Wednesday, May 30, 2018

Amy Cole Has Lost Her Mind by Elizabeth McGivern - Book Tour


 Amy Cole Has Lost Her Mind 


Amy Cole is a stay-at-home mum and a woman on the edge.
After a very public breakdown and failed suicide attempt, Amy finds herself trying to make it through her everyday life as a high-functioning zombie.
Elle De Bruyn is a force of nature ready to shake Amy back to life whether she likes it or not.
After a fortuitous meeting, the two embark on a journey together which will change them both and help them find out exactly what they’re capable of when rock bottom is just the beginning.




Excerpt
  This extract takes place when Amy and Elle are out shopping for items to complete ‘Operation Sex Kitten’. Amy and her husband Ben haven’t been intimate with each other for six months and our heroine is getting desperate. She has been convinced to get out of her comfort zone and do something a little new with a reluctant makeover for her next date night.


We meandered through the rows and rows of sex toys and my novice nature was clearly etched on my face because a walking, talking, fetus with a name-tag approached me to ask if I needed help.
“I don’t want to be incredibly condescending here but I have stretch marks that are older than you, I really don’t want to take sex advice from a tiny child,” I said.
She mumbled ‘bitch’ under her breath, and I didn’t blame her. Nerves hadn’t brought out the best in my character but I wasn’t in the mood to be polite to a teenager who wanted to talk to me about my clitoris.
“Amy, over here,” called Elle from the back of the shop.
She was pulling up black latex gloves that went right over her elbow and she was looking fierce. I was terrified.
“Imagine rocking up to Smug Club with these bad boys on, eh? Throw me the whip over, this is epic.”
That was a sentence I wasn’t expecting to hear this morning, but I obliged. The sound from the first crack of the whip made the grumpy fetus assistant come over and ask again if she could help us.
“You’ve got a challenge on your hands tonight. We’re going to kit out that very nervous looking woman over there and make her feel like an empowered, sex goddess, you got it?” Elle asked.
“We’re closing in a half hour,” she replied, dryly.
“Then you’d better move quick, darling,” replied Elle.
She looked me up and down, trying to figure my size – well, that’s what I hoped she was doing – and walked off.
“Fucking hell, what’s her problem?”
“I may have been one of those horrible customers who are mean to young people about three minutes ago?”
"Ah. Well, then we'll be lucky if she brings back anything other than one of those giant inflatable penis costumes. Will that work?"
“Not funny.”
Despite my rudeness, the grumpy fetus (real name: Lucy) brought back a selection of rather nice – albeit flimsy – lingerie. I was pushed into a changing room and faced with a cornucopia of choice, I nervously tried on the first item my hands reached.
It was lilac. I hated lilac.
It reminded me of my granny’s house. I dutifully pulled the satin material over my head and shimmied around to make sure it was covering all the lumps and bumps.
“I don’t feel very sexy,” I called out to Elle.
“I’ll be the judge of that, come out so I can have a look.”
I walked out and was greeted with a large belly-laugh from Elle and a look of confusion from Lucy.
"Christ, alive! Amy, you're still wearing a fucking sports bra underneath, of course, you don't feel sexy. There's more material in that sorry excuse of a bra than the rest of the outfit.”
“I thought it was more hygienic to keep it on,” I pleaded.
“It’s yellow, and I can see stains on it. Is it meant to be white?” she asked.
“I don’t remember, it’s been in my possession for…a while.”
The yellowing material squashed down my chest into one tube-like mound and wasn’t doing the sweetheart neckline of the lilac baby-doll nightie any favours.
“I’ll go get some bras while we’re at it,” offered Lucy.
When she left, Elle pushed me back into the changing room and ordered me to take off the “monstrosity” that was my bra and promise to burn it when I got home.
The rest of the exercise was slightly more successful. I stayed firm on my stance of anything that resembled floss was to be kept away from my nether regions and we eventually settled on a black frilly number that helped keep things up where they were meant to. It also sucked in some of the mum-tum I was sporting.
I had to admit that I was impressed when I looked at the woman in the mirror. With a bit of lippy, she could pass for an attractive specimen that may even get her husband interested in putting down his phone for the evening to look at her.
“Can I get you anything else?” Lucy asked, already hoping we’d leave so she could close up and get home.
“Yes, let’s see some bondage stuff,” said a gleeful, Elle.
“Bondage? Are you kidding me?” I was already out of my depth by purchasing the black frilly napkin that I was trying to pass off as underwear.
“Trust me, you’re going to need this with the next part of ‘Operation Sex Kitten’”
“This humiliation has an operational name now, great!”
Lucy brought over a selection of bizarre looking items, one of which was a ball gag.
“No, just no. Let me stop you there, Lucy.”
“These are just suggestions. Have you ever done a lap dance?” she asked.
“Oh yeah, quite a few when I was an exotic dancer on my last maternity leave. It was just to help keep the finances afloat.”
“Really?” asked the shocked looking assistant.
“No, Lucy. I was not an exotic dancer but was there really need for that much shock on your face?”
“I just thought with your thighs it was a pretty risky employment. Dancers need to have these strong thighs for the pole dancing bits and yours, well, they’re kind of flabby.”
The silence was deafening as Elle and I just stared at her. While I was trying to decide which thickness of leather restraint would be best to strangle her with, Elle stepped in and thanked her for her help.
After Lucy strutted back to the till to start cashing up, Elle said:
“She doesn’t know what she’s talking about, I think you could crush a man with those thighs.”



 About Elizabeth McGivern
Elizabeth McGivern is a former journalist turned hostage-in-her-own-home surrounded by three men and a horrible dog named Dougal. 
In an effort to keep her sanity she decided to write a parenting blog after the birth of her first son so she can pinpoint the exact moment she failed as a mother. 
In an unexpected turn of events, the blog helped her to find a voice and connect with parents in similar situations; namely those who were struggling with mental health issues and parenting. It was because of this encouragement – and wanting to avoid her children as much as possible – her debut novel, Amy Cole has lost her mind, was born. 
Elizabeth lives in Northern Ireland although wishes she could relocate to Iceland on a daily basis. To witness her regular failings as a parent you can find her on: 

Picture credited to Jess Lowe 



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