Posts Tagged ‘humour’

Bollocks! out today.

That’s not an instruction, by the way. Not a reference to some exhibitionistic gent giving his danglies an airing. No, this refers to the very British anthology of short stories from Wayward Ink Publishing – Bollocks!

Here’s the cover and blurb:

Bollocks as a word is a little naughty. It’s a little cheeky. It’s a little rude.
And it’s the tongue-in-cheek theme for this collection of short stories celebrating all things English.

You’ll discover a bonk is not a typo for somewhere to keep your money. A shag isn’t something thick and plush under your feet to keep them warm, though it is guaranteed to heat you up! And as for a snog, the boys of Bollocks! can assure you it’s worth finding out what that Brit term means.

The stories will make you laugh. They’ll make you snort. They’ll make you blush. Sigh—they’ll probably make you shake your head. They may even make you want to catch the next flight to England to find something a little British of your own!

It’s not just cricket, or jolly hockey sticks, it’s more… it’s the very British, Bollocks!

This is a fun bunch of stories, folks, with something for everyone – tension, passion, erotica and the daftest story I’ve ever written. 🙂 Would I recommend it? Of course I would. Short stories are briliant for filling in that little gap between going to bed and sleep, or waiting for a bus or to read in your lunch hour. These stories are fun, good humoured and generally life affirming – something we all need from time to time.

But don’t take my word for it.Those lovely people at Sinfully Sexy Book Reviews have already reviewed it and you can see their opinion here plus a terrific Rafflecopter giveaway!

If you’d like your own copy you can do the Rafflecopter thing there, or you could buy it directly from Wayward Ink, from B&N, from Amazon US and from Amazon UK

Click read more for the list of stories and watch this space because I’ll be offering a copy when I get back from UK Meet in Bristol.


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Hump Day Hook

 I lost the plot a bit last week and it was Wednesday morning before I remembered that I should have done HDH. Silly me. This week I’ve done it in plenty of time and plan to be a bit more efficient about getting round to register my presence. I read all the entries last week – lots of cool stuff – but was too dopey to comment.

Anyhow! This week I’m using the usual ancient bit of fiction, for which I don’t have a proper title, but if I did it would probably have been something like “The Rake and the Bluestocking” just so people knew what they were getting. Blame Mills and Boon. I read a couple and thought “Pffft, I could do that” so I tried  – and failed because I was far more interested in breeches than bodices. And THIS week that’s what you’re getting – the hero.

We left Aubrey and Cicely hatching plot to make Mad Pat uncomfortable. This is what Pat is doing:

Just as Aubrey was seating himself at Cicely’s desk, her betrothed was groaning his way to consciousness while his valet attempted to repair the wreck of his room.

“I can’t understand it myself,” the man was saying. “I just can’t see where the attraction lies in going out and getting puking drunk three nights out of four. Mark my words, lad, you’ll end up like your cousin Kevin – screaming your nights away in a madhouse. The first time you wake me up to tell me your feet have been eaten off by funny green things out of the wall, that’s it, I’m off home to Sligo.”

“Shut up, Phelim,” muttered a hummock amongst the tangled debris of a four-poster bed. “Faith, I need a drink.”

“No you don’t,” Phelim snapped. “You need to get up and clean and dressed. A pint of coffee, a cut of beef and a canter in the Park’s what you need.”

“If you don’t shut up you’ll be needing a doctor.”

“And another thing! How can you expect any decent woman to live in this Bedlam? Half your servants speak Gaelic, the other half speak Pushtu and the cook’s Chinese. Honest to God, it’s like the Tower of Babel in the servant’s hall.”

The hummock erupted with a roar. “Phelim, do you want my boots down your throat? My God, I’ve still got them on! Couldn’t you at least have undressed me, you lazy bastard?”

“Undressed you? The state you were in nobody wanted to touch you. We paid the crossing sweeper who brought you home to carry you up the stairs – well, more drag really, he was only a little feller.”

Ah full of sweetness and light. Tune in next week to learn more about our gracious hero.

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Sweet Saturday, how I love thee. It’s so nice to wake up with the knowledge that I don’t actually HAVE to get out of bed other than for purposes of comfort ALL DAY if I don’t want to. In fact I would jolly well stay in my pit and read until lunchtime only the other half tends to get testy. Anyhow – I have been reading. What have I been reading? Something very good!

My rec is a bit of a different format this week because not only am I recommending a book but I’m offering a copy of it to a commenter as well. Just don’t comment HERE. Please follow this link and comment on that post for a chance to win a lovely copy of Junk by one of my favourite authors,  Jo Myles.

Junk tells the story of Jasper, a university librarian with a compulsion to love and take care of old and unwanted books. He cherishes them and the information they contain, placing them reverendly in the proper places in his house. He is a bibiophile in the purest sense of the word but, hoo boy has it taken over his life. When a book avalanche blocks his living room and he is reduced to living in his bathroom, kitchen, bedroom and the teensy corridors between tottering piles of books he decides to get help.

Enter Lewis, professional declutterer, upon whom Jasper had his very first school boy crush, Lewis’s spikey sister, Carole and a cast of memorable secondary characters.

The book is warm, funny and hopeful, with a message that the first step to recovery from a BIG problem is to admit that you have one.

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Here we go again – Six Sunday – go here and register then the following Sunday post six sentences from a published work or WIP.

I’m out and about today and don’t have access to A Fierce Reaping so Gwion and Cynfal can bide a while.

Instead here are six sentences from my story A Few Days Away which is *bounce* published today in the Lashings of Sauce anthology from JMS Books.


The website for the White Horse in Weston Stanage proclaimed that it was “the quintessential English Pub”, its qualifications comprising a lovely view over the village green, a proudly independent selection of superb real ales, simple well-cooked food and quirky architecture. Including the exposed beams in the ceiling of the publican’s bedroom, of which Hugh had a sudden and unwanted view as Tom pushed himself up and stared, appalled, at the bedroom door.

It closed with a thump, making the mirror above the dresser rattle against the wall. “Sorry – sorry, Tom, sorry, Hugh. I – erm – I’ll see you later then.” Footsteps retreated along the landing and rattled down the stairs.

“I thought,” Hugh hissed, “that you said your mum would be out for the day!”


Hmm, my warrior Six Sunday graphic is inappropriate again. I’ll have to draw another one.

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