Falling to Pieces – Chapter One

In celebration of reaching over 1000 likes on my Facebook page, and ‘Falling to Pieces going live on Amazon, both in paperback and Kindle editions, I’m posting Chapter One. Hope you all like it.

Chapter One 

I fought against sleep, desperately trying to force my eyelids open. The crate I was inside jolted on a hard surface. I caught the words of apologies from the handlers before falling back into unconsciousness for a moment.

The crate was back on the move, disturbing me once again. I wanted to slam my fists on the wood at tell them I’d walk myself, but I kept falling back to sleep before I got the chance.

My bare feet pressed hard against the silk lining as the box tilted at an angle. On the outside it appeared to be an ordinary wooden cargo container, not unlike one you’d see if you shipped a large amount of wine over from foreign shores. The inside was a different story altogether, having been padded and lined with the finest Chinese silk.

The journey had been nothing but a pain in the ass, or arse, as I should say now that we’re in England. I hated with a passion being cooped up.

I recognised the clunk of metal connecting with the wood, gently easing the nails out to reveal my resting place. The highly paid handlers quickly moved to take me out of the box. They gingerly lifted me out before placing me on the bed. My eyes flickered open for a moment with the sensation of being lifted. I wanted to struggle against them and climb into the bed by myself, but the energy needed wasn’t available with the sun still in the sky. I settled into a deep undisturbed sleep as the men left my bedroom.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to wait long for the sun to set. I woke with a start, unsettled by my unfamiliar surroundings.

Flopping back down on the Egyptian cotton sheet, I wrinkled my nose at the memory of voluntarily climbing into the large wooden crate. Everything I needed I’d had with me, but there’s nothing pleasant about being nailed into a crate for any amount of time, regardless of the decor.

I squeezed my eyes shut, grimacing at the recollection of my father’s harsh tone. He’s not exactly my father in the traditional sense, but it’s an appropriate name for him because he made me into what I am today.

“Now, Teagan, you must remember not to fidget,” he chastised me with a stony expression etched on his face.

I’d considered telling him to go fuck himself. I didn’t want to leave America, but the electric pull of his possession forced me to follow wherever he chose to go. That was simply the way things were. The desire to be with my maker was too strong to ignore.

Like a good little fledgling, I’d smiled sweetly at him instead.

“Yes, father. You have told me many times of the importance of not moving around. I do remember the first time. Did I let you down then?”

The first time we’d travelled thousands of miles, the Wright brothers hadn’t even been born, let alone invented the airplane.

I remembered Thomas, my maker and saviour giving me the same instructions in 1853 when we’d boarded the ship named Washington, bound for New York.

Back then, I’d hung on to his every word like a little puppy.

Thomas had stroked my cheek with his cold fingers. His dark blue eyes were bright and glossy, gazing into mine with heart-warming sincerity.

“Listen to me my dear child,” his voice sounded so soft, almost a whisper. I raised my face closer to his.

“You must remember to keep as still as possible. If we are discovered in the crates we’ll be considered stowaways. There will be no way for us to hide from the sun.”

I’d nodded my understanding, completely at his command. I was so new at being a vampire that I shined and sparkled like a new pin to adorn him with a trophy child and a pet project.

Sweetly, he’d waited outside of my crate whilst I’d lowered myself down with my face turned up to his and my eyes wide with fear. Thomas had lowered his smiling lips to my pale cheek after I’d lain down.

“You will be safe now, my love,” he’d said.

I understood why we had to go. It was impossible to stay in Ireland now. My family thought me dead and it was best for everyone that they continued to believe that.

He straightened himself back up and turned to his servants, his expression changing to a business like quality, all gentleness vanishing.

“Seal her crate,” he barked at the highly paid men that were escorting us. The lid was nailed shut.

I slept for the majority of the first few days before one of Thomas’ servants released us. We were well into the trip by then and I’d run out of the supplies that had been placed in the crate with me. It took all the will I had to stop myself from draining the servant dry.

For six weeks, the servants would let us out of the crates to feed on the unsuspecting crew and passengers.

When the ship docked in New York, they were around one hundred passengers lighter. Of course, not every death could be attributed to Thomas and me. Some had been taken by disease or pure misfortune. If it had been nowadays, they wouldn’t have died from our feeding at all. The lack of food and nutrition onboard had made the humans weak, too weak to sustain blood loss.

I slipped off my bed, bringing myself back to reality, and walked into the bathroom, flipping the light on more out of habit than necessity. My vision was perfect in the darkness, after taking a moment to adjust anyway.

I inspected myself in the mirror whilst removing the clothes I’d been wearing for days, discarding them on the floor. I’ve got ginger hair. Ok, maybe not ginger, I’m somewhere in between red and blonde. It irritates the hell outta’ me.

If my hair colour was red or blonde I suspect I’d be a bit happier. I’ve bleached and dyed it before, only to wake up the next night and find the mane is back to normal, stuck in purgatory between the two colours and ramrod straight. I even shaved my head once, the whole damn lot, but I woke to find the tresses had re-grown back down to my waist.

At least my transition couldn’t affect the pallor of my skin. I’ve always been pale with freckles scattered about most of my body. A consequence of being Irish I figured.

As a human, my oval shaped eyes were a dark blue, but since the change they’ve become cyan speckled with flecks of violet, as if my body couldn’t decide what it wanted.

“For goodness sake, Teagan!” Thomas bellowed from the doorway of my bathroom.

I continued my gaze into the mirror.

“What alarms you about clothes?” Thomas asked.

I viewed him out the corner of my eye—he’d turned to face away from my exposed body.

“Well, Thomas, this is my bathroom and my bedroom. Are you afraid of knocking?”

I selected the mascara from the contents of the bag next to the sink. I unscrewed the lid and began applying the gloopy black substance to my eyelashes whilst trying to act as if he’d gone.

“Well, I didn’t want you to become—over hungry.”

I stomped past him, making no attempt to cover up my nakedness, back into my large bedroom.

“Fear not, father. I’m going out now.”

“By yourself?” His voice was high-pitched with incredulity. “You won’t have any idea of where to go. We’re not in Montana now, Teagan. You don’t know London.”

I rolled my eyes in another direction, unwilling to look at him. I pretended to inspect the crimson pattern on the feature wall as I pulled on some jeans, not bothering with underwear, I was too hungry to mess around. I’d selected the décor for my room while we were still in Montana, and I was happy to see the decorators had pulled off my vision to perfection.

“I’m well aware of where we are, thank you very much, father. You know I prefer to feed by myself, without any of your corrections.” I snatched up the green silk shirt, the material slithered over my skin sending the nerve endings to alert. I was a little excited at the thought of tasting new blood, English blood.

“I’m sorry, Teagan. Of course, I forgot, you can’t take constructive criticism. I only endeavour to help you improve yourself,” he said, his voice tinged with sarcasm and his eyes narrowed with severity.

Thomas’ Italian leather shoes spun on the thick red pile carpet as his slim figure, a blur, flashed out the walnut door after swinging the heavy wood back hard on the hinges.

I raised an eyebrow as “dick-head,” escaped my mouth without consideration.

I slumped down on the California king bed. Actually, I had been behaving like a sulky teenager. Thomas had given me everything anyone could ever wish for. He’d saved me from a sad existence. There were some things in my human life that I felt I’d missed out on because I had to leave. It caused me pain to even think about those things, and I never talked about them. But I knew that everything he did and continues to do, he does for me.

The move to London had annoyed me. I had no idea why we’d come here, and I’d never been offered an explanation of any kind.

Our lives in Montana were remote and lonely. It wasn’t as if I had left anything that I loved behind. I should have been grateful for the streams of people and the bright lights of the city.

Huffing at my own behaviour, I slipped my feet into green ballet style shoes. I filled my nostrils with air as I stepped out into the hallway, trying to sniff Thomas out. The house was huge, so it took me a while to trace him to the drawing room.

I hovered by the door while he pretended not to realise I was there. His eyes remained firmly on the book he was clutching with white knuckles. He sat in a salmon coloured winged back chair next to the intricate stone fireplace with pinched lips and a stiff posture.

“Father,” I said quietly, my voice cutting through the silence like a knife.

“What?” he snapped, not bothering to grant me a glance.

“I’m so sorry for my behaviour. You’re right. I’m acting like an adolescent. Can you forgive me? We could start afresh.”

“You know I will,” he said, his eyes meeting mine finally as he softened his expression. “Can you forgive me for bringing you to London?”

“It’s not so bad.” I smiled while waving my hand around the plush room. “Any chance we discuss our new beginning later? I’m so hungry.”

He shook himself, as if he had forgotten that I hadn’t eaten in days.

“Of course, my love. I suggest you go to Hyde Park. It’s a few minutes walk, if you head south you can’t miss it. I shouldn’t think you’d encounter any problems.”

I nodded letting my smile reach my eyes.

I threw the front door open after descending the stairs. The air, still quite warm and doused with pollution, served as another reminder I no longer lived in a countryside location.

Skipping down the front steps I took in the scene on the street. The houses around me glowed thanks to the streetlights lining the pavement. All of the houses resembled the one I lived in, painted a clean, creamy ivory colour. The doors and railings wrapping around them were painted black in stark contrast. They were rowed neatly with bevelled triangular carvings in them, tall, proud and narrow structures.

I couldn’t believe the cleanliness of the streets. I’d always imagined London would be dirty for some reason.

As directed by Thomas, I reached the edge of the park within a few minutes and took a path lined with globular street lamps casting a white pearly light.

Spotting a bank of trees, I walked over to them pressing the length of my body against the bark and laying my cheek against the roughness. I closed my eyes and breathed in the earthy goodness. I’d already been missing the countryside, just in that short walk.

The traffic noises from a nearby road drowned out my thoughts, so I concentrated on blocking them all out. My brain finally cut out the background noise. The lapping water of the river running parallel to the park and the wind rattling the soft leaves and grass soothed me. It made me feel at one with the nature surrounding me despite being in the middle of the city.

My eyes snapped open as I became aware of the vibration of footsteps, too clunky and unrefined to be an animal.

As the human came closer, I could hear their ragged breath and a heartbeat pumping the delicious blood through their veins.

My eyes found him—a stout man, short, fat and bald. His suit was grey and crumpled. His whitecollar hung open, the tie swung with his movements having been loosened off, leaving his fleshy neck exposed.

He started to pass where I stood, and in a blurry flash I snatched his large body and extended my fangs. I forced him against the tree as my newly revealed teeth stabbed into his neck. My mouth filled with sweet, rich, sticky liquid, tinged with the taste of alcohol.

He groaned for a second before the venom provided anaesthetic relief.

I wrapped my arms around his huge waist and shifted his body gently down to the grass so I was kneeling beside him. I pulled my teeth out of his neck whilst placing my hand over his mouth.

The man’s eyes flew wide open for a split second before the make-up of the venom had a chance to convert in his blood stream. When he flinched, that told me the process had completed. The poison from my fangs had wiped his memory of my attack forever. I moved my hand from his mouth to his cheek so fast any human would fail to notice.

“Are you ok, Mister?” I asked him frowning.

“Whoa—what happened?”

“A cyclist knocked you flying and you fell unconscious for a moment or two.”

“A cyclist knocked me over?” he echoed in an uncertain tone, swallowing hard. “I feel a bit dizzy.”

“Well, you’ve had a shock. Here, let me help you up.” I rose with grace from my place beside him and extended my hand. I didn’t want to draw this out for longer than I had to. I was eager to explore the city.

He grasped my hand with no consideration for our weight difference, probably a good thing because I didn’t want him to take notice of my considerable strength.

I began brushing him down trying to stifle a giggle, my actions reminding me of a mother inspecting her child before sending him off to school.

“I’d go home if I were you, see how you are in the morning,” I advised. He nodded, blinking rapidly and glancing around.

“Um, thanks,” he said before sluggishly ambling away.

I walked a few metres to sit down on a wooden bench. I wanted to bask in the warmth of being full and satisfied. My head dropped back and rested on the backrest. My eyes were half open as a smile curled the edges of my lips.

Without warning my whole body jerked, every muscle became tense. I realised instinct had positioned me on the pathway in a crouch, ready to pounce.

I swished back into the tree line where I’d come from, my blue and purple irises alert, ready for what created the magnificent aroma that I was breathing in deeply.

What is that?’ I’d never smelled anything like it before. It was indescribable because it was so many things. Open lilies, baking bread, freshly cut grass, all intertwined to create something wonderful.

I focussed my attention back on the path, honing my vision on the delectable source of the scent.

The aroma came from a man walking purposefully through the park.

How could a human smell so divine? He certainty appeared to be just a human, but then I supposed I did, too. His shoes tapped across the walkway. Though, to me, each gentle footstep seemed to magnify into great big booms. My attention belonged solely to him.

He stopped in his tracks, his eyebrows knitting together creasing his perfect olive skin.

My nails dug into the bark, exposing the flesh of the tree.

He snorted in the scented air just as I had been, like a cocaine addict simply unable to stop filling his nose. He glanced around before he continued his liquid movements down the path past the tree that I clung to for support.

If you liked it, here are the links:

UK Customers:

Kindle edition: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Falling-to-Pieces-ebook/dp/B00E6SH4VK/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1375213080&sr=1-2&keywords=falling+to+pieces

Paperback: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Falling-to-Pieces-ebook/dp/B00E6SH4VK/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1375214503&sr=1-2&keywords=falling+to+pieces


US Customers:

Kindle edition: http://www.amazon.com/Falling-to-Pieces-ebook/dp/B00E6SH4VK/ref=sr_1_16?ie=UTF8&qid=1375214571&sr=8-16&keywords=Falling+to+pieces

Paperback: http://www.amazon.com/Falling-Pieces-L-T-Kelly/dp/1490952012/ref=sr_1_10?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1375214660&sr=1-10&keywords=Falling+to+pieces



UK Customers:


(Of course, if I am able to deliver postage will be refunded.)

European Customers:


USA Customers:


Interview with Devon Youngblood. Author of ‘Coming Back to You.’


Title: Coming Back To You

Author: Devon Youngblood


Amazon links:




Genre:  New Adult

Tour: Irresistible Reads Book Tours

Book Description:

Maura is a twenty three year old who is still coping with her parents’ sudden death two years ago. She recently graduated from college and now has her own catering business. A best friend-roommate who has been there through it all and helps make life manageable.

Until first love Pierson Hammer comes walking back into her life.
Pierson has demons of his own, after serving in the military for five years. Tormented from his past and present. He comes home hoping to make amends with Maura.
Can Maura forgive Pierson for leaving her all those years ago? Can she trust him with her future? Will she open herself up completely?




1. Tell me a little about yourself.

I have been happily married to my husband for twelve years. And I have a wonderful step son who is very tech savvy and a great helper with all that techy stuff. I developed a love for reading at a young age and it has stuck with me through adulthood. I also love reading just about anything in my genre. I will try anything once!

2. What situation or event inspired you to write ‘Coming Back to You’? 

Well it originally started when Maura popped into my head and she was talking ALOT. But I could not figure out the male lead for the LONGEST time. I was reading about the war and the effect it has on our soldiers, and Pierson came to life that very instant. And the story formed from there.

3. Describe your book in three to five words.

Forgiveness, redemption, reconnecting, first love.

4. So, this is your first novel? How long have you been writing and what finally pushed you to write the novel?

Yes it is my first novel. I’ve always been a thinker and wrapped in my own little world. And Maura would not shut the hell up. So I HAD to write. She’s been in my head a long time.

5. Do you have a plan for future publications or is ‘Coming back to you’ set to be a stand alone novel?

It is a stand alone novel. But there is an event that happens in that one that sets off Book Two, two NEW characters and how that event affected them. But you wouldn’t have to read Coming Back to You to read Book Two. But you would understand the situation better.

6. What were the best and worst experiences you’ve had whilst writing/preparing ‘Coming Back to You’ for publication?

The best experience is writing the story itself. The worst experience I would say is finding the time to write since I already work two jobs and I’ve lost plenty of sleep over it!

7. What’s ‘the dream’ when it comes to your writing career, your ultimate goal?

My Ultimate goal is to be able to make a living writing.

About the Author:

I Love love love to read. I’ve even had a story stuck in my heart for well over a year. I put pen to paper but ended up giving up on it. That was over a year ago.

Well that same story is still stuck in my head, so now I am determined to get it ALL down and put out there.
I am happily married and have an awesome stepson. We call ourselves the Three D’s.

It is my little family and I would do anything for them.

Right now I am working two jobs, trying to eat healthy & workout and I’m writing. Getting my reading done during any spare moments I have.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/D-Youngblood Author/363603683759679?ref=tn_tnmn


Tour Schedule

Schedule: http://bit.ly/12jqNVI

Bare Assets by M.L. Stephens – Cover reveal.

I’m so pleased to be able to reveal a wonderful authors cover. This is ‘Bare Assets’ by M.L. Stephens.




Isn’t it beautiful! I’m drooling…

Here’s the blurb.

Bare Assets

by M. L. Stephens

Release date: 8-05-2013

Book Blurb


With nothing but shattered dreams and a busted heart to fuel the way, Angela Fletcher drove out of Arkansas and never looked back.

Six years later, the new and improved version of the girl she used to be, steered clear of romance, love and late night promises. The only pillow talk Angela engaged in these days, was making sure the person on the other pillow knew to lose her number as soon as he left the bed. She only had room for one love in her life and that was Bare Assets, the gentleman’s club she poured her heart and soul into.

Dean Murray was the devil in disguise and had left behind enough broken hearted women to populate a small country. Angela would know. She was an expert markswoman who was skillfully self-trained at shooting down the good, the bad and the ugly of all masculine targets. After all, as the owner of the most successful strip club in Dallas, Texas, it was her business to know men.

Just as she begins to fall for Dean’s silky words and passionate ways, her past and present unexpectedly collide and a meticulously planned future turns into unpredictable chaos. Is the smooth talking, denim wearing devil responsible for the chaos? Or have the secrets she left buried in Arkansas, coming back to haunt her?


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Love Interrupted by A.J. Warner – Cover reveal.


Logan Brookes loved Andrew Eastin for as long as she could remember, and he had always loved her. After losing her parents, and avoiding obstacles, there was no way she could face losing him too. She loved him enough to walk away for both of their sakes. She left him before he could leave her.

When tragedy strikes again, Logan is on a downward spiral. Andrew knows she needs protection from herself, and he needs to love her through it, even if only from a distance.

Life has different plans, and brings more emotions and feelings than imaginable. You can’t have a love like theirs and love from a distance.

When you find love and seem to have it all, what happens when once again it’s all interrupted?

When all is lost, and nothing seems to go according to plan, all you can do is move forward…without a plan.

A book of tragedy,loss,self denial.

A book of redemption,self preservation and love.

Connect with the author:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ajwarnerauthor?fref=ts

Guest Post by Christine James.

I’m so pleased to be able to introduce a wonderful author, Christine James. Heres what she had to say:

Okay, so I am completely random person.  Here are a few little insights and tidbits about me.

~~~I am a huge HUGE, did I mention Huge, fan of Johnny Depp.  I have all but two of his movies. (of which I will be purchasing very soon.) That man is beautiful, talented, and well.. HE’S FREAKING JOHNNY DEPP!!!

~~~I do not like blue cheese.  **gag**

~~~I’ve had “The Lazy Song” and “The Cup Song” stuck in my head for months now.

~~~I don’t work well under pressure

~~~I procrastinate like you wouldn’t believe

~~~My favorite Ice Cream is Karmel Sutra Ben & Jerry

~~~I love animals

~~~I have to have something in my mouth when I write… (you pervs) Twizzlers or butterscotch candy preferably.

~~~I hate summer

~~~I love Fall and Winder

~~~I wanted to be a Marine Biologist when I grew up.

~~~I like Selena Gomez

~~~I dislike Justin Beiber

~~~I sing in a band

~~~I like the Bubble Guppies

~~~Having my writing dreams come true still feels surreal

~~~Creaky and squeaky door freak me right the heck out

~~~I’m severely scared of heights

~~~I can’t stand clowns

Well there ya have it folks, a few quirks and weird things about me.

Heres more information about Christine and her book ‘Risen’.



Witness the Beginning…

A fun night in a small town carnival will change Erin’s life forever with a simple visit to a bizarre and mysterious fortune teller. Scared to death by what the haggard woman reveals, Erin quickly
flees and quite literally collides with Angelo, a mysterious and captivating carnival worker. Later
that night, he appears in her dreams but he’s not the only one visiting her slumber. Evil is
lurking on the edge of the shadows and it’s coming for her. Angelo is not what he
seems, but then again no one ever is. Not even Erin.
Loyalties are tested and the lines of friendship begin to blur as long hidden truths
come to light and fate bears down upon them all. Everyone has secrets but when
some turn out to be more than heart wrenching, Erin has to decide who she can

Can Erin deal with the harsh past that Angelo has been harboring or will it prevent her from doing what she’s been chosen to do?

You can connect with the author here:

All my links!!!



twitter @christinejames2

email. christinejames28@ymail.com




also availiable on Kobo and Smashwords

At the risk of turning into Lennon…

This blog post was going to be very different to what it is. I’ve decided not to bring up events that happened yesterday , it made for a hard days night. I can tell you that much.

 They inspired this blog, no doubt. They upset me very much, but I can’t buy me love, and I wouldn’t want to either. So, I’m letting it be.


The whole thing sort of reminded me of what happened back in the 60’s with John Lennon.

I am in no way saying that I’m like Lennon, that I’m as talented or creative. I just respect him for his art and that’s as far as it goes. Though, we do have the same starsign and the same ‘stick it to the man’ attitude.

On March the 4th 1966, John’s friend from the London Evening Standard interviewed him, he said:

“Christianity will go. It will vanish and shrink. I needn’t argue with that; I’m right and I will be proved right. We’re more popular than Jesus now; I don’t know which will go first – rock ‘n’ roll or Christianity. Jesus was all right but his disciples were thick and ordinary. It’s them twisting it that ruins it for me.”

No one in the United Kingdom even blinked at his comments. However, five months later, an American teen magazine reported that John had said:

“The Beatles are bigger than Jesus Christ!”

No, not what he said at all.

Anyway, in a very Christian way, John received death threats and public record burning were arranged. The Beatles were banned from playing played on radio stations throughout the southern states of America.

John was coerced into apologising for something he didn’t even say and was taken completely out of context.

He explained he was referring to the UK, the kids were more interested in The Beatles than religion here, he was right. He did apologise in a round about sort of way “if it will make you happy, ok then, I apologise.”

However, I don’t think Lennon was at all that pleased with having to say ‘sorry’ for something he hadn’t really said. His band mates and management weren’t very helpful for making him do it, surely they knew it would come back to bite them on the arse?

I think he never really let it go, personally, I would never have done it. I’m surprised he ever did. I think he saved it all up until 1969 when he released The Ballard of John and Yoko.

Every time I hear that song, I smile. It was like serving up a big cup of shut the f*ck up! Imagine that!

The song was actually recorded by Lennon and McCartney alone, they filled in Ringo’s and George’s parts and even had a laugh whilst they did it.

Truth is, John was too impatient to wait for them to return from their holidays and other projects. He wanted it recorded and out there.

He didn’t want anyone to find out about the lyric’s until it had been released either. I wonder why?

Of course, the song proved to be as controversial, as I suspect John had hoped. Many US and Spanish radio stations refused to play it.

Then there came the famous interview whilst John and Yoko were in bed in Montreal in 1969 where John said:

“I can choose to sing about what I want in any fashion I wish.”

Damn right you can Lennon!

Capp made a derogatory comment about Englishmen and one of Lennon’s spokespeople, Derek, told him to get out. John told Derek to pipe down but when Capp was leaving John famously sang:

“Christ, you know it ain’t easy,

You know how hard it can be,

The way things are going,

They’re gonna’ crucify CAPP.”

Stick it to the man.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, get over it. Get over yourself, if you can be offended by a silly comment that’s obviously not intentionally trying to offend anyone…get on a yellow submarine, because people in free living countries will speak as they wish.

 It’s just words, turn the other cheek. Don’t read the first line of chapter one and decide you don’t like it. Read the whole chapter, see the bigger picture. Get a life.

Try to see it my way.

So I’m going to get back to my job as a paperback writer.

Honestly though, to all of you that support me, from me, to you on this long and winding roadall you need is love 😀 and you all have mine.


Thank you…


This is Lucy in the sky with diamonds signing off this shit 😀

Peace out 🙂
















My dearest friend, Rik Bertrand…

In the amazing and magnificent world of authors I’ve encountered many amazing and wonderful people whom have helped me and inspired me to write.

I’ve received impenetrable encouragement that’s made my heart sag with joy.

I have been driven and captivated by this community that has welcomed me with open arms.

Despite my twelve years military service, I’ve never felt as though I belonged anywhere, as much as I do within the huge mass of the writing clan.

One day in May, I was feeling upset. I’d fallen out with a friend. I realised that I was being oversensitive, maybe because that friend is in fact an idiot who chooses to bate me when I’m either extremely low or on a happy high. Not really a friend I know…but we have a strangely unique dynamic and I do consider him as such.

Anyway, I digress (an on going issue for me). On that day, I wrote an ‘pity me please’ status on my FaceBook page. It had been a very bad day until this moment…


You Are More Than Who You Are


At the moment I am Sensitive, Prissy, snappy and snarky

And I pray this is not a writer’s bad omen or malarkey

Tampering with the thoughts of closing my eyes,

And then in my head, I hear a million replies.


They say…


Do not let the world get you down my lady,

Pick up that pen set it to paper my baby.

You are an inspiration, a first time write,

Take a short break and then write into the night.


And others say….


Don’t be that damsel who cries in distress,

Deep down inside you are better than the rest.

Forge through wickets that hold your pen back,

Sit back and relax and them plan your attack.


And even others.


You are new to the battle of writing the word,

There will be millions of rewrites, stay undeterred.

Continue on forward and finish what you started,

You need to look into yourself and know that you’re true hearted.


©REB (MAY 2013) we sometime want to just forget it all, but we follow our heart. Dedicated to L. T Kelly a writer and friend…


The poem was based on my status that day. I often get over excited about everything…but damn, I inspired someone. Someone truly gifted in the art of words. What wasn’t there to become excited about?

He asked me to read a chapter of his novel, ‘Placidity’. I agreed, I loved it the idea, the feel, and the words, it was a kick yourself, ‘why didn’t I think of that?’ moment. But, honestly, it could have only come from Rik.

I asked for more, he willingly gave.

That’s when I became consumed in my own novel, I hardly read a thing. I got up at 5am and went to bed past midnight; I flooded literary blood on to my pages.  He didn’t press or push, he only asked once if I’d gotten chance to read to read it and understood when I admitted I hadn’t.

In June, Rik and I became closer. I told him his poetry touched my soul, it does. I said I couldn’t write like he does, ‘Placidity’ also has a deep and beautiful meaning.

I write to entertain, if I evoke thoughts and feelings, that would be wonderful, but Rik’s poetry as well as his novel is writing to be etched on your soul, forever.

He asked me to ‘entertain’ him. So, I sent him chapter three of ‘Falling to Pieces’ with a wicked grin on my face. I was merely attempting to appeal to a male audience. So, the sting of the slap on my face the day after he received it was almost poetic…oh, no…it was poetic…


Falling to pieces


I have fallen to pieces, oh, so many times,

I have felt and heard the deathly chimes.

Time has withered our beckoned souls,

And I sometimes see the death patrols.


I am of the vampire, of centuries past,

My life of darkness was duly cast.

I was the princess Teagan true,

Until I became the vampire masters due.


Tampering with Gods dying ways,

The vampire is void of his praise.

Strengthened by the believers blood,

The vampire begins to live and love.


I have been hoping for all these years,

That a man could rid me of all my fears,

I have felt nothing, just cold as a stone,

Full of bitter unhappiness, and all alone.


I have met a man that holds me dear,

And emotions are forming clear,

I feel love within my cold dark heart,

As if it wants recharge and start.


Could God have been following me?

Understanding my puzzle and set me free,

Could he truly be returning my soul?

And putting me back in full control.


I have fallen to pieces, oh, so many times,

But now I am renewed, as God defines.

Blessed be the soul of my new true man,

For he has freed me from the devils hand.



©REB (JUNE 2013) dedicated to the book “Falling to Pieces” by L. T Kelly a true friend.


Rik took my breath away when he begged for more. Tears sprung to my eyes and I sobbed like a baby. I read it on the phone to anyone whom would listen…even the call centres got a shock that day…”No, I don’t want what you’re selling, but listen to this poem…it’s about my book!”

Of course he’s had the full-unedited manuscript, it’s inspired many more poems, more than I can put here. He loves it! Or so he says…I think I believe him.

Rik, being the amazing person he is has granted my wish of allowing me to publish the poem ‘Falling to Pieces’ in my novel ‘Falling to Pieces’.

But, this is not the end of Rik and I…we now bounce creatively off one another and I cannot imagine a day of waking up without his page Poems and Writings of Rik Bertrand and reading the wonders that lie there.

Thank you, for being my friend. My forever friend.



Driven by K Bromberg.


I finished reading ‘Driven’ by K Bromberg late last night. I got the book from Amazon whilst it was free, but I would happily have paid for it.

Because of the cover I initially thought that the book was going to be like ’50 Shades of Grey’, I’m not going to hide the fact that they were my guilty pleasure. Yes, the love interest, Colton, is absolutely gorgeous, rich, talented and has a dark past. But thats where the similarity ends.

The story is told from the view of Rylee, a real woman. No, really, an actual real woman that most women would be able to relate to on some level. This is the story of how she’s starting to get her life back on track following the tragic death of her fiancé, Max, two years previously.

Colton Donovan is a race car driver. I’m hoping that he is real and that he has a thing for blonde British women. If so, pass me his number.

On a serious note, the characters have been well crafted and displayed. I fell in love with them and cheered, sighed and laughed along with them.

My only criticisms are that I felt that the book needed another edit. There were some mistakes and the only reason I gave it a five star review instead of a four was because it felt unfair when the story was so captivating.

Also, at the end some hint that BDSM had occurred between them. Other than one kitchen counter scene, which quite a few sexually active couples would have tried in ordinary circumstances, I didn’t feel it fitted. It was skimmed over, and I’m a all or nothing girl.

I downloaded this book as a light read for work. I was sadly mistaken by that, my colleague had to scream across the office to get my attention whilst I read it. My poor iPhone clattered on my keyboard when I heard my name being shouted at such a level!

I reached the end last night. It’s official, K. Bromberg is a grade A bitch, she left my longing for more…

The second part of the trilogy is set to be released in August. It’s called ‘Fuelled’ and I’ll most definitely be reading it.

Amazon UK Link- http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00CRMX26I

Amazon.com http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CRMX26I 

Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17798287-driven?ac=1