New pricing for Vokhtah

I’ve just changed the price of Vokhtah on Amazon to $4.99.

I did not do this out of greed. Or arrogance. Please believe that.

Raising the price was the only way I could think of to send a message to readers that Vokhtah is not some slapdash, mistake-ridden indie novel that has been published to make a quick buck.

I want Vokhtah to be taken seriously by the kind of readers who have turned away from indie authors because of bad experiences with the quality control, or lack thereof, in so many indie ebooks. I know I’m taking an awful risk, but after the comments I read on Goodreads yesterday,  I knew I had to do something drastic.

To compensate for the price hike, I’ve decided to offer review copies free to anyone who asks.  My definition of  ‘review’ includes any kind of feedback at all.  If you want to go to town with a full-blown critique I will love you forever. If you just leave a three word comment on my blog [or anywhere else] saying “I hated Vokhtah” that will do me too.  All I really want is to have my work read.

I can provide review copies in  .MOBI format which is compatible with the Kindle. The only downside is that you will not have the convenience of Whispernet.

In my next post I will detail how to read any .MOBI file on your Kindle, including Vokhtah.

To receive a free review copy of Vokhtah, or any of my future novels, please fill in the contact form that you will find on my new Contact page.

 

 

 

 

Thank you for all your support. I really hope you will stick with me in the future too.

-hugs-

Meeks

Best un-review ever!

Author Candy Korman posted this article on Candy’s Monsters, and used Vokhtah as one of her examples. I am so chuffed I just had to copy/paste the whole article.

A Sense of Time & Place
Posted on May 16, 2013

When I read, I really enjoy a clear sense of time and place. This goes for all genres. If your ghost story is set in a lonely mansion on the coast of Maine during WWII — make sure I believe the setting is truthful and I’ll believe that the ghost is real, too.

I’ve recently read fiction by two new authors — new friends from blogging, Twitter & LinkedIn — and I’m pleased to report that these two entirely different writers have both produced settings that were vivid and so real that the characters actions ring true.

As I don’t review books on this blog and don’t want to start. I’m not going to do full out reviews of “Such is Life” and “Vokhtah.” I will simply use both of these new books as examples of the best use of distinctive settings.

In her science fiction book “Vokhtah” A. C. Flory invites the reader to a hostile planet “peopled” with creatures best described as winged sociopaths with Machiavellian motivations, a fully-realized cultural mythology, a hierarchic society and an unusual manner for procreation. Vokhtah is a brutal planet and survival of the fittest (shrewdest, most devious & cunning) code underpins all the characters interactions.

The sense of place is so clear and finely drawn that the actions of the characters flow as a consequence of where they are in geography and the rigid caste system of the planet. A less complete environment might have made the creatures a bit comical or, worse, two dimensional. A.C. Flory’s achievement is in creating a credible, incredible world.

Jeri Walker-Bickett didn’t have to create her lonely landscape — she found it in various locations here in the United States. Her hyper-realistic short story collection “Such is Life” is set in a range of places — a suffocating small town in Montana, New Orleans, a suburban community determined to protect their children from outside influences, etc. It’s America today.

In each story, the sense of time and place anchors the story. The story “Leaving Big Sky” begins in a laundromat. The protagonist is watching laundry tumble in a dryer because, unlike the laundromats in Butte, this one has no TV, magazines and coffee to keep people entertained. The sense of abject loneliness is so much a part of the environment that the author doesn’t have to tell the reader what John is feeling. We feel it with him. The squeaky clean town in the story entitled “Not Terribly Important” hides a cruel streak of bigotry beneath its family friendly veneer. For a moment I wanted to shake the protagonist’s shoulders and tell her that the writing was on the wall.

By inviting the reader into specific and coherent environments, both of these authors give their characters real places to come to life.

For those who may not have read Candy’s own writing, she creates thoroughly modern stories inspired by classic ‘monster’ fiction such as Bram Stoker’s Dracula. And when Candy talks about ‘time and place’ it’s because she herself is a master at making the incredible feel utterly real. 

Cheers from Meeka doing her happy dance.

From Queen to Kaati

It’s miserable outside so what better way to get the blood pumping than with We Will Rock You, by Queen.

And now, to prove that I have actually been doing something other than just cruising the youtube channels, here is a short scene featuring Kaati.  There is a very short fight scene at the end, and I’m really proud of it. I checked it out with a real martial arts expert [T.D. McKinnon] and it was given the green light! [I just knew my obsession with Bruce Lee would come in handy one day].

***

Kaati was crouching with its head down a waste pit, pinging to see if the hole led anywhere, when disaster struck.

“Ho! What doing there?”

The young Trader froze, its thoughts racing. As it straightened up, the small personal pouch hanging from its neck swung against its chest.

“Dropping credit,” it said as it turned to face its interrogator.

The drudge’s eyes travelled to the small pouch hanging from Kaati’s neck and stayed there.

“How losing credit when pouch still being tied?”

Kaati’s hand reached defensively for the pouch before it realised how pointless the gesture was. Throwing back its shoulders, it glared at the drudge.

“Calling a liar?”

“Ki,” the drudge replied, its gaze shifting to the ground by the young Trader’s feet. “Calling thief.”

Kaati did not need to follow the direction of the drudge’s gaze to know what lay by its feet. It was the broom, the broom it had stolen from the stores. It had meant to return the broom to its hiding place at true-dark, but had been in a hurry, and had wanted to check one last waste pit before returning to its own hiding place for the night. It had thought it was safe because all the drudges were at their evening meal. All but one, apparently.

“Hearing gossip about someone attacking guard to steal broom,” the drudge went on, “but not believing, until now.”

When Kaati still did not say anything, the drudge rolled its shoulders, and dropped into an aggressive crouch.

“Thinking healers paying well for capture of such a thief.”

Kaati had never been the best fighter amongst the apprentice Tellers, and had never fought a real fight to the death. Nevertheless, it had fought, and won, enough mating battles during the gathers to know the iVokh opposite could never win, not against a Teller.

The eyrie-bound was tall, and well built, but most of its bulk was fat, not muscle. And the way it crouched in one spot spoke of over-confidence. It would charge like a to’pak, relying on bulk and momentum to deliver a knock-out blow.

As the drudge lowered its head and bunched its powerful leg muscles, Kaati subtly shifted its weight to the right foot, and clasped its hands together at chest height, as if hoping to protect its face.

The drudge leapt with a roar of triumph.

Moving with studied grace, Kaati spun on its right leg.

The drudge barreled through the empty space where the young Trader should have been.

As the iVokh passed, Kaati brought its clasped hands down on the back of the drudge’s neck, just below the spot where the neck met the skull.

There was a sharp crack, and the drudge collapsed. It slid across the ground for a wingspan before coming to a halt just fingers from the lip of the pit. It was not dead, but its neck was broken. One terrified eye stared up at Kaati as the young Trader picked up a rock and put it out of its misery.

***

I appreciate this scene is a bit out of context, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

cheers

Meeks

Vokhtah, book 2 – some plotting

I’m a pantster not a plotter, however there comes a time in any story when I have to take a step back, and really think about the wider ramifications of the story I am trying to tell.  This usually involves thinking about the world as a whole. 

What outside forces are at work? And how will they impinge on the lives of my main characters? In particular, how will history, culture and politics help or hinder their personal stories?

The following excerpt is something I’ve been working on for days.  The scene will impact two of my main  characters. One, the Apprentice/Kaati you already know. The other is a character I introduced in book 1, but only in passing. As such, the information in this scene is vital, so it needs to be clear. But I did not want to write just an info dump.

I’d really appreciate your feedback on whether I got the balance more or less right.

***

The Master of Acolytes was something of an anomaly amongst the higher ranked healers of the Guild because it had a powerful talent, but very little personal ambition. It did not attempt to curry favour with either the Yellows or the Blues, and tended to avoid Guild politics where possible.

Nonetheless, even this mild, self-effacing healer nurtured one, powerful ambition – it longed to be the healer who finally freed the Guild from the Traders forever.

The Master did not hate the Traders. It did not even object to sharing the Settlement with them, but it did fear another Great Unrest, and knew the Guild would never be truly safe while it was dependant on outsiders for any of its important needs. And Traders held a monopoly on two of the Guild’s most critical needs.

Ever since the time of the Rogue, the Traders had been the Guild’s only link with the outside world. Traders kept the Guild’s maps up-to-date, and the Trader Quartermaster made it possible for the Guild to know where and when its Triads were needed. In return the Guild offered the Traders shelter and food.

This symbiotic relationship had worked well until the Great Unrest had disrupted the Guild’s ability to service the needs of the eyries, and their Vokh. The Guild had acted quickly, yet even so, the Nine had promised to withdraw the Vokh’s protection of the Settlement if such a disturbance ever happened again.

That was when it had become obvious the Guild’s dependence on the Traders was a weakness, a dangerous weakness. Nonetheless, despite over two hundred years of trying, the Guild had not been able to breed even one healer-seneschal. The two talents could not seem to co-exist in the one body. Those Initiates with healing talents strong enough to survive the Quickening could not mind-speak, while those who could always died because they lacked the healing talents that should have kept them alive.

The Master of Acolytes was well aware of this long, long history of failure. It had personally nurtured six young candidates with the ability to mind-speak, and had watched five of them die during the Quickening. Yet despite these failures, it continued to believe the mix of talents was possible. It was convinced the answer lay in finding candidates who had the potential for both talents… before the Quickening.

All five failures had been first rate apprentices who should have made good healers, yet they had still died. And now there was just one hopeful left. It possessed a very strong talent for mind-speaking, however it was the young iVokh’s empathy that made it truly special. Even as a first year apprentice, it had shown a natural ‘knack’ for soothing fractious newborn that was unmatched by any of the other apprentices.

Of course, empathy alone did not guarantee the Quickening would trigger the full range of healer talents. Nonetheless, experience had shown that natural empathy was the best indicator of latent talents.

In an effort to release more of this latent potential, the Master had arranged for the sixth candidate to work with a powerful healer in a safe eyrie. Unfortunately Needlepoint had turned out to be anything but safe, and now no-one seemed to know whether the Triad, and its precious Acolyte, were still alive.

The only one who might know was the Yellow Councillor, but it was the least approachable, and most feared healer in the Guild.

The Master had never spoken to the Yellow, nor had it ever wanted to, but after almost two ti’m’akh of fearful waiting it could wait no longer. It had to find out if its life’s work was over.

Taking a deep, tremulous breath, the old healer raised its hand and knocked on the Yellow’s door.

The proof of the pie

I had meant to post this excerpt from book 2 as my 280th post.  I like commemorating milestones, and while this chapter is not all that significant in its own right,  I am pleased with how it turned out as it incorporates all that research I wrote about in iVokh and the Poacher’s Knot.

Sadly Pippi, and fate, had other plans so it has become my 281st post. I hope you enjoy it anyway. I should warn you though, it’s a long one so you might want to grab a cup of tea or coffee before reading.

The third day of Kohoh dawned warm and clear, without even a hint of rain.

Up on the flight ledge leading to the Settlement, the older hunters waggled their heads in dismay as they prepared to fly down to the plains. The rains had been starting later and later the last five years, and they knew that did not bode well for the coming Pah H’akh. The Bad Times were always bad, but some were worse than others, Takh help them all.

***

Two leagues to the south, the dirty, travel-worn iVokh hiding near the Trader’s entrance to the Settlement silently blessed the lack of rain. Every day of clear skies gave it one more day in which to find shelter. Yet even as it gave thanks, its sense of urgency grew. It knew this period of grace could not last for much longer. It had to get inside an eyrie soon, or it would die and its long, gruelling trek would have been for nothing.

Hitching its stained travel pouch a little higher, Kaati turned its back on the Traders’ Quarter and slipped away with a sigh. It had watched the entrance for two days and two nights, hoping to sneak inside without being seen, but in that whole time, the Tellers on guard had not left their posts for even a moment. There would be no way into the Quarter from here, and that left the Healers’ side of the Settlement as its last hope.

The entrance to the Settlement would be guarded as well, however those guards would not know its face. To them, it would be just another hunter making the most of the fine weather to bring in some extra food.

The real danger would come from the other hunters who would surely know it did not belong. The trick then, would be to get past the guards before the real hunters returned.

The irony of that thought made Kaati shake its head in wry amusement. The word ‘Kaati’ meant little hunter, and signified the kind of Teller it had hoped to become – capable, and deadly if attacked, but more spy than assassin. But then the old Quartermaster had intervened, tearing it away from its old life to become a na-Quartermaster.

Perhaps that was why it had refused to find a more appropriate name for itself. Yet here it was, about to become a hunter of animals so it could fight for a position it had never wanted in the first place.

Once Kaati was far enough from the flight ledge it stopped, and began to inflate its wings. All Traders knew how to hunt, so it was confident it could trap a few rock lizards, however getting inside the Settlement before the day’s work was done would require something more than just a few lizards. It would need a good excuse as well.

Lifting its arms, the young Trader inspected the many bruises and scratches that covered its body. Most were old, but some were fresh, a legacy of the two days it had spent spying on the Traders’ entrance.

Would it look battered enough to convince the guards it had had a bad fall?

Kaati’s cilia twitched in distaste at the ripe smell wafting from its armpits.

…not if smelling like this…

It had scrubbed itself with dry sand every day to reduce the scent trail it left for predators, but nothing short of a proper bath would make it smell like one of the eyrie-bound.

Turning away from the direction of the Settlement, the young Trader squinted at the bright flashes of light coming from the Blood River.

This late in the season, the river was reduced to a string of brackish waterholes, but it was no less dangerous than when it was in full flood. Starving pakti would lurk in the deeper water, while the reeds choking the banks would be full of sidewinders, all of them lying in wait for any creature desperate enough to sneak down for a drink. Or a wash.

Nonetheless when the young Trader took flight it headed away from the Settlement, towards the river.

Landing a safe distance from the water’s edge, Kaati dropped its pouch to the ground, and pulled out the sling it had bought at the Claw Valley gather. Slings were useless for hunting food animals as they killed far too easily, however they were very good at making even large predators think twice about attacking.

With the sling in one hand, and three sharp pebbles in the other, the young Trader approached the waterhole from the downriver end, every sense on the alert.

Down the middle of the channel, where the flowing water would have been deepest, an open path still led towards open water. It looked safe enough, but the multitude of small footprints baked into the mud showed that many smaller animals used this approach as well. And where food animals gathered, predators were never far away.

Kaati was still some distance from the edge of the water when it saw the first pile of bones. The length of the thigh bone suggested the creature had been a young akaht. The great herds relied on numbers to keep them safe, but the predators always picked off the stragglers. A lone iVokh would be easy prey.

A few steps later, a soft plop made the young Trader look towards the centre of the waterhole. It saw lazy ripples fanning out from two, large beady eyes. Those eyes seemed to dare the  iVokh to come closer.

Locking eyes with the pakti, the young Trader fitted one of the pebbles to the sling and began whirling it round and round.

The sling hummed a song of death as it spun, and when it stopped the pakti was missing an eye.

Kaati kept its eyes on the thrashing pakti as it fit another pebble to the sling. It knew predators were at their most dangerous when they were wounded.

That was something the three smaller pakti discovered to their cost when they attacked their larger companion.

Maddened with pain, the injured pakti tore into its attackers, injuring one, and killing the other before the third managed to dart in on its blind side to deliver a killing blow.

The victorious pakti killed its injured rival before settling down to feed.

The young Trader allowed the new ruler of the waterhole to eat its fill before chasing it away with a few well aimed rocks.

The pakti’s tail lashed angrily as it swam out of reach, but it was too sated to dispute the iVokh’s right to enter the water.

Despite its apparent victory, Kaati knew it would be in danger every moment it spent in the water, and its eyes did not stop scanning from side to side as it waded into the waterhole. It only went knee deep, and scrubbed with desperate speed before wading out again. Near the water’s edge, it stopped just long enough to tear out two handfuls of wilted reeds.

Safe on land once more, the young Trader quickly stowed the sling and the reeds before retreating to the meagre shade of a pipa tree, high on the riverbank.

Once the rains began, and water swelled the river once more, the deep roots of the pipa would siphon life-giving water up to the withered branches. For now though, its branches were as dry and lifeless as everything else on the plain.

Climbing up into a fork of the tree, Kaati pulled out a reed and began tearing it into long strands.

A weaver would have soaked the strands, and pounded them to soften the fibres, but the young Trader had no time for such niceties. Once it had enough strands, it began to form them into lengths of rough string.

The hard fibres grazed Kaati’s hand as it rolled the strands against its thigh, but it persisted until it had enough string for three snares.

Looping one end of the string around the stub of a branch, it tied the loop off with a double knot before folding it in half to make two smaller loops. Once it had threaded the free end of the string through both loops it had a strong slip knot for its noose.

When all three snares were finished, it left the safety of the tree, and carefully arranged the snares on the ground, near where the smaller animals would come to drink. It sprinkled sand and dry leaves over each snare before tying the free ends to low lying branches or rocks.

Both suns were high in the sky before all the traps were set, and Kaati could climb back up into the tree to wait. And wait. Thanks to the scent of blood in the water, it had to wait until almost first-dark before a lizard finally emerged from the rocks, and crept down to the waterhole.

The wary creature skirted the first snare, and would have avoided the second as well, but some small noise made it jump in fright. Unfortunately it jumped the wrong way. As it landed, one of its hind feet skidded on the loose sand, and became tangled in the loop of the snare. As it tried to pull away, the slip knot tightened around its ankle.

The more the terrified lizard struggled, the tighter the noose became, and by the time the young Trader jumped from the tree and hurried around to the other side of the waterhole, the lizard was too exhausted to put up much of a fight. It could only hiss in impotent fury as it was hoisted into the air.

Kaati had hoped to catch more than just the one lizard, but with first-dark approaching it knew it could not delay any longer. It had to get to the Settlement, and talk its way inside before the rest of the hunters finished for the day, and recognized it for a stranger.

Tucking the hapless lizard inside its pouch, the young Trader used the heat rising from the ground to boost itself up into the air. In moments it was flying hard for the Settlement, and the dubious safety it would find there.

Vokhtah on thebookcast.com!

Just a very quick post to say my interview is live on thebookcast.com! And I don’t sound like a chipmunk! Phew.

http://www.thebookcast.com/indie-author-a-c-flory-vokhtah/

The link will take you to the website. Click on the little podcast arrow thingie to hear the whole thing. There is a way to embed the podcast but I haven’t worked out how yet.

On the interview itself, I’m amazed at how relaxed I sound. I’m also a bit shocked at how much I can talk when someone asks me the right questions! Thanks Bill.

Please let me know what you think.

cheers
Meeks

Nunc Incipitur

Nunc Incipitur is Latin for ‘now it begins’. It is also happens to be the prologue to book 2 of the Vokhtah cycle.

I have been struggling with book 2 because I spent too long away from the story, and because I already knew what book 2 would be about. There were no surprises, or so I thought. I am pleased to say I was wrong, and now I have my excitement back.

I wrote Nunc Incipitur just this morning and I rather like it. I’d really appreciate your feedback.

Nunc Incipitur
[now it begins]

The Female endured the healers’ ministrations in silence, but her anger was as loud as a shout. She still hated them as much as she ever had, and still longed to tear them to pieces – that had not changed – but since her recovery she had learned to fear their power. That was new.

During the mating she had fought the Seven without fear because death was the natural ending to every life. However there had been nothing natural about the way the healers had fought her. Even now, whenever they touched her head, her whole body would tense up, fearing the moment of blackness, of nothingness.

They called it sleep, but it was more like a small death from which she would awake, moments or hours later, with no sense of time having passed. And yet she knew time must have passed because things would be different when she awoke, she would be different.

The first time the healers used their power on her had been during a feed. The healer offering her the tukti had been afraid, and the scent of its fear had ignited her blood lust. She had lunged for it, ready to tear its hearts out. A moment later she had awoken to find her hands empty, as empty as her spirit. The bloodlust was gone, snuffed out as if it had never been.

The healers had done the same thing to her many times before she had finally understood that they were the ones stealing time from her life. And that was when the fear had begun. And the despair.

But she had been too strong for them. Instead of continuing her futile attempts to kill them, she had focused her hatred inwards, tirelessly searching shared memories for a way out. And she had found it.

Buried in the memories of a long dead Sage she had found a curiosity ignored by most Vokh. It was a way to cross the void to a place as different to Vokhtah as day was to night.

The Sage who found this strange place had only managed to force a sharing with one of the inhabitants for a very short time. Nonetheless, even that brief sharing had been hellish, revealing a world bathed in shades of black and grey. Little wonder the Sage had not experimented further.

But she had. Every night for the last ti’m’akh, she had honed her skills until she too could make the leap across the void, and she had discovered the world had a daytime face as well. The light was always as bright as when Takh was alone in the sky, however the colours had been all wrong, with none of the soft purples of Vokhtah. The smells had been strange too, but for all its strangeness, the world had teemed with life…

The soft thud of the door closing brought the Female back to the present, and a thrill of excitement made her cilia writhe. By the time the healers returned at first-light they would find nothing but a cold, dead husk! The part of her that mattered would be gone, treading the paths of that eerie blue world in a new body.  She would have to learn how to hunt in a body without wings or fangs, but she was a hunter, and hunters always triumphed.

Taking a deep breath, the Female focused her talent into a bright, hard point, and threw her awareness out into the void.

 

Vokhtah reviews growing. Can I get any happier?

Yesterday I was down in the dumps because I was obsessing about getting my photo taken. Today I am literally floating up near the ceiling somewhere! I now have 6 reviews of Vokhtah up on Amazon, and each and everyone of them likes the story!

One of the reviews I requested from Jonathon B, a very nice guy who reviews Indie science fiction. The second is from a complete stranger called MrW. The two reviews are very different but I think I’ll frame them both! See for yourselves. [I've cut and pasted straight from Amazon].

Review by Jonathon B

In Vokhtah, the author gives us a rich and satisfying tapestry of a world: alien, strange, and gratifying. This is not a particularly easy read, one in which you skim while half-watching tv or munching on a sandwich. The book deserves the reader’s full attention so that all the nuances and details are caught and absorbed.

On the surface, this book tells the tale of two races, possibly a lot closer related than most of them would like to admit. The Vokh are the supposed rulers of the planet; strong, fierce, and driven, fighting with one another to gain status and holdings. The iVokh serve them, from running their holdings to managing their health to running the economy to serving as basic drudges. Yet the Guild of Healers serve as a sort of governor on the Vokh, surreptitiously killing any Vokh they label as abominations.

When one Blue, (one of the three factions of the Guild of Healers) disagrees with the specifics of a decision to kill a particular Vokh, he embarks on a dangerous journey in an attempt to maneuver the situation to uphold the decree, yet in a manner that the Vokh do not become aware of the guild’s machinations.

One problem I have with too many books dealing with other forms of intelligent life is that they tend to be overly anthropomorphized. They are merely humans in otherworld bodies. The Vokh and iVokh most certainly do not fall into this trap. They are decidedly “not-human,” yet the author is able to paint such a detailed picture that we are able to understand them, their motives, their ways of thinking. Within the framework of the author’s universe, there is logic and reasonability. It all makes sense.

The detail into which the author delves is simply a joy to behold. The author’s imagination is quite obviously prodigious, but then the ability to transfer that imagination into the written word is impressive. Equally impressive are the descriptive passages of action and even simple settings. I was able to see the author’s vision quite clearly in my mind.

All told, I really enjoyed this book. I enthusiastically recommend it.

(Disclaimer: I received a free copy of this book with a request for a review.)

Review by Mr.W [4 stars]

I can’t figure out these creatures. Evening on this planet is a hermaphrodite. However, one you’re past the bugs, the story is incredible. I would give it five stars if I could get a handle on the super weird creatures in this story. If you like Sci-Fi and weird creatures you will want to probably marry this author. Other Sci-Fi fans, just enjoy this great story.

Guest post on Pilyara with Jennifer Scoullar

I have 3… yes, THREE chocolate mouse cakes in the fridge – two that turned out well and one ugly duckling – and I’m knackered [translation : tired] so I’m going to make this short.

Jennifer Scoullar, a very lovely Aussie author and blogger, asked me to guest post on her blog. So I did.

If you want to read some background on me, and some interesting titbits on the writing of Vokhtah, please pay her a visit at Pilyara.

-waves- Thanks for inviting me Jennifer!

And now to go taste the dud. I think it’s going to be a good brew.

Goodnight world!

Meeks

p.s. We’re staying over for the wedding so I won’t get to reply to comments until Sunday.

I promised you a reminder, so here it is!

Timezones aside, Vokhtah will be free  on the Kindle from March 1 – 5.

I know that not many of you are into science fiction, but if you’re the tiniest bit curious, or know someone who might be, please help me make Vokhtah more ‘visible’.

Every person who downloads a free copy will be like a pebble thrown into a still pond; you will make ripples. One day those ripples may even push Vokhtah high enough in the rankings that complete strangers will give it a go.

The same applies to feedback. You don’t have to write a review, although I would love it if you did. No, by feedback I mean just a one-liner saying whether you liked Vokhtah, or loathed it.

Okay, that’s the end of the begging. Now I have to go make a couple of chocolate mousse cakes for my niece’s wedding tomorrow. I’ll try and take a couple of photos before it’s all eaten.

cheers

Meeks