“Oh, Penny, Penny, why are you such a people pleaser?” I huff out loud while I sit in a crowded restaurant in the middle of London. Every now and then I have to look up and off the waiter a fake smile, pretending that it’s perfectly normal to be left waiting for one’s date to arrive. Not humiliating at all. I bet he wanders out back to give the other waiting staff updates about the poor cow who’s been stood up, the poor love.

Glancing at my phone again, just to check on the time, I consider texting Effie to give her hell for suggesting this ridiculous person who not only agreed to such a date in less than five minutes, but who also text me just this morning to check I was still up for it. I screw my face up when I see that it’s been nearly half an hour since I arrived here. I begin texting Jez instead, blaming him for guilting me into going on a blind date in the first place. He’s also been very down this week, he could do with this laugh to try and perk him up.

“He’s a damn fool, whoever he is,” some kindly old gentleman says as he passes by my table for one. I look up and offer him a shy, embarrassed smile. He grins back at me, reminding me of my own grandfather before he died three years ago. He’s physically frail, hunched in stature, but obviously has all of his wits about him.

“If I was half so lucky as to be having dinner with a girl like you, I would have been here at least half an hour early!” he says and I inwardly melt over his words. Why can’t men be like this nowadays?

“Ah, well, not all men can be honourable, I suppose,” I reply with a sigh, checking my phone screen one more time. Nothing. “I think I might give up, go home and watch something ridiculous on TV!”

“You are more than welcome to come and join my wife and I,” he offers and I almost want to cry.

“That’s so kind of you, but-“

“Penny?” a deep, out of breath says, causing both the old man and I to look towards who I can only assume is my missing date.

Dressed in a business suit, still panting and looking every bit as gorgeous as Effie had described, Daryl, my blind date, puts up his hand in a surrendering gesture. My anger begins to ebb away slightly for he’s obviously been rushing to get here. The old gentleman is not so forgiving, tutting and shaking his head at him before offering me a warm smile.

“Make sure he pays for your meal,” he whispers to me with a wink, and proceeds to walk away.

Daryl winces, having just heard the old man, and begins to move around the table so he can offer my a kiss on the cheek. The act has me dying to know what’s kept him, for he certainly sounds and acts like the perfect gentleman. I hold my tongue while he removes his jacket and takes a seat opposite me. My eyes trace his every move, the way he moves his cutlery into the correct position before he grabs hold of his tie and loosens it a little from around his neck. He then offers me a wide smile of perfect teeth.

“Penny, please accept my sincere apologies, a business meeting ran much later than I anticipated. I would have left but this particular meeting could mean a massive boost for our company and…” He pauses, looks at me and laughs ashamedly. “And I am sure you could care less. What I mean to say is I apologise. I am not normally this rude, particularly on a first date.”

“Could you not have text me?” I cannot help but ask with the sound of judgement in my voice.

“Would you believe me if I told you I let my phone run dry?” he says with a wince, for this excuse is the modern day equivalent to ‘my dog ate my homework’.

“Well, I don’t know,” I reply teasingly, “can you prove it?”

He laughs as he retrieves his phone from his pocket to show me that he has, in fact, completely run out of battery. I smile and nod, to which he appears to sigh with relief. He gulps back a mouthful of water and relaxes a little.

“Would you like to order a bottle of wine?” he asks as he grabs hold of the menu. “I could certainly do with a glass or two.”

“Careless and a possible heavy drinker?” I tease, flashing my teeth to let him know I’m joking. It works when he laughs heartily, then covers his face with his hands.

“What can I say? I’m quite the catch,” he eventually says with a shrug of his shoulders. After we laugh for a few more moments, he reaches for my hand and turns serious. “All jokes aside, I am genuinely sorry for making you wait for me, but I am so very glad you did.”

“You say that now, but you are yet to discover some of my flaws,” I tease, if only to feel less awkward over his compliment. What can I say? Some girls revel in a man boosting their ego, others were brought up not to be vain or boastful. I obviously fall into the latter of those scenarios.

“Our flaws are what make us interesting, don’t you think?” he says as he withdraws his hand from mine and begins to peruse the menu with interest. “Are you a red, white or rose drinker?”

“Rose, but I’m also happy with whatever you decide. Effie usually picks for me; she always seems to pick the right bottle.”

“Oh, the pressure,” he smiles, “let’s try the chardonnay. If you hate it, I’ll get you something else, it’s the least I can do.”

“I’m really not that fussy, but thank you,” I reply, beginning to relax. He seems incredibly nice, even if he did keep me waiting like a sad sap for the best part of half an hour. I easily forgive, which is one of those flaws I am yet to unveil to him.

“So, how do you know Effie?” he asks after ordering the bottle of wine. “I must admit, I only met her this week. I have a feeling she only came to veto me.”

“Well, you obviously passed,” I tell him and he smiles, “and lucky for you, you arrived just before I text her to say you had stood me up. But in answer to your question, we’ve known each other since university. Besties for the best part of a decade now.”

“And, if I may, why did you agree to a blind date?”

I wait for the waiter to open the bottle of wine and pour before answering that question, the whole time watching him watching me with such intensity behind his eyes, I feel butterflies beginning to dance inside of me. The waiter eventually leaves and I take a healthy gulp of a wine so delicious, I think he’s outdone Effie.

“I guess there’re two answers to that question,” I finally reply, “our friend, Jeremy, has just had his heart broken by some cretin who decided he didn’t want to be in a committed relationship just before Jez’ thirtieth. Of course, I wanted to do something to cheer me up, so when he said he wanted me to go on a date and regale him with how it went, I had to agree.”

“Oh dear,” he laughs, “I’m not going to come out very well am I?”

“That depends,” I smile teasingly, “you have the rest of the date to make up for your tardiness.”

“Oh, I intend to,” he says with seduction in his voice. His hand covers mine again, and the way he looks at me forces me to take in an extra large breath to try and steady my nerves.

“The second answer is that I am painfully shy,” I reply with a shrug, “I rarely ask a man out. How about you? Why did you agree to a blind date?”

“Because I’m single,” he replies bluntly, “so, why not? Besides, ++++ has a picture of you and Effie in his front room. When he pointed you out, there was no way I was going to refuse.”

“Jesus, you’re charming,” I reply on a nervous breath, right before I take a gulp of white wine. He watches me, the whole time giving me a smile so sexy, I feel like he’s stripping me naked with just his eyes. “I fear I will be putty in your hands by the end of the night.”

“Oh, let’s hope so,” he says, lifting my hand to press his lips to the back of it.

“Are you ready to or-“

“Yes, ah-huh, right away!” I cut the waiter off just to stop myself from inwardly exploding over this ridiculously lusty and intoxicating man. Said man is now smirking my way while his forefinger runs back and forth across his bottom lip.

Christ, I’m in trouble with this one. Even my lady parts are screaming at me to just give in to his every whim, and I bet he more than knows it.

Find out how the night pans out for Penny and Daryl next month!

Book 1 of ‘The Mayfield Trilogy’ is on offer from August 7^th to August 13^th on Amazon. Download a copy for less than £1/$1!

https://geni.us/HbfvV

Ten years on from the wonderful, albeit uneventful years of secondary school, my love life is far from epic. In fact, it’s so far from epic, that it’s virtually non-existent. Yes, there have been dates, a love-hate episode with a guy at college, a period of being besotted with a beautiful but, as it turned out, an extremely boring med student at university. But other than that, I have nothing to offer the world of romance. I literally have zero wisdom to impart to my non-existent children. Children I am unlikely to have without having found a man; an unfortunate necessity.

However, occasionally I can see the glass as half full, and although my quest to be part of a blockbuster of a love story might well have been a complete flop so far, I have gathered an awesome rabble of friends along the way. Coincidentally, we are all rather pathetic in love. So pathetic in fact, we began to try and outdo one another with our woeful dating stories. Two years ago, after Jeremy had had to endure a date with a man who refused to wear deodorant, or brush his teeth more than once a week, our friend, Effie, came to the decision that we should meet once a week to bare our souls. At these meetings, we would share our humiliating stories in courtship over good wine, good food, and the noise of a pub to keep up our spirits.

Two years, ladies and gentlemen, two years! And not one of us has managed to find someone to break us out of our funk of odorous dates, unsatisfying one-night stands, or men who wish to do nothing other than break our hearts to feed their ridiculously large egos. One bottle of red soon became two, sometimes three, particularly around Christmases and birthdays. Jeremy even bought us cocktails last Thursday, being that it was his thirtieth and his boyfriend of six months had decided to dump him the day before.

“You know what that was, don’t you?” Effie declares through her plump, chocolate-coloured lips. “The bastard didn’t want to buy you a gift. Jez, you are well off out of it.”

“Funnily enough, Effie, my dear, that doesn’t make me feel any better,” the poor bugger replies before slurping back his third glass of wine.

“Oh, Jez, what did he say?” I ask as I rub his back in soothing circles.

You have to understand, this is how Effie and I work – she rages like a woman possessed on everyone’s behalf, whilst I lay on the soothing placations that don’t quite hit the target. Jeremy can go either way, but tonight, unfortunately for him, it’s his turn to feel the abject pain of being dumped by yet another guy who just didn’t care enough to be at all tactful.

“Said we wanted different things,” he sighs, “and now that I was turning thirty, he didn’t feel right holding me back from seeking my end goal.”

“Oh, Jesus, how long has that line been around for?” Effie cries out with a tut at the end. “Basically, I want to spread myself around, along with any diseases I might be carrying, and you’re holding me back!”

“Yeah, I hate it when they say that,” I huff, “it’s almost as good as when they say, ‘I’ve got issues. It’s not you, it’s me.’ Every time someone says that to me, I want to stab them in the eye with a fork.”

“Lest we forget the classic, ‘I’m still hung up on my ex!’” Jeremy adds, prompting us all to nod along in agreement. “If you’re still hung up on your ex, don’t ask somebody else out. Go on Tinder or buy a box of tissues!”

“Course, half the time, being hung up on your ex means they’re not the ex at all; they’re very much the current!” Effie points out.

“Christ, how skeptical have we all become?!” I moan. “Jeremy, you sure you’re gay?”

“Pretty certain,” he says as he clinks his glass against mine. We’re so similar in what we want out of life – marriage, children, an awesome romance – people often say we’d make the perfect couple. Too bad we’re attracted to the same sex.

“Well, you know I have no intention of ever having kids, not after having to bring up five siblings, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to settle down with somebody. In fact, I think it makes it harder for me to find someone. Remember Darren? We could have been married by now if he wasn’t so intent on having a family. Perhaps I should have just agreed, compromised.”

“Effie, you know more than anyone, how hard it is to bring up a child. You shouldn’t force yourself into having children if you don’t want children.”

“I guess,” she sighs, which we all then copy in unison. The crowd around us are laughing, drinking, and generally having a good time, while the three of us look like a group of sad saps.

“Alright!” Jeremy blurts out at the same time as slapping his hand against the table, causing Effie and me to snap up straight. “I didn’t come here tonight to bring everyone down. Yes, I got dumped, and before my birthday, but it doesn’t mean you two should be miserable too. In fact,” he begins before chugging down his cocktail in one go, “I want each of you to go on a date before our next meeting. Then you can regale me with what a fantastic time you both had.”

“Jeremy, do you know how hard it is to get a date?” I exclaim. “It took me four months to gather up the courage to say hello to the last guy I dated.”

“Yeah, I can’t commit to that,” Effie says, “truth be told, I’m not entirely over Derek. The thought of acting romantic with someone makes me want to throw up.”

“Ok, fine,” he replies, “you’re off the hook, but next time, try going out with someone whose name doesn’t begin with a ‘D’.”

“Ha ha,” she laughs sarcastically.

“This means it’s all on you, kiddo!” he says, pointing his wine glass towards me.

“God, did you not just hear me? I’m useless at asking people out. You know I didn’t even go on a date until I was in my first year at Uni!”

“There was Eric,” Effie says, “don’t forget him. He sounded yummy.”

“He was my semi-enemy,” I grumble with my eyes narrowed into venomous little slits. “We hated each other.”

“Until you bumped uglies,” Effie grins deviously. “That story was straight out of a romance novel. Jez, have you heard this one?”

“Of course; I heard it before you,” he says while looking smug. Truth be told, I can’t remember who I told first. All I do know is that I must have been drunk, for I try to forget that story.

“Wait, I know someone!” Effie blurts out all of a sudden. “Well, he’s a friend of a friend, but I hear he’s great.”

“Excellent, problem solved!” Jeremy smiles widely.

“No! He’s a complete stranger,” I argue, “he could be a complete weirdo.”

“People date people off the internet all the time,” Jeremy points out, “just meet in a public place.”

“What’s his name?” I ask with a less than enthusiastic tone of voice.

“Daryl,” Effie replies, “supposed to be gorgeous too.”

“What is it with you and guys who have names beginning with D?” Jeremy asks, looking completely baffled by it.

“Great and gorgeous, yet strangely single,” I laugh with disbelief.

“Er, like you!” Effie replies, pointing at me with accusation.

“I…I’m not gorgeous,” I argue rather feebly.

“Enough, I’m texting my friend now,” Effie beams with delight, “you’re doing this!”

Jeremy begins grinning with his teeth, finding my being forced into a date I don’t want exceedingly amusing. Still, it’s enough for me to concede. He hasn’t smiled this much since Ian dumped him last week. If it makes him smile like he is, I shall sacrifice my own dignity to go on this blind date of sorts. And who knows? Daryl may well be the one. I have my doubts, but I could be pleasantly surprised.

“I hope you appreciate this,” I grumble around my glass, just as Effie shows me the returned text message confirming the date.

“I do, darling, I really do,” Jeremy says as he plants a kiss on my cheek, complete with a squeeze of my shoulders. I can’t help but give in and giggle with him.

Damn it, I’m going to have to buy some new razors.

Next month:

Dating the great and gorgeous Daryl!

‘Mayfield 3: Save Us’ goes live on July 8^th! Pre-order your copy at: https://geni.us/OshD8i3

It’s taken me a while to come up with an idea for this month’s blog; there’s been so much going on in the world that it’s taken over my thoughts. So much sadness is going on with people all around the globe that I’ve struggled to think of something that will be a form of light relief. I half thought of writing something about some of the challenges facing people today – war, bereavement, fear, misogyny, prejudice, poverty – a lot of hard stuff to even comprehend, let alone say anything that will do the topic any justice. I’ve written about mental health in the past, and I try not to shy away from hard subjects as I do believe it’s part of a writer’s job to shed light on real life struggles. However, I don’t feel like I know enough. I’ve suffered from mental health conditions, worked with them, and witnessed what they can do to a person. However, I am fortunate enough to not have experienced, firsthand, what is happening to many people today, now, in the twenty-first century.

With all of this in mind, I’ve decided to leave these topics alone and instead, write about something I can relate to. It’s very befitting for a romance writer, and hopefully, something to distract people, if only for a few moments. And I do not say this flippantly – a distraction, not a means to completely forget what is happening in our world.

I had the idea, only this morning, to write a short story over a few blogs. The idea for the story came from a conversation I was having with my niece, only yesterday, about dating. I have to admit, I struck lucky as I met my husband when I was in Year 7 of secondary school. Not that I didn’t try the whole dating scene, but ultimately, my experiences were nothing compared to most. However, I do remember how thoroughly crap it was. Some people love it, but I know many find the whole process draining. It would seem, according to my niece, things have not become any easier. Here goes!

Dating for the Hopeless Romantic

Prologue

Penny

I blame William Shakespeare and Baz Luhrmann for my ridiculous love affair with all things romance. For the combination of these two great minds created a cinematic version of the world famous ‘Romeo and Juliet’, together with a killer soundtrack, awesome cast and modern day take on the four-thousand-year-old play. This film kick started a lifelong desire for passion, romance, and a man as swoon worthy as Leonardo Di Caprio. I went back to watch this film no less than four times at the cinema, which was a lot for a fourteen-year-old girl who earnt only two pounds a week pocket money. I waited nearly an entire year for that bad boy to come out on DVD, by which point I had binge watched every rom-com and teenage drama out there. The big screen had pitched its idea of love, and I had bought into it hook, line and sinker. One day, I would meet a man who would literally sweep me off my feet and love me unconditionally for the rest of my romantic filled life. He’d look like a Greek God, talk like a rugged mountain man, and protect me from all the evils of the world. As you might have guessed already, I was a) dramatic, b) shallow, c) every feminist’s worst nightmare, but ultimately, d) hopelessly in love with love!

Snap back to reality and my quest for the perfect love affair was looking dismal. My parents were pretty far from being an endorsement for long-lasting love and romance. In fact, half the time they were a trainwreck of a couple. My mother was sentimental, nurturing, and a lover of all things paranormal. She collected Wiccan paraphernalia, binge read Anne Rice, and still had an old teddy bear that she had traded her toy train for, back when she was six years old. His name was Bilbo and was made from sawdust. You could only see his original colour if you opened up his butt crack, and he was covered head to two in scars from homemade repairs. Dad, on the other hand, was somewhat of an adrenaline junkie who shied away from your regular hobbies, and instead, learnt to fly, went deep-sea diving, and even did a spot of windsurfing. He threw away what he could and frequently complained about my mother’s Wiccan ornaments needing to be dusted every week. They argued at least once a week, threatened each other with divorce about three times a month, and never showed any kind of affection for one another. However, they were headed for their twentieth wedding anniversary. Whatever it is they had, it seemed to work for them. It was far from my dream of a relationship, and something I would be avoiding at all costs, but it was theirs.

Then there were the boys at school. ‘Boys’ being the operative word here. I learnt through American high school dramas and films that high schools were full of cliques, everything from the cheerleaders and sports buffs, to nerds, to the perfect group of people who were a combination of everything desirable for a leading hero and heroine. Either that, or they hung out on the perimeters of social acceptance – the unknown, yet sexily mysterious guy who looked like a reclusive biker, but who also read extensively and knew how to articulate his desires with an expertise that would impress even the aforementioned Shakespeare.

However, in my English secondary school, there were but three ‘crowds’ – in, out, hard. And yes, I know how filthy that sounds, but innuendo aside, these were your choices. I say ‘choices’ but you had no hand in which one was made for you; your identity as a crowd was thrust upon you. Think of the sorting hat from Harry Potter and you get the idea. Of course, I was in the out crowd, and had been glad to be so if I’m being perfectly honest. It meant I could go by undetected for the most part and was left alone to amble through secondary school without much comment. However, it did make finding a Leonardo Di Caprio type boy impossible. I soon learnt I wasn’t going to find him here.

The ‘in-crowd’ boys were so in love with themselves that even if I decided to secretly yearn for one of them, their personality usually cut short any desire I initially had. The ‘hard’ crowd were often terrifying, both in their physique and lack of social skills. They sported an unusual take on fashion that would impress me for their individuality had it not been for the fact they all dressed the same as one another. They were like a deadly flock of sheep who liked to smoke and spit on the ground every few minutes. People, I do not accept spitting in way, shape, or form, and smoker’s breath is enough to have me asking God to take away my sense of smell. As for the so-called ‘out crowd’ boys, no one quite tickled my fancy. I befriended them quite easily, but as for anything romantic, it was a no go.

By the time Leo was starring in Titantic, I had decided that love would have to wait until I found a man who was worth me leaving my comfort zone for. Besides, there was always college, university, a chance meeting on a secluded beach, eyes meeting through opposite sides of a fish tank, or a forbidden encounter with my father’s enemy (he had none). If all that failed, I’m sure I’d meet someone through work or the gym (a gym I would never actually go to). Wherever it would be, it would happen, and it would be epic!

Tune in next month for chapter one!

Until then, check out my releases on: https://geni.us/d3Ns

And don’t forget that Mayfield: Save You, which is book 2 in ‘The Mayfield Trilogy’ is now on Amazon KU: https://geni.us/DoUSO

You can check out the teaser for this book on: My Books – Taylor K. Scott (taylorkscottauthor.com)

I’ve always considered myself as an introvert, the shy girl, the one to hide in the shadows because it’s too intimidating to be seen ‘out loud’. If you ask many other authors, I think it would be fair to say, they too, are often introverted, preferring to speak through their written words. After all, being an introvert doesn’t mean you don’t want to be heard, that you don’t have anything about you, you’d just prefer to do it behind the power of a pen. In the words of Seamus Heaney, ‘This is my pen, I’ll dig with it’. Every introvert has their reason for wanting to stay hidden – low self-esteem, trauma, learned behaviour – to name but a few. I believe some people are born like it, that it runs in families, however, there is usually a story there.

When it comes to writing, particularly romance, introverts tend to excel, for they hang back and spectate human behaviour. They see beyond what most others do, which makes them very good at character development. They’ve often lived through situations that have caused them to be naturally quiet. I’ve had some reviews comment that a character wouldn’t react in the way I’ve portrayed them; however, I often know they would because I’ve either experienced it myself, or I’ve witnessed it happen to those close to me. Of course, different people behave in different ways, but I try to write about things that I can relate to.

Introverts are great listeners too, taking on board what they hear daily while storing little snippets of stories inside of their heads for later. It’s incredibly useful for plot development. It gives the main body of the story those little twists and turns that help flesh out the main themes, as well as offer a more three-dimensional and realistic plot.

As for my day job, I’ve had to fight against my naturally introverted persona to get to where I am in my career. This was perhaps harder than all the studying I had to do. Teaching interviews often involve being observed whilst teaching, giving a presentation to a bunch of strangers, as well as a formal interview (once in front of the whole board of governors). I’ve had to role-play situations, as well as engage in debates with groups of people I’ve never met before. And in the back of my mind, I had to keep telling myself to push my way forward; that if I wasn’t noticed for my voice, I would never get the job. I had to compete, even though I am not naturally competitive. For an introvert, this was incredibly stressful. Fifteen years on and I still find speaking out in front of adults really challenging. Children are different, for me at least. There’re no expectations from them, and they generally accept your word as a given. I might not be as theatrical or flamboyant as some of the other teachers, but children tend to warm to me as I am calming, non-threatening, and always ready to listen.

What’s hard is the fact that people don’t know or understand your reasons for being inhibited. I remember being frequently told off for being rude as a child, for not speaking to people. At school, I would be made fun of, particularly by boys asking me why I didn’t speak. Even though it would make me feel frustrated with myself, I couldn’t even find the voice to argue, to tell them to leave me the hell alone. I still can’t (apart from with my hubby, because he’s special). You’d think I’d be loud, bubbly, and happy to talk in front of an audience because I chose to be a teacher. I have had to give presentations, lead assemblies, and speak at staff meetings. Perhaps I see myself as someone completely different when in a teacher role, but when I’m me, in a social situation with new people, my mind goes blank, and I instantly want to blend into the wall behind me. In fact, part of my social anxiety is the need to decide what I want to say in my head before I say it out loud. The last thing I want to do is bring more attention to myself by saying something stupid or controversial.

Let me give you a hint as to what it feels like. This week we had to attend a staff meeting on drama. As you can imagine, this is not my cup of tea. I’ll do it with the kids because a) they’re kids, and b) I want to be the best I can be for them. But in a hall full of adult staff members, some of who did drama at school, or who are naturally theatrical, I found the whole experience extremely difficult. Upsetting, in fact. It made me appreciate how a child who is shy must feel when we try to get them to ‘act’. The whole time I was sitting in my chair, I was thinking, ‘please don’t pick me, please don’t pick me!’ My head was dizzy, my hands were clammy, and a deep-set panic was developing inside of my stomach. I did it, to some extent, but I hated every moment of it.

Later in the week, I had someone say something to me which made me feel extremely angry. So angry, I ended up in tears. And whilst most people would say something back, explain to them how insulting they’ve just been, I physically couldn’t open my mouth to utter a single word. You then end up feeling angry with yourself. It has its plus points; I come across as calm, peaceful, and easygoing. I don’t hold grudges and I would say my life is better for the ability to let things slide, however, I have also been told that I’m too nice; a pushover. Perhaps I am. I’ll admit, there are still occasions when I wish I could go back in time and say my piece. If I had, perhaps I wouldn’t be the same shy, unconfident person I am today.

On the other hand, I would argue that introverts are very thoughtful beings, always looking beyond the surface. It makes us naturally caring, empathetic, and creative. I would also say it has made me a good observer of people, trying to see beyond their dominant behaviors. When you see an angry person, what is it that has caused them to react in such a volatile way? When my five-year-old is having a meltdown, has she already gone past the point of rationality? When I cannot stand up for myself, why is that I feel so silenced?

The trouble is a lot of people who aren’t introverted look at shy people like me and come to the conclusion that I am either weak, stuck up, stupid or vapid. I’ve been accused of all these things at one point or another. Funnily enough, this has often been by men. Not all men, for there are many introverted guys out there too, but from my personal experience, it has usually been men who have found my shyness confusing or perhaps intimidating. If I don’t talk or give much away, they can’t read me. If I don’t respond to their teasing or bullying, it makes them feel small. Whatever it is, it has never been intentional. I would argue it is my natural instinct for self-preservation. If I keep quiet, you’ll eventually leave me alone. I guess some people see us as going against the grain, unintentionally showing a silent defiance, even when the perpetrator of the abuse keeps pushing at you to react in a more obvious way. There’s a power in it, though the introvert is rarely aware of this fact. I know I never was. I just wanted whoever it was to leave me alone, or, in most cases, to run away and hide. Remember, indifference is more hurtful than hate.

‘Save Me’, Book 1 of The Mayfield Trilogy, goes live on May 9th on Amazon!

Pre-order here!

This month, I’m on the lookout for ARC readers for my upcoming release, ‘Mayfield’. It is the first book in a dark mystery romance trilogy. The books do follow on from one another, however, all three books have been written and are to be released within a month of each other. The first novel is to be released at the end of May, so there is plenty of time to read. There are triggers so I have listed these in the Author’s Notes section of the book. If you read the blurb and enjoy the teaser (https://taylorkscottauthor.com/mayfield-trilogy/), you can sign up to ARC read (receive a free copy in exchange for an honest review) on booksprout:

https://booksprout.co/reviewer/team/18309/taylor-k-scotts-review-team

I hope to hear from you!

Blurb:

Mayfield 1

Save Me

Taylor K Scott

Once upon a time, a small town was mourning the loss of a young woman…

Beth

They say your past will eventually catch up with you, but what if it’s a past that you never even knew existed?

I never saw my own past coming for me, never imagined I would come face to face with a destiny I cannot possibly escape. I am slowly and painfully being wrapped up more and more tightly so I cannot move, cannot escape the inevitable. When the end of my senior year comes, my fate will bite, and I will be taken away from everything I’ve ever known and loved.

Unless he can save me.

Xander

I went through my entire life not knowing about the things I do now. Life was a series of popularity contests, with girls practically throwing themselves at me while I basked in the easiness of all that I had been blessed with.

Then I met Beth, and I fell…hard.

She pushed, but I pulled.

She hid, but I found her.

She said to live without her, but I refused to.

She’s trapped inside of something bigger than us, but I will save her.

Spring greetings and mad march hares to you all! I, myself, am a mad march hare, being that I share my birthday with St David’s Day. Yes, I have turned another day older, and it feels…pretty much the same as it did last year, bar the niggling pain in my hips and pelvis. I guess that’s what happens with age and carrying a nine-pound baby. But enough about my old donkey of a body, what I wanted to focus my waffle on this month is on the more serious side of things. It’s come off the back of my recent release, ‘Gabe’, which is the second standalone in ‘The Darkness Within’ series. Although I’ve put quite a bit of humour in it, as well as romance (obviously), the characters have also been through some trauma and as a result, are dealing with some mental health issues, including PTSD, low self-esteem, feelings of abandonment, and social anxiety. Therefore, this month, I’ve decided to talk about mental health.

Now, if you’ve read any of my books (lots of love, hugs, and kisses to y’all), you will have picked up on the fact that I like my characters to have flaws. After all, what human being isn’t, especially adults. I like them to have histories that have led to them being the kind of people they are. If you want the Disney ‘Sleeping Beauty’ heroine who speaks about five sentences, all of which are about finding one’s true love, then my stories won’t be for you. Neither are they going to always choose the perfect, most sensible course of action. Because people who do, don’t exist in real life. A lot of my characters are made up of a mish-mash of myself and/or other people who I know. So, when people say, ‘that’s not realistic, people wouldn’t say or do that’ then, I’m sorry, you clearly haven’t met the crazy awesomeness of people who I have.

So, what I thought I would do is go through some of the issues many people are facing in today’s modern society (and no doubt suffered with in the past, though it was less recognised). I am no health expert; I can only go from experience. I sincerely apologise if I say something that doesn’t relate to your own experiences. Unfortunately, not all these conditions manifest themselves in the same way. What I will say, however, is that after having suffered from my own mental health issues and working with many children and adults who are also suffering from mental health issues, these people are some of the strongest people I know. They are not weak characters; they are incredibly strong. If you look at someone who has a physical health condition, you will see how amazingly well they manage to go through life with that ailment. They adapt to survive. People living with a mental health issue, are also working hard to live with their disorder, and often without anyone realising they have any affliction.

Anxiety

Let’s just agree that everyone suffers from some sort of anxiety; it’s nature’s way of protecting ourselves from danger. A little bit like having a natural risk assessment for life. However, some people have it more than others, and some have it to the point whereby it stops you from living a normal life. It can be a total bitch of a condition that can manifest itself in different ways. Phobias, PTSD, OCD, social anxiety, separation anxiety are a few of the more familiar ones. Symptoms include fatigue, dizziness, memory loss, intrusive thoughts, night sweats, migraine, panic attacks, plus many more little lovelies. I could go on for pages about the condition and its effects, probably whilst going off on many tangents because it’s huge. Flippantly saying, Oh, you’re just anxious’ is a little short-sighted, especially when talking about children. But it doesn’t make you weak.

When I was eleven, I began to get intrusive thoughts – my loved ones dying, people being able to see me at all times, getting some hideous disease, a plane crashing, worldwide catastrophes, and so forth. The ‘what ifs’ began to play out every minute of the day, especially at bedtime and mealtimes. This progressed and I began to carry out certain rituals and mantras to try and counteract these thoughts. Such rituals included washing my hands, checking the ceiling, repeating prayers, touching wood, and various other actions that made no sense at all. If I thought of something at all bad, I would have to repeat the process over and over again. I couldn’t simply get into bed and go to sleep; I would be up for hours carrying out these rituals until I would be having full-blown panic attacks. My hands were bloody and cracked, I stopped eating because it was easier not to, and I was severely depressed. I wanted help but I also didn’t want anyone to know because it’s weird, right? What rational person believes they can stop someone from dying by washing their hands? And I did know it was irrational, and I did know it wasn’t right, but it didn’t stop me from doing it*. So, I had to do all of this whilst trying to keep it hidden. On the outside, I was as normal as one can be, but on the inside, I was raging a war against my fears, the urge to carry out a ritual, and fatigue. When I eventually came clean to my parents, my father, quite logically, told me to just stop doing it. It was like telling someone with a cold to stop coughing. I couldn’t.

*I recently learned that OCD can be linked to OCPD. OCPD is the condition whereby people need to be excessively neat and ordered. People with this condition often don’t think they have anything wrong with them. So, lucky me had the condition whereby you realise you’re not right but without the bonus of having a neat and tidy household! My house is neither neat nor organised.

My point is, I covered up my condition for over five years and not one teacher, friend, or significant adult ever called me out on it. Occasionally they would question as to why I was checking under the table, usually with a chuckle, but that’s about it. Five years, day in, day out. I survived secondary school, got through my GCSEs, and managed to ignore people who made fun of me for feeling too intimidated to speak, all whilst this was happening for every minute of every day. I’m not saying it makes me special, but I would defy anyone who tried to call me weak.

PTSD

This is another form of anxiety, one that a lot of people have heard of. It is usually associated with those who have fought in the armed services because of the trauma they have had to face, usually on a frequent basis (which can make the condition worse). However, it can affect anyone who has suffered from any form of trauma. Examples include witnessing a disaster, an accident, a violent incident, suffering through abuse, being subjected to a traumatic experience over and over again. Not only have you had to survive something awful, but you also have to live through it again and again. Flashbacks, hallucinations, nightmares, avoidance, intrusive thoughts, and excessive arousal (irritability, rage, alertness, difficulty sleeping, etc) are all symptoms.

In ‘Gabe’ I made my poor hero suffer from flashbacks, nightmares, avoidance, and excessive feelings of guilt because of what happened to him when fighting in the marines. However, he is also suffering from PTSD because of his bad childhood whereby he was frequently caught in the middle of his parents’ arguments. As a result, he has shut himself off from meaningful romantic relationships and cut ties with his mother and father. Gabe certainly isn’t a weak character, but this doesn’t mean he isn’t battling with his own issues. I can relate to his reoccurring nightmares. They take you back to the trauma and force you to relive it as though it is real. When you finally come to you have to try and remember that what you thought was happening in the present, actually happened years ago. It’s both distressing and a relief and can leave you with leftover feelings from when it actually occurred. I rarely sleep well, and I always have vivid dreams, some that are harder to bear than others.

Abandonment

This usually occurs through a loss in childhood – death, divorce, trauma. However, it can also stem from neglect or emotional abuse, including parents who ridicule their children, adults who stifle their children’s emotional expression, or even parents who treat their children as peers. In adults, this can manifest itself in their relationships with others. Symptoms include being a ‘people pleaser’, insecurity, trust issues, lack of intimacy, a need for control, and settling for relationships that aren’t good for you.

If you’ve read ‘Gabe’, you can see how both the hero and heroine are suffering from this condition. One of the main criticisms I have received is why Cesca stays with her fiancé for so long. She explains why when she finally opens up to Gabe and also through her narration. However, Gabe is on the other end of the spectrum, whereby he avoids relationships so as not to become like his parents who were neglectful. Unfortunately, I know a lot of people who settle for less than satisfactory relationships. They are so consumed by the fear of being alone or being rejected, they would rather stay with what they know. It’s a sad reality, but a reality, nonetheless.

Autism Spectrum Disorder

This is huge and I’m not even going to attempt to fully delve into this. However, I wanted to include it because I have worked with so many children on the spectrum (which is wide-ranging). I also know people who, if they were at school now, would most likely be highlighted as showing signs of this condition. Some people with this condition, particularly girls, hide it by masking their symptoms. In fact, for a long time, people thought this was a condition more prevalent in boys, however, experts are now finding that girls tend to show their symptoms in different ways and will mask them by mirroring others around them or what they see on television. Can you imagine how exhausting that is?

People on the spectrum may find it hard to communicate and interact with other people. They might not be able to understand other people’s thoughts and feelings, have sensory overload (light, noise, tactile), and become anxious or upset in unfamiliar situations and social events. It might take them longer to understand information and will need to repeat things over and over again. People who are close to those on the spectrum often question why they don’t understand how upsetting they are being, why they are saying cruel things, however, some of these people don’t understand beyond their own feelings. I had a little boy who would lash out because he felt angry; it was that simple to him. He did not understand that he reacted more severely, that the other person had a point or that what he did was breaking the rules. He would apologise but he rarely understood why he was apologising. The only thing to make him calm down was to give him a hug, to extinguish his high energy levels so he no longer felt the need to release it through angry outbursts.

A lot of children who I have worked with over the years exhibited anger and frustration, so needed a lot of support to help them manage these feelings; feelings they couldn’t even name. Being that I work with young children, I was usually able to help them with their daily stresses at school. They were open to strategies that would help them feel more at ease and less burdened by sensory overload and having to be social with lots of other people. But what if you’re an adult who has never had that understanding shown to you how to survive it all? What if you were never given the strategies or support to help you cope with everyday life?

Although autism doesn’t come up in ‘Gabe’, I have kept it in mind for future characters. As an author, it is scary to delve into these sorts of conditions, knowing that some readers won’t have come across them before. It may turn some readers off. However, as a romance author, which is all about relationships and human behaviour, I want to include characters who are not always ‘perfect’ or ‘normal’. Even those alpha males who we all love so much will have reasons for why they are so masculine and dominating. It’s why I enjoy writing in the first person and with dual points of view.

Anyway, a little bit serious this month, but I really wanted to try and put across why I choose to create characters who aren’t based on flawless caricatures. I also want to stress that people who are suffering from mental health issues are not weak. They are warriors, each and every one.

You can get a copy of ‘Gabe on Amazon KU:

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Gabe (The Darkness Within Book 2) – Kindle edition by Scott, Taylor K. Literature & Fiction Kindle eBooks @ Amazon.com.

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Gabe (The Darkness Within Book 2) eBook : Scott, Taylor K: Amazon.co.uk: Kindle Store

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Gabe (The Darkness Within Book 2) eBook : Scott, Taylor K: Amazon.com.au: Kindle Store

Well, I’ve had a mixed bag of a January. The cleaner at work asked me if I was expecting (FYI, I’m not), work has been extremely busy and now I’ve tested positive for covid – awesome! On the plus side, my next release, Gabe, is all set and ready to be released on Feb 25^th. The cover came back this week and it is amazing; my designer has done a truly brilliant job. I’ve also received some really beautiful reviews for my other books, for which I am extremely grateful.

Now, seeing as I’m battling with a raging headache and my bed is calling to me, instead of giving you my usual rundown of monthly events, I’m going to leave an excerpt from Gabe. Hope you enjoy!

“Well, here I was being polite when you have to go and lower the tone, Cesca,” I grin, before passing her a drink, which she downs in one go. I watch her throat swallowing as she leans her head back to expose her beautiful, long neck. Dear God, I hope I’m not drooling!

“Keep telling yourself that, big boy,” she mutters, then orders another lemonade from Gynni. “But you’re the one currently sporting a tent in your shorts.”

She proceeds to point her dainty finger down towards my groin where sure enough, my dick has sprung to life and decided Cesca is what he’s living for. I shrug nonchalantly before leaning back, giving her the impression that I couldn’t give a shit when inside I’m fist-bumping the air; he lives!

“I’m going to pretend that’s your wallet, I hope you realize,” she says matter of factly, and saunters over to a sunbed that is sitting strategically underneath an umbrella so it will fully shade her from the sun. Of course, I follow her over and take the bed next door, which conversely, is fully exposed to the punishing rays. It comfortably warms me, being that my complexion is much better equipped to handle it.

“You should get out in the sun, Cesca, it’s beautiful!” I tell her, keeping my eyes closed and pointing up towards the heat.

“Maybe to a reptile, but for me, it burns, only to turn my skin lily white again,” she replies with a long sigh. “I’ve accepted my Anglo-Saxon heritage, much like you seem to have accepted that it’s perfectly ok to display your arousal for everyone to see.”

“Not everyone, just you,” I tell her with a wide grin. “Apologies if I find you attractive, though it does seem to be playing on your mind a lot too.”

“Fuck, dude!” I hear Chase’s taunting voice just before he and Jackson scrape back a couple of stools from the bar. Our party of two has now become a party of four. Plus, Gynni of course, who must think I’m a fucking deviant given that I’ve been sporting a hard-on without a care in the world.

“Put that thing down, there might be children around!” I hear Jackson chuckling to himself, which with Chase’s gruff tone of voice, has me dropping flaccid again.

“Tsk,” Cesca offers, “you’ve frightened him away!”

“I’m sure you could get him to come out to play again.” I turn to see her rolling her eyes. “Fancy showing me what a ‘killer’ you are?” Jackson and Chase are now sipping on their drinks with avid fascination, while Cesca merely shrugs and continues to lie there looking unbothered by my attempts to seduce her. Trust me, back in my hay day, it wouldn’t have taken nearly this long to have successfully charmed her underneath of me.

“Nah,” she emits with a carefree sigh, “I don’t know you very well so I would feel compelled to fake it, and I’m just not feeling that theatrical today.”

My friends, and even Gynni, erupt into fits of laughter with Chase yelling at me for just getting burned. I continue to smile at the wicked woman lying next to me who is acting beyond laid back over the conversation at hand.

“What makes you think you would have to fake it?” I ask, ignoring the laughter all around me.

She sighs again, thinks for a moment, then turns onto her side to face me with a look that tells me she’s not going to beat about the bush because it’s just too damn hot to bother.

“Because no man has ever brought me to climax with his dick, not one!” she replies, which surprises me, but in no way puts me off.

“See, I take that as a challenge,” I argue, “trust me, princess, I could get you there. You’ve seen I’m not packing a chipolata down there.”

“Typical,” she laughs condescendingly and turns back to face the sun again, “a man with a big dick who thinks that’s all it takes.”

“I never said that,” I laugh and follow suit, returning my eyes to face the heat of the sun, “but it helps, right?”

“Shhh,” she emits through her pouty lips, “I’m trying to relax.”

“Is me turning you on getting in the way?” I coax her.

“It takes a lot more than mentioning dicks to get me going, Mr Harrison,” she replies, which only convinces me that she is definitely something I would like to try and crack. “But no, it’s the sound of your voice hissing in my ear that’s disturbing my relaxation.”

I laugh softly at her quip before falling into my own silence. After a few moments of thinking about all the stuff I could do to break her dry spell, I look over at the bar to see Chase, Jackson, and even Gynni staring at the two of us, as if in waiting for the next scene to unfold.

“What?” I ask with a questioning frown.

“Well, where’s the rest?” Chase asks with a frustrated shrug of his shoulders. “You guys were totally turning me on!”

“End of scene, my friend,” I reply casually, “her bitch side has come out. I’m fighting a losing battle.”

When I glance at her, I notice the gentle curve of her lips as she pulls them into the smallest of smiles, one that is obviously satisfied with her performance. Meanwhile, I’m left at half-mast, but more than determined to show her what a good time I can offer before this holiday is out.

Gabe will be available to download from February 25^th on Amazon and KU! You can pre-order:

Amazon.com

Gabe (The Darkness Within Book 2) – Kindle edition by Scott, Taylor K. Literature & Fiction Kindle eBooks @ Amazon.com.

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Gabe (The Darkness Within Book 2) eBook : Scott, Taylor K: Amazon.co.uk: Kindle Store

Happy New Year! I feel like Jabba with his excess rolls of bulging fat and inability to do much more than vegetate on the sofa, but all in all, it’s been a good Christmas. The kids were suitably spoiled, the shelf my carpenter husband promised to make me is still sat as a block of wood in the garage, and the Celebrations tub strangely remains unopened. And now we have the next two or three months of it being dark by four, iced-up windows, and winter sadness to look forward to. However, I’ve been thinking about New Year’s resolutions and whether or not to bother with one. Here are the top ten which I have been considering during the lost week between Christmas and New Year:

The classic lose weight resolution – one that is frequently made across the world because you’ve just eaten your own weight in Christmas crap and you now feel like you have doubled the size of your waist. The TV is also screaming at you to go out and buy exercise goodies or to book some exotic holiday where you might have to flash your butt on a sandy beach somewhere. The trouble is, when January hits and I return to work, I’m going to have the willpower of a golden retriever. It’s a resolution that’s bound to fail before I’ve even started. I leave in the dark, at the butt crack of dawn, am on my feet all day with little people repeating my name I don’t know how many times a day, only to come home and have my own children repeat my name all the way until bedtime. I then have to check work emails, make sandwiches for the next day (God, I hate that job), prepare and cook dinner before I might be able to attempt to do a star jump. The thought of watching some over-enthusiastic fitness instructor who has the figure of a Barbie doll in real life, along with having to squeeze myself into a sports bra is enough to give this resolution the finger. Perhaps when summer hits or my clothes refuse to go over my curves, I’ll give this one a go. But in January? Na-ah!
The learn a new skill resolution – I’ve tried this one for the past two years in the form of learning a language. I’m sorry to say, I’ve not renewed my Rosetta Stone App this year. I guess the inability to get away to Italy and use said language has finally broken my will to follow through with it. Not that I’m giving up on the idea completely, just not at the moment. I have to admit, this country is thoroughly pants for teaching languages. Having taught children who didn’t know a single word of English when they arrived in Infant School, I can tell you these children usually end up being my more able students. Because they’ve had to use different parts of their brain and show resilience, they generally excel in all areas. We leave learning a language far too late and don’t give children enough opportunities to exercise this skill. I achieved an A in my French GCSE and a B in Spanish, but can I speak it now? Un peu, mange tout!
The be more organised resolution – Even though someone is laughing hysterically inside of my head over the idea of me being more organised, I was recently informed that I was once like this. You see, at school, you can walk into some teacher’s classrooms and feel overwhelmed by how uber organised and neat their rooms are. There’s a damn label for everything. When a child comes into my room to show off some stunning piece of work, they’re given an IOU for a reward sticker because I’ll be buggered if I know where I’ve put them. However, I can remember a time when I trained my class to organise their pencils by colour and all the correct way up inside of a labelled pot. If someone came into my class and asked me for a specific piece of paper (if you teach, you know just how many piles of paper are given to you on a daily basis), I could locate it within seconds. But then I had children. Organisation went flying out the window and an acceptance for just being dressed and out the door on time became a major win! So, this is a trier of a resolution, but if I’m being realistic, I still have the young demon child to deal with in the morning, and I am only human, people.
The save more money resolution – Well, national insurance rises, remortgaging, higher energy prices and without a pay rise means this is a very boring no. I can’t even get excited over the fact I’ll be spending my money on stuff because the stuff it will go on is, as you can see, extremely boring. However, some people are a lot worse off than I am so I’m not going to grumble. Things are tight for a lot of families and if I think about how many people are having to rely on food banks, or worse, then I don’t really have much to complain about.
The read more resolution – More hysterical laughing because this one’s a given and one I can actually stick to without it being at all arduous. In fact, my husband would be arguing for me to do the opposite. I’m ticking this bad boy off before I even begin the year. Why don’t we give ourselves more positive resolutions? Why have we always got to pick resolutions that make us feel like it’s a chore? In fact, with this one, I’m also going to add write more, listen to more music and generally broaden my cultural horizons.
The travel more resolution – I wish with today’s covid restrictions!
The quit smoking resolution – I don’t smoke or drink. Not because I have anything against them, I’ve just never taken to either of them. Smoking is a firm no for me for many obvious reasons but also because I lost two grandparents to smoking. I’ll never forget the fear in my nanny’s eyes when they told her she had cancer caused through chain-smoking. She died not long after. I don’t have an issue with anyone if they want to do these things, they’re just not for me. My husband has informed me that I could quit nagging him, so there’s that. However, I don’t believe for one minute that I’ll keep that one up. (‘Nag’ being a man’s definition of having to be told more than once to do something because they can’t be bothered to listen the first time).
The try something crazy resolution – Again, this is more difficult to achieve with young children, however, it’s not something I wouldn’t consider. In my past, younger life, I have flown a plane, quad biked across the desert, ridden a camel, got my scuba diving certificate, self-published four books, run ten kilometres for charity*, cut my hair for charity, and had a go at pole dancing (an awful, totally unsexy attempt). This resolution could be a strong possibility; I just need to think of something. *This wasn’t through choice. The week before my wedding my sister called and asked if I wanted to do it. I said, no, ta very much, to which she laughed and informed me she had signed me up anyway. In fact, a lot of my ‘try something crazy’ activities have been down to her, including going to our local sports centre dressed as a ninja from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.
The spend more time with family resolution – This one isn’t really that hard. I already spend most of my time with my family. If I’m not with them, I’m at work or having time to myself. In fact, they might want to spend less time with me. I have given my husband permission to go away with his friends for his fortieth. The moody bugger always chucks a strop for the month of September, and this year, with the milestone birthday, he’s going to be extra miserable. If that’s the case, he can go elsewhere and grump. Besides, when he returns I can hold the fact that I let him go away without us over his head for at least a good few years. It’s a win, win situation.
The be healthier resolution – Again with the boring chore of a resolution! Granted I could stand to be less of a pig and eat more salad or whatnot, but what an unappealing outlook for the year. So, with that in mind, I’m going to change this slightly. Instead of my health, I’m going to try and do my bit to improve the health of the planet by using less plastic and buying more responsibly. I already tried to do this over Christmas, which is bloody hard with kids’ toys, but I think I did better than the year before. I also believe in asking for presents that can be made rather than bought (for me, at least). Last year, my sister, the artist, painted a picture of Hades and Persephone, my mum knitted a cardy, and my husband bought a plank of reclaimed wood to make into a shelf for my books. As already mentioned, it’s still in the garage, looking very much like a plank of wood. Ah, well, you can lead a horse to water…

So, there, I’ve managed to poo pah a lot of resolutions, but I think I’ve also taken on a few to try out. What are your resolutions for the new year?

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So, that time of year that creeps up on you from about mid-August is finally within sight. You can no longer scoff when you see the shops have thrown up Christmas all over the place and are actively trying to shove it down your throat. No, it’s time to give in to the enforced merriment of the season. And I know I sound like Scrooge on a particularly bad day, but when you have small children who have been asking how many days it is until Christmas since the summer holidays, it does become a little tedious. Having said that, when December hits, I’m all for it. I’ll watch the cheesy Christmas films, stuff mince pies into my mouth, and even break open the glitter in my classroom (my sincerest apologies to the cleaning staff who I will gift with lots of choccy and biscuits). Trust me, you can put the damn stuff in a tray and tell the children to sprinkle it inside of said tray, but you can guarantee the moment your back is turned, you’ll hear an intake of shocked breath, followed by a ‘Miss, Ben’s dropped the tray on the floor!’ And that’s it – your classroom looks like a unicorn just had a bad bout of diarrhoea all over the floor.

Anyway, I thought I’d share with you some of the Scott’s Christmas traditions, or what I like to call it, that time of year when all logic and common sense flies out the window. See if you can identify with a few:

Christmas TV – I’ll admit, I do enjoy a good film, particularly feel-good movies that as a child, gave me a false view of life. When my first boyfriend and now husband professed his love for me, it was not while gifting me flowers, declarations of adoration, and with a full orchestra playing some insipid music behind us. No, as I have mentioned before, it was while I was hiding under the table in the Nicol’s building and with him laughing hysterically because he was a fifteen-year-old boy who had already been chasing after me for three years. However, Christmas films are one of the few romcoms you can watch without worrying about whether your impressionable young daughters will catch sight of a naked bottom bouncing up and down. Do they give them an exaggerated idea of how Christmas will actually play out? One hundred percent. The best one I’ve seen to date portrays a young teacher at the end of the day in the lead-up to Christmas with a flawless complexion, full mask of makeup, a beaming smile with perfect white teeth, talking to a young student about…can’t even remember what. I hate to break it to you, but as a teacher myself, I can assure you, no teacher looks like this at the end of any day, let alone during the week before Christmas. You’re more likely to see me with paint and glitter all over my outfit, which is designed for comfort rather than for attracting the ridiculously rich and handsome single father who is still nursing a broken heart while simultaneously looking for just the right woman to come and join his picture-perfect family. By the way, if such an affair were to happen, you would pretty much have to leave your job because that kind of gossip would last for so long, you’d be nearing retirement by the time people actually stopped talking about it. I’m also likely to be rocking in a corner, just praying for home time because my class of five-year-olds are so hyped up on Christmas, late nights, and advent calendar chocolate, you’re just one step away from having a mental breath down. And you’ll be lucky if I’m wearing a dab of concealer or pulled a brush through my hair on any given day of the year, let alone at Christmas. I do love them though – mindless crap to make you giggle over how ridiculous it is.
Food – Here’s the thinking from about October onwards: force yourself into dieting so you can eat like a pig over a two-week period in December. Effectively, you’re deciding to starve yourself with the intention of putting it all back on again for the sake of one day. Of course, my husband doesn’t bother with the first part, just engages with the overeating with gusto. He’ll use the phrase ‘because it’s tradition’ at least a hundred times over the course of December, with at least eighty of them being used in relation to food – Why are you buying that tub of Celebrations? You don’t even like chocolate! Because it’s tradition. Why are you buying all those cheeses and biscuits? It’s only the four of us for Christmas! Because it’s tradition. Why are you making more food? You said you’re full! Because it’s tradition. Why are you buying every meat known to man? Because it’s tradition! And don’t even get me started on the tubs of chocolates that have you eating beyond comfort because they’re just there, calling for you with all their chocolatey goodness.
Father Christmas – Perhaps the one time when you deem it acceptable to tell your children that it’s perfectly acceptable to let a stranger into your house, feed him, and let him wander about the living room while you all remain sleeping upstairs. You can also ask him for tons of plastic crap you don’t need, even though you literally had your birthday about a month ago.
Closely linked with the big red stranger in your house, is the newly invented idea, Elf on the shelf! Who in God’s name came up with this idea? Not only have we got to think of a sack full of gifts to get our bundles of joy, but we’ve now got to think of ways to model a creepy-looking doll for virtually the whole of December. I’m not gonna lie, I’ve left this aspect of Christmas to the husband, which is risky, but worth it to not have to do it myself.
The Nativity…or not. This is perhaps one tradition I really look forward to, and thanks to Covid, the bastard, schools have had to cancel the delights of dancing and singing to a room full of parents who will smile and gush no matter what happens. Little Johnny hollers out he needs a pee during the tear-jerker? Ahh, with some chuckling. Little Angela is flashing her pants during the jive number? Just keep on smiling. Mrs Parker is sweating up a storm while trying to direct three classes full of five-year-olds, half of whom are completely ignoring her and waving at their grown-ups instead? All the more endearing…and an excuse for Mrs Parker to buy an extra tub of Celebrations! Now, I might not be doing a nativity of my own, but my daughter’s school has decided to hold one anyway. My youngest is the donkey, which is both cute and hilarious. When I told her how important her part is, she grinned excitedly, then asked, ‘Who’s Mary?’
The obligatory argument between the husband and I over what we want for Christmas. Now, having been married for over eleven years, and having known each other for longer than we didn’t know one another, I have learnt that believing him when he says he wants nothing, is an epic mistake to make. When it comes to the day and he has no gift to unwrap because he had said, and I quote, ‘Don’t get me anything, babe, so long as I have you, I have all I need!’, the boy turns into a full-on puppy dog from an animal shelter commercial. The eyes droop, the shoulders slump, and I swear he’s able to make his bottom lip tremble on command. To be fair, I often tell him I don’t want anything because, well, there’s nothing I really need. Perhaps Mary Poppin’s click? Jedi mind manipulation? He’ll think of something, he always does. Surprisingly, the boy always pulls it out of the bag at this time of year.
The Christmas dinner – When I lived with my parents, we turned the tradition on its head and decided each adult would make a given set course. The idea is that it’s less expensive, less time-consuming, the food is spread out across the day, and it means one person isn’t being left to do all the work. Unfortunately, this doesn’t work with mini people, unless you’d like a bowl full of every ingredient in the kitchen as well as a lump of red Play-Doh served up for dessert. I also live with the aforementioned ‘traditionalist’ who maintains it is positively sacrilegious to serve up anything other than a roast dinner. It’s a strange concept, spending months preparing for a day when you begin cooking from morning till noon, only to then consume a dinner whose weight is comparable to that of an infant. After which, you can pretty much do nothing other than shuffle about in your chair with the occasional groan and promise to never eat again…until the Christmas tea and mince pies. Because, you’ve guessed it, it’s tradition!
A Christmas Carol – yes, this is a must, even for me. Whether it be muppets, singing from the seventies (Albert Finney, in case you were wondering), or Bill Murry portraying the famous Ebenezer, it is almost law that you watch Dicken’s festive masterpiece. Of course, you could also read the book; it is a classic and one of his more accessible novels.

So, here are a few of my Christmas traditions, and although I sound like I’m poking fun at some of them, I will continue to do all of them. Apart from the elf. When the kids are old enough to know the pain of what we’ve had to do for all these years in the name of make-believe, that creepy little bastard is going to be gifted to whichever one of them wants it.

Don’t forget my new release, ‘My Best Friend’, is available on Amazon KU from December 10^th! You can pre-order now:

My Best Friend – Kindle edition by Scott, Taylor. Contemporary Romance Kindle eBooks @ Amazon.com.

My Best Friend eBook : Scott, Taylor: Amazon.co.uk: Kindle Store

Merry Crimble!

Christmas TV – I’ll admit, I do enjoy a good film, particularly feel-good movies that as a child, gave me a false view of life. When my first boyfriend and now husband professed his love for me, it was not while gifting me flowers, declarations of adoration, and with a full orchestra playing some insipid music behind us. No, as I have mentioned before, it was while I was hiding under the table in the Nicol’s building and with him laughing hysterically because he was a fifteen-year-old boy who had already been chasing after me for three years. However, Christmas films are one of the few romcoms you can watch without worrying about whether your impressionable young daughters will catch sight of a naked bottom bouncing up and down. Do they give them an exaggerated idea of how Christmas will actually play out? One hundred percent. The best one I’ve seen to date portrays a young teacher at the end of the day in the lead-up to Christmas with a flawless complexion, full mask of makeup, a beaming smile with perfect white teeth, talking to a young student about…can’t even remember what. I hate to break it to you, but as a teacher myself, I can assure you, no teacher looks like this at the end of any day, let alone during the week before Christmas. You’re more likely to see me with paint and glitter all over my outfit, which is designed for comfort rather than for attracting the ridiculously rich and handsome single father who is still nursing a broken heart while simultaneously looking for just the right woman to come and join his picture-perfect family. By the way, if such an affair were to happen, you would pretty much have to leave your job because that kind of gossip would last for so long, you’d be nearing retirement by the time people actually stopped talking about it. I’m also likely to be rocking in a corner, just praying for home time because my class of five-year-olds are so hyped up on Christmas, late nights, and advent calendar chocolate, you’re just one step away from having a mental breath down. And you’ll be lucky if I’m wearing a dab of concealer or pulled a brush through my hair on any given day of the year, let alone at Christmas. I do love them though – mindless crap to make you giggle over how ridiculous it is.
Food – Here’s the thinking from about October onwards: force yourself into dieting so you can eat like a pig over a two-week period in December. Effectively, you’re deciding to starve yourself with the intention of putting it all back on again for the sake of one day. Of course, my husband doesn’t bother with the first part, just engages with the overeating with gusto. He’ll use the phrase ‘because it’s tradition’ at least a hundred times over the course of December, with at least eighty of them being used in relation to food – Why are you buying that tub of Celebrations? You don’t even like chocolate! Because it’s tradition. Why are you buying all those cheeses and biscuits? It’s only the four of us for Christmas! Because it’s tradition. Why are you making more food? You said you’re full! Because it’s tradition. Why are you buying every meat known to man? Because it’s tradition! And don’t even get me started on the tubs of chocolates that have you eating beyond comfort because they’re just there, calling for you with all their chocolatey goodness.
Father Christmas – Perhaps the one time when you deem it acceptable to tell your children that it’s perfectly acceptable to let a stranger into your house, feed him, and let him wander about the living room while you all remain sleeping upstairs. You can also ask him for tons of plastic crap you don’t need, even though you literally had your birthday about a month ago.
Closely linked with the big red stranger in your house, is the newly invented idea, Elf on the shelf! Who in God’s name came up with this idea? Not only have we got to think of a sack full of gifts to get our bundles of joy, but we’ve now got to think of ways to model a creepy-looking doll for virtually the whole of December. I’m not gonna lie, I’ve left this aspect of Christmas to the husband, which is risky, but worth it to not have to do it myself.
The Nativity…or not. This is perhaps one tradition I really look forward to, and thanks to Covid, the bastard, schools have had to cancel the delights of dancing and singing to a room full of parents who will smile and gush no matter what happens. Little Johnny hollers out he needs a pee during the tear-jerker? Ahh, with some chuckling. Little Angela is flashing her pants during the jive number? Just keep on smiling. Mrs Parker is sweating up a storm while trying to direct three classes full of five-year-olds, half of whom are completely ignoring her and waving at their grown-ups instead? All the more endearing…and an excuse for Mrs Parker to buy an extra tub of Celebrations! Now, I might not be doing a nativity of my own, but my daughter’s school has decided to hold one anyway. My youngest is the donkey, which is both cute and hilarious. When I told her how important her part is, she grinned excitedly, then asked, ‘Who’s Mary?’
The obligatory argument between the husband and I over what we want for Christmas. Now, having been married for over eleven years, and having known each other for longer than we didn’t know one another, I have learnt that believing him when he says he wants nothing, is an epic mistake to make. When it comes to the day and he has no gift to unwrap because he had said, and I quote, ‘Don’t get me anything, babe, so long as I have you, I have all I need!’, the boy turns into a full-on puppy dog from an animal shelter commercial. The eyes droop, the shoulders slump, and I swear he’s able to make his bottom lip tremble on command. To be fair, I often tell him I don’t want anything because, well, there’s nothing I really need. Perhaps Mary Poppin’s click? Jedi mind manipulation? He’ll think of something, he always does. Surprisingly, the boy always pulls it out of the bag at this time of year.
The Christmas dinner – When I lived with my parents, we turned the tradition on its head and decided each adult would make a given set course. The idea is that it’s less expensive, less time-consuming, the food is spread out across the day, and it means one person isn’t being left to do all the work. Unfortunately, this doesn’t work with mini people, unless you’d like a bowl full of every ingredient in the kitchen as well as a lump of red Play-Doh served up for dessert. I also live with the aforementioned ‘traditionalist’ who maintains it is positively sacrilegious to serve up anything other than a roast dinner. It’s a strange concept, spending months preparing for a day when you begin cooking from morning till noon, only to then consume a dinner whose weight is comparable to that of an infant. After which, you can pretty much do nothing other than shuffle about in your chair with the occasional groan and promise to never eat again…until the Christmas tea and mince pies. Because, you’ve guessed it, it’s tradition!
A Christmas Carol – yes, this is a must, even for me. Whether it be muppets, singing from the seventies (Albert Finney, in case you were wondering), or Bill Murry portraying the famous Ebenezer, it is almost law that you watch Dicken’s festive masterpiece. Of course, you could also read the book; it is a classic and one of his more accessible novels.

Don’t forget my new release, ‘My Best Friend’, is available on Amazon KU from December 10^th! You can pre-order now:

My Best Friend – Kindle edition by Scott, Taylor. Contemporary Romance Kindle eBooks @ Amazon.com.

My Best Friend eBook : Scott, Taylor: Amazon.co.uk: Kindle Store

Merry Crimble!