Teaser Review.. Your Favourite Girl by Steph Sweeney


********EROTICA REVIEW ********************

As you guys all know I LOVE Steph Sweeney’s erotica my reviews are here and here.

I was really excited when I saw this £0.77 teaser on Amazon, as you can imagine it is part of a full book and mixes erotica, fantasy and possible thriller all in one. Melissa discovers that her husband has been cheating on her with an 18 year old girl and after they enjoy a number of threesomes she decides to look through his stuff to find evidence of other girls and that’s when she finds the card for your favourite girl inc and decides to take a trip down to the basement under the jewellery store and that’s where she discovers flora..

I can’t do a full review as I haven’t read the whole book, but what I’ve read so far i have enjoyed. It has been quite a strange story but that has added to the erotica giving it a different dimension, I only want to know where the rest is now!


A Experimental Piece of Writing…

During the course of writing my blog I have also read a lot of authors blogs and there are hundreds of other writers here. I have an idea that I think could be fun, we all take the same title and write a 500 word short story and see what comes out. I was thinking something really cliche to start with ‘invisable’ perhaps and if people enjoy it, we could go from there.

If this is something you may be interested in, please comment below with any ideas for titles you may have.

Done my Nails…Plus more exciting blog news!

So after writing about MissLucy’sNails on here last week, I’ve been inspired and decided to have another go at my nails. I warn you I am not the most creative person, but I am actually quite happy with what I’ve  come up with.

Also Kimberley Warren the author of Awaiting Simplicity is allowing me to show some more of her writing on the blog and I will be putting it up during the week, make sure you look out for it.

Interview With Author of Awaiting Simplicity Kimberley Warren

So I put a few questions forward and this is what I got I found out she has weakness for Marian Keyes, enjoys the odd modern classic and also isn’t too keen on the mainstream. Read on to find out more….

1)      Whos is your favourite author and why?

Marion Keyes – I know I should say some author who has made a great difference to the world of literature, but I read for escapism, I like happy stories, full to the brim with Clichés and make me laugh out loud. Marian Keyes ticks all of these boxes for me!!

2) And your five favourite books?

J.K Rowling – Harry Potter – I cannot decide on one, I love them all. I have been reading them since I was 11 years Old, I have grown up with the characters and fall in love with them everytime i re read them! I love these books for many reasons, its a constant reminder of my childhood and depicts adepth of friendship that one could only hope to find in real life!

Marion Keyes  This Charming man – Its a delightful easy to read indulgence. I have read it a few times and always laugh the whole way through!

Sir Authur Conan Doyle – A study in Scarlett – It’s a beautifully written story that has aged well and is still relevant and understood by todays readers even though it was written  in 1887!

Louisa Alcott – Little Women – Each time I read this I feel a little bit guilty for my completely materialistic attitudes and it always makes me want to do something good in the world. If you ask me, that’s what a great story should do.  Evoke an emotion that makes you change for the better.

Harper Lee- To Kill a Mocking Bird – I studied this book in GCSE English and I’m so glad for this. If I had not been taught how to analyse a book I would have missed all the underlying messages and beautiful symbolism this book holds and that would have been a tragedy!

3) what inspired you to write the story?

I was thinking about how people try to stay in completely incompatible relationships. I started to think what would attract me to a man that may not necessarily be a good personality trait and I came up with talent. A man that is so intelligent and so engrossed in his art that he no longer lives in the real world.
4) e-reader or print?

Print, ive never used a kindle or anything …..yet! I can see the benefit of them though!

5) So what is your pet peeve and why?

People who only watch, read or listen to what ever everybody else is. I know this a perfectly acceptable thing to do, but it bothers me, because I know what they are all missing out on! Put the blockbusters down and dip your nose into something extraordinary.  Everyone loves a hit (all the books I have mentioned are well known) But just don’t refuse to try something new!!!

Awaiting Simplicity by Kimberley Warren…

I would really appreciate some feedback on the story I read it and thought it was great, but I would like to hear what everyone else has to say. If anyone wishes to make any edits, the author is fine with that  and any work done on the piece should be sent to agrumpywoman@gmail.com.

This is type of writing that we really want to encourage so please enjoy!

And remember an interview with the author will be avaible at 19.30 GMT.

Awaiting Simplicity
They didn’t know how David was going to react to her death. When she was alive he barely seemed to acknowledge her presence. But she was there, day in, day out, putting his needs first and putting his art above all.
Love does terrible unseemly things to some and to others it’s a joyous emotion that carries such depth that it cannot be simply articulated. To Joanne, love with David was a one sided battle of wits aimed at the constantly unattainable. Their love seemed to have been kept alive by the confines of the building they shared but it was the circumstances of the world that brought them together.

Outside in Brixton, they rioted. Enthralled within their own rebellion and for various reasons they stood up and created havoc. The frustration of poverty, created by unemployment and quality of living had weighed upon the shoulders of many and over the years worn down even the most optimistic. When people are trapped, some fight for liberation, in absolute belief that a brighter future awaits them after the storm. Some patiently wait, hoping for another way out and others feel they deserve no better. Joanne fell into the latter.
The 80’s had not started well for her. Unemployed, untrained and uneducated, she stooped into a deep depression. There was no light in the depths of the darkness for her and nothing seemed to change until she met him.
David lived in a world of screwed up paper balls, intricate characters and a mind full of dialogue that was waiting to be written down. His writing was infused with intelligence and such understanding of relationships that those who read it shed tears for the characters and the man who brought them to life. But in the real world, in the here and now, he was dishevelled, both physically and emotionally.
He cared mainly for his creations. He lived vicariously through them, feeding off the joy of their accomplishment and understanding the bitter disappointments he created for them.
Before Joanne there was nobody except a string of aggravated people who had tried and failed to understand him. But Joanne understood. She loved him from a far, admired him from a distance and felt the pain he caused her to her very depths.
They had met in this very building; she had lived upstairs from David when on her way out she had spotted an open door to the downstairs flat. After calling out to make sure all was well she found him sat in his one and only chair, legs crossed, delicately rolling a pen between his thumb and forefinger. He didn’t flinch when she called out to him but continued to be wrapped up in his own thoughts. His eyes were faintly glazed over, giving the impression that he was no longer there. The flat was freezing cold, dusty and in need of desperate attention. Everything but the paper cluttering it was minimalist. Only absolute necessary items were placed sparsely around.
Joanne will never know what made her stay that day; But she did and she came back every day after that. She wormed her way into a new life, into new hopes and into him. Every day she moved further away from herself and the life that circumstance had forced her to lead. It may have been, because that day, she had spotted his post on the floor and seen the name printed on it, a name that she knew very well, as did the rest of the world. The name was a symbol to those who knew it, the name of a literary genius, a recluse and of a man who held all the words and all the answers.
She had read his books and enjoyed the stories and cherished the moments portrayed in them and now, in front of her sat the very shell of what caused those emotive responses and from that very moment she adored him. When she had been at her lowest, when she seemed to have no prospects she had read his words and they had reinvigorated her hope.
She knew she didn’t have much to attract him with. Her looks were plain and sweet, a mountain of red curls that sat delicately on her shoulders, a few freckles, slim figured and good natured.
Every day she sat in that flat with David, watched him write, think and sleep. She didn’t go completely unnoticed to him, they spoke, simple words were swapped and those times when she wasn’t there he noticed. She looked after him, the flat was cleaned and the fridges were stocked. She dedicated her life to him as her own attempts of living were more than unsatisfactory. Out of any sort of work and due to the recession no sight of work in the future, unmarried and no family to speak of, she relished this new found version of love and held onto it. She ignored her pessimistic doubts about his feelings for her. He allowed her to be around and she worshiped him. There was obviously more to him than met the natural eye, his writings told her that much. But they never laughed together, or spoke about mundane, day to day things. Everything was either important or not discussed. Seven years passed this way.
Joanne was feeling a new version of happy, it was an emotion that however did not include fulfilment but she felt love and was grateful for it, she was able to watch a man work who she truly admired and she hoped deep down that her love would one day be returned.
The past few years had challenged her, she had hit rock bottom and resurfaced gulping for air. It was with a very heavy heart that she had realised that any sort of work was futile in the attempt of securing happiness. She could work forever and a day at a minimum wage job and afford no more in this life. In fact the way the world was going, she could afford less than the years just gone. But love and passion were free, and gave constantly, or so she thought.
David had such an intense personality that for Joanne to attempt to sift through his array of emotions and make sense of them was a task that day by day began to break her. She began to wonder whether he actually loved her or whether she just wanted it so badly that she saw whatever she wanted to see.
One day when David was stretched out on the couch, lost in his thoughts and completely oblivious to what was going on around him, Joanne acted on the urge to finally get some answers. She knew he would not bother her, when he was like this he wouldn’t move for days on end. It would seem that he wasn’t even in his body, the light in his eyes would disappear and he had no need for food.
Joanne ventured into his office and at once spotted his well worn notebook lying open on top of his desk.
A quick flick through the first pages made her heart plummet. A detailed description of the current heroin of his new book showed how deep David was possible of loving another person. The thought and effort that had gone into designing this woman, the insight into her hopes and dreams, told Joanne everything she needed to know. From the most intimate thoughts through to her habits, the way she spoke and moved was painstakingly thought through and written with such love and affection that it was obvious how much he cared for her.
In that moment it was as if the curtains were closing and Joanne was losing sight of her life and love. Her hands were trembling and she delicately placed the notepad back on his desk. As she walked through the living room and out into the streets, David did not stir, he lay there completely unaware of the shift in his life that was imminently occurring.
As Joanne took to the streets in a state of misery a hit and run incident took her life before she could learn the truth. If she had taken a few seconds longer to read through the notepad, if she had just turned a couple more pages she would have seen the very essence of David’s heart. Sketch after sketch of Joanne filled that notepad. So tenderly drawn with so few mistakes made that it would have been immediately obvious where his feelings lie.
David was a complex man, filled to the brim with art and intelligence and so obviously lacking in social skills he had been misunderstood his whole life. He had always kept to himself and held anyone who tried to come close at arm’s length. It hadn’t been until Joanne had entered his life that things began to change. But it became clear that things had not changed fast or obviously enough.
She now lies in a simple coffin in the graveyard opposite that flat. Her funeral was simple, a few people attended who knew her and David was there. He stood quietly at the side of her grave giving away nothing as usual.
People spoke that day, they wondered and they questioned each other about this heartless man who the woman had given up her life for. Harsh words were spoken and the man behind the stories became to be known as inhuman.
One year later David sits in the same chair, legs crossed and hands grasped. But this time if someone was to come across him as Joanne did that fateful day they would not find him holding a pen, contemplating his own genius. For today he holds in his hand a locket, a locket that protects a few strands of red curly hair. A single tear has fallen from his eye but he speaks no words and there are no more words to be written.
By Kimberley Warren

So Edit of my Short Story….

I got a great email from Fay at blogabooketc.wordpress.com, she’d done some editing to my first story. I was really impressed with this so I thought I’d show you all here it is:

That is it. The straw that has broken the proverbial camels back. There would be no more tolerance or straight forward acceptance. No more excuses. 

After finding lipstick on his collar for the third time Joanne knew it would be the last. The type of girl she could picture clearly – pretty, young, skinny and fucking him for his money obviously. 
‘How could I have ever fancied a man called Clive?’ she thought to herself. A man who built his company from bottom up has now let the success go to his head and destroyed almost all of the foundations he laid. Living by their sacred marital vows Joanne had been there for richer for poorer and had forsaked all others. 
It was 19:30 and a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc was open on the table with a large glass poured out next to it. Surely drowning her sorrows would make her feel better, if not it would send her into an abyss where she could forget her perpetual woes for a couple of hours at least.
So a big thank you toFay! All go and read her blog!


So My First Ever Piece of Writing…

Ok so this hasn’t been edited or even properly proofread I wanted to share my raw ideas before they were chopped and changed.

So here it is:


That was it. The last straw. She couldn’t take it anymore, she just couldn’t.

This was third time Joanne had found lipstick on her husband’s shirt and she was determined  it would be the last. She knew the type these girls were pretty, young, skinny and fucking him for his money no doubt.

Clive (how could I have ever have fancied a man called Clive? Joanne asked herself) had started an IT firm ten years ago and after endless months of struggling and hard work it had eventually became a success.

All of that time money had been tight and all that time Joanne had been there and this is how her repaid her?

At 19.30 she opened a bottle of wine. Well what else was she going to do? Hell, she was lonely should drink as much as she wanted. Who did he think he was?

Candice that was the name of the first one, 18 barely a child but she’s shared a hotel bed many times with her husband.

Joanne didn’t want to confront Clive at first she didn’t know what to say or how to say it and was terrified he would leave her. But when he came in reeking of Charlie Red for the tenth time she couldn’t help herself.

That day she called Clive into the kitchen and said straight out,
“so who is she?”
‘What do you mean?” Clive replied
“I’ve smelt her tacky perfume and I’ve heard you on the phone a couple of times what’s her name?!”

By this time Joanne was screaming, she just couldn’t believe  he’s had the gall to deny it. After a further twenty minutes of the same conversation he admitted it.

He promised he’d never do it again, said it was definitely over, he even fired the poor girl. How could she call her a poor girl? No she was a slut, she knew Clive was married and she even had a boyfriend herself.

The second seemed an odd choice this one was near his own age and was at least 5 stone overweight. Her name was Michelle it was only through a bit of research she’d realised he’d done it to get a contract. So now he was a whore too.

Yet again she had decided to forgive him after all there was some sense in that. The contract had increased business ten fold.

Joanne currently had an ok life she could spend all day in best boutiques or at the hairdressers having yet another blowdry. She knew her marriage wasn’t perfect and her husband had an unhealthy love for other women, but she kept hoping this would change.

The third one… Well she didn’t know who this one was. And for once she didn’t want to find out.

She looked at the clock it was now 10pm where was he? She decided to call his office, the phone rang and rang and rang no answer. He would be at the hotel again with whoever this one was.

She opened another bottle of wine and decided to watch the new reality television show. She woke up two hours later to the sound of someone sneaking up the stairs. There he was, her loving husband!

She was now feeling the affect of nearly two bottles of wine.
Her words were slurring as she screamed, “what time do you call this?”
Her hair was stuck to one said of her face and her eyes were blood shot red.

Clive could tell she’d been drinking purely by the expression on her face.
“Just out for a drink with a couple of the lads, I thought you might have been asleep already, I was just going to head straight upstairs.”
When he turned round she was fast asleep again, this often happened no wonder he went somewhere else. Where the women weren’t drunk and actually possessed a bit of tenderness.Oh well, a divorce would cost him too much he’d been with her since well before the business, she would be able to take everything.

The next morning he woke up to the smell of eggs and sausages, and when he padded downstairs he saw a bright eyes Joanne cleaning pans and a full English on the table.

“For me?” He said.
“Well I owe you an apology for last night.”

She then sat down to her breakfast and began to eat. Seconds after biting into the first bit of bacon Clive felt something was wrong. His throat began to tighten and his heart was pounding in his chest.

She must have seen what was going on, why wasn’t she helping? And that’s when he saw it the hatred in her eyes, she wasn’t going to get the adrenaline was she? That was the last thought for Clive and then it all went black.

Joanne smiled at her handy work so frying the bacon in ground nut oil was the right thing to do. She knew his nut allergy would come in use one day.