The radio interview was a blast, thanks to a brilliantly funny and entertaining man in his own right Mr Barry Eva.
Click on the link to be transported to Barry's blog where you can hear the radio interview.
Courtney x
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Friday, October 30, 2009
CHECK OUT BLOGTALKRADIO.COM AT 11AM EST
Hi cyberspace
Well, at 11am I will be chatting on blogtalkradio.com tune in, you can ring in and ask questions.
I look forward to meeting you there.
Courtney xx
Well, at 11am I will be chatting on blogtalkradio.com tune in, you can ring in and ask questions.
I look forward to meeting you there.
Courtney xx
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
MY BOOK SHOULD CARRY A HEALTH WARNING!
I know I put a warning on the trailer, but it seems the books jacket should carry one too,,,, what a naughty writer I am, I am.. :)
http://www.bookpleasures.com/websitepublisher/articles/1231/1/Immaculate-Deception-Reviewed-By-Chris-Phillips-Of-Bookpleasurescom/Page1.html
http://www.bookpleasures.com/websitepublisher/articles/1231/1/Immaculate-Deception-Reviewed-By-Chris-Phillips-Of-Bookpleasurescom/Page1.html
Saturday, September 19, 2009
MY BOOK HAS TOO MUCH SEX AND BAD LANGUAGE ACCORDING TO LATEST REVIEW...
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2976509.Courtney_J_Webb
PERSONALLY I DIDNT THINK THERE WAS ENOUGH.. :)
PERSONALLY I DIDNT THINK THERE WAS ENOUGH.. :)
Monday, September 7, 2009
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
COMING TO AMERICA...
I will be in the US the month of December, and will post interviews and public appearances as they happen.
x
x
Sunday, August 30, 2009
FIVE STAR AMAZON REVIEW!
Identity Theft, August 24, 2009
By
Amos Lassen (Little Rock, Arkansas) - Webb, Courtney. "Immaculate Deception", Kingsford-Smith, 2009. Identity Theft Craig Connery stole a dead man's identity and had never really thought much about becoming a priest but he has had to make a few adjustments. Having just been released from prison for a crime which he did not commit caused him to want to get home to his family as soon as possible. He also wants to get back to his old lifestyle of being a ladies' man and a petty thief. On his way home he is witness to a terrible traffic accident in which the driver is killed. Incidentally (or not) the driver and Craig looked very much alike and this provides Craig with an opportunity to change his life forever. He takes the dead man's identification and he is no longer Craig Connery; he is now Father Jack Kempster. He must now pretend to be a man of God and his first job is to run a nursing home in Australia. You can almost guess what happens I love the character of Craig/Jack. Webb gives us a wonderful hero who you love to dislike and find yourself on his side. He learns so much with his new identity--about the elderly, about life, about the Church and about himself. The book is very witty and at times you cannot help but laugh out loud. I haven't had this much fun in a long time.
By
Amos Lassen (Little Rock, Arkansas) - Webb, Courtney. "Immaculate Deception", Kingsford-Smith, 2009. Identity Theft Craig Connery stole a dead man's identity and had never really thought much about becoming a priest but he has had to make a few adjustments. Having just been released from prison for a crime which he did not commit caused him to want to get home to his family as soon as possible. He also wants to get back to his old lifestyle of being a ladies' man and a petty thief. On his way home he is witness to a terrible traffic accident in which the driver is killed. Incidentally (or not) the driver and Craig looked very much alike and this provides Craig with an opportunity to change his life forever. He takes the dead man's identification and he is no longer Craig Connery; he is now Father Jack Kempster. He must now pretend to be a man of God and his first job is to run a nursing home in Australia. You can almost guess what happens I love the character of Craig/Jack. Webb gives us a wonderful hero who you love to dislike and find yourself on his side. He learns so much with his new identity--about the elderly, about life, about the Church and about himself. The book is very witty and at times you cannot help but laugh out loud. I haven't had this much fun in a long time.
TALK TO ME ON BLOG TALK RADIO
Want to ask me a question?
Tune into Blog Talk Radio on October 31st at 11am EST
www.blogtalkradio.com
I will be waiting....
Courtney xx
Tune into Blog Talk Radio on October 31st at 11am EST
www.blogtalkradio.com
I will be waiting....
Courtney xx
Friday, August 7, 2009
THE EYES HAVE IT
When I was fourteen years old, I had the opportunity to go and stay with a family living in Pascoe in Washington the state. I flew from London to Vancouver and then had to get a greyhound bus across the border. I remember this hippy in full afghan coat and beads, long hair etc he sat next to me. When we got to the American border he gave me a little box and said “can you look after this for me?” Me being naïve, I say “sure” and put it in my pocket.
Later we were told to vacate the bus, and the customs checked our bags and passports, I noticed the hippy was taken off to a nearby room. When we finally got back on the bus, he says “they strip searched me.” I thought, “yuck”. I gave him his box back and I remember him smiling and saying “you are a good girl, I like the English.” He opened the box and took a pinch of white stuff and sniffed it up his nose. He grinned and said “aah, that’s better.”
The bus travelled from Vancouver to Seattle and I was thrown off at approximately midnight. My next bus was an hour or two away and I had to wait into the early hours. There were gangs of swearing thugs exchanging flick knives all around me, but I was so tired I just sat wearily on my case and ignored them.
It was at Seattle that I noticed a tall man with dark thick wavy hair. He had his whole leg in plaster and was hobbling on crutches. I didn’t give him much thought and tried to sleep. When my bus arrived I thankfully boarded it. The man with the crutches pushed someone out of the way to board directly behind me. I remember he rubbed himself up rather close to me, I didn’t like it, and elbowed him away.
I didn’t give him another thought, but had noticed he sat on the opposite side of the bus to me, and one row behind. I could feel his eyes boring into me. I was so jet lagged I went to sleep dangling my legs over the side of the seat, as no one sat next to me on that journey. Half way through the trip, a woman shook me into a wakeful state saying . “Excuse me but do you know that man?” I was sluggish and turned over to look at the man behind me with the broken leg, he was staring at me like I was his next dinner. I was sleepy and just said “No!” She said “Well he was massaging your feet.” I turned to look at him in disgust and stared indignantly right into the eyes of the depraved man. I was totally unaware; he was at that point, blissfully deliberating how he was going to kill me.
At fourteen and blessed by the power of innocence, I recoiled my feet and shrugged him off, I called him a “pervert ” and showed my disgust before falling back to sleep. About an hour or so later I had to disembark in Pascoe. As I attempted to make my way down the aisle of the greyhound bus, the man with the broken leg jumped up and again pushed himself too close behind me. I again elbowed him back away from me with annoyance.
The coach driver found my suitcase and I began to walk along the street which at approximately 5am was deserted. I needed to find a telephone box as all I had was a phone number of the people who were going to pick me up. I heard the man behind me and turned to see it was the tall dark haired man that was already a pest. He shouted out at me to stop. He said “Wait, I need help.” It was not in my nature to ignore anyone who makes a plea for help, but I think at that point, my gut instinct or an angel took over. I picked up my case and ran with it, I didn’t know where I was going but ran nevertheless.
The man who had a broken leg shouted again. “Stop, help me.” I ignored him, and looked over my shoulder only to see he had began to run after me. He chased me despite having a broken leg, and came within an inch of getting me except a deli shop on a corner was open and I fell into it. The shopkeeper showed some surprise when I told him out of breath that “A man with a broken leg chased me!”
I think he put it down to the eccentricities of the English!
I never saw the man with the broken leg again, but always wondered how odd it was that he ran after me. It was only two years ago when I was surfing the internet I came across a banner about serial killers. I noticed that two girls had been murdered near Pascoe, in the same year and close to the months I was in Washington. I looked at the next page to find out more information about the poor girls demise, and there staring at me were the burning eyes of their killer. It was the man with the broken leg: Ted Bundy.
When I was fourteen years old, I had the opportunity to go and stay with a family living in Pascoe in Washington the state. I flew from London to Vancouver and then had to get a greyhound bus across the border. I remember this hippy in full afghan coat and beads, long hair etc he sat next to me. When we got to the American border he gave me a little box and said “can you look after this for me?” Me being naïve, I say “sure” and put it in my pocket.
Later we were told to vacate the bus, and the customs checked our bags and passports, I noticed the hippy was taken off to a nearby room. When we finally got back on the bus, he says “they strip searched me.” I thought, “yuck”. I gave him his box back and I remember him smiling and saying “you are a good girl, I like the English.” He opened the box and took a pinch of white stuff and sniffed it up his nose. He grinned and said “aah, that’s better.”
The bus travelled from Vancouver to Seattle and I was thrown off at approximately midnight. My next bus was an hour or two away and I had to wait into the early hours. There were gangs of swearing thugs exchanging flick knives all around me, but I was so tired I just sat wearily on my case and ignored them.
It was at Seattle that I noticed a tall man with dark thick wavy hair. He had his whole leg in plaster and was hobbling on crutches. I didn’t give him much thought and tried to sleep. When my bus arrived I thankfully boarded it. The man with the crutches pushed someone out of the way to board directly behind me. I remember he rubbed himself up rather close to me, I didn’t like it, and elbowed him away.
I didn’t give him another thought, but had noticed he sat on the opposite side of the bus to me, and one row behind. I could feel his eyes boring into me. I was so jet lagged I went to sleep dangling my legs over the side of the seat, as no one sat next to me on that journey. Half way through the trip, a woman shook me into a wakeful state saying . “Excuse me but do you know that man?” I was sluggish and turned over to look at the man behind me with the broken leg, he was staring at me like I was his next dinner. I was sleepy and just said “No!” She said “Well he was massaging your feet.” I turned to look at him in disgust and stared indignantly right into the eyes of the depraved man. I was totally unaware; he was at that point, blissfully deliberating how he was going to kill me.
At fourteen and blessed by the power of innocence, I recoiled my feet and shrugged him off, I called him a “pervert ” and showed my disgust before falling back to sleep. About an hour or so later I had to disembark in Pascoe. As I attempted to make my way down the aisle of the greyhound bus, the man with the broken leg jumped up and again pushed himself too close behind me. I again elbowed him back away from me with annoyance.
The coach driver found my suitcase and I began to walk along the street which at approximately 5am was deserted. I needed to find a telephone box as all I had was a phone number of the people who were going to pick me up. I heard the man behind me and turned to see it was the tall dark haired man that was already a pest. He shouted out at me to stop. He said “Wait, I need help.” It was not in my nature to ignore anyone who makes a plea for help, but I think at that point, my gut instinct or an angel took over. I picked up my case and ran with it, I didn’t know where I was going but ran nevertheless.
The man who had a broken leg shouted again. “Stop, help me.” I ignored him, and looked over my shoulder only to see he had began to run after me. He chased me despite having a broken leg, and came within an inch of getting me except a deli shop on a corner was open and I fell into it. The shopkeeper showed some surprise when I told him out of breath that “A man with a broken leg chased me!”
I think he put it down to the eccentricities of the English!
I never saw the man with the broken leg again, but always wondered how odd it was that he ran after me. It was only two years ago when I was surfing the internet I came across a banner about serial killers. I noticed that two girls had been murdered near Pascoe, in the same year and close to the months I was in Washington. I looked at the next page to find out more information about the poor girls demise, and there staring at me were the burning eyes of their killer. It was the man with the broken leg: Ted Bundy.
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