man can resist a nicely cooked piece of red meat? The pepper adds a little spice (because as you can tell from my fiction, spicy is good…), and using red wine for the sauce means you can save the cream for the dessert – my favourite course of all!
To round off the romantic dinner, I’d finish with a gorgeous English dessert, Eton Mess. The story goes that it was invented when a chef at Eton school was serving a pavlova, only to drop it on the way. Scooping the mixture of smashed meringue, fruit and whipped cream into a bowl, he served the result as a new creation. Whether that’s true or not, you can’t go wrong with this – it’s very easy, and at its best when made with juicy English strawberries. Again, the fruit is supposed to be an aphrodisiac, because of all the zinc contained in its seeds, but that, to me, is just a bonus.
All that’s left is to make coffee, serve with chocolate mints and you have a perfect evening with a perfect mystery man. Bon appétit!

Hungry yet, folks? Here is a little bit about Elizabeth...

Elizabeth Coldwell lives and writes in London. She’s always loved to make up stories, particularly ones involving hot men. Her other big passion is her home town football club, Rotherham United, and at weekends she can be found cheering them on to victory (hopefully!). Visit her at The (Really) Naughty Corner, http://elizabethcoldwell.wordpress.com

Here is a taste of her up and coming MuseItHot release

The Face In The Glass

Blurb:
Psychic Ceri is startled when her crystal ball starts showing her visions of a handsome man who isn’t the boyfriend of her current client. Things become even stranger when the man’s face appears in every reflective surface she looks into, and the visions become progressively more explicit, showing them making love. To solve the mystery, Ceri must visit the hall of mirrors when the fair comes to town, and use an ancient love spell to try to release the stranger from his bizarre captivity.

Excerpt:
I saw his face in my crystal ball with stunning clarity. Usually, the visions I receive are cloudy and soft-focus. They’re not always easy to define, but this was like looking into a mirror. Dark hair pushed back from a high forehead, brown eyes that sparkled mischievously, a mouth designed to be kissed till the lips were swollen with desire. Truly, one of the most handsome men I had seen in a long time.
Raising my eyes from the ball, I looked at the girl sitting on the other side of the table. “He’s very good-looking, isn’t he?” I commented. A visible thrill of pride ran through her, though I was sure she must hear such compliments on a regular basis. “Those beautiful brown eyes of his...”
She tensed, startled out of the relaxed pose I encouraged her to adopt as the reading progressed. “Rob doesn’t have brown eyes.”
“But that’s the man I’m seeing. Dark hair, brown eyes.” I peered at the vision once more, spotting something I didn’t notice the first time. “And a tattoo around his biceps. A Celtic knot design. Subtle, but distinctive.”
That was the point at which she stood up, snatching her purse from the table top. “That’s absolutely nothing like Rob. I knew I was wrong to come here. You can’t see a thing in that stupid ball of yours. You’re just a fraud. Well, don’t think I’m going to pay you for the garbage you’ve been spouting.”
She left, heels clicking on the floor of my little shop, the chimes hanging above the front door mocking me as they jangled in time to her exit.
I stared back at the crystal ball, but with the mood shattered so abruptly I no longer saw anything in its depths. I didn’t understand it. She asked me, as so many of my clients did, to see whether her boyfriend was faithful to her, and whether he was going to ask her to marry him. I had given her the ball to hold, telling her to concentrate on him and nothing but him. The spirits would provide the answer. Once the ball was in my grasp, that sensual, intelligent face presented itself to me. But if it wasn’t her boyfriend Rob, who was it?

Here are more links for Liz...
http://elizabethcoldwell.wordpress.com/
http://museithotpublishing.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=77&Itemid=82

SIX SENTENCE SUNDAY - MORE COLD, COLD HEART

Goodness me, is it that time again? Doesn't time fly and to think we all made it through the week. Either the Rapture didn't take place or none of us made the grade. Oh well, c'est la vie.
So, back to my six. Once again, I am posting from my up and coming MuseItHot Publishing June release, Cold Cold Heart. In this scene, Rachel Warner sets eyes on the famous singer-song writer, Daniel Haines, for the first time.

He wore almost black hair closely cropped, drawing attention to a well-sculptured profile. He was good-looking but not in a male model almost-too-perfect way nor did he possess a boy band laugh-you-into-bed cheekiness. Daniel Haynes was more the boy-next-door type; the kind of boy whose mother dressed him in Thomas the Tank Engine jumpers until age twelve.
He turned from Mai to look at her and her breath caught. Daniel Haines had the most beautiful, luminous, deep blue eyes; eyes big and soulful, fringed by the longest lashes Rachel had ever seen on a man but it was the way he looked at her that sent her heart fluttering. His gaze seemed to penetrate deep into her soul—as if he could read her innermost thoughts, feel her every mood.

Want to read more about this wee honey of a man? Here is a short excerpt...

The lights dimmed again and a crescendo of noise crashed over her head as fifty thousand people leapt to their feet and Daniel’s band ran out on stage.
“Come on!” Grabbing her by the hand, Lynn dragged Rachel from the comfort and security of her seat and plunged her into the screaming multitudes already surging up against the metal barrier. It was okay for Lynn. Years of rugby scrumming with her huge Belfast shipyard brothers and cousins stood her in good stead. She pushed and clawed her way to the front with Rachel clinging to her hand for dear life. Before she could scream an angry protest, a massive tsunami roar erupted and Daniel stepped out on stage.
In the midst of the Brazilian wave of fans, Rachel found she could not move. This man who strutted and danced from one end of the stage to the other, working the crowd, playing and teasing the girls into a frenzy as he smiled down, flirting, seducing the adoring audience into a state of near-hysteria—this was not the same man who, hours before, had been in her office, sitting at her desk, drinking coffee and listening to her trials and tribulations. As she watched him now, the worshipped idol of thousands, it all seemed like a dream.
He approached the edge of the stage and for one heart-stopping moment he seemed to stare right at her. A warm flush spread up from her toes to the roots of her hair. At her side, Lynn, in a state of near collapse, jumped up and down, screaming and twisting Rachel's arm. “Did you see that?”
Above the pounding beat of drums and guitars, Rachel just about made out her ravings.
“He looked at me! Oh, I think I'm going to have an orgasm.”
For the next hour, Rachel was pushed prodded and kicked (more often than not by Lynn). She was desperate to get back to her seat. It was impossible. Wedged tight against the barrier, hordes of screaming girls hemmed them in. With hands stretched up, they cried out for their god to touch them.
By now the Golden Boy had removed his leather jacket—much to the collective joy of thirty thousand or more females—displaying a toned torso beneath a tight-fitting, V-neck T-shirt that didn't quite meet hipster jeans: black naturally! Lynn retrieved a pair of her weeniest knickers from her pocket.
“You dare, Lynn Hudson!” Rachel shrieked in her ear. Grabbing the scrap of black lace, she stuffed it back where it came from.
“You are so not fun! Everyone does it. Oh, I can't believe it!” She dug her nails into Rachel's by now black and blue arm. “This is my favorite.”
So far every song had been her ‘favorite.’ Lynn could still do groupie with the best of them.
Slowly Rachel relaxed, caught up in the magic of Daniel Haines. The lights dimmed and when he moved to sit at a magnificent grand piano, her enjoyment turned to rapture. He mesmerized her. His fingers flew over the keys and the cacophony of noise abated. Hushed silence filled the auditorium. He held the crowd spellbound as his beautiful but powerful voice delivered a haunting ballad. The hairs on the back of her neck lifted when the pure notes soared up into the roof. She wanted to cry. She wanted to stay in the moment forever.

See you next week for more of the delectable Daniel. Meanwhile, check out some more posting at Six Sentence Sunday

http://sixsunday.blogspot.com/

A DAY IN THE LIFE OF....

I have been asked to describe my typical writing day. Oh dear, must I? Okay, confession time. I haul myself out of bed between 10am-10.30 {hey - I watch dvds til 2am}. First chore - on goes the coffee machine. I cannot function without my morning dose of good strong caffeine, all washed down wwith a lovely warm croissant straight from the bakers across the road.

While coffee is brewing, I release my agent from his cage and top up his food bowl. Next, follows the ritual dance where by Sir Maximus runs circles around my feet before settling down on the sofa with he best mates, his cuddly dog and yellow duck. There he will sit and watch CNN for hours.

Time to boot up pc and, with coffee and croissant in hand, I trawl through the mound of emails. Then - its facebook time! No day is complete without checking out the frivolous but often informative world of FB. Mr. Zucherman, I salute you.

That out the way, I will settle down to write any blog posts needed doing before attacking any edits. If I have a completed ms I then get cracking on transfering my illegible notes to Word. A time-consuming task as I am not a red-hot typist. Somewhere between now and 2pm, I release I have a pile of dirty dishes in the sink, a mound of laundry falling out of the washing machine and I haven't even considered what to cook - thus earning me, for the fifth year running Crap Mother of the Year award.

{ME - NOT}









When do you actually write, I hear you all ask, as in create? Can you believe when I am work, sitting behind the reception front desk? In those blissful couple of hours when most guests are either siesting or out by the pool, I revel in silence and I can really concentrate.

I suppose, one day, I will have to do some work and give out hotel keys to guests and probably answer the phone from time to time but, until then, I sit back in my chair, pen and pad in hand, create masterpieces

and hang up my Genius at Work sign.
P.S I do hope my boss does not subscribe to my blog.


Viviane

Monday Muser's Mad Question Time ...to Myself - Secret Girl Crush

Good morning, folks. It seems I have misplaced my guest again or, perhaps my question this week has her running for cover. I have to admit it is a tad naughty. It all stems from a tongue in cheek conversation I had with a friend a couple of years back. We were playing trivial pursuit and, quite calmly, she stated , if she was a lesbian, then Angelina Jolie woould be her chosen partner. You can imagine the hilarious debate that followed. So, that was the question I posed to my guest. I shall now pose it to myself. If I were to have a girl crush, who would it be?I must be clear; when I say crush, I don't mean in a sexual context but, rather, a woman with whom we are attracted to for what ever reason. I am greedy. I have picked three.

My first and long time girl crush is Uma Thurman. When I saw her kick ass in Kill Bill, I was hooked. I love the fact that she is not pretty pretty but is so attractive, not to mention a great actress.

Second - has to be Lady Gaga. How how I would love to hang out with her. What fun we would have. I admire her talent, her style but, above all, I love her sense of humour and tongue n cheek approach to life and herself.

Last but not least - Stevie Nicks. My favouite female artist of all time and writer and singer of many amazing songs. Sixty two years old and still so gorgeous and still making wonderful music. Stevie - I salute you.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stevie_Nicks



So come on, folks; own up. Who is your secret girl crush? This question is also open to any of you lovely gay men out there. If you had one day to be staright - who would you want to be straight with? I am so looking forward to the answers on this one.

Viv