I swoon over fictional men


September 2016

Stop what you’re doing because I need to tell you something


…I love you all so, so much! Thank you so much for your support ❤



Still having technical issues

So, remember a few weeks back when I was having issues commenting on people’s posts? Well…it seems it’s only certain people’s posts :S Like half my comments go through and half don’t? I’ve looked in my settings and can’t see anything amiss. It’s so frustrating 😦


A little bit on the side – some flash fiction

*sighs* So much for an early night.

Helena peaked out the window from behind the curtains, anxiety a knot in the pit of her stomach. The beam of the solitary street lamp showed nothing aside from the neighbour’s cat licking its arse on the hood of a parked car. She swallowed, the motion painful in her suddenly dry throat. She threw a glance at the clock on the wall and began to pace nervously, up and down, up and down. Where was he? He should have been there ten minutes ago and her husband, Greg, was due home in the next fifteen. Even if he arrived now she’d have to bundle him into the back yard and through the kitchen door. She simply couldn’t risk Greg seeing him. The truth would destroy the foundation of trust their fifteen years of marriage had been built upon. Well, initially anyway.

Another glance at the clock. Two minutes had passed. Helena could feel the heat rising in her face, no doubt colouring her cheeks in spatters of pink. This always happened when she was angry, scared or frustrated. Or all three, as she was now. She needed this, though. This…this bit on the side. This release. It was the only thing that kept her sane in the humdrum of the everyday life she shared with Greg.

Was that the purr of an engine? She raced to the front door, yanking it open before the car had even come to a stop outside the house. The engine cut out and the driver’s door opened. The man who emerged had guilt scrawled upon his face. He knew – goddamn it, he knew – how important punctuality was, especially tonight, a Friday night, when Greg might have left work early. He mouthed “Sorry!” as he jogged up the drive, his bag bouncing against his hip with the movement.

Helena opened her mouth to speak, to tell him to shut up and quit wasting more time…but before the words could pass her lips, there was a flash of headlights as another car came rolling up the street. No, she shook her head, backing up towards the house. No!


His car, a beat up old thing that had barely passed its MOT, came to a halt in the middle of the street. With its engine still running and headlights still beaming, the door creaked open and Greg, almost as creaky himself, hoisted himself upwards and out of his seat. The look on his face said it all. He knew. There was no lying her way out of this. They’d been discovered. There’d be no more secret rendezvous. There’d be no more bi-weekly fifteen minutes of illicit pleasure.

Helena?” said Greg, his tone scorched by disbelief, “What is this? What are you doing? I knew something wasn’t right between us but…but I never imagined this!

She surveyed her husband, a portly, ruddy-faced man who could have graced the cover of GQ when they had first met all those years ago. Guilt gnawed away at her but she couldn’t deny her feelings. She glanced up at the comparatively taller, much leaner man before her.

Just give it to me,” she said, her voice a husky murmur, “Just give it to me dammit.

How long, Helena?” Greg cried, barrelling towards them and shoving himself between their bodies, “Weeks, months? Tell me! How could you do this? We were meant to be in this together!”

She gazed into his glistening eyes sadly and raised her hand to cup his cheek. He jerked away with a hiss, almost as though her almost touch had burnt. She curled the offending hand, using her fist to muffle the anguished cry that erupted from her soul.

A year!” she sobbed, “A whole year! I needed it. I was weak. I couldn’t help myself!”

Greg whirled around and grappled with the man behind him. After a tense few seconds of shouting and slapping, the man’s bag fell to the pavement and its contents spilled out for all to see.

Pizza! Pizza!” Greg shrieked as he stamped upon the offending box furiously, spittle flying from his mouth. The delivery man backed away, his hands raised in surrender.

Go!” Helena wailed, “Flee while you can!”

He didn’t need telling twice as he promptly swivelled and dived head first into his car. The engine roared into life and the squeal of tires upon tarmac announced his departure.

All this time,” Greg hissed, still kicking at the pizza box, “All this time you’ve been making me salads and grilled fish and lecturing me about diabetes and you’ve been munching down secret takeaway pizzas for a year!

Helena, tears coursing down her cheeks, knelt down and tried to pull the box out from beneath his feet. It was too tortuous to watch. It had cost her a fiver! She wrenched it free, peeling back the lid as Greg raged on. She sighed. Slightly smushed but edible. His boots hadn’t infiltrated the cardboard.

She shrieked as the box was pulled from her grasp and watched in horror as Greg began tearing the pizza apart, piece by piece, and shovelling it into his mouth. Stringy cheese coated his face and the sauce, barbecue – her favourite – smeared itself around his lips like a grotesque imitation of lipstick.

Helena stared at her husband, hoping to God that marriage counsellors were as cheap as pizzas.

Fictional heaven and hell


Let’s say tomorrow you find yourself in this situation. What would be your fictional heaven and what would be your fictional hell? And, of course, you have to give reasons 😉

5 downsides of being a bookworm

I know what you’re thinking. Why the hell has Jazz placed the words ‘downsides’ and ‘bookworm’ in the same sentence? It’s akin to a sentence containing the words ‘apocalypse’ and ‘wonderful’, or ‘green tea’ and ‘delicious’. It just doesn’t make any sense as a sentence. It’s garbled nonsense or, some might say, a book lover’s version of blasphemy…but hear me out before you hastily hit the back button or the deadly ‘X’ of page annihilation. Read the below list and try telling me you don’t agree. Go on, I dare ya (oh dear, I shouldn’t tempt fate like that, should I? That’s gonna come back to bite me in the ass).

1. Devouring a series and having to wait months (and, in extreme cases, a year or more) for the next book. When a book has ended on a cliffhanger, it actually causes me physical pain pondering what could possibly happen next in the series.

What I feel authors are saying to me

2. Having to work. If I know a dramatic or tense scene is coming up, I flat out refuse to read before work. Why? Because it’s pretty difficult to make small talk with guests or to serve the correct drinks at the bar when my mind is very much elsewhere, lost in some fictional world as it mourns a character’s death or berates another’s stupidity. Eugh. How perfect would it be to stay home and read all day? Or, better yet, to have a bookish job? Like being a librarian or a bookseller. I know a few bloggers I follow are librarians. Please, I implore you, share your secret. How did you bag such an awesome job?

Me at work while contemplating the many routes a plot could take

3. Never having enough shelf space. Unless I ditch my bed or closet, I actually do not have any space for more shelves. Hmm. In the movie adaptation of V for Vendetta (you should also check out the graphic novel too!), V’s bedroom is literally just floor-to-ceiling piles of books. Perhaps I should use V for Vendetta as interior design inspiration…

*heavy breathing*

4. The price of books. Okay, I get this isn’t an issue for everybody, but I currently only work part time and consequently, my bank card isn’t exactly oozing money. I do buy books from bookstores but it gets a bit expensive sometimes, especially if the book is a hardback and has only just been released. I fully appreciate that the money generated by book sales puts food on an author’s table and clothes on their back, but I would struggle to fund my book addiction if it wasn’t for my Kindle, the numerous second hand stores in town and Amazon.


5. Needing to sleep. I read mostly at night and I hate that moment when I feel fatigue encroaching upon my mind. The telltale dipping of the head and drooping of the eyelids or, if I’m lying in bed, the dropping of a book on my face are all symptoms I despise. Just let me finish the chapter dammit. 

I wish I was this cute.

Do you have any points to add to the list? Let me know in the comments!

Date nights with Dev


*gingerly knocks on your front door, my suitcase clutched in one hand and my other poised to knock again* C’mon, open up, it’s getting dark and creepy…*dons my most beaming smile as you finally open the front door* Hiiiiiiiiiiii! Oh gosh, aren’t you just a sight for sore eyes. You are looking so damn gorgeous today. Not that you don’t usually. You are, in fact, the most beautiful person I have ever encountered in my life, both inside and out. Forget what I said about Illium, it’s totally you and- *sees your raised eyebrow and what-do-you-want face* Am I going overboard? Ha. Yeah. Sorry. Um. So…shall we be housemates!? Think about it. We’d have such a good time! Movie nights, pamper sessions with face masks and nail painting…plus, most importantly, I won’t be teleported around the globe against my will every time you have a goddamn date. If I just, I don’t know, stayed here it would make my life so, so much easier. You could just say “Yo, Jazz. Date tonight. Be ready in an hour?” and I could, like, not end up in ropy bars in my PJs or smack bang in the middle of New York in a bath towel? Haha. Am I rambling? *sees the confused look on your face* Excellent! *pushes past you and steps into your house* So we’re in agreement then? Ooo fancy place you got here. Where’s my room? Where’s the fridge? I’ll need a spare cupboard for my teabags too. Do you have a bath? I also brought my guinea pig. Can he have his own room? Do you have any pets?

Two hours and much negotiating later

*gently sips tea and nods my head in a sage-like manner* Yes, I completely agree. Being just friends with both Elena and Raphael is probably best. Those two rascals are psycho magnets. You’d be dead within a week. So you’ve opted to take Dev for a test drive, eh? A mysterious, slightly overbearing vampire lord might be just what you’re looking for *checks time* You say he’s picking you up in half an hour? Well, I best get cracking *clears throat* Date nights with Dev will probably/definitely include:

  1. Dev revealing some deep, dark family secret of yours in the bluntest way imaginable.
  2. Dev deciding that you’re his Moira [fated one] moments after meeting you…probably before you’ve even had chance to say “Hi!”.
  3. You feeling awkward as Dev slips into a brooding state of silence, his thoughts trapped somewhere in his traumatic past.
  4. Dev flashing you to a fancy restaurant and spending a shit ton of cash. Starers, mains, desserts, a cheese board, coffee, cocktails…you name it, you’ll get it.
  5. Giselle (which I always accidentally pronounce as ‘gazelle’) throwing you dirty looks and practically snarling whenever you find yourself in her immediate vicinity.
  6. Playing pool with the guys while Dev glares at them menacingly from a chair in the corner. Despite being an overly-muscly, tall, dark and handsome, immortal vampire lord, Dev suffers with a lot of insecurity. Throw him a reassuring smile every now and then, yeah?
  7. Keeping your ass safely out of Dev’s reach.
  8. Wondering if Dev knows your actual name when he calls you ‘love’ for the thousandth time.
  9. Dev trying to make you a late night snack but failing miserably. Rest in peace, sweet Leo, almighty butler and maker of delicious food *bows head and lets a single tear trickle down my face*
  10. Dev deciding at the end of the date that you actually now belong to him and probably shouldn’t go home. Just a heads up, he’ll try call it ‘protective custody’.

*door bell sounds* Ah that must be him *smiles contently and leans back in your armchair* Have fun! Tell me all about if…I mean, when you get home *blows you a kiss and picks up one of your magazines*


I used to hate Sundays when I was a teenager. To me, they were the most boring day of the week. It was the day all the stores closed early. It was the day preceding what was usually a long and stressful week at school. It was the day I had to complete any outstanding assignments. It was, quite honestly, a day I dreaded.

But now, nearing my mid twenties, I relish the thought of Sundays. Sure, I did work this morning…but then I had the rest of the day to simply do nothing. And. It. Felt. Great! I’ve had such a wonderful afternoon/evening of nothing. I cooked myself a good ol’ hearty Sunday roast (a tradition for us Brits) and tucked in while watching Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, which, by the way, totally caught me off guard with its ending and had me bawling my eyes out for a solid ten minutes. No spoilers but dayum, that movie had me crying more than Titanic did.

My heart at the end of Batman v Superman

How was your day? What does your typical Sunday entail?

‘Surrendering’ K.L. Krieg


Surrendering is the first book in K.L. Krieg’s Regent Vampire Lords series and I decided to read it upon the recommendation of…wait for it…Facebook. I’ve noticed little ads or suggested author pages popping up in my news feed over the past two or three months and while I’m always happy to receive suggestions for my next read, I find it somewhat creepy that Mark Zuckerberg and his team monitor my page likes to this extent. Oh well.

Kate Martin dreams dreams that are far from ordinary. She dreams of real life people in real life scenarios. She dreams of real life kidnapped people in real life kidnap scenarios more specifically. Having been plagued by the same disturbing vision for two weeks, Kate decides that enough is enough. She simply cannot ignore her instincts and allow another missing woman to fade into obscurity.

When she steps into her local police station, she expects to be dismissed as nothing more than a crackpot. However, she gets more than she bargains for…way more than she bargains for. Kate finds herself pulled irrevocably into a world she hadn’t known existed, a world in which she is suddenly the center of attention from both a crazed, power-hungry vampire and a special investigator, an investigator who is also a vampire lord and claims that she’s his Moira.

His fated one.

Kate, still nursing a past heartache, is determined to keep things ‘casual’, though. While living under Devon’s protection, she finds her determination waning thin. Can their budding relationship survive the threat of Xavier?

Now, this book is well-written and the plot is interesting. In regards to its content, it has some pretty dark themes, themes that manifest themselves in paragraphs that are almost unbearable to read. It’s dark and gritty and makes a refreshing change to the usual good-guys-always-win format that many other paranormal romance books follow. It’s realistic in the sense that it demonstrates how good doesn’t always prevail over evil, how evil has to win a certain amount of times for the good guys to learn from their mistakes and become stronger. Witnessing the heartache and trauma Dev and his people endure – the slaughter of his family, the death of Leo, the abuse that Giselle is subjected to – make for a bittersweet ending.

However…fucking Dev and his appalling lack of tact when faced with highly delicate situations. If I could reach through the pages of any book and physically slap some sense into a character, I would have my hand embedded in Surrendering as quickly as Dev thrust his fingers “to the hilt” in poor Kate’s backside…man, I get that anal play is something many people enjoy…but he doesn’t even warn her *shudder*

Anyway, I digress. Let me give you an examples of said lack of tact; when Dev realizes that Kate is potentially an unblooded vampire, he decides not to gently to sit her down with a warming, comforting cup of tea filled with sugar to prevent her going into shock…oh no. Dev doesn’t work like that. He likes to get straight to the point.

‘”I’m sorry, Kate. I know the last couple of days have been stressful. But there is no doubt you are an unblooded female (Cheers, Dev. Couldn’t have worked that one out on my own) vampire. I’m quite sure that man who raised you as his daughter is not vampire. Just as I’m positive that the woman whom you call mother is not your biological mother. Have your parents ever mentioned you being adopted?”

“Adopted?” She sunk down onto the edge of the bed again, her legs unable to hold her. She whispered, “No. No. That can’t be possible. I’m not adopted.”

This guy tears her world apart in five sentences. Who fucking does that? Has he literally been living in a cave for the five centuries of his existence? This is absolutely not how you break news to someone.

Also deducting points for Dev’s belief that a woman who has a lot of sex must have a loose vagina. Sorry, Dev love, doesn’t work like that. Unless your dick is ten inches wide, there is absolutely no scientific grounding in the sentence “He could tell she’d been thoroughly used, as her pussy wasn’t as snug as some he’d come across.” Slut shaming is an instant turn off, to be honest.

Rating: 2.5 out 5

Song: Steel Panther’s BVS (dedicated to Dev, of course)



Does anyone here have Litsy? It’s a social media app for books, kinda like a very condensed Goodreads with a good dollop of Instagram mixed in. I joined today so give me your usernames 😀 Let’s be chums! 

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