Whoever gave me that fabulous review on Amazon - THANK YOU!!! So glad you enjoyed the book. Very gratifying to know - I appreciate the time and effort to review it, so thanks again. If you read this, reveal yourself, so I can thank you personally.
x
Tuesday, 30 June 2009
Sunday, 28 June 2009
LET'S GO ROUND AGAIN!
The publicity machine cranked into action with a double page spread in the Daily Express and an appearance on a late night chat show on Radio 5 Live on Saturday evening.
There are several interviews lined up on national radio and in a variety of magazines. I shall know I've finally "arrived" when I'm invited to fall off a cliff into a snake pit wearing nothing but a smile and a pair of stilettos in a new TV reality show called I'm a Nobody - Get Me Into There!
Socially, the hot and hopeful date last Saturday night with The Poetic One ended, not with a full English breakfast on Sunday morning, but a skulking off at dawn with his tail between his legs...
I cannot elaborate for fear of hurting his feelings but after such a long and promising build-up, had I been a virgin (I said Had I!!) I'd still have been intacta the following day...
Friday dawns and with it a date with someone I've have my eye on for quite some time. Having spent the afternoon in a field watching my grandchildren running, jumping, and falling over during the egg, spoon and sack races of their school Sports Day, I meet up with The Smouldering One late in the evening.
A wonderfully balmy night in Little Venice provides the perfect backdrop for our slow, sensual meander along the canals, stopping at intervals to have a drink and then get thrown out of a selection of local hosteleries - not because we were behaving badly, but because of their proximity to residential properties which means they are not granted outside licences beyond 10 or 11 p.m.
And so we find ourselves, far too early into our first date, not knowing where to go next. Loath to invite him home lest he produce an axe and chop me to pieces, we cruise along in my new convertible (yes! I was showing off!) and do a recce round the 'hood looking for a late night bar in which to continue our conversation. Having found nowhere suitable, I question my instinct which answers 'Go on, he seems OK.'
We sit out on my terrace drinking scotch on the rocks and listening to Cuban music until 1.45 a.m. I talk too much. Too much about my past. I should have said I was only interested in the present and the future. Remind me to remember this. No man no matter his age (this one will be 40 - one day...in about 12 years' time!) wants to hear about some older woman's bad marriages and worse divorces.
I fancy the guy but I'm not sure if it's reciprocated. Like me, he's an Aquarian. I recognize some of my worst traits. He's blunt and confrontational. He spent a lot of time staring at me with a deep intensity I couldn't read. It made me cross my arms protectively across my chest in a very bad demonstration of 'feeling threatened' body language. He's definitely not a Yes man. I quite like Yes men. They're not such hard work. But they're not as interesting either.
At around 2 a.m. I said I was tired and like a gentleman, he left. But not before teasing my mouth very slowly with his and grazing his lips against mine like a promise.
I stood my ground. Refused to react...but if he comes my way again, arms folded across my chest won't be enough. I better buy a suit of armour.
There are several interviews lined up on national radio and in a variety of magazines. I shall know I've finally "arrived" when I'm invited to fall off a cliff into a snake pit wearing nothing but a smile and a pair of stilettos in a new TV reality show called I'm a Nobody - Get Me Into There!
Socially, the hot and hopeful date last Saturday night with The Poetic One ended, not with a full English breakfast on Sunday morning, but a skulking off at dawn with his tail between his legs...
I cannot elaborate for fear of hurting his feelings but after such a long and promising build-up, had I been a virgin (I said Had I!!) I'd still have been intacta the following day...
Friday dawns and with it a date with someone I've have my eye on for quite some time. Having spent the afternoon in a field watching my grandchildren running, jumping, and falling over during the egg, spoon and sack races of their school Sports Day, I meet up with The Smouldering One late in the evening.
A wonderfully balmy night in Little Venice provides the perfect backdrop for our slow, sensual meander along the canals, stopping at intervals to have a drink and then get thrown out of a selection of local hosteleries - not because we were behaving badly, but because of their proximity to residential properties which means they are not granted outside licences beyond 10 or 11 p.m.
And so we find ourselves, far too early into our first date, not knowing where to go next. Loath to invite him home lest he produce an axe and chop me to pieces, we cruise along in my new convertible (yes! I was showing off!) and do a recce round the 'hood looking for a late night bar in which to continue our conversation. Having found nowhere suitable, I question my instinct which answers 'Go on, he seems OK.'
We sit out on my terrace drinking scotch on the rocks and listening to Cuban music until 1.45 a.m. I talk too much. Too much about my past. I should have said I was only interested in the present and the future. Remind me to remember this. No man no matter his age (this one will be 40 - one day...in about 12 years' time!) wants to hear about some older woman's bad marriages and worse divorces.
I fancy the guy but I'm not sure if it's reciprocated. Like me, he's an Aquarian. I recognize some of my worst traits. He's blunt and confrontational. He spent a lot of time staring at me with a deep intensity I couldn't read. It made me cross my arms protectively across my chest in a very bad demonstration of 'feeling threatened' body language. He's definitely not a Yes man. I quite like Yes men. They're not such hard work. But they're not as interesting either.
At around 2 a.m. I said I was tired and like a gentleman, he left. But not before teasing my mouth very slowly with his and grazing his lips against mine like a promise.
I stood my ground. Refused to react...but if he comes my way again, arms folded across my chest won't be enough. I better buy a suit of armour.
Thursday, 18 June 2009
IF YOU WISH TO PRE-ORDER 'THE DAILY MALE'...
...you can do so on Amazon but you must type in:
THE TOYBOY DIARIES 2 and it will come up. 'The Daily Male' is the sub-heading and doesn't feature if that's all you enter.
Thanks everyone!!
Hope you enjoy it xx
THE TOYBOY DIARIES 2 and it will come up. 'The Daily Male' is the sub-heading and doesn't feature if that's all you enter.
Thanks everyone!!
Hope you enjoy it xx
Saturday, 13 June 2009
THE EXPIRY DATE OF SAUSAGES
Last Saturday, I had my third date with TenderLovingBoy (TLB). We went to the Toyboy Warehouse party together and I was proud to have him on my arm. He arrived to meet me with a bouquet of long-stemmed white roses stylishly bound round with raffia. So thoughtful, so romantic... it's been way too long since I've been treated like that. No wonder I'm behaving strangely!
TLB looked after me all evening like Kevin Costner in 'The Bodyguard'. Watchful, protective, bringing me food and drinks, attending to my every need, taking a step back when people came to talk to me and generally acting out my fantasy of a perfect gentleman on the outside, smouldering with desire within. I enjoyed the experience so much, I decided to prolong our 'courtship' and relish the subtle anticipation of what is inevitably to come. Bizarre as it may seem, I actually like him enough NOT to jump into bed with him.
Our previous date, the night prior to the party, found us wrapped around each other in the back row of the movies. Our kisses ignited incendiaries in all the relevant parts of my viscera. It would have been oh so easy to take him home and let him finish what he started, but did I? No. Why? Respect.
AM I READING THE RIGHT BLOG? I hear you ask.
Yes, friends, you are - this is still me, but it's the New Improved Me.
Although it's clear we fancy the pants off each other, those pants are staying firmly put a little longer than usual. After a deep and meaningful discussion over a Mojito or three, I suggested (and he reluctantly agreed) to adhere to the 'Six Date Rule' because after all: what's the rush?
'Ahh!' says TLB as the significance of my suggestion sinks in. 'You mean the 'pleasure delay'?'
'Precisely' says I, thinking how fortuitous it was that I had resisted buying the ingredients for a full English breakfast as it would have been far too tempting to invite him back to taste the hostess and her wares, especially if the sausages had had an early sell-by date.
I've been far too guilty in my time of rushing through relationships and out the other side but this feels calmer somehow. Less hurried. More controlled and dare I say it...sensible. (OK, OK - he's only 27...it ain't ever going to be 'sensible'...)
And so I retired alone and lay huddled on the right of the bed, the left side as empty as a beach in winter. I awoke feeling rather virtuous - a feeling I'm not exactly familiar with.
Sailing through the following day on a flotilla of breathless expectation, I was smacked in the face by a wet haddock when he texted, later that evening, to finish with me! Said he was already 'in too deep'. Knew exactly where it was headed. Didn't want to get hurt. Needed to protect himself. Didn't really trust me.
It reminded me horribly of CC, except this time, I was determined to reel him back in. This one was not going to get away that easily, I thought. Not as long as I was female and had a pulse.
Through a softly, softly approach, I convinced him to meet up again. He backtracked his negation pretty quickly. We have a date arranged for Saturday. I'm cautiously optimistic that we'll make it. It'll be the fouth date not the sixth but rules were made to be broken and who cares anyway? I like him. He's different. Dark and complex and he writes me poetry.
I wonder what poetry we'll make when dusk falls on the city this weekend...
Shame it's coming up to the shortest night...
I've a feeling we'll need a longish one...
TLB looked after me all evening like Kevin Costner in 'The Bodyguard'. Watchful, protective, bringing me food and drinks, attending to my every need, taking a step back when people came to talk to me and generally acting out my fantasy of a perfect gentleman on the outside, smouldering with desire within. I enjoyed the experience so much, I decided to prolong our 'courtship' and relish the subtle anticipation of what is inevitably to come. Bizarre as it may seem, I actually like him enough NOT to jump into bed with him.
Our previous date, the night prior to the party, found us wrapped around each other in the back row of the movies. Our kisses ignited incendiaries in all the relevant parts of my viscera. It would have been oh so easy to take him home and let him finish what he started, but did I? No. Why? Respect.
AM I READING THE RIGHT BLOG? I hear you ask.
Yes, friends, you are - this is still me, but it's the New Improved Me.
Although it's clear we fancy the pants off each other, those pants are staying firmly put a little longer than usual. After a deep and meaningful discussion over a Mojito or three, I suggested (and he reluctantly agreed) to adhere to the 'Six Date Rule' because after all: what's the rush?
'Ahh!' says TLB as the significance of my suggestion sinks in. 'You mean the 'pleasure delay'?'
'Precisely' says I, thinking how fortuitous it was that I had resisted buying the ingredients for a full English breakfast as it would have been far too tempting to invite him back to taste the hostess and her wares, especially if the sausages had had an early sell-by date.
I've been far too guilty in my time of rushing through relationships and out the other side but this feels calmer somehow. Less hurried. More controlled and dare I say it...sensible. (OK, OK - he's only 27...it ain't ever going to be 'sensible'...)
And so I retired alone and lay huddled on the right of the bed, the left side as empty as a beach in winter. I awoke feeling rather virtuous - a feeling I'm not exactly familiar with.
Sailing through the following day on a flotilla of breathless expectation, I was smacked in the face by a wet haddock when he texted, later that evening, to finish with me! Said he was already 'in too deep'. Knew exactly where it was headed. Didn't want to get hurt. Needed to protect himself. Didn't really trust me.
It reminded me horribly of CC, except this time, I was determined to reel him back in. This one was not going to get away that easily, I thought. Not as long as I was female and had a pulse.
Through a softly, softly approach, I convinced him to meet up again. He backtracked his negation pretty quickly. We have a date arranged for Saturday. I'm cautiously optimistic that we'll make it. It'll be the fouth date not the sixth but rules were made to be broken and who cares anyway? I like him. He's different. Dark and complex and he writes me poetry.
I wonder what poetry we'll make when dusk falls on the city this weekend...
Shame it's coming up to the shortest night...
I've a feeling we'll need a longish one...
Friday, 5 June 2009
GONE TO PRESS!!
Unbelievably, 'The Toyboy Diaries 2 - The Daily Male' actually went to press today!
I say 'unbelievably' because the first final proof had my name spelled wrong, the second final proof had forgotten to insert my dedication, the third final proof had a fair number of typos and the fourth FINAL PROOF spelled the bloody title wrong: Mail instead of Male! Good job I was alert enough to notice all these things - an author's work is never done...
I celebrated tonight with a toyboy date. Of course! How else? Darling chap, tall, good-looking, fair hair, smooth skin, a true gent and very young...dare I say it - too young at 27 even for me?
We went for a couple of drinks then I deposited him back at the station from whence he'd emerged and came straight home. Hmmm! I thought to myself as I climbed my stairs alone. Growing old or simply growing up? There was a time I'd never have let a live one get away but sometimes it's more powerful to say No than to say Yes. And it keeps the momentum going and I'm sure I'll see him again which I may not have, had I 'succumbed' on the first date.
So now I wait for the first actual copy of the new book to land on my mat so I can hold it in my hand and see that it's real.
Next project is my first novel 'Blood on the Sand' - the story of a young girl who goes to Spain in the 1960s and falls in love with a bullfighter (Yup! Me again, I'm afraid!) currently being looked at by a Madrid-based literary agent.
On Monday, I'll get on with my second novel 'West from Odessa' a book I'd like to read but I have to write first.
Writing a book is like giving birth...very creative, very exciting - but first my elder daughter is going to do that, hopefully in six weeks time, and present me with my fourth grandchild! How blessed am I?!
I say 'unbelievably' because the first final proof had my name spelled wrong, the second final proof had forgotten to insert my dedication, the third final proof had a fair number of typos and the fourth FINAL PROOF spelled the bloody title wrong: Mail instead of Male! Good job I was alert enough to notice all these things - an author's work is never done...
I celebrated tonight with a toyboy date. Of course! How else? Darling chap, tall, good-looking, fair hair, smooth skin, a true gent and very young...dare I say it - too young at 27 even for me?
We went for a couple of drinks then I deposited him back at the station from whence he'd emerged and came straight home. Hmmm! I thought to myself as I climbed my stairs alone. Growing old or simply growing up? There was a time I'd never have let a live one get away but sometimes it's more powerful to say No than to say Yes. And it keeps the momentum going and I'm sure I'll see him again which I may not have, had I 'succumbed' on the first date.
So now I wait for the first actual copy of the new book to land on my mat so I can hold it in my hand and see that it's real.
Next project is my first novel 'Blood on the Sand' - the story of a young girl who goes to Spain in the 1960s and falls in love with a bullfighter (Yup! Me again, I'm afraid!) currently being looked at by a Madrid-based literary agent.
On Monday, I'll get on with my second novel 'West from Odessa' a book I'd like to read but I have to write first.
Writing a book is like giving birth...very creative, very exciting - but first my elder daughter is going to do that, hopefully in six weeks time, and present me with my fourth grandchild! How blessed am I?!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
