And it’s not only people that make my heart flutter…so can a beautiful building, or the angle of light on a linen pillow case… That said, I have been taking a long break from blogging, working on the new novel and refining my 1924 Spanish Revival home. Household maintenance…
Category: Palm Springs
Something has been troubling me recently, and as the New Year is approaching I decided to clear my mind. Little did I know that when I thinly disguised two (secondary) characters in my first novel that the people the characters were partially based on would be drummed out of the…
That’s me in a grungy corner of a set sometime in the late eighties. You can tell by the garish knitwear and the helmet of curls… I’ve been rattling around this part of the world for a long time, probably longer than some of you (dear readers) have been alive.…
That’s my father, he died many years ago on a business trip to London. And being my father’s daughter, this is the deal—this portrait of him is a link to my Hollywood novel, click and it’ll take you to Amazon. Hold onto your hats for a rare “non-fiction” moment, I…
Dexter: Orange juice, certainly. Tracy: Don’t tell me you’ve forsaken your beloved whiskey and whiskeys. Dexter: No, no, no, no. I’ve just changed their color, that’s all. I’m going for the pale pastel shades now. They’re more becoming to me. How about you, Mr. Connor? You drink, don’t you? Alcohol,…
Anne’s mother emerged from the kitchen carrying two mismatched mugs. The one she handed to Anne was emblazoned with The Rolling Stones’ lips and lolling tongue logo; it reminded Anne of her mother’s infrequent drunken hints that she had once had a “thing” with one of the Stones back…
5.0 out of 5 stars Art Director By Bob Schulenberg on August 16, 2014 Format: Paperback “Ms. Lester” certainly knows the ins of Hollywood! Let doubters doubt no more, she takes you there, shows you around and shares the secrets! As a native Angeleno and privy to some of this…
Dive into a romantic Hollywood mystery for Valentine’s: “Did they know about The Buccaneers?” “It’s a sex club, Ms. Brown.” “You said it was an after-hours club.” “Good, you’re paying attention.” He made a pyramid of his hands, tapped his fingertips against his lips, thought for a moment, then pushed…
Feel like dancing? James Johnson loved Manhattan. He loved Juilliard. Most of all he loved shedding all the tiresome, uncool parental pressure, but not his monthly allowance, which he supplemented with a hefty income dealing pot and coke to his like-minded artistic classmates. His best customers tended to be kids…