Saturday, June 14, 2014


For those of you passing through and not taking cognizance of the pure literary genius a mere click away, here is a little taster below that I've plucked from Chapter four. And if you're wondering what is going on it's something to do with a blind date from hell, but that's all I'm saying. Get the book! It's only 2-99 on Amazon! Cheap as chips, and worth it's weight in gold. Well that is what I've been told ; )

Here goes...

Start of Ch 4

To be fair, delusions of grandeur quashed, close up he wasn’t too bad. This Angie valiantly concluded as the car pulled away from the litter-strewn apocalypse. At least, nothing that wasn’t fixable, especially these days, what with the onslaught of self-enhancement programmes such as Gok and Trinny & Suzannah, or that hoity-toity blonde with winged glasses whose name escaped her at present.

Teetering on this observation, Angie mentally catalogued his potential as they hurtled out of the crumbling estate and headed east towards the A47. For starters he could quite easily dispense of the facial hair and ponytail (both clearly an over-compensation for the lack of same on top) and with a quick fashion change, high-quality rug, built up shoes, head transplant.



What was left of Angie’s optimism plummeted. Not only was he the creepiest, most revolting man she’d ever set eyes on, but he was clearly committing the cardinal sin of wearing crocks over socks.

Oh Gad, why oh why hadn’t she insisted on a sneak preview? If she’d done that, like Matt suggested, none of this would have happened. Still, it was a bit too late in the day for that now. Now was the time for damage control, or rather to take control, because clearly from the constant rustling noise behind (Hazel pretending to tidy her already clinically immaculate handbag) there clearly was zero bonding taking place.

Time for a sneak peek.

Neck rigid as a poker, Angie, rolled her eyes clockwise, did a quick scan then rolled them counter-clockwise again. Honestly, if Hazel could put any more distance between them she’d be perched on the sodding bumper. And if nothing she could at least spark up a conversation with the poor sod. Apart from a monosyllabic grunt when he stumbled his way into the back, she hadn’t uttered a single word since.

The air in the car was so thick you could slice it with a hacksaw.

And Matt wasn’t helping either.

Angie tried to snag him, but he was all poker-faced and staring rigidly ahead, the only vital signs of life a little tick on the side of his jaw every few seconds.

Typical, just bloody typical.

Oh it was no use. As usual it would have to be up to her to save the day.

Grafting a smile on her face, Angie twisted round and peered cheerily though the gap.

‘Everything alright back there in the stalls?’

Hazel impaled her with a homicidal glare then went back to her frenzied ferreting.

‘So Terry—’

‘It’s Trevor,’ enlightened Matt, dragging his eyes jumpily off the road.

...So, there you have it, lots of laughs and many, many more to come.
Do yourself a favour (and me the honour) and get a copy!
Speak soon...let me get back to the grindstone

No comments:

Post a Comment

Please leave a comment, thank you!