Monster Mash

It's Halloween! I knew this holiday would appeal to the child in me. One, I like free stuff. Two, I like dressing up. And three? Any excuse for punch. It's also the day to try something different. So if you haven't given my ghouls and monster stories a go, now's the time to jump in.

Said The Demon To Little Miss Eva was my first foray into horror. Safe to say I scared myself silly, but at the heart of it is a story about the power of love and friendship.

Put Out The Zombie was my challenge tale. Make zombies sexy. It was a toughy, but what I did was look at the origins of the word and run with it. There are flame throwing witches, deities who gain power from an acquired taste and a good old fashioned who-dunnit.

Playing Dead is the newest tale of love between a man and the gorgeous poltergeist who won't let him get a good night's sleep until he's solved her murder. What could possibly be wrong with that?

There we are! My unholy trinity. Tell me which one tickles your fancy! Find them all on the Mocha Memoirs site, Beautiful Trouble, iBooks, All Romance Ebooks and Amazon. That's some paranormal ish right there, being in all those places at once..

Happy Holidays!

Playing for the Dead

I bring you the soundtrack for Playing Dead. If I could think of a trailer to this story, the overwhelmingly perfect fit would be Placebo. Freakin' creeps me out.

Aretha Franklin Bridge Over Troubled Water
Anita Ward Ring My Bell
Ike & Tina Turner Proud Mary
T-Rex Bang a Gong (Get it On)
Placebo Running Up That Hill
Karen O Immigrant Song
Linkin Park Krwlng 
The Cure Lullaby
Drake Look What You've Done
The Fugees No Woman No Cry
Jack White Love Is Blindness
Example Playing In The Shadows
Lamb Bonfire
Bjork Play Dead

http://mochamemoirspress.com/playing-dead/

Play Dead

Happy Halloween! I've brought you all some candy. Man candy! It's still pretty bonkers as a story, but I really hope you all enjoy it. Grab a pumpkin juice, light some candles and sorry. No crucifixes will save anyone this time...

http://mochamemoirspress.com/playing-dead/

Pinch punch!

First day of the month! October hails all things that are great about autumn. Golden brown leaves, darkening afternoons, gingerbread lattes, toffee apples and Halloween. Indeed people, tis the season to be terrified, falalalala! Mocha Memoirs and BTP are taking over the month with all things that send a shiver down the spine. We're starting off with the Queen of Frights, Ms Janet Eckford, who has thirty one short stories in a dastardly collection. I've finished story one and my phone is hiding in my underwear drawer where it can stay there until daylight. Story 2 through to 31 shall be read each day as a Billy treat. Come on then! Let's get scared...

www.amazon.com

Sunlight

You know when I said I got up at the arse crack of dawn to go and take photos of my city? Well I did. I dragged my puffy eyed, weary carcass to Putney at god awful o'clock and snapped around sixty photos. Like a weirdo. Almost took a photo of a couple of tramps dealing from their shopping trolley. I apologised and backed off. Anyways! One of those hard earned, sleep deprived photographs has become the background scene to the next Italian Knights book. Annie Lebowitz? Eat your heart out!

Isn't it pretty?! I love it and not just because I worked for it. (Sat in Cafe Nero for two hours after then had four hours more sleep. But it was work.) It's this long for the paperback. That's where the description will go. Now the rainbow is real, it's where the sunlight hit my camera lens. London was just waking up and I was the tourist in a dude's cardigan, leggings and some bad ass canvas trainers taking photos. I kept thinking, catching sight of the cameras beside Putney Bridge, "I hope M15 don't profile me as a potential terrorist..." Ah the era of digital cameras. Everyone's a photographer. To be fair though, one is rather skilled at it.

Marry You

On Saturday, I blubbed like a baby as we watched a friend I've known since I was knee high marry her true love. And I mean that without the slightest bit of sarcasm. I'm hungover - even now, I haven't got the wit to be snarky about my favourite subject - love. Of all the men in the world that my friend could have met, of all the men that someone could have been set up with her, she was introduced to her now husband. Call it fate, serendipity, cosmic alignment, God's good graces, luck... It happened. The picture above is the view from the hotel. I barely stopped myself from doing the intro dance from Coming to America as it was a Waldorf Astoria hotel. "She's your Queen to-hoooo beeeee!"

Then again I have wept child-like before. Oh my giddy aunt, when one of my best mates tied the knot, the minute she and her husband did their first dance, I was a mess. But for some reason, at the wedding on Saturday, I couldn't stop. It was ridiculous! They were tears of happiness, but relief at the passing of the struggle she'd been through, that her family came together, that no one argued or fought, that the registrar turned up - late but turned up. That I didn't mess up her face (I did her make up - long story), that I narrowly avoided getting trampled on when the bouquet was thrown and the glue on my false eyelashes held true despite the fact I kept crying.

I think the reason I was so emotional is a combination of a few things. Billy's a little older, a little wiser and definitely a little more cynical about relationships and love and marriage. But I'm still essentially a romantic who wants everyone to find that bit of happiness. I feel all warm and fuzzy about it all. Lucky with my friends and hopeful for the future. Know what's worse? I've got another friend whom I've known the same length of time who's getting married in less than three weeks. Screw waterproof mascara, it's back with the false lashes. There Will Be Tears. This will end up in a book somewhere, somehow. It's too emotional not to use.

City of Dreams

I've been bad, and not posted for almost a month. But in my defence I have been writing like a beast and finished my thrill-rom-ror (thriller romantic horror). It was supposed to be a romantic horror, but Hank didn't agree with me. So we worked through some of my issues, as per usual and it is what it now is. Obviously it's based in London. As always.

I spent the weekend out in Hertfordshire, green fields, sheep, horses, England's flatlands. While ruining all the fresh air I inhaled by doing shots of tequila and devouring hog roast, potato salad and about half a baguette of bread, I rather enjoyed the quiet. The quiet after the debauchery.

I loved looking out of the window and not seeing any cars, shops, drunk people (they were all asleep) clubs, pubs, restaurants for miles around. People tell me that their perspective changes once they have children and then there is all sorts to take into account when thinking about where to live. While holding a gorgeous four month old baby girl (seriously thought about kidnapping her) it crossed my mind that I could move into the middle of nowhere in the future. Then I thought about how the hell I'd get my hair products. How much petrol I'd use up driving to the nearest supermarket for mashed potato when right now I can walk it. That most of all I'd miss the buzz.

Don't get me wrong, if I have kids, I probably will end up being psycho momma who moves thirty miles to get within good schools priority distance, but not out of London. I grew up in this city and I'm fine. Mostly. With the bite of the travel bug still strong within me, I've got an internal homing beacon and it's got London programmed right into it. So I'm London through and through. Expect to see that in the books for a while. Long while. Except when we vacay to Italy. Other than that, totally London. Bloody Hertfordshire making me test my loyalty!