In 2003 I returned from shippy adventures to study a Masters Degree in Television and Film Production. The final decision came about after working on an ice-breaker that had a collision with a submerged rock in Antarctica. It had been one of those years where the ship had been in Mombassa and there was a bombing, we had run aground and hit numerous storms, some of which were terrifying. In truth, I was just over it and had a rather deluded dream about being a film director. Just so you know delusion is the mother of all egotistical endurance and generally ends up in a decent dose of humiliation.

During my time studying I worked part-time for a bookshop and it was there I received literary feedback. As much as I was convinced I was the next big thing, I was more the next big self-deluded word compiler. There was nothing particularly lovely about my creations other than I found them hilarious. With that in mind I persevered because I am stubborn.  With that little insight in mind some of the books below took around ten years to write because they ‘needed work’ and also they needed a huge amount of research.



Teenage and Adult Fiction

There is a sound that can shake your soul and send you into a dream.
That resonance can call you to the sea and drown you.
The Resonance, as she is known, has awoken and intends to call her victims to their watery graves.
The problem is Marty, Shana, Johnny and Danny are completely unaware that they have been chosen.


Marty was transfixed. Her rusty, wet hair contrasted with her pale, clear skin. The glowing green eyes were stunning! She looked like a Pre-Raphaelite painting – like Ophelia. The bare skin and the curve of her neck hinted at nakedness. Yet her hair conveniently covered anything obvious. Still he couldn’t help but gawk.

The girl gazed at him in a sensual manner with her chin down and a certain glint in her eye.

The resonation pulsated like a heartbeat.

The radiating love warmed him. He stepped forwards.

She jerked away.

          “I won’t hurt you,” he said softly.

She remained silent but blinked; her eyelids moved sideways.

Marty fought a frown but was inquisitive.

She ventured closer and gazed into his eyes. The way she looked softened him. With the pounding hum of a heartbeat, she reached out and touched his hand. A spark of blue light travelled across the surface of his skin. A tingle of warmth travelled through his whole body and burst into his heart. With a gasp, he threw his head back and dropped to his knees in the shallows. He was helpless as the moment expanded. For the first time in a long time he could ‘truly feel!’

The resonation increased, the radiation tingled and the rhythm of the ocean overwhelmed him. She had penetrated the depths of his soul. They were connected.





RETINA BLUEAdult Fiction

What if your life had a blueprint?
What if that blueprint was a map you had created for your own existence?
There are of course many what ifs…
What if your life was coordinated by a behind the scenes intelligence?
What would happen if someone disturbed the natural course of time because they had willingly defied death?
Discover Retina Blue…

The answerphone beeped. Olivia listened to the message and glanced at the intruder; it stood with its arms folded shaking its head. “Don’t trust him. His tone reveals he’s a liar.”

Olivia ignored the comment as she grappled to sit upright. “You know what? I don’t get this… What are you doing here? What do you want from me? If it’s money…”

“Why does it always have to be about money? Do I look as though I have the slightest interest in shiny pieces of metal?”

What did that mean? “Then…?”

“As I said… I’m waiting.” The person in black paused and glanced out of the window and back to the hourglass in front of it.

“Are you some kind of weird stalker of ex-child prodigies?” asked Olivia.

“God, no!” The intruder leant against the wall and sighed. “Do you understand the concept of timing?”  

“In relation to what?” asked Olivia glancing at the door.

“Don’t bother thinking about escape. There isn’t time… And the timing is in relation to the universe,” it responded.

What did it mean? How could she get out? She squinted and touched the back of her head. It was still painful. Olivia frowned; the intruder was real, wasn’t it?







How do you feel about the value of your life being based on the amount of money sitting in your bank?
If we are all inter-connected by money, then why do so few people pay attention to how money works? Fear and denial are perfect for generating debt and that is what the world is run on.
Now imagine, if in the future, one financial institution became so powerful that it could choose to eradicate the present monetary system. Then what happens?
M.O.N.E.Y. is that institution, an institution that chooses absolute self-sufficiency, no debt and reconditions its people into making them the ultimate they can be – an elite force of great minds focused on building the new system – the new M.O.N.E.Y. The thing is for the world to accept their conditions they intend to intentionally throw everyone into complete financial collapse. So what happens when the Brave New World becomes our financial reality?

Everything had been considered, predicted and anticipated. It seemed that there were specifics and answers to everything. I wondered whether M.O.N.E.Y. was itself a cult. The ethos result in M.O.N.E.Y.’s essentially being owned by the farm. The child grew from M.O.N.E.Y. baby to M.O.N.E.Y. adult. M.O.N.E.Y. provided the blank slate with the best emotional and mental education. Outside the wall was a world of fear and chaos. Those outside were inadequate while the M.O.N.E.Y.s were superior. The future was filled with hope and the leader was a charismatic or was he a charismaniac?”

I remained silent as my mind churned the potential of the M.O.N.E.Y. children entering the world. Surely such purity entering the external world would result in absolute culture shock. If that was the case, and the M.O.N.E.Y.s had children, then they would be brought into the M.O.N.E.Y. system because the external system was so fearful and chaotic. Then did that mean choice was removed from those children?

            But how does that affect numbers?” I asked

            He smiled at me. You have a lot of questions dont you? You won’t figure out the whole system in a day Gillian.”

            “I just like to learn as much as possible so I can understand what is going on,” I replied.

“Sometimes it is best not to think and just do…” he replied.








Did you know there are numerous secret female dating discussions taking place in your office? Discover the hidden world of women hunting rich men in hope of escaping office drudgery. All around you your colleagues are gossiping about their dating adventures whilst pretending to work. This laugh out loud romantic comedy reveals numerous dating disasters, female analysis and an insight into the world of ridiculous dating rituals – all of that in hope of finding that Mr Right. Does he really exist? This and more from Eva, the Russian gold digger, who reveals a world of high-class meals and luxurious lingerie. While Gracie, the straight-laced female analyst demonstrates how the mind can run riot with random thoughts: what about the grey-knicker women who have settled for the men with sheds? Are they happy? Why are their knickers grey? Why choose a man with a shed? A laugh out loud conversation in the form of emails about life, hide the sausage and dating blooming disasters! Be astounded by what is discussed during nine to five!


After Abdi’s negative feedback, I showed Greg and Gary my list. Gary – mister I am all fit and toned from the gym, belly laughed at me whilst lionesque Greg patted me on the shoulder and shook his head. He then created a new dance in my honour – it is called ‘the Gracie is out there looking for a man dance.’ He and Abdi took a great deal of pleasure standing up every hour and breaking into the dance. They said it was necessary for the circulation.  The Gracie dance involved placing their hands behind their heads and gyrating their hips. They are now making a song called get out there Gracie and shake your thang, shake your thong until you get some shlong – but don’t shake so hard it falls off.  The chorus is shake your thang, shake your thong and shake his shlong…. Abdi keeps making bonking gestures with his hands over the desk divider. Why did I show them? It now seems that a team strategy is developing. If I keep my head down they might forget. God please let them all have mass amnesia! I think Greg has just emailed the manager who turned, studied me and tapped his nose with that cheeky look he gets when he is amused. The men here are such naughty boys! What’s more, they love winding me up!






Love Hunt II – The LOVE Game: A Kiss & Email Romantic Comedy 


The LOVE HUNT has returned! Gracie is back on the dating horse after a huge fall in her first tick-list-tastic LOVE HUNT.
Discover how her new dating adventures take her into the depths of ‘The Love game.’
In the meantime, Eva, the ultimate Russian gold digger, has come to the conclusion that her poor ‘village idiot boyfriend’ will never be enough. He will certainly not pay off her accumulating debts. She needs a rich man and that means some seriously wealthy dating.

In The Love Game Eva and Gracie travel the journey of extreme love learning. On the way they will discover their love and lust lists, their intrinsic issues and experience some hilarious albeit jaw-dropping dates in pursuit of the wealthy ideal.

All of this in the pursuit of love.


Happy New Year Gracie!!! Welcome back to Winter Wonder England. Did you like my Russian play on words? How many glamorous blonde Russian women do you know who can play with English language and make brilliance with their sentence? I am not showing usual modesty because I am feeling very proud! You know I almost said welcome back to Winter Wonder Bra but that would involve up-lift with icicle hanging from nipple. Frozen bosom is not nice image for anyone. Erect nipples often cause embarrassment but large icicles sticking out would draw big attention. People would notice and do strange eye thing at each other. Of course some men would stop and stare – as if they need any excuse!


Now I have question – the word icicle… How does that work because you ice a cake don’t you? So would you ice a nipple too? It sounds similar does it not? Ici-nipple. I am just thinking out loud about strange English sayings. The English language is so fanny!


Anyway, I missed you while you were away. Poor liar boyfriend from rich idiot site has no money and asked me to lend him some to buy food. I can’t even pay bloody electricity bill. Choice boyfriend’s food or electricity?


Work was boring and there were no decent gossips. Women in office suffer from post-Christmas fattyness and bloated bottoms get stuck in chairs. One woman went to stand up and chair stayed firmly fixed on squidgy behind. When she sat down again there was loud – how you say – raspberry noise. No-one said anything. We all silently side-glanced as she tried to pretend nothing had happened. I thought such incident would make you raise a newly spa’d eyebrow!


Anyway, I want to know about Miami and if you made a new man tick list for this year. It is time for us to focus on finding you the right exciting man. As you say, let’s get the Rocky music on and have you back in the ring. Forget about Andreas and his stupid penis brain. You might have got knocked out in first round by him but you now know how he punches – with small dick. You know his game but he does not know yours. Oh I did small clap. I am joggling in my seat. That is new word combination that I think should be added to dictionary. Small jog with moving arms and wiggling on seat! Anyway, you can use your dating ‘game’ knowledge to your advantage and rise again (I looked up ‘dating game’ on web – provides very interesting stories).

 Anyway, you know we need dating entertainment and analysis to get us through boring days. This time of year is when gyms are filled with squidgy shaking bottoms and everyone pretends to eat fruit but hide in toilet cubicles sneaking cake… So I need you here doing more dating disasters. We need to discuss analyse and learn new things about men, wealth and life! I can’t bear the bulbus bottom brigade (this is your saying – I wrote it down). I need a distraction. Oh what fun! La, la, laaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

 I made another small clap. Three grey-knicker women in office jumped at the sound. All three chairs went in air with their fat bottoms. This could be dangerous situation, we might need first aider and goose fat to get them out at home time! Horrible thought – applying goose fat to wobbly grey-knicker bottoms!







This one is a bit of an anomoly because I have not published this one under my own name yet. I can’t say that I have any reason, I just haven’t. So I thought I would add it to the list anyway. After a bit of thought I think it might be because the story is ‘dark’ and does not fall into my usual style… Anyway I will let you decide.


How would you feel if you knew there were women out there who worked to protect the innocents from the cruel, the depraved and vindictive people who walked the earth? The Feminas, an elite group of women, trained to assassinate in calculated feminine ways, work for the CLAN. They don’t t use guns, or their bodies as lures; instead they are calculated, precise and not easily traced when removing their targets. They are the ‘grey women’ who blend in, observe and create perfect accidents.

Eve, one of the Feminas, excels at target eradication. However, her compulsion for perfection causing the CLAN concern. The more she attempts to conceal her tapping to the beat of ten, the more she feels she is breaking down. The problem is that when one suppresses emotions then the trauma will rise in other ways. So how can Eve maintain her perfect targeting record and reconcile her denied self without facing a ‘white-wash process?

Eve stood in the shadows waiting. Silence. She refastened her kit bag and watched intently; all her hard work was about to come to fruition. Over the previous weeks she had visited the local bars to learn as much as she could about ‘him’. She knew his brand of cigarette, what, when and where he ate. She knew how and where he lived. She had studied the plans of his house (pulled from the developer’s website). She had accessed all his records. His prison report stated he had a thing for girls aged fifteen and under. He got up at ten and didn’t have a regular job; instead he peddled drugs to teenagers for them to sell to other children at school. That was his way in. He often wore a tracksuit top and combat trousers. No-one was close to him; no-one would miss him. He repulsed her!

            Eve stood silently counting her breaths and his paces as he came into her range of vision. Every step he made forwards, she counted one digit back in groups of ten. Finally he came to his house and paused. He pressed the lit cigarette to his lips and fumbled for his keys.

            Eve slowed her breath and silently tapped her index finger against her leg. She reversed silently further into the comfort of the shadow of a nearby tree, that tree stood on the edge of the estate close to the riverbank. Eve switched switched on her modified goggles to enhance the night image. He was now a luminous blue. She intended to witness every second of his strategic demise.

Still he fumbled for his keys.

            ‘Come on!’ she mouthed impatiently. Eve caught herself mumbling. What was he waiting for? Did he suspect what was about to happen? How could he? No! Eve glanced over her shoulder; the cold, dark river resembled black oil. She didn’t relish the thought of it. 

             ‘Hurry up!’ she muttered under her breath. He was taking too long. Did he sense something? That same question – same answer – he couldn’t could he? Eve took another deep breath, she had to leave. She had already outstayed her welcome.

            She slowly reversed around the horse chestnut, whose shadow had shielded her. She reached the riverbank and paused, looking again over her shoulder; her feet submersed in the dark murk. Eve chewed her lip. The cretin was finally but definitely going inside. She took one more breath and watched the man align his key with the door.  He unsteadily inserted it and turned it in the lock. When the door opened he paused on the threshold – why didn’t he just go in like usual? Had he inhaled the pungent smell of gas?

            Bang! The cigarette blasted backwards, engulfed within a scorching flame blast. The tongue of flame wrapped around him and he was gone. Eve blinked, she could feel the heat even from where she was standing some sixty metres away; a second later she slid into the cool river water, adjusted her breathing canister, a clever little pony bottle permitting fifteen minutes of underwater swimming.

            She plunged deeper into the sluggishly moving river and swam gracefully away without a ripple. She had only about forty metres to get to the other bank and allowed herself to drift down beyond the bridge, well away from what would become a hotspot of activity after the demolition of the monster’s house. There was no trace, there couldn’t be! No witnesses, nothing, just an evil man who got what he deserved.

            As Eve swam through the dark water, she decided to surface to get one last glimpse of her handy work. She turned onto her back and admired the colour of the orange flames erupting into the night. In the stark intensity of flame she could see curls of dense smoke caught on the breeze spiralling into the sky. The translucent watery division protected her while she observed the devastation, her devastation.

            On the other side of the river Eve dragged herself darkly and silently up the bank and sat for a moment. The flames clawed the stars, she was mesmerised. That was her labour, her creation. Eve shifted to standing and made her way to her car. It was parked in a dark, solitary area under a lightening-split oak. She had taken care to select this parking spot to afford her the protection of the dark for her quick change routine. She removed the layer covering her wetsuit, then the wetsuit itself. She then placed the 9mm scuba suit in a sealed container full of fresh water. Hurriedly she threw on a large black jumper and dark tracksuit bottoms. Quickly she stowed the bags and containers quietly on the floor behind the driver’s seat.

            Climbing in behind the wheel, clicking the buckle of her seat belt she turned the key, the hybrid engine purred, engaging drive she drove silently away. Minutes later, so far removed from the scene, she breathed normally and turned on her favourite post-destruction CD, Chopin’s Prelude. Humming to herself she set her course for home, the long way for her well-rehearsed exit.




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