I have a confession to make. I am a synaesthete. It took me a long time to understand what that means. I see the days of the week, and to a lesser extent, the months of the year, letters of the alphabet and numbers as colours. I couldn’t understand why other people looked at me oddly when I said Monday was blue. Wasn’t it blue to everyone?

Monday is blue. Sunday is blue as well, but they are different shades of blue. Monday’s blue is dark and heavy, like an evening twilight, whereas Sunday’s blue is light, clear and dreamy. 

Another synaesthete will understand what I’m trying to say. If they have grapheme-colour synaesthesia, the most common form and the one I have. They will argue with me, of course, because they will see Monday and Sunday as different colours to mine.  

Perhaps one in every hundred people experiences this fascinating condition, described by the UK Synaesthesia Association in the following way:
In its simplest form it is best described as a “union of the senses” whereby two or more of the five senses that are normally experienced separately are involuntarily and automatically joined together. Some synaesthetes experience colour when they hear sounds or read words. Others experience tastes, smells, shapes or touches in almost any combination. These sensations are automatic and cannot be turned on or off. Synaesthesia isn’t a disease or illness and is not at all harmful. In fact, the vast majority of synaesthetes couldn’t imagine life without it.

To put synaesthesia in context... McConaughey’s character in True Detective is Rustin Cohle, a gifted sleuth. He has synaesthesia. On the trail of a serial killer, he can “smell the psychosphere” and he “tastes” aluminium and ash in the air. 

Famous Synaesthetes
Synaesthesia is reportedly eight times more common among artists, musicians and writers. The creative connections between the senses are seemingly heightened in synaesthetes.

Pharrell Williams sees music in colour, describing his synaesthesia as a conduit to God.

Jimi Hendrix described chords and harmonies as colours. 

Edgar Degas and Edvard Munch were both synaesthetes.

In his biography of Marilyn Monroe, Norman Mailer said, "she has a displacement of the senses that others take drugs to find".

Tilda Swinton thinks in food. She explained: “The word 'word' is a sort of gravy. 'Table' is a slightly dry cake. 'Tomato' is not actually tomato, it's lemony.”

Mozart said the key of D Major had a warm “orangey” sound to it, while B flat minor was blackish. A major was a rainbow of colours to him.

Vladimir Nabokov was a self-described synaesthete, who at a young age equated the number five with the colour red.

Why am I blogging about synaesthesia today? Well, today I’m celebrating the release of my young adult horror novella, Lovelady's Colours. I always wanted to write the story of a synaesthete. In this book, Lovelady’s colour related synaesthesia has a profound effect on his life and on the lives of those around him. The tagline for this book is ‘Lovelady sees the colours of nightmares’.
   
One day science might unlock the mystery that is synaesthesia. Until then, maybe we should enjoy the products of some of the talented people who have this incredible condition. I’m humbled to be in their company. Now, since it’s Tuesday, I’ll get on with the rest of my pine-forest green coloured day.

Oh, and why does Derek taste of earwax? Click here to find out more. 

Lovelady's Colours is available from: 
Amazon
MuseItUp
Barnes and Noble
Apple
Kobo

Lovelady sees the colours of nightmares...
 
Forty years ago, five teenagers died in horrific circumstances inside the old house known as Lovelady’s Gwal. Now, the only survivor, Jake Merrion, has returned to tell their story. 
 
Back in 1975, sixteen year old Lovelady Jones was a boy with no identity. A boy who knew he was really a girl. A boy whose life was dominated by colour.

Lovelady can’t ignore the strange hold the house has over him, or the way it appears to respond to his emotions. Or the strange painting on the walls of Lovelady’s Gwal. Is it coincidence a new colour brightens with each friend’s brutal murder?

Is Lovelady prepared for the final reveal? Are you?

Excerpt

​2015

Over the old house, the sky has a curious red-gold hue that causes the cameraman to click his tongue in disapproval. The interviewer flicks a strand of long blonde hair back from her face and begins her introduction. Behind her, steely shadows lengthen around a single, castellated tower.

“For the first time in forty years, acclaimed writer and director, Jake Merrion, is returning to his home town of Llanbach in North Wales. His mission? To finally tell the story of Lovelady’s Gwâl. For a few weeks in the 1970s, this quirky sixteenth-century lodge made worldwide headlines when five teenagers died in mysterious and horrific circumstances within its walls. Their killer was never found. Was it a cult? Even, as some have suggested, a bizarre suicide pact? Possibly a brief but violent psychic manifestation? Ghostly homeowner Lovelady returning from beyond the grave to express her disapproval at the noisy modern-day intruders who used her home as a drink and drugs den? Merrion himself has never talked about what happened to his friends. Yet, when the authorities proposed the demolition of Lovelady’s Gwâl it was Jake Merrion who stepped in and bought this property, believed to be the oldest in the ancient region of Clwyd.”

She turns to the tall, dark-haired man at her side.

“What was your motive in saving Lovelady’s Gwâl from the bulldozers?”

Merrion’s eyes are green and curiously catlike. He takes a moment to look up at the house before turning back to her. “Five people I knew and loved died inside that house in 1975. I suppose I wanted it to remain standing as a memorial to them.”

“Yet you must be aware of the attention this place gets from ghost hunters, goths, and conspiracy theorists. Then, of course, there has been the recent spate of teenage suicides that have taken place here, each one a grisly attempt to re-enact one of the 1975 deaths. Press and internet speculation abounds surrounding the negative energy that appears to emanate from Lovelady’s Gwâl. Have you any comment to make about that?”

One corner of his mouth lifts slightly. “No.”

In spite of her obvious annoyance at such blatant non-cooperation, his lopsided smile is irresistible. She returns it, before trying a different approach. “Who was Lovelady?”

For the first time he looks directly at the camera. “That’s something I don’t suppose any of us will ever know for sure.”

The interviewer responds to a signal from the cameraman, and turns to Jake. “The light’s going so we’ll have to leave it there for now. We have footage from 1975 to splice in and some of the newspaper reports. I also have some questions about the film you are making, but we can do those in the hotel.”

“Okay.” He starts to turn away, then swings sharply back round to face her. “What did you just say?”

“Nothing. I didn’t speak.” She takes a step away from him, startled by the intensity in the depths of his eyes. “Why? What did you think I said?”

He looks up at the house and laughs. “I thought I heard a woman’s voice saying ‘Welcome home, Jake’.” He runs a hand through his hair. “This old place can do that to you.” He doesn’t elaborate on what ‘that’ might be. “Look, unless Llanbach has changed a lot while I’ve been away, it won’t boast much in the way of decent places to eat, but would you like to grab some dinner?”

She smiles up at him. He might be in his mid-fifties, but with his cat’s eyes and black hair that has only lightly been touched by grey at the temples, Jake Merrion is stunning. She too glances across at the house. At the oddly named Lovelady’s Gwâl. A faint breeze stirs the unkempt grass. The blank windows reflect nothing back at her. And something—some primal instinct that she can’t explain—tells her it would be a very bad idea to accept Jake Merrion’s invitation.        

“Sorry, I have things to do,” she says, stuffing her hands into her pockets and walking quickly away.

Lovelady's Colours will be published on February 16. It is available for pre-order from:
Amazon
MuseItUp
Barnes and Noble
Apple
Kobo

Welcome to the 127th week of My Sexy Saturday.

This week’s theme is A Sexy Encounter

We want to show you, our readers, those characters, the ones who can’t get enough of each other. These are the characters we can’t forget, the ones we want to take home and keep forever. We love to share the kisses, the looks or touches of each and every one of these special characters with you. That's what My Sexy Saturday is all about. 

As always, the rules of My Sexy Saturday are simple. Each blogger posts an excerpt that is 7 paragraphs or 7 sentences or 7 words that coveys true sexiness between their characters. My excerpt this week comes from my forthcoming release Valley of Nightmares. 
​
Excerpt
His body pressed impatient and demanding against me. Gently he took hold of my chin, angling my face up to bring my lips closer to his mouth. As he kissed me I could feel his pulse race, instantly in time with my own. Our tongues met and began to dance and play, confident now in our knowledge of each other, delighting in anticipation of further sensual exploration. Our breathing grew heavy and languid. My nipples tensed painfully, aching for his wet tongue to soothe and torment them. As he ran his hand gently across my cheek and down my neck, I caught hold of it and placed it on my left breast. He swirled his finger around my nipple, through the thin cotton of my nightgown and flicked it lightly. I gasped and lifted my hips off the bed toward him.

“Not so fast,” he murmured. With tiny, staccato kisses, he moved down the length of my neck, and along my collarbone to the neckline of my gown. The tip of his tongue ran teasingly along the line where cloth and skin met. I shivered wildly as he continued this sensual exploration; his mouth, almost rough against the smoothness of my skin, slid lower and into my cleavage. Interrupting this anointment of my body, he pulled my nightgown up and swiftly over my head. I cried out in triumph and relief as his lips at last closed around my nipple and his tongue flicked my maddened flesh. Hurriedly, he removed his own clothes while I lay on my side, watching him. When he returned to the bed, he gave me a mischievous grin, before tipping me onto my back and sliding a possessive hand up along the inside of my thighs. He lay on his side, propped on one elbow so that he could watch me. His cool fingers were like an electric shock against my moist warmth, and I sighed, opening my legs wider to allow him access. His touch flirted with my flesh, teasing and stroking before delving deep inside me. Circling my throbbing clitoris with his thumb, he brought his lips back to suckle my nipple. The invisible cord that bound the nerve endings in those two places together tightened inside me, and I bucked wildly against him.

My hand trailed across his hip, needing to touch him, to feel him. Holding his length in my hand I guided him, with infuriating slowness, inch by inch into me. Ignoring his groan of frustration, I continued to control him, until he was fully inside.

“You said, ‘Not so fast,’” I reminded him teasingly, whispering it against his lips.

Only then did I release him and raise my hips to meet his wild thrusts, pushing back against him so that I could feel him filling me. The steel of his cock slammed into me faster and wilder, and I wrapped my legs around him, deepening the sensation until I teetered on the edge of madness. He sensed my climax building and, with a wicked grin in the half-light, pushed hard and then held still.

“Do I have to say it again? Not. So. Fast,” he murmured, stopping my movements by clamping his hands on my hips and punctuating the words with kisses along my jaw.

My own hands beat wildly and helplessly against his chest until, taking pity on me at last, he lunged again, tipping us both—me gasping and him shuddering—over the edge and into a maelstrom of ecstasy.

Valley of Nightmares is available to pre-order from
Amazon
Samhain
Kobo
iTunes
Google Play

If you want to find out more about My Sexy Saturday, please click here

Readers, please visit us at our new Author Central where we’ll be sharing even more from our authors besides Saturday’s snippets. We’d love to have each and every one of you there as we’re starting new things this month with fun and prizes along the way.

Don't forget to check out this week's other My Sexy Saturday Bloggers!
Kacey Hammell
Jessica E. Subject
S. J. Maylee
Unrandom Randomness - Bronwyn Heeley
Victoria Adams
Daryl Devore
Lucy Felthouse
April Kelley
Angelica Dawson
Layna Pimentel
Naomi Shaw
Carly Carson Sexy Romance
Lily Harlem - Accelerated Passion
Sara Fields
Marie Tuhart
Hello Romance
Teresa Noelle Roberts
XtraOrdinary Romance
Carollina Valdez
Dee Ann Palmer
Christi Barth's Blog
H K Carlton
Kisses, Caresses, Whispers in the Night
Dakota Skye --Indulge in Your Wildest Fantasies
F. Leonora Solomon
Maggie Carpenter - Spanking, Romance, BDSM
Savanna Kougar Title Magic