The Bower

I was busy writing my latest manuscript “Gossamer Threads” a collection of gothic,ghostly, mystical and magical tales…Oh how I do love delving into the numinous realms! Life, as is its wont got in the way and creativity ground to a halt as some rather pressing matters had to be attended to…my writer friends amongst you know exactly what I mean! I hope you enjoy this little piece I penned  way back last year, it is time I picked up my quill once more…

DSC016911 The Bower

Within the darkest heart of night dance slender beams of soft Moon Light.

Brushing aside the despair cloaking the ancient ruins, La Luna’s children played midst the remaining dank and gloomy walls. With carefree abandon the darting moonbeams brought illumination to the derelict Eastern Tower, a silent Sentinel withstanding the ravages of time, proudly giving testament to the pride and glory of bygone years. Those who once lived and loved within the Castle’s protective embrace are but jagged shards of memories, forever entombed within decrepit walls.  Yet there remains a solitary voice from long ago compelled to whisper her sadness upon the wind. Trapped by her heart she cannot leave her lonely Bower within the Castle Tower.

By the light of the moon, at her lonely loom, sits the Lady Eleanor. The passage of time has ravaged her home but not she, for the lady is comely still. With hair as dark as a Raven’s wing and eyes of cobalt blue, her beauty beguiles the starless night, for there is no other to gaze upon her countenance within these torn and empty walls. Softly, she sings a sad lament, fragments from a Troubadour’s tale of a love long lost. Sorrow clouds her as a shroud. With downcast eyes and ethereal hands she takes soft strands of numinous threads and weaves silently through her tears. Through the telling of her silken tales there begins to unfold a story of love, a story of loss. The lost love of a Knight of old. Her Knight…Her story…

To the soft strains of a melancholy Mandolin every stitch of the Knight’s chivalrous deeds begin to unfold upon her fragile tapestry.

The dazzling Sir Berengar, encased in his suit of armour and clutching his sword of steel, mounted upon his dashing destrier. Drawing admiration from the assembly of illustrious Lords and Ladies, aware all eyes were on him, damsels to Dowagers their adoration freely flowing to the mighty man of war. As he graciously bestowed generous glances upon the Ladies fair, Eleanor had smiled trustingly. She knew within his brave breast beat the chivalrous heart of one who only had eyes for his Eleanor, for her.  And so with a righteous fire burning in his heart and mounting his noble steed the valiant Knight bade Adieu to his assembled Court and proudly rode to war.

Satisfied with the vibrancy of the first scene, Eleanor left her labour of love at her loom. Gazing out of the window her searching heart went forth once more into the blanket of night, looking and longing…Did she know then, as her Gallant Knight took leave of his Lady Love to sail from England’s green and pleasant lands, how their story would unfold? With a sigh she returned to her tapestry, intent on weaving the threads of her fragrant memories. There is a chill that pervades her bower, yet her shivers are not from cold, but the delightful anticipation of her noble Knight’s triumphant return. The glory. The honour. How her heart sang joyfully for him! How she wrapped her self in the warm glow of the sweet words of eternal love he had spoken. How her heart had ached at his proclamations that her reluctance to acquiesce to his burning desires would surely rend his heart in two. His entreaties were urgent. His Lady was so cruel to tarry for had he not great perils to face? And had he not entreated her that the sweet memories of her succour would surely comfort him upon the bloody battlefields.  Her chivalrous Knight, bestowing upon her his troth, declared they would marry upon his victorious return from the beast of war. The Lady Eleanor would become Châtelaine within these Castle walls; with lyrical persuasion the Knight’s conquest was assured. Cautioning Eleanor keep well her own counsel for their secret summer of trysts, his ring of gold set with a ruby red held the promise of eternal love and her silence.

Through the cloak of darkness a mote of light broke through the night, bringing momentary illumination. Eleanor’s fragile heart skipped a beat. Was that her Knight she saw?

Cruel memories came crashing into her dreams. A tear fell. Her beloved had sailed away across the seven seas. He had left her and their unborn child for the King’s glory, crusading in a faraway Land. By forfeiting his vow to make the Lady Eleanor his wife and thus give legitimacy to his seed before his departure, he had abandoned her to her fate. Watching the passage of many Moon tides from her lonely Bower she entreated the star clad night to light his way home before her shame was there for all to see. The Highborn Lady Eleanor, who some may say was without blame, could not be seen to be robed in tarnished garments of dishonour. Yet she held her head high, comforted by their unborn child’s quickening. For he would surely return and she would be his wife, and all judgement would pass.

The tidings of great sorrow came at the dying embers of the old year. Sir Berengar would nevermore see the sun rise and set upon England’s Sceptered Isle nor give his child his name.  Enemy and Gallantry had brought him to his knees. Ever true to her Love, Eleanor kept her counsel well. For the Templar’s cause her brave Knight willingly gave his life. For her family honour, the lady Eleanor gave hers.

They found her at the break of day, pale sunlight glinting on her lifeless and broken body. His fire red ruby ring proudly burning bright upon her  unwed hand. The fallen Lady laid to rest beneath her lonely bower whilst far away her Lover sleeps beneath the sands under an Eastern Sun.

The solitary passage of time has shrouded the castle walls in shadows and gloom, yet awaiting her Lover’s return Eleanor’s ghost still sits by her loom, lingering midst the rot and decay, trusting Love eternal will raise them from the ashes and dust of betrayal. Her Love lives on, though her Knight and their child are long dead, as is she…

Perchance, your steps take you through the ruined walls of the Castle Keep, they do say by pale moon light and night’s embrace, you may yet hear the strains of a mandolin as the lonely Lady weeps within her ghostly bower.

Deep within the darkest heart of night dance slender beams of soft Moon Light

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Tattling Turtles

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Grannie made a statement on my behalf to the relentless press pack stalking me. Something original and sincere my jealous B.F back home would believe. It was hard, but considering I am a Writer, not impossible. Several hours and a lot of wasted paper, I had it and the marauding hoards were fed my rebuttal and denial of all wrongdoing!

‘I cannot confirm nor deny Angel has done anything wrong. Again. Angel is as pure and innocent as the driven snow and her beautilicious Westie fur, honestly Hamish!’

My reworking of the time-honoured statement for not sticking one’s head in the noose, when one has been found out did nothing to dampen down their fervour. Grannie has said my rebuttal so often, it became a mantra and she now sounds just like a demented parrot.

So, I ask myself, and you to My Lovelies, Who knew? How could an innocent little ‘tete-a-tete’ end up involving half the Planet? I have been interviewed on West Coast to East Coast TV and sales of my book ‘Telling Tails’ have soared out into the stratosphere. When questioned on the delicate matter of a certain Hollywood Hottie, my lips are sealed. I mean I was so careful not to get caught in East Hampton. So how did it happen? How could it have happened? I blame it all on that tattling Turtle. Humph, you heard that right My Lovelies. Unbelievably, a Turtle ratted us out! It was a private beach and it was deserted apart from the local wildlife. There was innocent Moi thinking the odd creature lurking in the dunes was a manky old turtle. Apparently they are protected and you can’t go near them or disturb them. Rather like Grannie after one or fifty-two Gin & Tonics, then, eh? So with a great deal of kind consideration I left the grotty thing well alone, after all, my mind was on other matters…

Mason and I were recreating that delicious scene in ‘From here to Eternity’. Who knew the damned Turtle had a lens that reached almost to eternity! That’s right, the turtle was no turtle! It was a baldhead! One that belonged to a bald geezer with his long lens camera trained on Mason and Moi. Turns out the ‘Turtle’, who turned out to be a bald Geezer, in turn, turned out to be a rotten old Pap. Grrr…Mason told me no one would see us as everyone would be partying in NYC, not hanging at his private beach. Mason is stooopid. I had even taken the precaution of being a Shady Lady, I had my Prada Sunglasses on as well! I was totally incognito.

Who knew? It turns out Mace is, can you believe it, even more famous than Moi? How did I know anyone was more famous than Moi, and that they were actually interested in taking pictures of him? Yes, yes I know Mason’s day job is being a big Movie star, but it was his day off!

ANGEL IN THE CITY AVAILABLE AS PAPERBACK AND KINDLE EDITIONS :)

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CHAKRA GARDEN~RHAPSODY IN YELLOW

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CHAKRA GARDEN-RHAPSODY IN ORANGE

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CHAKRA GARDEN-RHAPSODY IN RED

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ANGEL CAKE

ACdo-001Angel is a diva dog who has it all, beauty, fame and a luxurious uptown life in Manhattan with her doting Grannie and Butler James attending to all her copious ‘want, need, nows!’. What more could a girl want? When Angel meets a super cute boy, who happens to be an incognito King, she realises there is something missing from her life, the royal title of H.R.H Princess Angel to be exact! When her royal suitor bestows tasty treats and offers more, Angel’s dreams of social elevation go to her head. Our girl is on a mission to nab herself a crown and a rather yummy cake. She isn’t about to let the little matter of a true love back home in England spoil her plans. But when old frenemy Kimbles the Bichon biatch arrives in New York, and a blast or two from the past reappear, life becomes “it’s complicated” and Angel finds she has more than a touch of trouble on her delectable paws. Mischief and mayhem ensue as our girl is determined to have her crown and wear it and have her cake and eat it!
Join Angel on the couch in her fabulous Manhattan Penthouse as she candidly reveals all in her cosy secret sharing sessions, with you, her Lovelies!

:) ENJOY A DELICIOUS SLICE OF CHAPTER ONE FROM “ANGEL CAKE” BELOW :)

1 ABOUT THE BOY

In which Angel lets her aspirations of social elevation to the aristocracy go to her delectable head.

 Grannie, Oh Grannie… There is something I need from the shops. Can you pop out and get it for me, like right now, please!

‘What do you need that can’t wait, Pumpkin? I am rather busy on my latest manuscript ‘Gossamer Threads’ a collection of ghostly and gothic tales.’

Grannie, your manky old manuscript is not important. My shopping is important. If you hurry up and take the elevator, not the stairs, it should only take you three minutes to get there?

‘Get where, and for what? And why on earth would I want to walk down the stairs when we are on the 53rd floor penthouse???’

To Tiffany’s Grannie. I need a Tiara, like right now, Grannie! Go on, hurry up and get down there before they close. And if it wasn’t a dire emergency, you really should take the stairs Grannie, then maybe you wouldn’t look like a big plush cushion. Just sayin’!!!

‘Really Angel, that isn’t very nice is it?’

Well Grannie, you are not exactly being nice. In fact you are being mean. Very mean. This is important to me. If you loved me, you wouldn’t be stood there arguing when the clock is ticking the seconds away to closing time. Please Grannie, please. I really “Want, Need, Now” that Tiara!

‘Is it for your super exciting and glamorous event, we have time Pumpkin as that’s not until the end of this week?’

No, Grannie. You are wasting time, Grrr…

‘Unless you ‘fess up as to just why you have an urgent need for a Tiara, Angel, I won’t be going to Tiffany’s or anywhere else except back to my manuscript.

Oh. OK. I have a hot date with a hot boy!

‘What? another one???’

‘Grannie, you know there is only one boy for Moi….now go fetch my Tiara. Get me a gold one with some diamonds, rubies and emeralds. Oh, and some sapphires and maybe pearls too, that should do nicely.’

‘It must be with someone very special, Angel. Is it with your true love, your handsome Scottie boy, Hamish? I thought he was back home in England’s green and pleasant lands?’

Er…Nooo, not him.

‘Is it with Mason the Mastiff, the Hollywood Hottie you dated in last summer and confessed all in your last book ‘Angel in the City? After Hamish caught you out when all the World’s News channels reported you had been caught skanking in the Hamptons?’

Er …Nooo, not Mason.

‘Is it with Mason’s twin brother, the intellectual Shaunessey? Remember you had a meeting of minds ‘thing’ with him and Hamish caught you when you made the cover of Time Magazine?’

Er …Nooo, not Shaunessey.

‘Is it with Teddy Hot Paws, the dapper little chap Hamish caught you skanking with just before you left for NYC and took his revenge by dating Kimbles that cheeky dog food model and boyfriend nabbing Biatch of a Bichon Frise?’

Er…Noooo, not Teddy.

‘Are you going to ‘fess up and tell me, Pumpkin?’

Granniiiieee….like no, no and no!!! None of them! If you are going to be mean I shan’t tell you that he is a Prince and I like the sound of Princess Angel. I like it much more than Pumpkin…Grrr…You are totally getting on My Paws, Grannie…Grrr…You are annoying me now…Grrr…Go get that Tiara from Tiffany’s before they close, and before I bite you…Grrr…and don’t tell Hamish, he may not understand about the boy!!!

Hmm…”Her most Royal, Regal, Highness, Princess Angel”…Mmm, my Lovelies, doesn’t that sound quite delicious…Angel likes! Angel Loves! A lot!! And Angel also has a secret. I may well tell you who my mystery man is in our delicious “Shh…Secret Sharing Sessions” and all about our fated meeting in Central Park!

 CLICK LINK FOR KINDLE AND PAPERBACK

AVAILABLE FROM AMAZON NOW :)

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Love books? -Kindle’s Write On open to all!

Write On by Kindle is, as of today, open to all and ready to welcome lovely new members to the previously closed writers community! If you are a reader, a writer or both pop on over and check them out :)

So why not take the manuscript you are working on and head on over and upload and get valuable feedback on your work :) or just check out what others are doing in all these genres

Action / Adventure
Fanfiction
Fantasy
Fiction
Horror
Humor
Kids
Memoirs
Mystery / Suspense
Non-Fiction
Poetry
Romance
Science Fiction
Short Stories
Spiritual
Teen Fiction
Women’s Fiction
Other


https://writeon.amazon.com/?ref=ign_em_tx_hp&ref_=pe_890410_134722380

I look forward to seeing you there, pop by and say Hi on my page :)

*My devilish short story *

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Dancing to the Edge of Darkness

FLAMEAs the Orchestra struck up the music, Florence stood up, buying time smoothing down the front of her elegant satin evening gown and tucking a stray blonde hair behind her ear.Reluctantly taking the outstretched, wrinkled hand of her long time dancing partner, Old Nick, they glided out onto the dance floor. It hadn’t always been this way. Back in the day, Florence used to shiver in delightful anticipation when he reached out to her. The thrill of  being seen with rich and influential Nick Mephistopheles, with all eyes on them, was a complete power rush. When their first dance had begun all those years ago and her debonair partner requested the pleasure, she had never gave so much as a thought to the heavy price he would exact if she ever refused to dance to his tune.
Nick’s business practices were more than shady, but as long as she was on the receiving end of his largesse Florence really didn’t give a damn that her man had gone for the jugular of anyone who had opposed him. Florence only had to express a desire and it was hers for the taking; jewels, clothes, cars, homes and prestige. His power seduced her. She liked the hint of darkness that lurked beneath his suave and sophisticated exterior. She saw people were scared of Nick, he commanded respect. She liked that. Florence would coquettishly laugh and enquire with an engaging smile,
“Nick, just what is the secret of your success?”
“I’m a people person, I give them what they want, they give me what I want.” There was just a trace of coldness in his voice.
“I can see that, and you certainly give me what I want, but there’s more. What do you really do, Nick?”
“ You could say I’m a collector,” was the enigmatic reply. He didn’t chose to expand any further. His inscrutable eyes and cold smile closing down any further attempts at delving into his affairs. Was Nick married? Who knew. There were certainly lots of women. That didn’t really bother Florence much. She revelled in being the one he reached out to the most, the one on his arm on the red carpets, at all the swankiest parties, sat at his side on the private yachts and planes. There were whispers she had his ear, that gave Florence her own sort of power and influence, and she used it to full effect. The power felt good, even if it was by default. Florence was very grateful to Old Nick, back then, back in the day when the dance had just begun. His allure was strong, an intoxicating drug, and before long Florence was hooked.
“Nick, I love you. I’d do anything to repay your generosity,” she exclaimed the first time he had draped her in diamonds and fur.
“Oh, I guess your body and soul should be payment enough, is that acceptable, my Lovely?” he’d replied with a twinkle in his coal black eyes. She thought he had jested and laughingly agreed “Your terms are acceptable, Kind Sir!” And they were. Back then. Back in the day, when their dance had just begun. And so the deal was sealed.
Nick liked to party hard. Dancing was his thing. Elegant, suave, he moved like a panther eating up the dance floor. Women loved him, men wanted to be him, until they got to know Nick a bit better.He liked all eyes on him and he liked his own way. It wasn’t wise to cross him, he had a ruthless and vindictive streak with rivals in both the ball room and the board room. Nick had not lied about being a collector. As time passed and Florence proved her devotion, Nick brought her closer into his inner sanctum.
“Florence, your soul is mine I own you and I want to own all the others I send you to collect.”
How could she refuse? She was in too deep, he had seen to that. With a Siren’s call her beauty brought his hand picked victims to Nick’s lair. He gave the most amazing, lavish parties. His lifestyle was all high end luxury. It was all a game, a well paid dangerous game. Nick rewarded most handsomely when Florence performed. The glitter and glamour proved too seductive and Florence willingly accepted she had checked in all morality and conscience before taking to the dance floor with Mr Mephistopheles.
Tonight was different, Florence was tiring of their ‘Les Liaisons Dangereuses’ and she wanted out. Nick, sensing her indifference was not a guy to cross. He grew possessive and reminded Florence he owned her body and soul. The beautiful ball room had suddenly become a prison and her dancing parter her gaoler.
“When you chose to dance with the devil Florence, you knew there would be no way out…” His voice was menacing. Yes, she knew the score, and yes, she had sealed the deal regardless of the consequences, back then, back in the day.
But that was then. Nick was ageing and it was time for a new dancing partner. As the thought crossed her mind, she saw the Stranger and he saw her. And Nick saw him too. Savagely he grabbed her wrist, and snarled,
“Stay with me Florence. Better the devil you know…”
Florence broke free and without looking back made her way across the empty dance floor. The stranger seemed to be pulling her magnetically towards him. The room faded into blackness and all Florence could see was a numinous mist, with the beguiling stranger emitting an almost supernatural light. Music sublimely filled the ball room and she moved inexorably into his arms.
“Do you want to dance?” she whispered seductively.
“Are you willing to forsake all others for me, Florence?” his honeyed voice resonated deeply as he brushed her face with lips as cold  as the grave.
Florence was compelled, even though the touch of his skin brought shivers creeping along her spine, to whisper “yes…”
He held out his hand, and realising she did not know the Stranger’s name, yet he knew hers, Florence took a step back.
“Lucis Ferre,” he smiled, “I have been waiting for you.”
To the plaintive strains of Sibelius’ ‘Valse Triste’, Lucis and Florence glided across the vast expanse of an empty dance floor.

The Last Waltz would last forever. Florence had made her choice … Dancing with the devil to the very edge of darkness…

© Eily Nash 2014

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In The Company of Angels

14012011431In the very early hours, Ellis ensconced in the comfortable Four Poster bed, gave silent thanks for its sanctuary and safety and for Hepziebah, her rock and guidance. Her mind then began wandering to giving thanks to the people who had made her repose in this most agreeable of beds possible. She smiled imagining she was giving an Oscar’s speech and then smiled another hardly discernible secret smile. Recognition flooded her being that the world of glitz and glamour was an illusion and here in this land where the veil between two worlds was gossamer thin, here in Wychwood lay the substance of Truth.

From the little lattice window, she saw Venus, the Morning Star, shining brightly, and gazing upon it’s brilliant intensity Ellis found herself chanting the names of the Archangels. Softly, her melodic voice barely audible at first, as she resting on the feather pillows, snuggled under the eiderdown in her cotton shift. The walls of her room were hung with beautiful paintings of the four Archangels, Michael, Raphael, Uriel and Gabriel, with an astrological glyph,elemental symbol and one of the cardinal directions were placed in each ornate gilt frame. Then as her voice grew louder in intensity, she found herself standing in the middle of the room, eyes fixed on Venus. Her arms took on a life of their own and were raised upwards; she stood like a chalice, a cup waiting to be filled.

Each Holy name fell from her lips three times, melodiously resonating around the room….Ariel, Azrael, Chamuel, Gabriel, Haniel, Jeremial, Uriel….The vibration of the words seemed to be building an energy field around her…Michael….As the powerful tone of the mighty Archangel’s name resounded three times, deeply from within her very being. The room was flooded with a ray of midnight blue light, the light from Venus filled the space where she stood, and it seemed as if an energy vortex opened up. Ellis no longer existed in a three dimensional form, she had become a pure resonance, vibrating in the room. Her voice continued to chant…Metatron, Razial, Raphael, Uriel, Zadkiel, Zaphael…A lightning bolt of pure white light exploded within the vortex, releasing within it a myriad of millions of multi-coloured stars and strands of light, all swirling within around and about and adding to the power of the vortex.

As she finished intoning the Archangels names, Ellis became aware of a sweet overlay of pure sound, the lights were full of this exquisite toning, and conversely the vibration of the toning created more colour and light. She felt as if she existed outside time and space, she was part of and the whole sequence of the beautiful light and sounds show. The star light entered the top of the vortex and Ellis felt herself pulled almost magnetically at what felt like supersonic speed out of the swirling mass of colour and light.

Then stillness. And she saw laid out before her the midnight canvass of deep space, with the Earth slowly rotating, held in the soft and inky blackness.

Ellis was aware of a subtle shift in vibration and watched the colours, their energetic resonance from within the vortex erupted and spilled all over the Earth. Now changing to a multitude of greens, vervian, fern, forest, moss, pine, teal, celadon, jade and emerald all different all one. With the change of colour the toning became more musical, a soft healing sound.

Without knowing how Ellis became aware of seeing the whole of the Earth from outside the planet. She became suffused with a sense of deep healing energy wrapping the Earth, and all that was in, on and of the planet, all of mankind, the creatures of the air, earth and waters, she saw the healing enter into the hearts minds and souls of men.

The beautiful healing energy levels intensified and she watched as the mighty Archangel Raphael, appeared his arms outstretched, palms directed towards the whole world, as the myriad green lights pulsated in an eternal flow from his beautiful hands.

The healing went deep into Mother Earth, touching all her geography and geology, the rocks, minerals and crystals, her deserts, forests and polar ice caps. Ellis then saw the healing energies touch all that was unseen on the Earth, the living life forms of the elemental kingdoms, those creatures that existed on a different energetic plane to the humans, creatures of the pure elements of fire, air, earth, water and ether. The healing continued to pulse and grow, finally touching those spirits who were lost and trapped in time, discarnate beings walking between two worlds.

The shades of green had merged into one. From within the now purely emerald healing ray many beautiful beings of pure light appeared. Angels of the Lord had descended and were reaching out to the lost souls, willing them to accept the healing rays and return Home, wrapped in their love and light and protection. She saw some step into their Angel’s arms, whilst others too immersed in their own illusion of separateness and darkness were unable as yet to see the light.

As Ellis’ consciousness observed all of this unfold, she felt a deep connection with the healing energy. She understood that the planet was not just a random object orbiting in a space created out of nothingness and chaos. The Earth was part of the fabric of the Universe of God’s holy creation, and no matter how much harm mankind wrecked on himself and the planet, there was a Higher Source constantly at work; picking up the damage caused by Source’s unruly children.A blinding flash suffused Ellis and with this new understanding Ellis became aware once more of being in her body, her consciousness poured back into the organic matter that was her vehicle for negotiating life on the Earth plane.

Somehow she understood, as never before, the importance of looking after her mind, body and spirit, for she had work to do and it was her responsibility to protect herself from all that was harmful, abusive and of a low vibration. With knowledge came the understanding of the spiritual law of discernment, and the words of the Christ advising against casting pearls before swine were now integrated into her mind.

Ellis found herself back in her warm bed and starring up at Venus twinkling in the night sky. She stared at her hands and then held them up to the Starlight, unwilling to detach from the all connectedness of being in the mighty Archangels presence.In that moment a beautiful ray of pure crystalline emerald light emanated from Venus and shone directly into the room and into her upturned palms. She felt the emerald light enter her body and suffuse the whole of her being with a peace and love she had never experienced before, a feeling of absolute, peace and serenity filled her heart and she felt her heart open and expand in love for the beautiful Archangel who was filling her with the light of his celestial essence.

You are a healer, and are called to Service for the greater good, accept My Emerald healing ray for you now know how to wisely use this gift’.

Ellis fell back into a deep and peaceful sleep. Sunlight streaming through the little lattice window awoke her, and as she greeted the new day she started wondering if the events the night before had been another strange Glastonbury dream, yet she felt different, something inside had shifted. Feeling energised and totally alive she emerged from her bed, throwing back the cosy eiderdown there was a slight thud as something clattered to the floor from the fold of her shift. Ellis scrabbled under the bedstead to see what it was. Her hand tightened around something hard and cold. Opening her fingers to see what lay within Ellis gasped, in the palm of her hand lay a beautiful emerald coloured heart shaped crystal.

Smiling she turned to the painting of Archangel Raphael and bowed her head in silent gratitude.

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Luscious locks

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Mixing Metaphors

Telling_Tails_Cover_for_Kikindle ndleWell I must say I was touched. Grannie had totally taken seriously just how deeply affected I was when my beloved Scottie boy, Handsome Hamish falsely accused me of cheating with that cute Westie, Teddy. Imagine how pleased and gratified I was to see she had written a whole book about my experiences, with the poignant title

Torn from the Heart’

With trembling paws I picked it up, deliciously anticipating to be blown away by a sensitive rendition of my tale, something perhaps evocative of Anna Karenina? I was expecting that her pen flew across the pages painting an eloquent picture of a beautiful Westie fighting for the boy she loved, convincing him of her pure and unblemished character. I admit the cover did not grab me. It did not exactly blow me away. I mean what was it about? It was a red heart with a crack down the middle? What was that going to convey to the reader?

Torn from the HeartIt should have been me. I should have been the cover girl. A broken heart just did not cut it as, unlike Moi, my Grannie obviously has no eye for detail. You can tell that by the hideous ensembles she dresses in. Just sayin’.

As you all know, My Lovelies, I had been heartbroken to be falsely accused of cheating. So, surely a picture of Moi would have painted a thousand words in a far more elegant and flattering manner? Hmmm…I had a good chew on my bone and puzzled it out. Those of you know me, know I have a considerable and unrivalled intellect having I am sure the equivalent of several doggy PhD’s and an hour or two later I got it! I was sure it was something to do with my recent heartache, I guess.

Grummph…I suppose that was her totally deluded and misguided idea of what passes for art. I made enquiries and asked just why there wasn’t a sultry snap of myself on the cover? Grannie split her sides laughing and patting me on my beautilicious head said she had gone for a metaphor and once I had read it I would get it. It looked like a heart to me. But there you go, no eye for detail. Silly woman!

Moi...Heartbroken!

Moi…Heartbroken!

I am certain you will agree with Moi a glossy photo of me would have been a far more effective, aesthetically pleasing and compelling choice than a metaphor, whatever one of those may be. What reader would not fail to be touched by a nicely ‘photo -shopped’ image of the tender young Westie with a faraway look in her beautiful black eyes. Maybe a tear delicately rolling down my soft, white fur? Sadness oozing from my charismatic pores. Totally emotive stuff! So, I settled down in my doggy day bed to enjoy some much needed ‘me’ time reading all about me.

Grrr… it was with a great deal of disgust I found out there was not one word about me in the whole book. I mean, how could she? The Paws is not amused! And I told her so. Loudly.

‘Just how did you get yourself so confused to even think this book was about you, Pumpkin?’ she asked incredulously when I stopped howling to draw breath.

Really Grannie? Really? I told her I had read the reviews, it was obvious!

A Book Filled With The Passion Of Twin Flame, Soul Mate Love And Destruction…

and

Hypnotically Addictive Can’t Put Down Novel…

You can see why I was led into the false assumption this book was indeed My book, and indeed all about My recent upset with My beloved. Who else but Moi would receive such an accolades…I ask you??? Don’t answer, the question is purely rhetorical. We all know it is Moi! Humph…Grannie needed to be taken to task and I needed to voice my opinions. I needed to voice them loud and clear. The opportunity fell into my paws when Grannie was fortuitously invited onto the “Ask the Author” programme on the Ethel Regan-Smythe, radio show the very next day. I let my paws do the dialling and called in. Grannie got her baggy old knickers in a right twist and had the unbelievable cheek to actually step in to my rant, Er I mean call, and cut me off in my prime just as I was expounding vociferously upon my disappointment in realising my quite natural assumptions that I was the beguiling heroine were, in fact, false. Grannie had selfishly caused me disappointment and distress. Ethel, that cheeky Moo, who was hosting the show was beyond stoopid beeping out my quite reasonable request urging readers to report Grannie’s rotten old misleading book to Trading Standards. People have right to be informed, do they not? I was informing them, was I not? Humphh. Unreasonable or what, I ask you?! Don’t answer. We all know it was unreasonable. Grrr…

“ANGEL!!!! You are a very naughty girl, I feel I have to step in here and clarify that ‘Torn From the Heart’ was written and published waaaaayyyyy before Hamish caught you out skanking with Teddy, or any of those other chaps. And if you had taken a moment to read the description, perhaps you would have realised that the ‘Cruel Heartbreaker’ Adam Knight was not based on your very forgiving B.F and the Beguiling Inn Keeper Evelyn Blackmore, certainly was not a reflection of a cheeky little Madam, called Angel Nash!!! Grannie is not amused young lady and nor is Ms Regan-Smythe!”

ANGEL’S MISADVENTURES ARE AVAILABLE AS KINDLE AND PAPERBACK’S!

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J’Accuse…

Telling_Tails_Cover_for_Kikindle ndleIn which Angel muses on false accusations and names and shames a love cheat!

I’d like to share with you, My Lovelies, in this Secret Sharing Session that there is one ‘special’ man in my life. He’s a Scottie dog, and very handsome with his beautiful glossy black fur. Blush! My heart belongs to my beloved, Scottie boy Hamish, well most of the time!  But Shh, I think we’ll definitely keep that as our little secret! Grab the tissues, curl up on the couch avec Moi, we shall have a nicely chilled Chardonnay and some choccies and join me in sisterly solidarity, My Lovelies, as I share my boyfriend blues. This is a weepie of epic proportions, I tremble as I relate how I handled the heartache of being falsely accused and misunderstood. I’ve had an upsetting day and I am sure when you hear all about it, you will totally agree that I am not my usual bright and bubbly self.

‘Oh dear, what can the matter be, Angel?’ I hear you solicitously enquire.

Please pass the chocs this way. Hmm, can you find the champagne truffle? That’s my favourite so don’t snaffle it! I shall reveal all my Lovelies.

What did I do? Well, to be perfectly honest as I just said, I do not know. I have been struggling with that very question since it happened. It seems that once again, Angel is in the doghouse. Yet again Angel is accused. Falsely I may add. I am as innocent as the driven snow, as innocent as my lovely pure white furry coat. So, I ask myself, and you too, because I just know you will absolutely agree with me (because I am always right) when did it become a crime to be gorgeous? When did it become a crime to be just sooooo irresistible to the opposite sex? Can I help it if I have been blessed by an abundance of beautiliciousness? Some lucky people are just born beautiful. I am one of the lucky ones.

Unlike some I could mention, but won’t. Some like that rotten, manky Bichon Frise Kimbles. She’s a frenemy of mine ever since stoopid Grannie put her on the cover of those rotten books I told you about. I saw on the telly on one of my favourite glamorous reality shows that you have to keep your friends close and your enemies even closer. She is a total ‘wannabe me’ but as I am just soooo much more beautilicious that isn’t going to happen anytime soon. Anything I have, then Kimbles wants it too, and that includes all my many admirers. One day that dog will go too far and the fur will really fly! Grrr…I really don’t know what her problem is. If her fur wasn’t white ‘cos she is a bichon Frise, it would be green ‘cos she is soooo jealous! And as for those scurrilous rumours that I am jealous of her and her manky modelling career … Grumphhh!

Is it my fault if I have the cutest little tush to waggle as I walk my walk?  Can I help it if my bark is a Siren’s call? Can I help being totally magnetic to any dishy dog lucky enough to gaze on my loveliness?  I mean, I am practically drenched in Charisma, like other mere mortals are in cheap perfume. (Ohh, a little digression here. With my innate shyness, modesty and self-depreciating ways, you have to agree it is indeed a highly potent combination! I just know that you will also agree, now you have been made aware of the facts of the matter that I have been treated so unfairly…Hurrumphh. So, My Lovelies, armed with this knowledge, I ask you, what type of doggy person would get mad about things that are totally beyond my control? Have you guessed just who, my Lovelies? Unbelievable isn’t it? Only my favourite, bestest boyfriend…Erm, I mean my only B.FOops, little slip of the tongue there! It is time for Justice to be done. It is time to name and shame… Hamish!!!

Unbelievably, my B.F (that’s my boyfriend) is totally mad at me and I am deafened by the sound of his silence.

‘Porquoi? Angel, surely he hasn’t dumped you, has he?’ you may well further enquire in stunned disbelief that anyone could actually be mad at me, like ever, as if!

And the short answer is ‘I dunno.’ It saddens me to report it is indeed true that we no longer appear to be an item. O’er I hear your gasps of shock and horror. ‘How could he?’ and ‘How dare he!’ and ‘Has be become crazed and rabid?’ I hear you all cry with solicitous sympathy. Help yourself to another chocolate, pass me a Champagne Truffle please, and listen up, this is what happened…

Hamish was late for our date. He had promised to take me for a lovely walk through Tewin woods. There is a very nice pub, The Plump Partridge, at the end of the walk . They do the most delicious food. We were going to take his humans, Henry and Henrietta. It seems you need to swop money for dinner and drinks and snacks in pubs. Hmm, bit confusing, as at home I just help myself, or get Grannie to go fetch. Her training is coming along nicely, I can report! They seem to get a bit irate when I do that in the village Inn. Some people are selfish like that, especially those other diners with way too much on their plates. Chowing down on too much food can make you hurl. Being a helpful canine, and mindful of hurling humans, I have on occasion relieved some of those overfull plates of their contents. It did not go down well. I was stunned at the lack of gratitude from those ingrates. Humphh…Anyhow, I digress. Since Grannie explained the unusual custom of swopping dosh for nosh, I kept my mush firmly out of other peoples plates and resisted temptation, and it is a scurrilous rumour to say my temperance is driven by being firmly tethered by my manky red harness to the table leg! My humans have their uses, especially when they are paying for yummy nosh ups.

I was hungry. Grannie was out and G.G.P had nothing tasty to snaffle out of his sandwich. I am not partial to peanut butter, marmite and apricot jam. Totally rank. So, you can imagine with a rumbling tum I was really looking forward to enjoying a nice pheasant in an apple and cider sauce, roast potatoes and honey glazed carrots and maybe a glass of Merlot to wash it all down. The hands on the clock ticked by. No knock at the door. I texted my boy, there was no reply. What was the matter, had something bad happened? I was worried. I was also very hungry so when Hamish failed to turn up, I took matters into my own paws and leaving G.G.P chomping happily on his skanky sandwich, trotted down the Lane to my boy’s house. I was fearing the worst (he had already eaten) and hoping for the best (my posh nosh up). A couple of raps, a few yaps. No answer. A couple of bangs, a lot of barks and Hamish eventually opened the door.

He stood there all mean and moody looking. He glowered at me and I was confused as to why I got ‘picture and no sound’, why was I meriting the silent treatment? Hmm, maybe he had a sore throat and lost his bark? That illusion was soon shattered when I went to rub noses and he pulled his head away and stuck his nose in the air.

Then to add insult to injury, my arch-rival Kimbles that manky Bichon Frise came strutting along the road, wriggling her tush and Hamish only gave her a wolf whistle. Was I miffed? Yes, I was miffed. You would be miffed. Any girl would be miffed. He should only have eyes for me! And she looked minging with that silky pink bow in her freshly curled fur, matching her claws coated in rose coloured nail polish with a sprinkling of rainbow glitter. Eww…some girls try so hard. Some girls should not bother ‘cos they are just too manky. Just sayin’ Kimbles!

‘Oi Angeeee,’ she shrieked with her rotten squeaky bark splitting the air, ‘Wot you bin up to? I ‘ere you bin a bit naughty, again!’

O’er, a crimson blush spread across my snow white cheeks. Not that I had anything to hide you understand. My conscience was as clear as The North Sea.

‘My name is Angel, not Angeee,’ I haughtily replied, choosing to ignore her scurrilous statement.

‘Hahaha!’ she clutched her sides laughing, ‘Well is that sooo? Ain’t that a right ole mizznommmer then! Tee hee-hee, wot I ‘ere is that you bin a right little devil wiv the boys! You ain’t no Angel, you is a sinner!’

Oh, my cheeks were flaming an unflattering shade of red and Hamish had gone a funny shade of puce. It was not a good look, for either of us.

‘My name is not a misnomer, for your information I am the personification of Angelic innocence!’ I snarled at her, and showed her my teeth, hoping she would back off and Er, shut up. I am all for free speech as long as it doesn’t involve spilling my secrets! My temper was beginning to go at this point. I could see my much anticipated dinner slipping away into just a hopeful daydream, thanks to that manky Bichon and her big gob.

‘That’s not wot I fink and it ain’t wot I ‘eard. I ‘eard from people wot no, mentioning no names, Angeee, but it woz straight from the ‘orses mouth wasn’t it, Angeee. Some dogs just can’t hold their drink! And lots of peeps round ‘ere have seen ya! Go on deny you went on a date wiv Teddy Hot Paws, he’s such a dapper dog, ain’t he?!’ She screeched with satisfaction.

Kimbles models herself on two iconic beauties, Marilyn Monroe and Moi. She fails miserably at both…Grrr…I have occasionally hung out with her and can report she has no class. Ohh I shouldn’t had let her persuade me have that fifth glass of Prosecco. And she promised not to breathe a word about Teddy…and those other boys…Er, not that there is anything to tell, you understand. To add insult to injury, as Hamish stood there glaring daggers at me, she took unbelievable liberties and only asked my B.F out!’ Has she no shame? Purely rhetorical question, as of course she doesn’t!

‘Oi Hamish, seeing Angeee is occupied elsewhere steppin’ out and about wiv ole Hot Paws, if you are hot to trot, me old mate, I’m your gal, so text me and I can show ya me latest modelling pix for Nero dog food!’

‘Yeees, I heard she was occupied elsewhere too, Kimbles, so I dunno why she is around here bothering me! Oh and I have saw such how delightful you look in the Nero ad campaign, I can’t think of any other girl gorgeous enough to do what you do Kimbles!’ he gave me a withering look.

‘Ohhh, fanks me ole mate and I ‘opes I ain’t bovering ya and ya fancy that date wiv a famous model like meself instead!’ Ohhh the brazen biatch!!!

‘Now you mention it Kimbles, I do have dinner reservations at the Plump Partridge that are going to go to waste. The food is delicious there, I had planned on sharing very generously with some charming female company.’ He gave me even more evils and a glare that would freeze hell , then turned and gave manky Kimbles a 100 watt smile that would totally melt an iceberg.

‘Don’t believe her! Hamish please,’ I implored, reluctant to give up that Pheasant dinner just yet. But Kimbles was not about to give up either, she was a total dog with a bone and she viciously played her ace and went in for the kill. ‘I ‘ear that Teddy’s not the only one. You are sooo generous sharing your G.F, Hamish! I hear she’s not an exclusive kinda gal wiv any of her B.F’s, are ya Angeee?’ she smiled sweetly and winked at Moi! I was actually speechless. Who knew? I had been so careful!

‘Is she really not exclusive, Kimbles? Then maybe I won’t be either, unless you want to come in and explain it all to me, Angel!’ said Hamish fixing me with another of those arctic stares.

O’er, I was not happy at the thought of being on the receiving end of his interrogation. Picture and sound was infinitely preferable to ‘fessing up. Not that you understand, there was anything to ‘fess up, well not too much…But discretion being the better part of valour was becoming a very attractive option and I started to retreat back down the path Kimbles had been spitefully leading me up.

‘Do you want to tell me all about it, Angel?’ asked Hamish persisting most unreasonably.

‘Er nooooo…’ I barely managed a whisper. I mean, My Lovelies, don’t you agree there is a code between us girls that what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas and here was whistle blower Kimbles…

‘Kimbles, you are looking really hungry. Shame to waste my dinner reservation so I’m just off to the Pub for a delicious bite to eat, do you fancy coming along too. My treat, a nice guaranteed steak dinner for you, and ice cream to follow, Gorgeous nosh up, just like you, my dear.’

‘Oh yeah! please Hamish, sounds a well tasty dish, Hamish, heh heh, just like you, Hamish. Throw in a glass of Cider or six or seven, Hamish and it’s defo a date, Hamish!’ She simpered his name all breathlessly.

OMG I could not believe it. My B.F flirting with my Frenemy Kimbles? It was too much. I was so stunned. I ran all the way home, with my tail between my legs….

Does Angel really let that biatch Kimbles get away with nabbing her posh nosh up and her premier B.F Hamish???

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All is revealed in further candid confessions as Angel invites you to join her for “Shh…Secret Sharing Sessions” in her trilogy of Tail Telling!cropped-cropped-b-w-paws3.jpg

*AVAILABLE ON AMAZON*

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Do Angels have Paws?

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Puppy Paws

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BEAUTILICIOUS BABY

Regular visitors to my blog will have met  my beautilicious little Westie, Angel. The little girl is almost 8 human years old, in doggy terms she is fast catching me, her ancient old Grannie, up! She is a Leo. I am not. You can work out just who the boss is in our relationship ;) She is small, smart, sassy, and an incorrigible flirt with the boys. Angel loves food, especially if it is mine. If I don’t watch her, she has been known to dip into my wine glass too. Chardonnay is her favourite ;) Her fictional antics in our book (yes, she is an author too!) are very much based on her real life persona. Despite her quite incorrigible diva dog ways  she is  just the cutest, most loving little dog and she has wrapped us around her delectable paws and it goes without saying that we totally and absolutely love our little girl.

Blogging and writing have been very much on the back burner lately. My mind just hasn’t been able to wander down creative avenues. I am feeling a great deal of worry. Angel has to have an operation on Thursday, something called a ‘Tibial Plateau Levelling Osteotomy’ for a ruptured ligament in her back leg.  Oh and her Veterinarian has also mentioned she has a heart murmur…My own heart has been aching. The thought of her undergoing a big operation and being in pain is almost too much to bear, if I could take this from her, I would, but there is no choice it has to be done to prevent further damage and pain. The recovery time for her leg surgery involves 8 weeks confinement. We have bought the biggest Puppy Play Pen and my dear son Ryan has decorated it with fluffy blankets, cushions, toys and  all her teddies. He has also added fairy lights. It is amazing and Angel has spent all week happily hanging out in her new den.

BEDDY BYES FOR LITTLE GIRLS

Throughout the last seven years she has brought so much to our family. How she came to us is a very special story of the Angels working their Divine magic. Back then my beautiful grown up daughter, Jennifer, was a little girl. She developed a total fear of dogs. We live in a beautiful quiet place with countryside on the doorstep. There are lots and lots and LOTS of dogs! My darling girl’s fear of dogs just grew out of nowhere. We couldn’t walk down the hill to school without meeting one. We couldn’t enjoy breaks in our much loved Glastonbury because of the fear of encountering a dog. Dogs were everywhere and it was getting to the point that the sheer  fear of them was severely impacting all our lives. My husband had been very much against getting a family dog. (I had two much loved West Highland White Terriers many years before and would have adored the chance to love another one, but it was  not something that was going to happen…or so I thought…)

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ANGEL’S BEAUTIFUL MUMMY, JENNIFER

One night I had a dream in which the Angels clearly and lovingly told me that if we were to get a dog it would open our lovely daughter’s heart to love and the fear would be banished forever. I told my husband, who miraculously agreed. We asked Jennifer if she would like a puppy of her very own. Again, miraculously, she said YES. We researched all types of dogs and Jennifer decided she wanted a WESTIE!

Thank you Angels! I believe with all my heart that God sends pets into our lives to show us how to share unconditional love, loyalty, fun and friendship.

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Angel and her ‘ little Daddy’ Ryan

Angel  came into our family, just four months old. A tiny puppy who rapidly left her paw prints all over our hearts. Her beautiful human ‘Mummy’ Jennifer gave her new puppy her name (which turned out to be a total misnomer!) totally loved and adored her tiny baby girl and all fear of dogs rapidly dissipated, and Ryan our lovely boy totally embraced training and caring for our little bundle of Fur-ever love. Hubby and I became GrandPa and Grannie to our little pawsome Angel and have had so much fun becoming part of her pack :)

I write books and Angel took me down new avenues, inspiring the children’s books Poppy Paws and Patch, and Poppy Paws written with the help of Ryan, in which we addressed the issues of fear and the healing power of love, and also the crazy and chaotic canine fun and riotious romps  that unfolds in our chick lit books Telling Tails, Angel in the City and Angel Cake….Not bad for a little girl less than a foot tall! Our girl may be small in stature but huge in heart. She is our Pawsome Angel :)

I went to Church to pray today. My prayers, both in our lovely church and at bed time, are usually for all the challenging situations, heartache and sorrow that beset those I love, those I know and those whose sad stories unfold on our news channels. I added my baby girl Angel and trust the Lord heard my prayers, as he has always done.

We would be hugely grateful for healing thoughts to be sent Angel’s way.

 ♥ Bless you, thank you ♥

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Angel all grown up

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Grannie…Do Something!!!

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…She had just served me up my Mimosa, nicely chilled, with a plate of yummy brie and cranberry bruschetta, when the phone rang. I overheard Grannie telling Grumpy GrandPa some utter tosh that she was ‘inscrutable’ and that mystery and imagination added to romance….Eww…I nearly choked on my Mimosa. Romance??? Grotty Grannie??? G.G.P??? Er…No!!!

Intrigued, I put my ear to the door and  listened to their hands free conversation some more. Seems they were having a transatlantic telephonic communication as Grannie refused to Skype. Seems he wanted to know just what she was hiding from him and just why she did not want to take a peek at how lush and lovely his Lobelia was looking, delicate and dainty, spread all over the garden back home in England’s green and pleasant land.

Hmm… it was all too confusing. What was Grannie hiding? Just who was this Lobelia? Why was she laying on our lawn…had she, like Grannie, quaffed one or ten Gordon & tonics too many? And just why would G.G.P want to introduce his drunken floozy to Grannie???

These questions needed answered. So once he had finished chatting to Grannie and purely on the pretext of showing my GrandPa the view of Central Park from our 53rd Floor Manhattan Penthouse I grabbed my iPad and face-timed him.

‘Angel, what’s all this utter tosh and rot about Grannie being  mysteriously inscrutable?’ he demanded most demandingly.

‘Dunno, G.G.P,’ says me helpfully, zooming the iPad’s camera full on to Grannie, mush coated in a mud pack and sitting picking her toe nails. After all her manky picture painted a thousand words far more eloquently than Moi, even with my superior literary skills,  could have done…

‘Gumpfffphhh!’ was all G.G.P managed to say before splattering his tea all over his iPhone screen, at that point I only had sound and no picture from him. I was worried and screamed for  Grannie…

‘O’er…Grannie, Grannie!!! please come quick it’s an emergency!!! G.G.P is suffering from revulsion and is like chokin’ and his girl friend is flat on her face, drunk as a skunk in our garden, and is totally incapacitated and incapable of calling an ambulance…Grannie…Do Something!!!’

:) FOR MORE OF  ANGEL’S DELECTABLE DELIGHTS :)

WHY NOT GO WALKIES OVER TO AMAZON

FOR MORE MISCHIEF AND MAYHEM CAUSED BY “THE PAWS”  

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Telling Tails

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Author Angel Nash worn to the Paws watching Grannie hard at work!

Hello my Lovelies!

I am visiting Grannie’s blog from my Manhattan Penthouse and putting my well manicured paws to good use and blogging for her, whilst she is otherwise engaged and not watching what I am up to.  I am more than miffed she has been selfishly blogging about her books and  not my books, can you believe her cheek!!!

‘Where is Grannie? What is she doing? Shame on her! What on earth could be more important than looking after you, Angel?’ You may solicitously enquire, and I shall tell you, my Lovelies.

But, Shh…it is a secret!

Grannie is busy with a matter of the  most mega urgency and import. Can you hear her click clacking away on her battered old typewriter?  I have banned her from blogging and anything else (like sleeping and eating) that does not involve her catering to my little “want, need, nows!” until she finishes the manuscript for my third book- ANGEL CAKE -Look out for the big reveal!!! 

I am soooo excited about my latest book, just as much as when my paws were on creative fire and I penned my very first  Magnum Opus and introduced myself to an unsuspecting world in:-

 “Telling Tails” 

Beautiliious Westie Angel Nash has aspirations of the good life. When Grannie upsets the little Diva dog she takes matters into her own paws and becomes the first canine like ever to become a real, published author! All Angel’s shenanigans are revealed as she candidly shares how she went walkies from a quiet village in England’s Green and Pleasant Lands all the way across a very big pond to N.Y.C.

Angel’s “Shh…Secret Sharing Sessions” are a riotous romp of Mischief, Mayhem, Moan-fests and Musing on hugely important matters, namely Herself!

AVAILABLE AS A PAPERBACK OR KINDLE EBOOK

*CLICK HERE FOR AMAZON AND A VERY SPECIAL KINDLE PRICE*

Why Helloooo My Lovelies,Beautilicious Westie Angel Nash in the house, with doggilicious tales to tell. A rollercoaster of fun and frolics, chaos and canines. So jump on board and enjoy the ride. It's choc full of my top Secret Sharing Sessions about my crazy capers with Grottie Grannie, my True Love Hamish and B.F stealing Frenemy, Kimbles the Bichon Frise! All the gossip direct from modest Moi, 'The Paws'...Shhh...don't tell!© Eily Nash

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