Kate Walker: Hunkthighs and Shoulderman

Well, Hunkthighs and Shoulderman got you talking - as I thought they would. I was so glad to see these two wonderful hunks back in circulation - it's been too quiet without them! Welcome back Clint and Troy!

I hope that soon either Clint or Troy will pick a winner of Anne's prize - but in the mean time, I have another winner to announce for you.

Elizabeth Oldfield has read all the answers to her question and she emailed me with her response :

I thought the responses to the blog were all interesting - and I agreed with so many - but my choice as winner is Yvonne Lindsay. I still have a copy of Mary Wibberley's 'To Writers With Love' on my book shelves, together with classics by Jane Austen, Charlotte Bronte and Daphne Du Maurier. There's a wealth of literature out there

So Yvonne - congratulations - you win a copy of Vintage Babes. Please contact me - I think I still have your address somewhere but if you could send it to me then I'll be sure I have exactly the right one. (and for those who didn;t win Vintage Babes this time - I have a second chance to win coming up soon)

I too have a copy of Mary Wibberley's To Writers With Love on my shelf - on I was thrilled to have her sign for me personally when we both were at a Writing Day in Eccles where I was giving a talk. It's a writing book that's fun just to read as well as passing on information. I haven't read it for a while so I don't know if any of that information has dated since it came out in 1985 - but there's one thing that hasn't dated and that's her list of excuses (a 'Baker's Dozen' ) for not writing a book when you say you want to. Each and every one of them is dealt with and demolished.

And there's a point in there where she says 'What are you doing reading when you should be writing. Put this book down now - at once- and write!' It used to work every time.

Finally - thanks to Lidia and many others who have emailed me privately to check that the BM and I - and the cats of course - are still OK in spite of the deluges and floods that we have been experiencing in the UK -for ever it seems though it's probably ju st a month or so.

Luckily, where we live in Lincolnshire we are on the top of an escarpment and so safe from the waters of the River Trent and the electricity and the fresh water supplies have been fine so far - fingers crossed for the future. Many many people have not been so lucky and my thoughts are with those who are facing the ruin of their homes or are enduring life without power or fresh water. What a summer! Luckily today the sky is blue and clear and the sun is shining in it - so there will be a little respite from the rain and hopefully a lowwering of the dangerous water levels - I hope!

Perhaps we could send in Hunkthighs and Shoulderman to join the rescue efforts - I'm sure they'd be wonderful.

Any excuse to show the pic of these two great hunks!

And as someone over on the comments section suggested a 'towel-off' between Clint and Troy and another rather attractive Aussie - what better excuse for:

Hugh in a towel

I can't tell you how thrilled and honoured I was when my round robin 'would you like to post in my Great Big Blog Party' request resulted in today's post. When I asked my friend Anne Gracie for a contribution I hoped she'd respond - what I never anticipated was a very special post, one that raised the ugly spectre of jealousy in another friend - Anne McAllister - normally the most generous of people but who in this case was reduced to muttering enviously 'I want that . . .'

I know how she felt - I'd have felt exactly the same. A post from Anne with her warm, witty style, her love - a love we share - for atrocious puns - and her knowledge and understanding of writing and the publishing industry would have been just great. I never dreamed that I would get my very own Hunkthighs and Shoulderman story!

I first heard of Anne Gracie when my then editor told me that she had spent the evening before reading Tallie's Knight for the third time. Knowing the taste in books that this editor and I shared, this was enough to send me hunting for the book - and when I found it I devoured it at a sitting and then went and found Anne Gracie's other Harlequin Historicals - Gallant Waif and An Honourable Thief. And I loved them all. At the same time, Anne herself had joined a M&B loop that I was on and her posts often reduced me to tears of laughter as I read them - it was either that or nodding in agreement with something she said that was so full of knowledge and common sense.

Then in 2004, when I made the trip to Australia and spoke at the RWAus Conference in Coogee Beach, I was able to meet Anne herself in person - and found her to be as warm and witty and wonderful as her posts had been. Our time at the Conference passed way too quickly, but I have truly special memories of a shared breakfast with Anne G, Anne McAllister, Marion Lennox, and the BM of course, in a café overlooking the sea and feeling that I had come to know these women so much in the short time we had available that they would always be part of my life even though they were thousands of miles away.

These days Anne no longer writes for Harlequin - but Harlequin Historicals' loss is single titles' gain - her Perfect books - The Pefect Rake - The Perfect Waltz - The Perfect Kiss - The Perfect Stranger are all available to delight fans of her work (amongst whom one Sid the Cat counts himself as you'll see from the picture of him in this blog). Her newest title The Stolen Princess will be on sale from January 2008.

And Hunkthighs and Shoulderman?

Well I'll let Anne herself tell you about them. Just let me say that I couldn't be happier to have these two hunks grace my blog - it's a thrill almost equivalent to the possibilty of a certain Hugh-in-a-towel wring a post for me.

Here's Anne:

Some years ago, when I was a very new and green author, I was invited to join the Harlequin Mills and Boon authors' loop. On that loop, I met the most wonderful group of women -- some of the most famous and much-beloved names in romance writing. It was extraordinary how warm and welcoming they were to an obscure beginner from downunder, one who, moreover, wrote historicals. (I was the only historical writer on the loop at the time.)
But those women became my friends. We shared heaps -- we laughed and cried and ranted and soothed. It was on that loop that Hunkthighs and Shoulderman were born -- I have a silly streak a mile wide, and from from time to time something would strike me as funny, and I'd write a story, just for the loop.
Kate this one's for you. Congratulations on the 50th book.
Anne Gracie

What Women Want

"Women are a mystery!" Troy Hunkthighs tossed his money down on the bar and ordered a beer. "A complete mystery!"

His best mate, Clint Shoulderman looked up from something he was writing. "Yeah, Hunk, you're right," he said morosely, and returned to his scribbling.

"Whatcha writing, Clint?"

"A pome."

"A pome? Oh, jeeze mate, not to--"

"Yeah, to The Babe. I figure women like pomes, so if it's a good one, she might take me back."

"Mate,she dumped you a year ago." Hunkthighs frowned. "And didn't you take that girl, whatzername, out last night? The hot blonde."

Clint gave him a gloomy look. "For a start she gets me name wrong. All night she calls me Lint. And then she ups and brushes me off, just like a piece of fluff on a black jacket! I ask you, Hunk, is that any way for a girl to treat a guy?"

"Terrible, mate. No heart at all." Hunk said brightening as a group of Hot Young Things arrived in the bar.

"Yeah," Clint said. "So I'm trying again for The Babe. If I can just get this pome right..."

"Yeah, mate, you go ahead and write it. I'll go and do some research into women for ya."

Hunk hitched up his jeans and rocked on over.

"G'day, ladies. Yuz all look real hot. Anyone wanna get it off with me?" he said, the height of coolth.

"I'll think about it," a girl wearing a moulded-on lepardskin dress said carelessly. She sipped her Raging Orgasm. "Is that your friend over there? What's he doing?

"Don't worry about him. I'm the fun guy around here. He's just writing a pome."

"A pome?"All the girls stared. "What for?"

"Oh, to some woman who broke his heart."

"Awwww, that's so sweet," the women cooed and hurried over to soothe Clint Shoulderman's broken heart.

"Hey, wait for me," Hunk said.

"Rack off, this is women's business," Miss moulded-on lepardskin dress told him sharply. "Your friend is the Sensitive Type. You wouldn't understand. He needs a woman's touch."

"Hey, I'm sensitive. I need a woman's touch, yez can touch me anywhere," Hunk called after them, but it was too late. The women were swarming around Shoulderman.

Depressed, Hunk decided to drown his sorrows. He'd forgotten how good a broken heart was for attracting chicks. If only Miss Pouty Luscious, the love of his life, was here to see how she'd broken his heart.

He'd show them all who was the sensitive type. He pulled out an old envelope and started composing a poem to Pouty on the back of it.

Oh Pouty with your lips so red,
I think of you each night in bed.
Your bum looks great in tight blue jeans-

"What rhymes with jeans? Beans... means... steams... Nah, scrub that line." He chewed on his pencil a moment, then wrote,

Your bum looks great in tight white pants,
It jiggles when you try to dance.

Yeah, that was it. Women couldn't resist the sensitive poetry writing type. He looked around for the moulded-on lepardskin dress to read his pome to her, but they'd all gone, taking Clint with them.

"Damn," he said to the barman. "Waste of a good pome. Who understands what women want anyway?"

"Other women," the barman replied. He slid a cautious look around the bar to see if anyone was watching, then leaned forward and whispered, "But if ya really want to understand women I've got something that'll help."

Hunk leaned forward and whispered back. "Sure mate. I'll try anything."

"OK." The barman looked around again, then slid something across the bar to Hunk, fast. "Here ya go, keep it outta sight. "

Hunk looked down. "A book?"

"Not just any book, stupid. It's a romance, one by Kate Walker. Now put it away quick before anyone sees you with it."

Hunk managed to read the title before he pocketed the book. He nodded. He could fancy himself as a sheikh. "And you reckon this will help me understand women."

"Yeah. Make your hair curl, that book will."

Hunkthighs stared at the barman's bald head.

"Damn, it must really be hot!"

"It is mate, it is!"

Hunk drank the last of his beer. Despite his failure with Miss moulded-on leopardsk

in dress, he was pretty pleased with himself. He was onto a sure thing from now on. Finally he was going to understand women. And get his hair curled. Who'd a thought you could get all that from a book?