Book Tour Spotlight/Excerpt for Hindsight by Sarah Belle


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Humour, wit, and just a touch of humility: the swinging 60s as you’ve never seen them before.

The universe has sent Juliette a sign. She wishes it had been an email instead…

Juliette’s career is on fire, her marriage and family are in melt-down, and a red-hot goddess wants her husband. But those are the least of her worries when she wakes up on her lounge room floor in the year 1961.

Without any of her modern conveniences — nanny, housekeeper, surgically attached mobile phone, designer wardrobe, and intravenous lattes — Juliette is just over fifty years out of her comfort zone. But as she takes on the role of a 1961 housewife, with gritted liberated teeth, she discovers an unexpected truth: slower doesn’t mean boring, at home doesn’t mean dull, and priorities don’t mean sacrifices.

As she finds unexpected friendships, a resuscitated love life, tragedy and triumph, Juliette begins to wonder if she really wants to return home after all.


Setting the Scene: Juliette has just woken up in a hospital bed. She knows she has time travelled back to 1961 but is unaware that her cosmetic enhancements have not travelled back with her…

I find the toilet and remove the beige undies that clearly belong to someone’s grandmother. Pulling my undies down, a gasp of horror followed by a scream thunders out of me.

Oh. My. God. As if the undies weren’t bad enough, I trip and stagger in the tiny bathroom, trying to outrun the small, furry creature that has crawled onto my lap and decided to live there. But there’s no escaping because it’s part of me, a bikini line gone wild. This garden hasn’t been tended to since the onset of puberty. I haven’t seen that amount of pubic hair since…ever.

Mrs Taylor?” The nurse knocks on the door. “We heard a scream, are you alright?”

No, definitely not! Holy mother of God! There’s so much pubic hair that it could be braided into dreadlocks. I could shear it like a sheep and make a jumper out of it. Where’s my lovely, neat, clean Brazilian?

Mrs Taylor? Mrs Taylor, are you alright dear?”

Umm… yes, thanks. I just…um…tripped.”

You tripped? On what?”

On my pubic hair, which is almost touching the ground. “Just on a…a…thing. Everything’s fine, thank you.”

As the water runs over my hands, I notice that my formerly perfectly manicured hands are sans nail extensions and polish, same for my toes. The well of despair just got deeper. There’s a picture on the wall of a woman who looks very familiar — even similar to me. Perhaps she’s a relative. What an odd place to have a picture though. Oh no! Another gasp and small scream escapes. There’s no hope of stopping the sounds coming out of my mouth. That’s no picture, that’s my reflection in the mirror.

Mrs Taylor?” the nurse asks again from the other side of the door.

My eyes are glued to the image before me. They’re not even capable of blinking. Oh. My. God. There’s a mop of mousy brown hair that has not been cut, styled or highlighted. Mousy brown! No one has to live with mousy hair anymore, not since the invention of peroxide, so what the hell’s going on? My eyebrows are not professionally shaped, my skin is not glowing or rejuvenated and my lips are decidedly less pouty than normal.

Mrs Taylor?” She is more insistent this time.

Yes, all good thanks, Nurse. I just…umm…” Saw myself in the mirror without all my chemical and cosmetic enhancements and was horrified at my own plainness. My eyes and labourer’s hands explore my face, looking at all the little wrinkles, the blackish bags under my eyes, the open pores of my cheeks and forehead, the thinness of my lips in comparison to the real me, the few blackheads on my chin as well as the grayness of my skin, I feel the beginnings of depression take over.

Oh no! Please no! Not the girls! As I open my top, my eyes are greeted by the sight of two size-seven feet on the cold lino floor. There’s nothing in-between the two most polar points of my body. Out of gasps and screams, nothing escapes other than a small, pathetic whine. They’re gone, my perfect D-cup breasts are gone. My pride and joys, the things that stop me dead in my tracks every time I walk past a mirror naked. My beautiful, perfectly shaped, nubile, pert breasts are gone. Chris wasn’t in favour of my boob job originally, but he soon changed his mind when he saw them; this kind of fakeness he doesn’t mind at all. Hypocrite. But they are gone and in their place are my real breasts, which look like the ears of a golden retriever, only hairless.

Follow the Tour:

July 22nd- Falling In Fall– Review/Excerpt
July 23rd- Christine’s Words– Interview
July 24th- Brianna Lee Book Reviews– Excerpt
July 25th- Find Your Next Read– Guest Post
July 26th- Kindred Dreamheart– Guest Post

July 29th- Storm Goddess Book Reviews– Review
July 30th- Emily Wood Author– Guest Post
July 31st- N/A
Aug 1st- Barbetti’s Books– Interview
Aug 2nd- Flirting with Romance– Interview

Aug 5th- The Readers Realm– Excerpt
Aug 6th- Tiffany Talk Books– Review/Excerpt
Aug 7th- Paws and Print– Review
Aug 8th- Lily Pond Reads– Review/Excerpt
Aug 9th- Racing to Read– Guest Post/Review

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