AG Press

Book Store

Home
Alysun Sanders
Andrew Cormier
Carol Green
Cheryl Pillsbury
Chessly Nesci
Durl Lovell
Gladys Hobson
Lanaia Lee
Mason E. Dunning
Michael Granger
Professor A.Y. Mshelia
Rosemary Chaulk
Shannon Nicole Wells
Sonja Smolec
Poetic Monthly Magazine
Holiday Cards
Gladys Hobson
Blazing Embers $15.95 
 
Copies
 

Wow. I don't say this often. Ms. Hobson’s writing is quite good indeed. There's such a wistful, genuine quality to her style that it's hard not to be drawn in right away. Unpretentious — so nice to see that in writing once in a great while. Very unique, and very charming.

 

Andrew F. O’Hara, editor, The Jimston Journal

Author, The Swan, Tales of the Sacramento Valley


 
 

In my mind’s eye, I could see the ecstatic looks on the face of the pretty naked female as her lean, handsome, virile lover makes his erotic manoeuvre down her hot moist body. I could feel him kissing her throat and breasts, licking her belly button, slowly mouthing her body as his lust takes him further and further south to where my imagination is being led. Although the lover’s dark curly head disappears from the screen, the girl’s expressive face, her sighs and moans, tell me that he’s reached his target for tonight. Mm, hot stuff on late night television and very informative too.

Things were not so when I was young, or if they were, I never knew about them. When I went to see our doctor just before I married Roger, he informed me of a certain procedure to ensure a more comfortable wedding night. It was most embarrassing. I just sat there having a man tell me what I should do with my fingers to stretch a membrane I didn’t know I had. Except for the name of a messy contraceptive gel, that was the only sex education either of us received. Not exactly exciting stuff. Was that all there was to nuptial bliss?

I smiled at my recollections of our wedding night. Dull stuff compared with my TV drama! There had been no preliminaries and no foreplay. It had been a tiring day and Roger, unable to control himself, went straight in for the kill. It was a single push lasting a few seconds, nothing more. But it was so very powerful: the symbol of our love and desire to be united for ever. Of course, I dare say Roger might have seen it differently, not so much a covenant of love as a lack of control on his part. But, even so, it was a very special ritual and symbolised our wedding day vow that God had joined us together and no one would ever come between us.

"Hello, Alice. I haven’t seen you for ages." Torn from my nostalgic reminiscing of forty-five years ago, I looked up to see Tony Bradshaw, a friend of Roger’s, smiling at me.

"Hello, Tony," I said, surprised to see him. "I’ve been around. Where have you been, the Bahamas?"

 

 

Gladys Hobson

When Angels Lie $14.95

Copies
 

“When Angels Lie” is a dramatic story following the emotional and spiritual struggles of two gay priests, who, after forming a deeply committed relationship, faithfully follow their priestly calling while keeping their personal lives confidential. The story is set within country parishes coping with the tensions of challenging situations and controversial changes. Dedicated and sensitive leadership is called for. But bizarre events involving teenage lovers, threaten the relationship and all that has been achieved.

 

 

 

 

Prologue

 

Rita stood over Paul, looking at him accusingly. “You’re a fool, Paul Stringer; can’t you see what’s happening? You’re living a lie. It’s become infectious and affecting your thinking. How can you minister to others when you need to be whole yourself?”

            He jumped out of his chair and walked away from her, putting up a hand as if to ward her off. “Don’t start again. I can’t argue with you. I am what I am.”

            “Rubbish! You’ve given the Devil a foothold in your ministry.”

            Angela stirred and mumbled, “Don’t hurt me, Paul darling; I don’t want you to hurt me.” She moaned a little but was soon snoring again.

            Rita frowned and looked at him closely. “Is there something you’re not telling me, Paul?”

            Paul groaned in frustration. He was about to explain when the doorbell rang, followed by an urgent pounding of someone’s fist on the door. He hurried to the hall and opened the door. Kevin Raymond burst in, cursing and swearing. Paul tried to hold him back but Kevin thumped him on the jaw, knocking him sideways.

            Fury flashing in his narrow beady eyes, the churchwarden held up a little gold cross hanging from a fragile chain. “I found this on the chancel steps. The last time I saw it was around Angela’s neck. I’ll bloody kill her!”

            He barged into the sitting room, pushing aside Rita, who was trying to stop him. “Get out of the way. You’re nothing but a bloody witch.”

            When he saw his daughter lying prostrate on the couch, he stopped as if unsure what to do next.

            Angela began moaning again, “Paul, don’t hurt me.” Suddenly, she rolled from under her coat and off the sofa. Still muttering his name, she lay on the floor completely naked. Trickles of blood stained her thighs and a little blue gem twinkled in her belly button.

            “What the hell?” bellowed Kevin, rounding on Paul?

            Paul, still shaken by the earlier assault, felt a painful blow to his stomach and then to his chin. The room swam around him....

 

DESIRE

$16.95

 

Copies
 

 

Gladys Hobson is 75 years old and counts training for church ministry as part of her mature education, so some people may be surprised to discover a rather steamy side to her writing.  Not that any of it is tasteless or gratuitous.  Indeed, sex scenes are going to be inevitable in a book that tells the story of a young woman coming of age and falling in love.  In Awakening Love, the heroine has to choose between different suitors at the same time as coping with her emerging sexuality.  Her ambition is to be a top dress designer, but she becomes distracted by war hero Arthur and his younger brother Charles. Adding a rather more sinister twist is the dominating figure of her boss, Robert.  Mrs Hobson has come relatively late to the literary world, but appears to have taken to it like the proverbial duck to water, Review by Allan Tunningly. Westmorland Gazette, (Leisure supplement) Friday April 25th 2008

 

 

 

 

 

‘Oh, come on, June, give me a chance to prove we’re a perfect team. You don’t need anyone else for sex. Believe me, it doesn’t come any better.’

She struggled to free herself. ‘Let me go at once! I’m going home. You’ve no right to stop me.’

He gripped her arms and captivated her with his smouldering eyes. ‘You’re nothing without me. I’ve made you as a designer, now let me show you what else I can do for you.’ He bent his head to kiss her again.

She turned her face away. ‘No, Rob. Let me go!’

Still holding on to her arms, he pushed her a little way from him. A lecherous look crept over his face. His deep dimples became rugged clefts and his dark eyes glittered under their heavy brows. His smile twisted with lustful intent. When he spoke, his voice was deep and seductive. There was no mistaking the true meaning of his words: ‘We have business to finish first.’

Excited by his compelling sexuality but fearful of what he might do, her heart raced inside her breast. ‘I’ve had enough of your business for today.’ Her voice quivered uncontrollably.

‘We haven’t done anything… yet!’

She was terrified by her inability to control the situation. ‘Let me go! Let me go!’

But he pulled her to the carpeted floor and pinned her down.

‘Come on, just relax,’ he said calmly, as though talking to an overwrought child.

‘Get off me! Get off!’

She pushed and thumped but knew she was powerless to move him. Under his weight, struggling was quite useless; she was just burning up energy. She waited for him to make a move so she could act: kick, scratch, knee him in the groin.