Dutch Band Neo-Rockab
Justo collection
Friday, September 23, 2011
Manic Pistoleros-Silver Bullet
from Melbourne, Victoria, Australia
http://www.myspace.com/manicpistoleros
Psychobilly / Rockabilly
Justo collection
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Monday, September 19, 2011
14.2 millions de téléspectateurs pour dsk sur tf1
L'interview de Dominique Strauss-Kahn sur TF1 a rassemblé dimanche soir plus de 13 millions de téléspectateurs, ce qui constitue un record d'audience pour un journal télévisé, toutes chaînes confondues, depuis novembre 2005.La séquence du journal de 20h09 à 20h33, où DSK a été interrogé par Claire Chazal, a rassemblé 13.446.000 téléspectateurs, soit 47% de part d'audience.A noter un pic d'audience à 14.2 millions de personnes durant l'entrevue
Friday, September 16, 2011
David Beckham et sa grande famille pourraient s'installer à Paris !
Le nouveau directeur sportif du Paris Saint-Germain, le Brésilien Leonardo, a déclaré à la BBC qu'il était intéressé par la venue de la star anglaise dans son club. A Paris, les vendeuses de l’Avenue Montaigne se réjouissent à l'idée de voir débarquer Victoria Beckham dans le sillage de son mari de footballeur.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
New Release: Elise Hepner's Roped Emotions
Blurb:
Rapunzelis trapped by the harsh, inescapable reality of her prison, so she builds vividsexual fantasies where she has full control and no one can take it away. Ifnothing else, at least she has command over her thoughts.
WhenPrince Samuel climbs into her tower it’s a small, satisfying excuse to breakthe rules—until his gentle touch coaxes out her trust. But it’s not enough. Nolonger can she keep her dark, sexual secrets inside. Rapunzel yearns for rough,passionate sex—a way to unlock her sensual freedom for good.
Vulnerablebut unable to turn back, Rapunzel leads Prince Samuel on an intimate journey todefine their sexual limits while twisting their definitions of control forever.
I must be hearing echoes from thetown nearby, where Mother sells her herbs and braided goods. No one venturesthis far toward my tower because Mother’s gone to great lengths to see thatthey don’t—bear traps are her new favorite method of discouragement. Once onelife is claimed, I imagine word spreads fairly quickly to stay away from thearea. Why then are there hoof beats that make my head pulse with a slight pain?
There’s no understandable excuse Ican delude myself with any longer. Before I can focus on the consequences, Iswing my head out the window into the oppressive, humid summer air. Just thevery top of his head is visible, his hair brushing past his cheekbones, glowingfrom the sunshine and shot through with gold. Never have I seen a color so closeto my own before—not that I see many people.
“Excuse me?” A tentative questionI’m not sure he will hear because it can’t be any louder than a frightenedwhisper. “Sir, you’re really not supposed to be here.”
Somehow, I’ve managed to make thispart louder because he glances up—and his slack-jawed expression is a blow tomy chest. He possesses the most gorgeous cobalt blue eyes. Underneath my ribs,the pain grows until taking a full breath is hard. Mother is right, he hasn’teven overcome his shock as my heavy plait of hair rests down the stone side ofmy prison. He’s not to be trusted.
What am I thinking? He won’t evencome near me to aid my escape and his eyes are swamped in confusion—and there’sa flash of unreadable emotion that I refuse to question. He must leave here nowand I must somehow convince him to bring no one back with him. I won’t beparaded around for anyone’s amusement. This man has made a mistake coming here.
Yet, there’s still a part of me thatgrips the windowsill until my palms are numb and that clings to the hope thathe will at least acknowledge me. So long since I’ve had any kind of normalconversation. One that didn’t revolve around my hair, my rules or my mother’sday. Won’t he say anything? I’m as trapped by his thick silence as I am by thebeauty of his face.
“Please, you must go and tell no oneabout what you’ve seen. You shouldn’t have ignored the traps. They are therefor a reason.”
I don’t know how I’ve gotten thatall out because my main focus lies on the foreign stirrings of heat in mycheeks as the pulsing sensation twists lower in my abdomen. What is happeningto me? With a certainty that surprises me, I find myself clenching my thighstogether, only to have the subtle touch of flesh-on-flesh be more than I canbear. He has yet to take his gaze from mine and a shudder slips up my spine.
“How long have you been here?” Hisvoice carries the strain I hold back and I’m slightly put at ease that at leastwe are on similar ground. “Who did this to you?”
“For a man who is about to leave, Idon’t believe it matters.”
The words barely tumble out of mymouth before I clamp my hand over my lips. I hadn’t meant to be so harsh andinstantly regret it. He is so handsome—and these sudden urges, they areoverwhelming and confusing to the point where I wish to completely remove theproblem. My lips part in an apology and I watch a jovial grin span from ear to earas he laughs at me until I can’t hear anything but the frantic beat of myheart.
However, now my life spirals out ofcontrol quickly enough that I tilt back against the wall to my left and watchwith trembling hands. This mysterious man climbs the wall of my tower as if ithad been built to be climbed so easily—without any aid from my hair. Onestrong, sun-kissed hand and booted foot at a time. When he offers up his handto me to pull him over the side, what choice do I have?
Even a man that strongwould eventually grow tired and plummet to his death—and I want him tuckedclose to my body, not on the ground.
“I was beginning to wonder what ittook to get some assistance.”
He softly grunts and clasps my handhard enough that I gasp as I shift my weight to pull him over the side. MusclesI didn’t know existed inside me burn with sharp pain from disuse because of myisolation. His touch radiates heat all along my arm. If it wasn’t for hisprecarious situation, I would fight to pull away on instinct—but as it is, hemanages to throw himself into my home with as much grace as a charging boar—andhe trips, falling on top of me and sending us to the hard, stone floor.
His surprisingly soft hand brushesthe hair out of my face and lingers, gently stroking, down my cheek. Should Ibe frightened? Probably. At the moment I can’t bear the thought that my firstsincerely gentle touch from a man would be anything but special. His sharpleather scent surrounds my tingling skin.
Buy Links:
http://www.jasminejade.com/p-9567-roped-emotions.aspx
Author Links:
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Elise-Hepner-Writing/311925106401
www.twitter.com/EHepner
www.ehwriting.com
Rapunzelis trapped by the harsh, inescapable reality of her prison, so she builds vividsexual fantasies where she has full control and no one can take it away. Ifnothing else, at least she has command over her thoughts.
WhenPrince Samuel climbs into her tower it’s a small, satisfying excuse to breakthe rules—until his gentle touch coaxes out her trust. But it’s not enough. Nolonger can she keep her dark, sexual secrets inside. Rapunzel yearns for rough,passionate sex—a way to unlock her sensual freedom for good.
Vulnerablebut unable to turn back, Rapunzel leads Prince Samuel on an intimate journey todefine their sexual limits while twisting their definitions of control forever.
Excerpt:
“What in Christ’s name…”I must be hearing echoes from thetown nearby, where Mother sells her herbs and braided goods. No one venturesthis far toward my tower because Mother’s gone to great lengths to see thatthey don’t—bear traps are her new favorite method of discouragement. Once onelife is claimed, I imagine word spreads fairly quickly to stay away from thearea. Why then are there hoof beats that make my head pulse with a slight pain?
There’s no understandable excuse Ican delude myself with any longer. Before I can focus on the consequences, Iswing my head out the window into the oppressive, humid summer air. Just thevery top of his head is visible, his hair brushing past his cheekbones, glowingfrom the sunshine and shot through with gold. Never have I seen a color so closeto my own before—not that I see many people.
For a few moments I can’t quite cometo terms with his presence and it’s not for a lack of staring that my pulseinevitably echoes inside my head like an overbeaten drum. This is my chance.Mother won’t be back for quite some time with her wares. He’s circling thetower, slouched over a horse who looks a bit like a nag. Certainly not a properhorse for a man with such fine clothes in gorgeous colors and sumptuousfabrics.
There’s no going back from this moment.It’s a certainty that makes my teeth chatter in a wash of cold fear, despitethe heat, and my hands clasp around my middle as I try to hold myself together.He hasn’t looked up yet, more intent on studying the free-standing structurethan noticing my shadow plastered across the grass. My mind is desperatelyworking out what I’ll cry out to him. Even as my throat closes with an infusionof happiness that makes me rock on my feet.“Excuse me?” A tentative questionI’m not sure he will hear because it can’t be any louder than a frightenedwhisper. “Sir, you’re really not supposed to be here.”
Somehow, I’ve managed to make thispart louder because he glances up—and his slack-jawed expression is a blow tomy chest. He possesses the most gorgeous cobalt blue eyes. Underneath my ribs,the pain grows until taking a full breath is hard. Mother is right, he hasn’teven overcome his shock as my heavy plait of hair rests down the stone side ofmy prison. He’s not to be trusted.
What am I thinking? He won’t evencome near me to aid my escape and his eyes are swamped in confusion—and there’sa flash of unreadable emotion that I refuse to question. He must leave here nowand I must somehow convince him to bring no one back with him. I won’t beparaded around for anyone’s amusement. This man has made a mistake coming here.
Yet, there’s still a part of me thatgrips the windowsill until my palms are numb and that clings to the hope thathe will at least acknowledge me. So long since I’ve had any kind of normalconversation. One that didn’t revolve around my hair, my rules or my mother’sday. Won’t he say anything? I’m as trapped by his thick silence as I am by thebeauty of his face.
“Please, you must go and tell no oneabout what you’ve seen. You shouldn’t have ignored the traps. They are therefor a reason.”
I don’t know how I’ve gotten thatall out because my main focus lies on the foreign stirrings of heat in mycheeks as the pulsing sensation twists lower in my abdomen. What is happeningto me? With a certainty that surprises me, I find myself clenching my thighstogether, only to have the subtle touch of flesh-on-flesh be more than I canbear. He has yet to take his gaze from mine and a shudder slips up my spine.
“How long have you been here?” Hisvoice carries the strain I hold back and I’m slightly put at ease that at leastwe are on similar ground. “Who did this to you?”
“For a man who is about to leave, Idon’t believe it matters.”
The words barely tumble out of mymouth before I clamp my hand over my lips. I hadn’t meant to be so harsh andinstantly regret it. He is so handsome—and these sudden urges, they areoverwhelming and confusing to the point where I wish to completely remove theproblem. My lips part in an apology and I watch a jovial grin span from ear to earas he laughs at me until I can’t hear anything but the frantic beat of myheart.
Who is this man? Now he stares at mewith a playfulness that washes a wave of goose bumps across my flesh. Hedoesn’t seem offended, merely amused at my suggestion that he leave. To furtherthat fact, he quickly dismounts and ties his horse to a nearby tree branch.While I can only stare at the way his tight riding boots and breeches hug hismuscular body from his calves all the way up to his perfectly rounded buttocks.
Though I’d learned of desire from mymother—and all its wicked principles—I never expected it to rear its head in mylonely, simple world.However, now my life spirals out ofcontrol quickly enough that I tilt back against the wall to my left and watchwith trembling hands. This mysterious man climbs the wall of my tower as if ithad been built to be climbed so easily—without any aid from my hair. Onestrong, sun-kissed hand and booted foot at a time. When he offers up his handto me to pull him over the side, what choice do I have?
Even a man that strongwould eventually grow tired and plummet to his death—and I want him tuckedclose to my body, not on the ground.
“I was beginning to wonder what ittook to get some assistance.”
He softly grunts and clasps my handhard enough that I gasp as I shift my weight to pull him over the side. MusclesI didn’t know existed inside me burn with sharp pain from disuse because of myisolation. His touch radiates heat all along my arm. If it wasn’t for hisprecarious situation, I would fight to pull away on instinct—but as it is, hemanages to throw himself into my home with as much grace as a charging boar—andhe trips, falling on top of me and sending us to the hard, stone floor.
His surprisingly soft hand brushesthe hair out of my face and lingers, gently stroking, down my cheek. Should Ibe frightened? Probably. At the moment I can’t bear the thought that my firstsincerely gentle touch from a man would be anything but special. His sharpleather scent surrounds my tingling skin.
“Isn’t this a day for surprises?”His gaze cuts through all the fear inside me and his mouth holds the subtlecurve of a half smile. “I should move myself off you, this isn’t proper at all when we’vebarely been introduced.”
Yet he doesn’t move an inch.A realization whips through my mindand would have left me on the floor if I wasn’t already pinned there by agorgeous man who touches me with such reverence I might weep. When will thishappen again? After this twisted, meandering path of fate, there is no doubt Iwill be alone again—and I want a loving memory to cling to at night when my oldfears tighten my chest until I can’t breathe. This is a choice I can make formyself. And I won’t live the rest of my ordinary, sheltered life not knowingtrue passion when it burns across my skin.
“They call me Rapunzel.”“Samuel.”
His inviting smile lights up mywhole world.Buy Links:
http://www.jasminejade.com/p-9567-roped-emotions.aspx
Author Links:
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Elise-Hepner-Writing/311925106401
www.twitter.com/EHepner
www.ehwriting.com
Guest Author: Rachel Brimble
BLURB:
Nightclubmanager, Grace Butler is on a mission to buy the pub where her mother’s ashesare scattered – except the vendor wants to sell to anyone but her. And the vendorhappens to be her father…with a secret Grace will do anything to uncover.
Social worker and all-round goodguy, Jimmy Betts needs cash to buy a house for three special kids before theircare home closes. In a desperate bid for cash, he agrees to a one-time ‘job’for bad-man Karl Butler. But in a sudden turn of events, Jimmy finds himself employedby Karl’s beautiful, funny and incredibly sexy daughter, Grace.
EXCERPT:
Nightclubmanager, Grace Butler is on a mission to buy the pub where her mother’s ashesare scattered – except the vendor wants to sell to anyone but her. And the vendorhappens to be her father…with a secret Grace will do anything to uncover.
Social worker and all-round goodguy, Jimmy Betts needs cash to buy a house for three special kids before theircare home closes. In a desperate bid for cash, he agrees to a one-time ‘job’for bad-man Karl Butler. But in a sudden turn of events, Jimmy finds himself employedby Karl’s beautiful, funny and incredibly sexy daughter, Grace.
Their lives are so differentexcept for one unifying thread – they are both trying to escape the binds oftheir tyrannical fathers. But is the key to their liberty each other?
EXCERPT:
She sat bolt upright. “Where are you going?”
“To the soup kitchen. Four of my kids have been helping outdown there today, so if you don’t need me ‘til seven--”
“Can I come?”
“What?”
“What?” Gerald echoed.
Jimmy stared at her. Was she serious? But knew he wouldn’trefuse her when her eyes were wide with that damn innocent doe-eyed look againand her cheeks flushed pink. He swallowed, clenched his hands into fists insidehis pockets.
“You want to cometo the soup kitchen?” he asked, hoping against hope he’d gotten the wrong endof the proverbial stick.
She winked, and it had as much the same effect as if she’dwrapped her hand around his penis. “Why not?”
He opened his mouth. Shut it. Opened it, took a breath, butstill nothing came out. Her smile widened. “Cat got your tongue, Jimmy Boy?”
Just a few short days ago at her mother’s pub, he’d wantedto ravish her, possess her, let her know what she did to him. And now the samedesire coursed through his veins again. She never stopped surprising him and itjust added more fuel to the already burning fire.
“And why would you want to do that?” he asked.
“Beats going into the club early,” she said, brushing pasthim.
She wandered across the room. Her slender body sashayingaround the furniture and then her piece de resistance was to snake all fivefeet nine inches of it across the oblong dining table to grab her bag--thesight of her perfect ass and even better legs sent Jimmy’s senses skyrocketing.His nostrils flared. Grace by name, Graceby nature. She was beautiful, sexy, funny, and he didn’t doubt for oneminute she knew exactly what the sight of her did to him.
She turned around and hitched the bag onto her shoulder. “Mylife is sad. I’ve got nothing else planned for the afternoon. Come on, Jimmy,help me show my father I have a life away from him. Even if it is a completelie, for now.”
He threw his hands in the air. “Fine.”
BUY LINK: http://www.lyricalpress.com/store/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=81&products_id=424
ABOUT RACHEL:
Rachel lives with her husband and two young daughters in a small townnear Bath in the UK. Having alwaysbelieved there’s someone for everyone, Rachel started writing her own tales oflove once her children were at school. Since then, she’s had several books published with The Wild Rose Press,Eternal Press and Lyrical Press. She hasrecently acquired a US agent with her second Victorian historical. A member ofthe Romantic Novelists Association and Romance Writers of America, Rachelcannot imagine her life without romance or writing!
When she isn’t writing, you’ll find Rachel with her head in a book orwalking the beautiful English countryside with her family. And in the evening? Well, a well-deserved glass of wine is never,ever refused…
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Voici le casting intégral de "Danse avec les stars 2"
puremedias.com vous avait déjà révélé six célébrités qui participeront à la saison 2 : les chanteuses Shy'm, Nâdiya et Sheila, l'ancien sportif Philippe Candeloro, le mannequin Baptiste Giabiconi et l'actrice Véronique Jannot. Selon nos informations, les trois derniers participants seront Valérie Bègue (la Miss France 2008 qui avait défrayé la chronique après la parution de certaines photos jugées choquantes par Geneviève de Fontenay), le chanteur Francis Lalanne et le tennisman Cédric Pioline.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Monday, September 12, 2011
Guest Author: Bernadette Marie
BIO:
Bernadette Marie has been an avid writer since the early age of 13, when she’d fill notebook after notebook with stories that she’d share with her friends. Her journey into novel writing started the summer before eighth grade when her father gave her an old typewriter. At all times of the day and night you would find her on the back porch penning her first work, which she would continue to write for the next 22 years.
In 2007 – after marriage, filling her chronic entrepreneurial needs, and having five children – Bernadette began to write seriously with the goal of being published. That year she wrote 12 books. In 2009 she was contracted for her first trilogy and the published author was born. In 2011 she (being the entrepreneur that she is) opened her own publishing house, 5 Prince Publishing, and has released contemporary titles and will begin the process, eventually, of taking on other authors in other genres. Also in 2011 she became co-owner of Seven Songs Press and will release a novella as part of an anthology with other very talented authors in November 2011.
Bernadette spends most of her free time driving her kids to their many events. She is also an accomplished martial artist, working her way to her second degree black belt in Tang Soo Do. An avid reader, she enjoys most, the works of Nora Roberts and Karen White. She loves to meet readers who enjoy reading contemporary romances and she always promises Happily Ever After.
LINKS:
WEBSITE: www.bernadettemarie.com
BLOG: www.authorbernadettemarie.com
EMAIL: info@bernadettemarie.com
FACEBOOK: www.facebook.com/authorbernadettemarie
TWITTER: @writesromance
BLURB FOR THE EXECUTIVE’S DECISION:
Regan Keller fell in love with a wealthy and powerful man once. He was her boss. When that turbulent relationship ended, she swore she’d never again date someone she worked with. That was before she literally fell into her new boss’s lap.
Zachary Benson is the head of a successful empire and used to getting what he wants in the boardroom and outside of it – and what he wants is Regan Keller. He’s determined to convince Regan that even though he’s her boss, they can share a life together.
However, when Regan’s past threatens to destroy the architectural firm Zach has invested his entire career in, he has to make an executive decision whether to choose his business or fight for the woman he loves.
EXCERPT FROM THE EXECUTIVE’S DECISION
Chapter One
Thunder rippled through the gray clouds that loomed overhead. Regan Keller raised her eyes to the sky. Please, please don’t rain. As she sent up the silent prayer, she felt the first drop hit her forehead.
The nervous flutter in her stomach quickened as she looked down at her watch. Surely her day couldn’t get any worse. But the sky opened up, and those around her crowded together in the bus stop shelter. Her hair, tied in a tail at the base of her neck, dripped rain down her back as she hunched in her coat. How could she have forgotten her umbrella? Had her car been running, she’d have the one tucked safely away in the glove compartment because spring in Tennessee often meant sudden storms. She should carry one in her bag but had suffered a lapse in memory, having opted for the sunny beaches of Hawaii for the past two years.
As the bus arrived, those under the shelter huddled onto it ahead of her, claiming every seat. Soaking wet, Regan wedged herself between two people and held onto the handrail above her head. She looked out the window at the commuters driving themselves to work in the pouring rain. That should have been her.
A bitter-faced old woman sat below her, her oversized bag occupying the next seat. Regan bent to ask her to move it, but the woman glared up at her and gave a grunt that sounded like a dog’s bark. Regan flinched and tried to look away. But she was compelled to keep an eye on the woman.
The man to the other side of the vacant seat snickered. Regan looked down at him in his long black overcoat and perfect hair. Hemmed in between the old lady’s bag and an overweight man in a jogging suit, he was as pinned in his seat as she was to the people around her. She would have given him a piece of her mind for laughing at her had the bus not jolted to a sudden stop. It lurched forward then back and tossed Regan onto the man’s lap.
“I would have offered you my seat,” he said with a bright grin as the bus lurched again.
“Why, you…” She struggled to free herself, but the crowd moved in tightly around them as the bus bounced down the street. The pace of her heart kicked into gear and she could feel the sweat bead on her brow.
She hadn’t been this close to a man in over a year, and the panic of having him actually hold her on his lap was making her more than uncomfortable. “I need to stand up.”
“You might as well sit.” He wrapped his arms around her. “Doesn’t look like you’ll be standing again anytime soon.”
Regan took a few deep and cleansing breaths. She forced down the panic that was filling her body and tried to push it away. Alexander Hamilton thought she was dead. There should be no danger in sitting on the lap of a nice-looking man. She should find it within her to enjoy the experience and focus on something else.
He didn’t have an accent native to Tennessee like hers. Perhaps the rain had caught him off guard as well. If she didn’t relax, she’d have a heart attack, and this nice gentleman who wasn’t from Nashville would probably be blamed for her death on the bus on his way to work.
Accepting her predicament at face value would be a prime opportunity to let go of bitter feelings for the opposite gender, though after what she’d been through, she wasn’t sure she could. The thought of ever loving another man or letting one touch her made her palms sweat and her stomach clench.
The man smiled at her, and a dimple formed in his cheek. “This is your first time on this bus, isn’t it?” He pushed back a wet wisp of hair from her forehead, and she flinched away. “It’s always crowded, but I know I would have seen you.”
“My car wouldn’t start this morning.” She pressed her hand to her jittery stomach and willed it to settle. “I start a new job today. Car trouble couldn’t have come at a worse time.”
“New job? Congratulations. So what is this new job?”
God, he was handsome, and wouldn’t it be nice to enjoy the ride? But she wasn’t. “Executive assistant.” The words shook as she spoke.
“Pretty important.”
“You think it’s just some glorified secretary, don’t you?” She clenched her teeth and her fists. Why wouldn’t she be angry? The last man she’d worked for had interpreted the title executive assistant as a license to run her life and to ruin it.
“No. I was serious. It’s a very important position.” He looked sincere. “So where is this new job?”
“Benson, Benson and Hart.”
“Real estate development.”
“Yes.” Her breath was becoming harder to push through her lungs. “I should get off your lap.”
“You’d ruin my day.” He laughed easily, so she tried to relax. “So whose executive assistant will you be?”
“Zachary Benson’s.” She looked around for a space to stand.
“CEO? He must have been very impressed with you.”
“I’ve never met him. His current assistant is having a baby and leaving the company. He was out of town when she interviewed me.” She thought about Mary Ellen, his current assistant. The interview had had a motherly quality to it. She wasn’t sure whether it was because Mary Ellen was pregnant or that worried for her boss. “I think she takes good care of him. It’ll be a hard pair of shoes to fill.” And if that hadn’t had her stomach tied in knots, here she was having a conversation about it with a man she didn’t know while sitting on his lap. Had she completely forgotten the last man she’d gotten this close to tried to kill her?
“I’m sure he’ll be pleased with her choice.”
“Thank you.” She wanted to wiggle away from the hard muscles she could feel in his chest, from his arms that held her tight against him, and from the legs of a man who obviously kept in shape. She couldn’t, so she kept talking. “I hope he likes me. I can’t imagine him not wanting to meet me first.”
“Maybe he’s ugly.”
“Hottie?” His voice lit with humor. “Well, you’ll enjoy your job then.”
“Strictly business here. I don’t get involved with the boss,” she said sternly. Not anymore. This was, after all, her chance to take back her life after making such a mistake.
The bus stopped, and the old woman stood and grabbed her bag.
“Move!” She shoved her way through the people who climbed on and made her way out the door. Before Regan could stand and claim a seat, the crowd around her pushed her closer against the stranger, whose arms wrapped tightly around her as others dropped down beside them.
“Your stop is the next one,” he offered, and she nodded. “So what’s your name?”
“Regan.”
“You’re native to Tennessee, aren’t you? Your accent gives you away.”
“I was born in Memphis. I spent most of my life in Nashville though. I did a stint in Los Angeles and then lived in Maui for the last two years. I missed home though.” The more she tried to suppress her nerves, the more she talked.
“Los Angeles? Tried your hand at Hollywood?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I worked for a prominent lawyer who had some big-name clients. But I wasn’t seeking fame and fortune.”
“Well, Ms. Executive Assistant, I’m glad you came home or this would have been a very boring ride this morning.” The bus stopped, and most of the people began to move to the door. “This is your stop.”
She finally stood and turned to exit with the crowd without looking back.
The man caught her hand and held it. Her very core shook, and her first instinct was to rip her hand away. But she needed to move on and not be so damn afraid of every man that gave her attention.
“Would you have lunch with me?” he asked.
“What?” She looked back at people climbing on. If she didn’t exit the bus now, she’d miss her stop. “Oh, I don’t think so.”
“Meet me at the hot dog stand at noon just on the north corner of your building,” he said with a wink and a nod.
She couldn’t think to speak. She nodded as she hurried off the bus.
The rain had subsided for the time being. Regan had almost dried off as she sat on the handsome man’s lap. The smell of his cologne lingered on her coat. She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of him.
She stopped as she neared the door and turned to see the bus drive away. He was watching her from the window, and he waved. It occurred to her she didn’t even know his name.
She looked down at her hands. They were shaking.
Get over it. Move on. Not everyone wanted to hurt her. Not every man was evil with ulterior motives. No, some were just nice men who wanted to take you to lunch.
Well, it wasn’t like he’d asked her to stay at a hotel. He’d offered to buy her a hot dog. Really, it was harmless. And he’d assume she was too busy with her new job if she just didn’t show up.
But she wanted to.
Well, there was no better time to move on with her life, and no better way to get to know the man on whose lap you’d ridden to work than over a hot dog.
A tingle of hope shot through her. She needed to start taking back her life the way she wanted it. No more mistakes. No more regrets. It was her life now, and she was going to enjoy it.
Bernadette Marie has been an avid writer since the early age of 13, when she’d fill notebook after notebook with stories that she’d share with her friends. Her journey into novel writing started the summer before eighth grade when her father gave her an old typewriter. At all times of the day and night you would find her on the back porch penning her first work, which she would continue to write for the next 22 years.
In 2007 – after marriage, filling her chronic entrepreneurial needs, and having five children – Bernadette began to write seriously with the goal of being published. That year she wrote 12 books. In 2009 she was contracted for her first trilogy and the published author was born. In 2011 she (being the entrepreneur that she is) opened her own publishing house, 5 Prince Publishing, and has released contemporary titles and will begin the process, eventually, of taking on other authors in other genres. Also in 2011 she became co-owner of Seven Songs Press and will release a novella as part of an anthology with other very talented authors in November 2011.
Bernadette spends most of her free time driving her kids to their many events. She is also an accomplished martial artist, working her way to her second degree black belt in Tang Soo Do. An avid reader, she enjoys most, the works of Nora Roberts and Karen White. She loves to meet readers who enjoy reading contemporary romances and she always promises Happily Ever After.
LINKS:
WEBSITE: www.bernadettemarie.com
BLOG: www.authorbernadettemarie.com
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TWITTER: @writesromance
BLURB FOR THE EXECUTIVE’S DECISION:
Regan Keller fell in love with a wealthy and powerful man once. He was her boss. When that turbulent relationship ended, she swore she’d never again date someone she worked with. That was before she literally fell into her new boss’s lap.
Zachary Benson is the head of a successful empire and used to getting what he wants in the boardroom and outside of it – and what he wants is Regan Keller. He’s determined to convince Regan that even though he’s her boss, they can share a life together.
However, when Regan’s past threatens to destroy the architectural firm Zach has invested his entire career in, he has to make an executive decision whether to choose his business or fight for the woman he loves.
EXCERPT FROM THE EXECUTIVE’S DECISION
Chapter One
Thunder rippled through the gray clouds that loomed overhead. Regan Keller raised her eyes to the sky. Please, please don’t rain. As she sent up the silent prayer, she felt the first drop hit her forehead.
The nervous flutter in her stomach quickened as she looked down at her watch. Surely her day couldn’t get any worse. But the sky opened up, and those around her crowded together in the bus stop shelter. Her hair, tied in a tail at the base of her neck, dripped rain down her back as she hunched in her coat. How could she have forgotten her umbrella? Had her car been running, she’d have the one tucked safely away in the glove compartment because spring in Tennessee often meant sudden storms. She should carry one in her bag but had suffered a lapse in memory, having opted for the sunny beaches of Hawaii for the past two years.
As the bus arrived, those under the shelter huddled onto it ahead of her, claiming every seat. Soaking wet, Regan wedged herself between two people and held onto the handrail above her head. She looked out the window at the commuters driving themselves to work in the pouring rain. That should have been her.
A bitter-faced old woman sat below her, her oversized bag occupying the next seat. Regan bent to ask her to move it, but the woman glared up at her and gave a grunt that sounded like a dog’s bark. Regan flinched and tried to look away. But she was compelled to keep an eye on the woman.
The man to the other side of the vacant seat snickered. Regan looked down at him in his long black overcoat and perfect hair. Hemmed in between the old lady’s bag and an overweight man in a jogging suit, he was as pinned in his seat as she was to the people around her. She would have given him a piece of her mind for laughing at her had the bus not jolted to a sudden stop. It lurched forward then back and tossed Regan onto the man’s lap.
“I would have offered you my seat,” he said with a bright grin as the bus lurched again.
“Why, you…” She struggled to free herself, but the crowd moved in tightly around them as the bus bounced down the street. The pace of her heart kicked into gear and she could feel the sweat bead on her brow.
She hadn’t been this close to a man in over a year, and the panic of having him actually hold her on his lap was making her more than uncomfortable. “I need to stand up.”
“You might as well sit.” He wrapped his arms around her. “Doesn’t look like you’ll be standing again anytime soon.”
Regan took a few deep and cleansing breaths. She forced down the panic that was filling her body and tried to push it away. Alexander Hamilton thought she was dead. There should be no danger in sitting on the lap of a nice-looking man. She should find it within her to enjoy the experience and focus on something else.
He didn’t have an accent native to Tennessee like hers. Perhaps the rain had caught him off guard as well. If she didn’t relax, she’d have a heart attack, and this nice gentleman who wasn’t from Nashville would probably be blamed for her death on the bus on his way to work.
Accepting her predicament at face value would be a prime opportunity to let go of bitter feelings for the opposite gender, though after what she’d been through, she wasn’t sure she could. The thought of ever loving another man or letting one touch her made her palms sweat and her stomach clench.
The man smiled at her, and a dimple formed in his cheek. “This is your first time on this bus, isn’t it?” He pushed back a wet wisp of hair from her forehead, and she flinched away. “It’s always crowded, but I know I would have seen you.”
“My car wouldn’t start this morning.” She pressed her hand to her jittery stomach and willed it to settle. “I start a new job today. Car trouble couldn’t have come at a worse time.”
“New job? Congratulations. So what is this new job?”
God, he was handsome, and wouldn’t it be nice to enjoy the ride? But she wasn’t. “Executive assistant.” The words shook as she spoke.
“Pretty important.”
“You think it’s just some glorified secretary, don’t you?” She clenched her teeth and her fists. Why wouldn’t she be angry? The last man she’d worked for had interpreted the title executive assistant as a license to run her life and to ruin it.
“No. I was serious. It’s a very important position.” He looked sincere. “So where is this new job?”
“Benson, Benson and Hart.”
“Real estate development.”
“Yes.” Her breath was becoming harder to push through her lungs. “I should get off your lap.”
“You’d ruin my day.” He laughed easily, so she tried to relax. “So whose executive assistant will you be?”
“Zachary Benson’s.” She looked around for a space to stand.
“CEO? He must have been very impressed with you.”
“I’ve never met him. His current assistant is having a baby and leaving the company. He was out of town when she interviewed me.” She thought about Mary Ellen, his current assistant. The interview had had a motherly quality to it. She wasn’t sure whether it was because Mary Ellen was pregnant or that worried for her boss. “I think she takes good care of him. It’ll be a hard pair of shoes to fill.” And if that hadn’t had her stomach tied in knots, here she was having a conversation about it with a man she didn’t know while sitting on his lap. Had she completely forgotten the last man she’d gotten this close to tried to kill her?
“I’m sure he’ll be pleased with her choice.”
“Thank you.” She wanted to wiggle away from the hard muscles she could feel in his chest, from his arms that held her tight against him, and from the legs of a man who obviously kept in shape. She couldn’t, so she kept talking. “I hope he likes me. I can’t imagine him not wanting to meet me first.”
“Maybe he’s ugly.”
Finally a laugh rolled from her throat. “That’s not what Mary Ellen said.” She tucked in her lips. “She says he’s a hottie.”
“Hottie?” His voice lit with humor. “Well, you’ll enjoy your job then.”
“Strictly business here. I don’t get involved with the boss,” she said sternly. Not anymore. This was, after all, her chance to take back her life after making such a mistake.
The bus stopped, and the old woman stood and grabbed her bag.
“Move!” She shoved her way through the people who climbed on and made her way out the door. Before Regan could stand and claim a seat, the crowd around her pushed her closer against the stranger, whose arms wrapped tightly around her as others dropped down beside them.
“Your stop is the next one,” he offered, and she nodded. “So what’s your name?”
“Regan.”
“You’re native to Tennessee, aren’t you? Your accent gives you away.”
“I was born in Memphis. I spent most of my life in Nashville though. I did a stint in Los Angeles and then lived in Maui for the last two years. I missed home though.” The more she tried to suppress her nerves, the more she talked.
“Los Angeles? Tried your hand at Hollywood?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I worked for a prominent lawyer who had some big-name clients. But I wasn’t seeking fame and fortune.”
“Well, Ms. Executive Assistant, I’m glad you came home or this would have been a very boring ride this morning.” The bus stopped, and most of the people began to move to the door. “This is your stop.”
She finally stood and turned to exit with the crowd without looking back.
The man caught her hand and held it. Her very core shook, and her first instinct was to rip her hand away. But she needed to move on and not be so damn afraid of every man that gave her attention.
“Would you have lunch with me?” he asked.
“What?” She looked back at people climbing on. If she didn’t exit the bus now, she’d miss her stop. “Oh, I don’t think so.”
“Meet me at the hot dog stand at noon just on the north corner of your building,” he said with a wink and a nod.
She couldn’t think to speak. She nodded as she hurried off the bus.
The rain had subsided for the time being. Regan had almost dried off as she sat on the handsome man’s lap. The smell of his cologne lingered on her coat. She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of him.
She stopped as she neared the door and turned to see the bus drive away. He was watching her from the window, and he waved. It occurred to her she didn’t even know his name.
She looked down at her hands. They were shaking.
Get over it. Move on. Not everyone wanted to hurt her. Not every man was evil with ulterior motives. No, some were just nice men who wanted to take you to lunch.
Well, it wasn’t like he’d asked her to stay at a hotel. He’d offered to buy her a hot dog. Really, it was harmless. And he’d assume she was too busy with her new job if she just didn’t show up.
But she wanted to.
Well, there was no better time to move on with her life, and no better way to get to know the man on whose lap you’d ridden to work than over a hot dog.
A tingle of hope shot through her. She needed to start taking back her life the way she wanted it. No more mistakes. No more regrets. It was her life now, and she was going to enjoy it.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Le retour des Spice Girls à l’Eurovision démenti par Melanie C
Depuis plusieurs semaines, la rumeur court que les Spice Girls se reformeraient sur le plateau de l’Eurovision Song Contest. De passage en Suisse, à Zurich, la Sporty Spice Mel C a démenti l’information à 20minutes.ch.
« Je n’ai pas la moindre idée d’où est partie cette rumeur. Peut-être que quelqu’un s’est dit «Hey j’ai une bonne idée», l’a mis sur internet et cela s’est répandu comme une traînée de poudre », a-t-elle déclaré.
Melanie C affirme que ça ne la gêne plus qu’on lui parle des Spice Girls: « Ce groupe est une partie majeure de ma vie et de ma carrière. Au moment où je me suis lancée en solo, par contre, ça m’énervait un peu. Mais maintenant j’en parle volontiers et j’en suis très fière. »
L’artiste raconte d’ailleurs être toujours en contact avec ses ex-partenaires: « Le week-end prochain, par exemple, je vais voir Geri. Et quand Mel et Victoria reviennent des Etats-Unis, on essaye à chaque fois de passer un peu de temps ensemble. En plus, maintenant que nous avons toutes des enfants, cela nous a encore plus rapprochées. »
Précisons que la chanteuse vient de sortir son cinquième album pop mêlé de nombreuses autres influences musicales, dont certains textes sont écrit par l’auteur de morceaux des Spice Girls comme «Wannabe», «Spice Up Your Life» ou encore «Viva Forever».
« Je n’ai pas la moindre idée d’où est partie cette rumeur. Peut-être que quelqu’un s’est dit «Hey j’ai une bonne idée», l’a mis sur internet et cela s’est répandu comme une traînée de poudre », a-t-elle déclaré.
Melanie C affirme que ça ne la gêne plus qu’on lui parle des Spice Girls: « Ce groupe est une partie majeure de ma vie et de ma carrière. Au moment où je me suis lancée en solo, par contre, ça m’énervait un peu. Mais maintenant j’en parle volontiers et j’en suis très fière. »
L’artiste raconte d’ailleurs être toujours en contact avec ses ex-partenaires: « Le week-end prochain, par exemple, je vais voir Geri. Et quand Mel et Victoria reviennent des Etats-Unis, on essaye à chaque fois de passer un peu de temps ensemble. En plus, maintenant que nous avons toutes des enfants, cela nous a encore plus rapprochées. »
Précisons que la chanteuse vient de sortir son cinquième album pop mêlé de nombreuses autres influences musicales, dont certains textes sont écrit par l’auteur de morceaux des Spice Girls comme «Wannabe», «Spice Up Your Life» ou encore «Viva Forever».
Blog Baru MamasNanda http://mamasnanda.blogspot.com/
http://mamasnanda.blogspot.com/
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Thursday, September 8, 2011
Mel B est maman pour la troisième fois, et sa fille s'appelle..
Mel B, l'ancienne Spice Girl a donné naissance à sa troisième fille, on le sait, et on connait maintenant le prénom de la petite. Elle est née le 1er septembre et s'appelle Madison. Avec les noms de famille de ses parents Melanie Brown et Stephen Belafonte, ça donne Madison Brown Belafonte.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Monday, September 5, 2011
Shillelagh Sisters-Give Me My Freedom (1984)
Shillelagh Sisters-Give Me My Freedom (1984) From UK
mixture of rockabilly and punk rock
http://www.myspace.com/shillelaghsisters
Justo Collection
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