Long-haired boy plus baby alert!
Really … what more can I say?
Really … what more can I say?
Well, my electricity is out for the day due to ‘maintenance’. No problem. I’ll simply sit here growling softly to myself, fiddling on my phone and running its battery down. I don’t mind the inconvenience and pain-in-the-butt timing. (I crossed my fingers when I typed that people). I had only planned to finish and whoosh Silva out later tonight to anyone still awake and keen to start reading it. But that’s okay. That’s fine.
Thankfully, I printed the whole thing out last night so at least I can do the last minute tweaks on paper – just as we did back in the dark ages.
And then wait for the power company to hook me back up …
So, what does one do when foiled? Look for distractions on the internet, of course. (Until their battery runs down). I found a nice one to share… Here’s a diverting bee keeper called Ton.
This has to be a Nima Benati shot as it has all her trademarks – stunning styling, composition and the coolest of colours. And Ton!
Now, time to stop whining and get back to work …
Going cross-eyed doing the last little bit of editing …
Excerpt from SOUNDCHECK chapter – the Silva boys feeling the strain.
“You are a one syllable guy this afternoon,” said Zave. “Don’t sweat it. We won’t put it in tonight’s set. Problem solved.”
“But I want to try it on a crowd. See if it flys. It’s just hard to sing though. Hurts even.”
Nate kicked at his pedal board. “Shit the overdrive’s moving. Raff! I need a cable tie. Let’s hope no one likes it and then you’ll never ever have to do it live again.”
Bran sighed and dropped to the floor. He played a haunting riff that echoed out over the arena and made everyone stand still.
Nate laughed. “Purple Rain?”
Smirking, Bran sang the opening to Prince’s opus. The lines about not wanting to cause trouble. Or pain. When he got to the part about wanting to see them laughing, Nate used his boot to push him over.
“Listen, you lot might not have lives, but I’ve got places to go,” whined Ben. “Get up off the floor and finish this shit. And stop looking like such a sad little baby foal.”
“There’s no such thing as a baby foal.” Tuning his guitar to open G, Bran looked up and laughed. “It’s just foal.”
Ben looked around for backup. “Bullshit. Baby foals are a thing, aren’t they, Dave?”
“No,” boomed Silva’s manager from the front row seats. “They’re just foals.”
“Whatever.” Ben lifted his guitar over his head. “You’re so basic.”
Bran snorted. “You are.” Raising his eyebrows at Ben, he played the opening riff to ‘Dirt’.
“Jesus, speaking of babies. I’m not wasting anymore time on your stop-start diva crap.” Sneering, Ben put his bass on a stand. “I’m outta here. Bouncing big time.”
“Okay, sure. Could you do me a favour and go directly to a streetball court? Someone there might bounce you on your fucking head for us. And don’t forget about the TV thing at the hotel later. I’m not doing it by myself,” Bran yelled at Ben’s back.
Without turning, Ben gave him the finger and kept walking.
“Chill, man,” said Nate. “I can do that Beat interview with you if he doesn’t show.”
“I hate it when he says bounce. He sounds like a wanker. He’s worse than Zave these days.”
Zave thumped his kick drum. “Hey, I can hear you.”
A Rock and Roll Love Story…
The tale of a damaged, up-and-coming rock star who doesn’t know what love is. Even when it smacks him in the face. Twice. When he falls hard for a girl who’s determined to resist him, what else can he do but break apart?
Ton Heukels, Marthe Wiggers - splice of a gorgeous shot by Alvaro Beaumud Cortes for Stylist Magazine.
“Five Stars. A fabulous novel, one with drama and details, edge and emotion, love and lust but with a story that unfolds so very different from so many Rock band romances.” – Jeannie Zelos Book Reviews
“Great debut … Siren’s Wave was a great 5 star read.” – M Austin, Alpha Book Club
“Spicy, salty and sweet! … I loved the dream imagery and metaphors … I would recommend this book even if you don’t typically do romances – it’s a gem!” – Jillian
“Siren’s Wave turned out to be the book I’ve been waiting for – the true well-written smart romance.” – Syrene
“The style of writing is unique and the way the two characters interact is genuinely funny and such a tease. The pace of the story is very well designed to keep you interested right up until the end.” – S.J. Main
Throughout history, gorgeously Gothic ravens received a bad rap. From Middle Eastern, Norse and Celtic mythology to Egar Allan Poe’s dramatic poem, their dark allure sends a shiver running through us with ease. They’ve been depicted as oracles, tricksters, and messengers of ill omens. What power, exactly, does Bran need to harness from his glossy namesakes? Regeneration perhaps or something a little more sinister?
“And being called Bran, how did that come about?”
“Nate, in high school.”
“Do you know about the Celtic legends? About Bran the Blessed, the Raven? God of regeneration etcetera?”
“Nate’s brought it up over the years. Usually, when he wants to be a pain.”
Beth ignored the warning. “And your mum is the only person who doesn’t call you Bran?”
Staring stonily at Beth, he gave her a barely discernible nod.
“Middle name?” she asked, allowing no quarter.
“Henrik,” he said flatly.
“Henrik? Alexander Henrik Brantsen.” Beth laughed loudly.
“Shit, you even know my last name?” He gave her a look of mock suspicion, trying for levity but not quite managing it.
“I aim to know a lot more about you, Bran. So, where are your parents from?”
His eyes skated over to Ava’s then back to Beth’s. He sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, all signs of playfulness gone. “The Netherlands.”
Dix’s wife, Beth, interrogating Bran at Izzy’s party.