Wednesday, 31 December 2014

New Year To Do List

The first day of another new year. Woke up around 7 am to a strange sound. Rain? Looked out through the window. Indeed it was the pitter patter of the rain drops. Very unlikely on a New Year Day.

Last year was a significant one. I changed my job. This year too will be momentous. Because I will pass a milestone in my life. More about that some other day.

New Year resolutions? No. Never believed in them. I think in school, I used to have them. But they never worked out. Probable reason: they were decisions I was forcing myself to take because it was January 1. So, no ambitious goals. I am restricting myself to small tasks. I have made a list of things to do in 2015. Easier to keep track, accomplish and feel gratified. What are they? That will be the subject of my end-of-year post.

Tuesday, 23 December 2014

Was John King the person addressed in Donne’s ‘The Anniversary’?

John King, Bishop of London, c.1559-1621







‘The Anniversary’ (text after Robin Robbins)
All kings and all their favourites,
         All glory of honours, beauties, wits,
    The sun itself, which makes times, as they pass,
    Is elder by a year now than it was
    When thou and I first one another saw.
    All other things to their destruction draw:
         Only our love hath no decay.
    This, no tomorrow hath, nor yesterday;
    Running, it never runs from us away,
But truly keeps his first, last, everlasting day.

         Two graves must hide thine and my corse:
         If one might, death were no divorce.
    Alas, as well as other princes, we
    (Who prince enough in one another be)
    Must leave at last in death these eyes and ears
    Oft fed with true oaths, and with sweet-salt tears;
         But souls where nothing dwells but love
    (All other thoughts being inmates) then shall prove
    This, or a love increasèd there above,
When bodies to their graves, souls from their graves remove.

         And then we shall be throughly blessed,
         But we no more than all the rest.
    Here upon earth we’re kings, and none but we
    Can be such kings, nor of such subjects be:
    Who is so safe as we? where none can do
    Treason to us, except one of us two.
         True and false fears let us refrain:
    Let us love nobly and live, and add again
    Years and years unto years, till we attain
To write threescore. This is the second of our reign.

Well, there they all were at York House. Sir Thomas Egerton has a new domestic chaplain in John King, and John Donne is installed as a private secretary (Egerton, beside his hard work and personal probity, could certainly pick talent). The niece of Egerton’s wife is also present, Ann More, a young woman of 17.

According to the story promoted by E. E. Duncan-Jones and Robin Robbins after her, that emotionally labile man John Donne then falls into a state of deep and lasting personal attachment not just to Ann More (which we know about), but also to John King. Being able to give your heart more or less at once to a girl twelve years your junior and a man twelve, or maybe thirteen years your senior takes some crediting, but love is broad, and perhaps it truly was especially broad in the early modern period.

This is Robbins’ summary of the case for ‘The Anniversary’ being about Donne’s friendship with King: “The parity of the partners in Anniversary, contrasting with the inequality affirmed in the same analogy in [‘The Sun Rising’], where “kings … all here in one bed” lie but it is the man alone who is “all princes”, suggests an exclusively male relationship. E. E. Duncan-Jones … argues persuasively that, since the gender of the addressee is not specified, Donne may in the thrice-repeated “kings” be punning on the surname … of John King (1559?-1621), a lifelong friend, with whom his relationship was termed by Walton “a marriage of souls”.

But how persuasive was E. E. Duncan-Jones? In her letter to the LRB (October 1993), we see every sign of wishful thinking, as she promotes once more an idea that she just can’t let go (despite, as she admits, having been brusquely told by her colleague and friend Helen Gardner to “Forget it”): “When Walton calls this friendship ‘a marriage of souls’ in his life of Donne it is so apt a description of the subject of this poem that Walton might be covertly alluding to it.” Her phrasing, “in his life of Donne” seems to me to bend the facts ever so slightly: that striking phrase about the marriage of souls, seized upon by Robbins, appears only in a letter of dedication to the second edition of Walton’s Life of Donne. In the 1640 version, Donne, acceding to the king’s wish that the author of Pseudo-Martyrbecome a churchman, is described as “declaring his intentions to his deare friend D. King the then worthy Bishop of London”.

By 1658, dedicating the second edition of his Life of Donne to Sir Robert Holt, Walton improves on ‘deare friend’:  “For, Sir, Dr. Donne was so much a part of your self, as to be incorporated into your Family, by so noble a friendship, that I may say there was a marriage of souls betwixt him and your reverend Grandfather, who in his life was an Angel of our once glorious Church, and now no common Star in heaven. And Dr. Donne’s love died not with him, but was doubled upon his Heire, your beloved Uncle the Bishop of Chichester, that lives in this froward generation, to be an ornament to his Calling. And thisaffection to him was by Dr. D. so testified in his life, that he then trusted him with the very secrets of his soul; & at his death, with what was dearest to him, even his fame, estate, & children.”

Walton is reminding his dedicatee of close relationships between Donne and both the Kings, father (John) and son (Henry). He reaches rather self-consciously (“that I may say”) to the florid affirmation, which seems likely to have slipped into his memory from Jeremy Taylor’s high-flown discourse on friendship to that great oracle of Friendship, Orinda, Katherine Philips:
“There are two things which a friend can never pardon, a treacherous blow and the revealing of a secret, because these are against the Nature of friendship; they are the adulteries of it, and dissolve the Union; and in the matters of friendship which is the marriage of souls; these are the proper causes of divorce…” (Jeremy Taylor, A discourse of the nature, offices, and measures of friendship with rules of conducting it written in answer to a letter from the most ingenious and vertuous M.K.P. by J.T. 1657). 
So, the “marriage of souls” phrase was Walton’s later hyperbole, when talking up the Donne/John King relationship in a dedicatory epistle, and taken from the typical discourse of Katherine Philips’ precieux circle.

Gauging the depth of that dear friendship is hard: in certain aspects of character, one would not think John King to be Donne’s type, for King was fiercely anti-Catholic. (That might initially have been the point: Donne, the former Catholic, associating himself with a man whose opinions made him a good guarantor that Donne really had switched persuasions.) Their long-continued acquaintance became a professional one: it would be John King, as Bishop of London, who ordained Donne.

So anti-Catholic was John King that he was victim of a very successful posthumous libel by a Catholic writer, who interjects as a truth a story that King renounced the Protestant faith and his own ministry as false in the last days before his death. Richard Broughton (The English protestants plea, and petition, for English preists and papists to the present court of Parlament, 1621) might have believed what he wrote, a victim of misinformation or wishful thinking, or might have deliberately concocted the lie and placed it in his book. But it was noticed, and there was clearly an urgent inquiry into this scandalous allegation, to the result that John King’s eldest clergyman son gave a funeral sermon that goes into a very detailed account of his father’s departure from this world, and makes candid appeals to a sense of likelihood. This was printed along with a denial of the imputed apostasy that had been obtained from a Catholic.

I find John Donne oddly absent from this sensational business. He isn’t mentioned, and as far as I know he doesn’t mention it. E. E. Duncan-Jones ended her letter with a fact and, coupled to that fact, a passing remark from a later sermon that she thinks shows Donne being conscious of his dearest friend being in a grave close at hand:  “King died in 1621 and was buried in St Paul’s. On Easter Day 1630, preaching in St Paul’s, Donne speaks of ‘a love … that will melt one’s bowels if he do but passe over or passe by the grave of his dead friend’.” This is striking, but in context, Donne is reaching out as he often did to wider experiences in his congregation, rather than delivering a personal note that isolating the sentiment produces: “There is a love that will make one kisse the case of a picture, though it be shut; There is a love that will melt ones bowels, if he do but passe over, or passe by the grave of his dead friend.” 
To sum up, the relationship between John Donne and John King is not something R. C. Bald makes much of, while Donne’s more racy biographer John Stubbs tells the story of the posthumous slander of King for its own sake without adducing anything to show Donne was personally concerned.
King was an anti-catholic to the extent that the Catholics mounted a posthumous propaganda coup exploiting his reputation. Donne, apparently silent on this matter concerning his friend, does himself have bad things to say about ‘papists’, but that simply went with the territory of being in the 17th century English pulpit. Donne is more himself when saying things to bring his congregation up short, as when he told his listeners that he was a papist himself (and a puritan too!):
therefore, if when I study this holinesse of life, and fast, and pray, and submit my selfe to discreet, and medicinall mortifications, for the subduing of my body, any man will say, this is Papisticall, Papists doe this, it is a blessed Protestation, and no man is the lesse a Protestant, nor the worse a Protestant for making it, Men and brethren, I am a Papist, that is, I will fast and pray as much as any Papist, and enable my selfe for the service of my God, as seriously, as sedulously, as laboriously as any Papist. So, if when I startle and am affected at a blasphemous oath, as at a wound upon my Saviour, if when I avoyd the conversation of those men, that prophane the Lords day, any other will say to me, This is Puritanicall, Puritans do this, It is a blessed Protestation, and no man is the lesse a Protestant, nor the worse a Protestant for making it, Men and Brethren, I am a Puritan, that is, I wil endeavour to be pure, as my Father in heaven is pure, as far as any Puritan.
Donne prefers to place himself between Catholic and Calvinist-Protestant extremes.
Is ‘The Anniversary’ about Donne’s feelings for John King? Even E. E. Duncan-Jones has difficulties with:
And then we shall be throughly blessed,
         But we no more than all the rest.

“The rather unregenerate hint that in heaven the two will not be quite so happy because others will be as happy as they are at least marks the poet’s total content and zest for living.” I don’t get the impression that Dr. John King was someone to whom you sounded unregenerate notes of any kind.
The “content and zest for living” is just too radically anti-Calvinist to imagine Dr. King indulging: Donne promotes the exclusive joy of human love against the democracy of shared delight in heaven. Duncan-Jones also tries this argument: “The part played by ‘bodies’ in this relationship is strikingly small. What will be lost in death will be ‘eyes’ and ‘eares’, the sight and speech of the loved one: ‘Oft fed with true oathes, and with sweet salt teares’.” Here, the critic conveniently forgets that Donne doesn’t itemise body parts or properties in the Songs and Sonnets: breast, skin, red, white, soft, neck, leg, foot don’t feature – this was, after all, the love poet of ‘lovely glorious nothing’, and body parts beyond the face are usually his (‘The Fever’ is an exception, but there the purported illness makes him write about the body, the ‘beauty, and all parts, which are thee’ of the beloved.)
Duncan-Jones’ comment was about:
we
    (Who prince enough in one another be)
    Must leave at last in death these eyes and ears
    Oft fed with true oaths, and with sweet-salt tears …

This language of tears and oaths does not strike me as different enough from the other (male to female) Songs and Sonnets.

But the clincher is meant to be in:

    Here upon earth we’re kings, and none but we
    Can be such kings, nor of such subjects be

This parity between the lovers has to make them, at least so Robin Robbins seems eager to conclude, both men. He distinguishes this poem from ‘The Sun Rising’ on that basis. To remind the reader, the male speaker there addressed the sun:
Look, and tomorrow late, tell me, 
Whether both th' Indias of spice and mine 
Be where thou leftst them, or lie here with me. 
Ask for those kings whom thou saw'st yesterday, 
And thou shalt hear, All here in one bed lay.

She's all states, and all princes, I, 
Nothing else is. 
The argument goes that in these lines the male speaker entertains a fantasy of himself as ‘All [kings]’ because she is ‘all states’, especially she is the inexhaustible source of wealth of both the Indies, he being the doubly fortunate ruler of both east and west. Yet the poem possibly just wavers towards the notion of their parity: all the world’s kings now compacted into the two of them in bed together. This might be taken as a preliminary to the stronger statement of equality in ‘The Anniversary’. As ‘The Sun Rising’ ends, the speaker joins in the new geography of the world that is now contracted into this bedroom. The ageing sun’s duty is to warm the world, and happily, ‘that’s done in warming us’. The (male) speaker seems to have forgotten the notion that he is world ruler, but joins his beloved as a new world. He promoted her, for a moment, to kingship with him, he now moves himself down to worldship with her.
It is worth questioning as well whether it is likely that Donne would have made an argument for equality if the relationship with John King were his subject. Donne regularly exploited a distinction between love’s adepts and the general ‘laity’. Real clergymen, when they are his subject, prompt him to ingenious assertions of their superiority – God’s ambassadors on earth, and all that other stuff, as seen in his poem to Mr Tilman. To celebrate his friendship with Dr John King in ‘The Anniversary’ in terms of equality would have been a solecism.
There is another angle on all this. By a coincidence, it fell to Bishop King to give the sermon when Princess Elizabeth was married to Frederick, Count Palatine, in 1614. Donne wrote his best epithalamion for the event. Bishop King was placed in circumstances in which he had, as a matter of politics, to make the bride equal with the groom. It would not have been possible to read to the Stuart Princess a sermon of woman’s subordination: to do so would have been to slight the Stuarts, who had just lost their Prince Henry and so unlikely to be receptive to further diminution of the dynasty. Frederick, Count Palatine, was not the prime prince of Europe. King rose to the requirements of the occasion, with a marriage sermon about the worthiness of women, equality of partners as essential to a godly marriage, and the superiority of marriage to friendship.
As I indicate, it was a contingent discourse, but King puts all his theological weight behind it, he could not sound as though he is advancing a paradox or problem case:
A woman is, he said:
“the gate of entrance into liuing. Hence began the world; God buildeth the woman (aedificat costam, finxit hominem: man was figmentum, woman aedificium, an artificiall building) and from the rafter or planke of this rib is the world built. Therfore was Heva called mater viventium, the mother of the living; quia mortali generei immortalitatem parit, she is the meanes to continue a kind of immortalitie amongst the mortall sonnes of men. No sooner was man made, but presently also a woman; (not animal occasionatum, a creature upon occasion, nor mas laesus, a male with maime and imperfection, (philosophy speaketh too dully:) but out of the counsel and skill and workemanship of almighty God; aedificat, a goodly frame:) and no sooner a woman, but presently a wife. So that man, and woman, and wife are simul tempore, of the same standing; and the first vocation of man was maritari, to be an husband. Mulier propter virum, The woman was made for the man to be his wife: so that, according to the Hebrew prouerb, Cui non est vxor, is non est vir, A man without a wife is not a man. Vir and vxor, man and wife, are primum par, fundamentum parium, the first originall match of all others. All other couples and paires, as father and sonne, maister and seruant, king and subject come out of this paire.
Happy, thrice happy these that keepe this bond without breach. Amicus & socius commodè conueniunt, sed utrum{que} antecessit vxor iuncta viro. A freind and a companion come together at an opportunitie, but above them both is a wife with her husband. And the whole infelicity of marriage for the most part, that Iliade of evils which accompanieth some matches, is when this sicut is wanting; when men choose not similes their likes, when matches are made of such as match not…”
The writer of the ODNB life of John King represents these as his general opinions, understands this as sincerely said. It might have been. This raises the possibility, then, that in talking to his dear friend John King, John Donne had previously heard something similar: that the fleeting moment of parity between the lovers in ‘The Anniversary’ – who are a man and a woman – might have owed something after all to John King, from whom John Donne might have heard an ameliorative discourse, a possibility that he could entertain.


Saturday, 13 December 2014

In Your Eyes Blog Tour

Good Morning!
I am lucky enough to be part of Diana Nixon's blog tour for her upcoming book 'In your Eyes'! You should check this out because it comes out this week, right before Christmas.




In Your Eyes
by DIANA NIXON
BOOK BLOG TOUR

Follow the tour on FACEBOOK:

Book Blurb:
My life has never been perfect. I lost, I lied, I cried. But there was one thing that I thought would stay with me forever — my love…
Adrian was my everything. The day he died, I died with him. It was like being caught up in a nightmare, with no reason to keep breathing, with nothing to hold on to.
                But one day, everything changed.  I didn’t know I was lost until the moment Nic found me. He made me laugh, he made me feel, he made me believe that I could love again. I thought I would never feel alive, but then I looked into his eyes and I was lost. Only this time, it was not a nightmare swallowing me, but a beautiful dream coming true.
                Just when I thought there was no hope for tomorrow, my heart found a reason to beat faster…

Excerpt (Nic’s POV)
Unlike my co-workers, I never knew the lack of money, at least until the moment I thought I wanted to change everything about my life. I didn’t tell anyone about what had happened before I realized that I could no longer live the life that I used to have before coming to Daniel’s workshop. First, because I didn’t want to talk about it, and second, because I didn’t feel like going back to something that I swore I would never return to. No matter how much I had to work, now I was sure that I would be able to take care of myself better than ever.
And then, something unexpected happened…
I saw Emily, even before she turned to see me. She was wearing one of the sexiest leather riding outfits that I had ever seen, and I had seen a lot. It consisted of a pair of black trousers and a jacket, both covering her curves like a glove. Her dark-brown hair was in a perfect mess, if I can even call it that. She was holding a helmet in her hands, and I could only imagine her perfectly-shaped body riding a bike. I would probably kill for a chance to see it, or take her for a ride with me.
The moment I bent down to kiss her on the cheek, the smell of her perfume filled my nostrils. I inhaled deeply, letting that mind-blowing combination of cherry and spice swallow me whole.
She froze. I could feel it even without looking at her. Was it the first time that a guy had kissed her on the cheek? Hardly. With the body and lips like hers, I bet guys never stopped at friendly kisses with her.
Then I looked at the guys, staring at me in complete and total shock, and realized that I must have done something wrong. “Sorry, my father is from Rio and there, they always kiss each other on both cheeks when greeting one another,” I said, trying to explain myself.
“I see,” she said, giggling. “I’m Emily, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you.” I smiled down at her.
Her dark-blue eyes met mine, and there was something in their depths that I didn’t know how to explain. Curiosity? Surprise? What could she be surprised about if I was just another guy out of what I was sure was no less than a dozen of her admirers? 
I didn’t have a chance to ask anyone about Emily. After she left, I got back to my work, hoping no one would mention the details of our meeting in Dan’s presence.
Was she his girlfriend? I saw that look that Daniel gave me. I knew that look. It said it all — I needed to stay away from Emily, especially if I cared about my life and my job.





Author BIO:
Diana Nixon is a bestselling author of Nevermore Press. She was born in Minsk, Belarus. She has a Master of Law Degree and speaks several foreign languages, including English, Spanish and Polish. Diana's writing career started with a fantasy novel, named Love Lines. For now, Diana has 11 published books, including one short story and a book of poems.

Tuesday, 9 December 2014

Delhi's Uber, rape and the ban

First, it was the outrage against the rape of a young woman by the driver of a cab she hired using the Uber app in Delhi on Friday night.

Now the outrage is against the banning of some of the cab services in Delhi.

If the authorities act, they are damned.

If the authorities don't act, they are damned.

Will we get anything right, ever?

AN OUTRAGEOUS CRIME FOR 3 REASONS

One, Delhi, and the rest of the nation, had only in the recent past -- in December 2012 -- witnessed a massive outpouring of frustration and anger over the dangers women face, following the rape and murder of Nirbhaya.

The driver involved in Friday's incident, Shiv Kumar Yadav, would obviously have known about all these. He should have known what is okay and what is not okay. He should have by now learnt to behave himself. And, he should have also known what lies in store for him, if he doesn't. So, what explains this incident, in spite of all that happened over the past two years?

It may be a very cynical and pessimistic thought: but I think how much ever tough the law is, for the determined criminal nothing is a deterrent. He commits the crime and shows no remorse. While we have tough laws on one side, the onus also lies on us to be careful. (This is not to suggest, that when accidents happen it's the victim who has to be blamed. If anyone has to be blamed, it's the perpetrators of the crime.) Our society isn't a safe one. There seems to be danger lurking in every corner. Good souls are exceptions rather than the rule.  

UBER FELL SHORT OF EXPECTATIONS

Two, the young woman in her mid-twenties had used a safe (or what we always thought is a safe) method to book a cab -- the Uber app. The San Francisco-based company had of late attracted a fair amount of admiration for their innovative method of running a taxi service, which is highly technology driven, with very less human intervention in the operations. For its highly customer-friendly approach, Uber has also attracted criticism from established taxi services especially in the UK, and to some extent in India.

I know many people, especially women, who repose lot of faith in Uber because they think the service is not only very customer-friendly, but being one headquartered in the Silicon Valley, it will have the best practices in place, especially regarding safety.

I don't think the company understood the extent of trust customers reposed on it. Definitely not. If it had, it would have also ensured that its cabs were not run by any Tom, Dick and Harry -- the one in question was run by a criminal.

Uber should have ensured that the drivers matched up to the standards the company has set for itself. Did Uber forget basic issues of safety in its race against competition?

Three, where was the GPS tracking of the cab? All bunkum. What is the point of talking of great technological innovations, if you can't put them to real-time use?

RIGHT DECISION TO BAN SOME CAB SERVICES

Yesterday, the Delhi governent discovered that Uber, Ola, Taxi for Sure and TaxiPixi, have not been recognised by the Transport Department to run taxi service. Only Meru, Mega, Chanson, Yo, Air and EasyCabs have the permission.

So, Uber, Ola, Taxi for Sure and TaxiPixi have been banned. This is being described as a needless knee-jerk reaction. I don't think so. The government did the right thing. If the cab services didn't have the permission to run, how could they be operating the service?

To argue that ordinary black-and-yellow taxis or autos are not banned when a crime happens in them, is a totally misplaced argument. There's a certain amount of trust and credibility one associates with Uber and other well-known branded taxi services.

In fact, this tragic incident should be taken as a wake-up call and other State governments should summon the operators of all taxi services and ensure they are functioning within the confines of the law.

TRANSPORT DEPT TOO OWES AN EXPLANTION

This is not about a "blanket ban on all services", or akin to "throwing the baby with the bathwater". This is about banning somthing that is unlawful. Indeed one shouldn't ban something that lends itself to subjetive interpretation. But here it is not so. It's about not being on the right side of the law.

While the government has acted, belated though, it owes an explanation on how it allowed thousands of cabs that didn't have permits to run. It's also amazing that no one raisesd this point ever. Probably becaues everyone was benefiting from it. Then, at least the authorities should have woken up earlier, and regulated the cab service system, and updated the laws.    

LAW HAS TO KEEP PACE WITH TIMES

Law needs to be clearer on what cab services or radio taxis are. And, it needs to keep pace with technological innovations that are changing the public transport landscape.

Different taxi companies have different methods of operation. There are companies that own cabs and employs drivers to run them. Drivers are paid a salary, besides a proportion of the fare.

The revolution that Ola brought about was the concept of aggregation. The company doesn't own any cab. Individual taxi drivers get registered with them, and companies like Ola, only function as a platform to bring the cab driver and the passengers together.

But what is extent of ownership that the company takes to ensure the safety of the traveller? Not clear. Matrimonial sites and dating sites, prominently carry a disclaimer saying they are in no way responsible for what comes out of the users' interations.

The innovation that Uber has brought in is in the technology sphere. There is minimal human intervention -- from booking the cab to paying the driver.

WAY FORWARD

1. Bring absolute clarity to the burgeoning cab service in India.

2. Update the laws so that customer-friendly operating models like that of Ola, TaxiForSure and Uber too are also recognised as legitimate taxi services.

3. Irrespective of the method of operation, basic safety guidelines have to be put in place.

4. There has to be continuous, random and surprise checks on cabs to see if they are complying with laws or not. Violators have to be booked.

Tuesday, 2 December 2014

Blog Tour ~ Seasons of Change

I was lucky enough to be taken over by Mia Hoddell! Enjoy!

Description: https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkVaLfswxFFbmm4AR6J-6VtsvGlfWTWuEzA06AT7RwHCFJfynMmNNcPw-5jHXb74JC9uaftbc7wRc1PgZ-r2BupUt-XKldYR9D3_cd7IrDfnDrYjpQfYK-zgf6gBIU3ZsgTz6K4bzv64k/s1600/TOUR+BANNER.jpg


Description: https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNm1SH6Dv5RSukVAG-IofipwRrLBovgbM9deCSNFAoIzBx9iA-G1zoL3U3E_jbvbTZ4ftvVeYisZMAJcOvkAF4xjFo_Xas17p8rSxlRooU87S3Q5xnuH0xNWLUzF9CiVNtrrl41IzYCck/s1600/SOC+BOX+SET+PNG.pngSeasons of Change Box Set
Books 1-4 + Exclusive Bonus Stories
by Mia Hoddell

Genre: YA Romance
Release date: November 27th 2014

Blurb:
You can now get all four Amazon best-selling novellas in the Seasons of Change series, plus two exclusive short stories, in one box set.

These feel-good contemporary romances follow the seasons as characters change for the better, find themselves, and overcome fears.

All of the novellas are standalone reads, but can be enjoyed as a series because characters overlap. This box set includes:

Summer Demons:
 Jenna Shaw jumped on a plane and flew to Portugal to try and forget her past. However, forced to deal with her memories due to an ill-timed joke, Jenna’s holiday is derailed by the charismatic Ethan Brooks. She sees him as an annoyance; he sees her as a challenge. And when all of his usual tricks only serve to push her away, Ethan has to work harder than ever if he wants to win over and help his mysterious girl.

Winter Angel: When Amy’s suggestion of a beach holiday is overruled in favour of skiing she couldn’t have predicted it might make her break the one, and only, rule she has: not to commit to a serious relationship again. The minute she sees Luke, she knows something’s wrong, and her desire to fix people means she wants to be the one to help him. However, she didn’t go on holiday to fall for someone, and whether or not she can move past her insecurities will depend on whether Luke can face his biggest fear.

Autumn Ghosts: Only one person knows what truly lies in Ellie Jeffords’ heart, and that’s herself. Hating the course she is studying, Ellie is failing and when a friend’s cousin, Justin, offers to tutor her, she jumps at the chance. However, as the pressure of exams starts to break Ellie, Justin wants her to confide in him. The only problem is that he can’t persuade her to talk without revealing his own dark secret, and forcing Ellie to choose between her parents’ dreams and her own will cost her something she loves.

Spring Knight: Kayleigh Barrow is most comfortable on stage where she can pretend she’s someone else, but when auditions for the latest production are opened up to the entire university, the lines between fantasy and reality start to blur. Thrown together with renowned player, Aiden Hanson, she can’t longer hide her feelings for him. However, he’s never had a serious relationship and Kayleigh refuses to be another conquest. When her acting starts to become real and she can no longer hide behind her character, Kayleigh must decide whether Aiden’s worth the risk, or if he will end up breaking her heart.

Plus 2 exclusive short stories:
Summer Revenge:
 Jenna promised she’d get Ethan back for his prank, and it’s time to cash in. Read about what happened after the couple left Portugal.
Season of Love: There’s beach fun, flirting, and mischief as all of the Seasons of Change couples take part in a beach competition.


Buy it now, save 20% and get more content than if purchased separately.

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About the Author

Mia Hoddell lives in the UKwith her family and two cats. She spends most of her time writing or reading, loves anything paranormal and has an overactive imagination that keeps her up until the early hours of the morning.

With three poems published before the age of sixteen, Mia moved on to short stories but finding she had too much to tell with too little space, Mia progressed to novels. She started her first series (The Wanderer Trilogy) at the age of fourteen and since then hasn’t stopped writing. Seasons of Change is her third series and with an ever growing list of ideas, Mia is trying to keep up with the speed at which her imagination generates them.


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**Giveaway**
3x copies of Summer Demons and Winter Angel (ebooks)

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Excerpts
Spring Knight Excerpt
Black. It was the only colour she could see as she stood on top of the platform. Her vision had tunnelled with the waves of vertigo that hit her body, allowing only the dark colour into her eye line. With the strength of a gale force wind, it pounded on her chest, causing her to stumble back as its icy hold sent a shiver along her spine. The break from seeing the ground wasn’t enough, though. She couldn’t go far enough to feel safe. If she moved more than one step in any direction she would fall.
She felt dizzy ... lightheaded.
It was the worst possible time to find out she was scared of heights, but maybe it was the thought of jumping rather than the actual distance. Not only did she feel faint, but also sick. Kayleigh didn’t even know how those two actions could combine, but she let out a nervous giggle and hoped another type of blackness would capture her mind before she made a complete fool of herself. It probably made her sound insane, but she couldn’t stop the sound.
No longer could she find the answer to why she was on a platform, willing herself to fall. It had seemed logical and easy on the climb up, but now she suddenly felt as if she was standing on top of a building, rather than a few metres in the air. Her heart was pounding in her chest; the rhythm frantic as she urged herself to peer over the edge once more. Palms slick with sweat, her fingers slipping over each other, she twitched nervously as she strained her neck to catch a glimpse of the floor.
“I can do this. Just lean back and it will all be over,” she muttered to herself, only adding to the crazy image she had going on.
People were shuffling anxiously on the ground, unsettled by her actions. “Block them out, Kayleigh. You can do this,” she chanted ritually under her breath before she inhaled sharply. Slowly counting, she exhaled with a deep sigh when she reached twenty. Her whole body relaxed with the action and Kayleigh closed her eyes, trying to find a sense of peace and stillness. Unfortunately, all it did was make her knees weaker. Reopening her eyes, Kayleigh kept her head up and her chin parallel with the floor. If she didn’t look down, what she was about to do couldn’t scare her … at least that’s what she told herself.
Block it out. Everything. Focus on your breathing. It’ll be over in seconds.
Taking one last deep breath, her gaze hardened and she picked a spot across the room to focus on. She shuffled to the edge, her bare toes skimming the lip of the platform.
She was just about to turn around when something interrupted her focus. A door slammed hard, and into the room walked the last person she expected to see. His cool, blue eyes found hers instantly, holding multiple questions as to why she was doing what she was. Yet Kayleigh didn’t stop to think any further. The last thing she needed was to appear weak in front of him, and she’d only just calmed herself down.
Turning, Kayleigh edged back so that only her toes were balanced on the edge, her heels hanging off. She felt like a diver, but with worse balance since her legs had started to shake.
She couldn’t hold the position long.
“Ready!” she shouted, loud enough to silence the room. Normally she hated being the centre of attention, and wanted to shrink into the darkest corner possible. However, today she would kill anyone who wasn’t focused on her. Today she needed all eyes to be on her or everything was going to end badly.
She heard counting below. “Three ... Two ... One ...” As they reached the final number Kayleigh pushed all thoughts from her mind and leaned back, her arms crossed over her chest tightly.
Displacing her weight, her body fell.

Autumn Ghosts Excerpt
Ellie’s plan to wallow in self-pity alone didn’t last as long as she’d wished for. She had gotten through two beers and was halfway through a third when Aiden marched over to her.
“Don’t you think you’ve had enough, Elles?” he asked, looking pointedly at her bottle, which caused her to let out an exaggerated breath. The flirting from Aiden was annoying, but it irritated her more when he took on a brotherly role in Luke’s absence.
“I’m fine,” she huffed. “You’ve probably had more than me anyway.”
“But I can handle it better.” She could hear the smile in his words, but she refused to look up at him. Her hair had fallen forward, creating a physical wall between them, and she was thankful that it obscured her face from view.
“What’s up, Elles? You’re not yourself.”
“I’m fine, why do people keep asking me that?”
Aiden reached forward, pulling her hair back and tucking it behind her ear. It gained him a glare, but he was persistent. “Come on, Elles. It’s obvious you’re not. I’ve known you over twenty years.”
Ellie sighed, not wanting to reveal anything, especially to Aiden. “I’m fine.”
“Then why are you over here by yourself?”
“She’s not by herself. We’re here,” Jess called, and the tightness in Ellie’s chest eased at her friend’s rescue. “You are being no fun, though.”
Ellie wanted to head-butt the bar as she groaned. Instead, she downed the rest of her beer and turned to signal the bartender.
“No, she’s good. She’s had enough,” Aiden stated, interrupting before she could place her order.
“Seriously? You’re cutting me off? I’ve only had three.”
“That’s enough. I’m not getting my ass kicked by Luke because you came home drunk and miserable.”
“I’m not drunk,” Ellie protested, not bothering to deny his other accusation.
“Really?”
“Yup”
“Prove it then,” Aiden challenged, a sly smile and silent laugh shining in his eyes.
“How?” Ellie couldn’t help but be drawn in. She never backed down from a bet.
“Beat me in a game of pool.”
“You don’t think I can?”
“No, I know you can normally. You’re one of the few people who are better than me. But … I don’t think you will today.”
Ellie’s face hardened in concentration, studying the table. “You’re on, but if I win I get all of your winnings from tonight.”
“That’s my girl. If I win, you go home.”
“I’m not your girl,” Ellie stated, her voice devoid of all emotion as she took the cue he offered and walked past him.

Summer Demons Excerpt
She saw red. Seeping into the crystal clear water it spread, bleeding and merging as the ripples around her pushed it closer towards her feet. The deep crimson only grew darker as it surrounded her.
She could feel her breathing quicken, coming in short, sharp rasps as she started to panic. Her chest constricted, an unbearable pressure tightening like a boa constrictor refusing to release her from its clutches. Her throat felt dry, her increased breathing doing nothing to help the situation as she forced herself to swallow in the hope of dislodging the lump that had formed there.
This isn’t happening. This isn’t real. I came here to escape this, she told herself repeatedly as she laid there, her turquoise bikini embellished with golden sequins shining in the sun as her back tanned slowly. Bringing up an arm to adjust her chestnut-brown hair that was dangling in the water, she tried to pull away before the colour reached her and tainted the beautiful locks. The damage done would be irreparable if it touched her.
Moving it just in time, she threw it over her shoulder so it rested between her shoulder blades, the damp tips feeling nice as they cooled her back by trailing droplets of water down either side. She tried not to flinch as her gaze returned to the bloodied water that lapped at the li-lo beneath her chin. With every wave it seemed to grow closer, making its way further up the yellow plastic to try and touch her. The tapping that was normally so soothing tormented her now, like a crowd clapping and cheering her sanity on as it fled for safety.
Rather than listen to the logical side of her brain, her body had other ideas. Shuffling back, she put a bigger distance between her face and the abnormal pool beneath her. As her toes dipped into the cool water behind her though, she flinched, automatically drawing herself up so that no part of her body was near the edge. No matter how disgusted she was, she couldn’t stop staring; her eyes were hypnotised by the gentle movements that swirled the colour into the water even more. The red had become so thick that not one tile beneath the surface was visible.
The more she stared, the more she remembered.
The more she remembered, the more she was pulled into her memory.
It might not have been real at that moment in time, but it had been, and Jenna was once again pulled into the unbearable memory. 
Winter Angel Excerpt
Taking Liam’s silence as it was meant—an end to the conversation—Amy turned back to Jenna, whose head was leaning on Ethan’s shoulder, their hands linked on his lap. They were never not touching.
“So what do you think?”
“About what?” Jenna replied. Her eyes flicked over to Amy, but her head did not move.
“Bus guy. What did you think of him?”
“He’s okay I guess. I wasn’t really paying attention. He didn’t look that pleased to be here, though.”
“He was hot, right?”
Jenna lifted her head to look at Ethan, who was watching and waiting for her response. Smiling mischievously at him, Jenna replied, “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind hooking up with him.”
She glanced at Ethan to see his reaction, but he just rolled his eyes. “Nice try, but I’m not biting.”
Jenna sighed, but returned her attention back to Amy. “Just don’t do anything stupid, yeah? You don’t know anything about him.”
“Yeah, yeah, I hear you … nothing stupid.” Amy brushed off the comment. Jenna had always been a worrier, but Amy preferred to just throw herself into things head first, the consequences be damned.
“Amy ...” Jenna’s tone was low in warning, knowing that the callous way in which she was brushed off did not bode well.
“I’m not going to go knocking on his door or anything, don’t worry. I just might happen to bump into him a few times around here. You know I don’t do serious relationships anymore. I’m not stupid enough to fall for that trick again.”
Jenna shook her head in despair, knowing it was futile to argue. “Whatever, just don’t cause trouble.”
“Me? Trouble? I’m an angel.”
Everyone on the minibus rolled their eyes.
“Sure you are, Amy, and I’m the tooth fairy.”
They laughed at her disgruntled face as the driver pulled up in front of their home for the week.