Saturday, 30 June 2007

The campaign to legitimize pukeable

My fabulous zen-like editor who says I can stop sucking up to her as she is a wake up to me, told me my edits were fine, that they have gone off to edit land and her eye has stopped twitching from all the stress I gave her. See? Happy ending all round - except for one thing. The word “pukeable” was removed from the book. I happen to like this word and I use it a lot. The problem is that “pukeable” is not in the dictionary. Why isn’t it? And how can we make it a dictionary listing? What is the definition of “pukeable” I hear you ask? I will tell you. To me “pukeable” means anything that is yucky and not nice. People can be pukeable, jobs can be pukeable and you can feel pukeable. See how descriptive and useful pukeable is?

I was chatting on line to woman of steel, part-timer clogger Queen and kick arse writer Charlene Leatherman ( about the withdrawal of the word from Shades of Gray and she said “pukeable is a good word. I should sneak it into my book too…enough authors use pukeable it will become a recognized word.” So there it is. We have a plan and I beg you please use pukeable whenever you can. I need it to be a recognized dictionary word so when I slip it into the next book my editor will not blink an eye. How can we let such a descriptive word go to waste? Whom does one petition to make such words legitimate? This is now my mission in life. Ten minutes ago it was to lose weight, to clean up the storeroom under the house and to try and be a good girl at work but you can see why I now have to immediately drop all of those goals. So my new goal is to use pukeable as many times as I can. I am up to the challenge. Am I full of crap? Possibly. But at least I am not pukeable.

Comments received from previous blog

As for the puzzle, you witch!...I sent it on to my husband and it is now keeping him busy and happy and out of my hair so that I can write in peace so your plan is doomed. Doomed I say!

Rats! Foiled again…I have to think up another way to knobble the writer ladies of the Frogspond.

Love the cover art and the editor. She is fabulous in every way and I am so glad I'm not the only one with formatting issues. I don't have the horizontal problem. But she did have to point out that my hero might want to remove his pants before getting busy. Sigh. I had left his pants not only on, but front closed. Makes it a titch complicated, yes?

Hmmm…sex with his pants on…and the front closed? On the bright side there is no need for a condom…on the down side the heroine may be a tad ticked off and she may even be wondering what the hell she is doing with a man who forgets to take his pants off. Lord it's hard being a romance writer.

Friday, 29 June 2007

Patience thy name is not Amarinda

I just finished doing a bunch of edits for Shades of Gray that will be released early 2008. It is about vampires, love and sex. The sequel Marlow’s Curse is about a vampire, a witch and a demon – and yes there is love and sex – all the good stuff. Anyway off sex and back to edits…my Editor has the patience of a saint. No truly. I drive the woman mad and yet she accepts it with Zen- like calm. I would slap me if I was her. I am crap at formatting, I forget to spell in American and I cannot hyphenate worth a damn. My editor (best on the planet – no seriously, would I lie to you?) often has to point out to me when I am writing sex scenes that it might be a good idea for the characters I write to actually have sex in a bed instead in a lift, a photo booth, a limo, a graveyard etc. Horizontal sex you say? Hmm…yes, that could work in a book and I will give it some thought I say to her. To my Editor I say you are a Queen among women….is that enough sucking up?

I got emailed an internet puzzle game today by someone I work with. My colleague was doing nothing at work and just assumed I would be doing stuff all as well. Yes, I could have been offended by this assumption but as it was correct it seemed to be a waste of time going off into a hissy fit (Aussie for getting upset) over it. Anyway I looked at the puzzle and scanned the instructions and closed it. Unlike my Editor I have no patience what so ever and I never read instructions. Why? Because I think I know everything and ninety percent of the time I do and the other ten percent is someone else’s fault. Added to that I suck at puzzles. You know the ones – “a man is on a train that is going sixty miles an hour over dry land. It will cross two bridges and stop for five minutes at three towns picking up six parcels and eighteen passengers. What color is the man’s underwear?” Who cares is my answer. Yes, I am an impatient, smart arse know it all – and yet I love me. I did send the puzzle to the ladies of the Frogspond, the elite writing group I belong to. Why? Well to share of course or was it a fiendish plan to slow their writing down? Hmmm…as if I would do that.
Interviews with Amarinda
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

It's not my fault...its the cosmos

Dear Amarinda this is your biorhythm for Friday, June 29th:Today your intellectual level is 8%: if you can, put off big decisions. Your physical level is 0%: it is advisable to avoid muscular effort. Your emotional level is 71%: you will be objective and balanced in judgments!

Every morning I get my biorhythm(groovy man) and horoscope sent to me. I like to keep in touch with the cosmos as it tells me important things like whether that mistake I thought I hid yesterday will be found out or whether I should be all economical and make a healthy lunch to take for work or blow the money on hot beer battered chips (French fries for non-Aussies) So, as you can see, my biorhythm is very important. What it tells me today is: -
Your intellectual level is 8%: - that mistake is going to be found and I will come up with some half arsed lie that in all likelihood will not work so I will have to rely on my devastating charm to save my arse and I have a lot of arse to save.
Your physical level is 0%: - perfect I did not want to exercise anyway as its too bloody cold.
Your emotional level is 71%: So - beer battered chips for lunch it is – excellent. The extra calories will not be my fault as the cosmos is telling me to do it.

Dear Amarinda this is your horoscope for Friday, June 29th: Scorpio,There will be good mutual understanding with your partner: today you’ll decide to have a vacation together. In the job sphere, don't let yourself be influenced by other people’s opinions; you know what you have to do. Tip: don't be ungrateful towards those who want to help you.
Translation for Scorpios:-
mutual understanding with your partner –code for he must agree with me or I will make his life hell when we go grocery shopping tonight and we can’t afford a vacation so we will wander down the balmy aisles of the supermarket.
don't let yourself be influenced by other people’s opinions; you know what you have to do – code for ignore everyone and continue writing your book.
don't be ungrateful towards those who want to help you – code for let everyone else do the work while you sit and write your book – however remember to thank everyone at the end of the day before you skid out the door.

It’s not my fault…the cosmos is making me do it.
Blogs of note -

Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Thursday, 28 June 2007

Where is Jack Bauer when you need him?

We have been in a state of uncertainty at work. While this doesn’t bother me as it gives me time to write, it is stressing out those around me which makes it hard for me to concentrate on my writing. So, being the proactive soul that I am, I flat out asked management in the office what the bloody hell was going on. The answer? “You will know on Monday.” What sort of half arsed answer is that when I asked the question on a Wednesday? What will we know on Monday? We will be sacked? We are no longer getting the monogrammed work shirts or the really bad news – we are moving away from the coffee shop that makes excellent bucket-o’-coffee? That would be tragic!

But no, none of those things if you can believe a man who smirks at me as he says “just wait and see.” Is it just me or do men do intrigue really badly? All men but Jack Bauer in 24 that is. Is there nothing Jack Bauer cannot do? I am sure he would not be pissing us around with pseudo cryptic comments. He would just say in a low sexy voice – “There is a chance the world will end Monday but I can save you Amarinda even though I will get terribly wounded and lose the love of my life - I will save both you and the world.” Jack is the man. Anyway in lieu of “Jack” like men at work, I went back to my office. My assistant is stressing out over the whole thing and does a lot of putting her head on the desk and keening in a low disturbing way. Luckily I am very good at being deaf when I want to be. Anyway as soon as I sat down I got a call from the big boss interstate. Hmmm? Coincidence? I think not. He started off with “You know you can talk to me any time.” Which is code for “stop annoying management on site.” I told him I was well aware I could ring him but would he tell me anything? I got the standard “You’ll know on Monday”. Then when he realized I was not going to be fobbed off with that he tried flattery. His attempts to sway me with words of praise (no, he does not know I write books in work time. That’s a surprise for later) were probably a 4 out of 10 effort and resolved nothing.

So Monday is that day. God only knows what will happen. All I know is Monday I always dress in black as I am mourning the loss of the weekend and that I will stagger in with a bucket- o’-coffee and wait for the “announcement.” I hope it is going to be worth all the drama. I plan to take notes for the next book.

Thief of Mine – released 20th July 2007

It's not unusual for the bride to have sex on her wedding day. But when the bride is begging for another man to take her hard and fast in front of a startled bridesmaid that's unusual. Not that Stella Rowallan wanted to watch. She walked in on it and now she can't walk out. The man taking the bride is bad, wild and hot. Stella knows she should be appalled. But she's not. She wants him. What is it with the bad boys that make them so damn good?
But all bad boys have a past and Kit Kincaid is no different. He is a self confessed thief who likes to have sex in wild, daring places. And Stella Rowallan is just his type of woman - shockable yet willing. But he has a problem. A freaky witch woman and her followers are chasing him for a stolen stone idol. Kit has it and he plans to sell it. Can he have both Stella and the idol or does something have to give?

Wednesday, 27 June 2007

The Wednesday interview

I had an idea to do a Wednesday interview with some great authors I know. Why Wednesday? I was born on a Wednesday and that seems as good a reason as any. When I spoke to fellow author Anny Cook yesterday I found out she was going to do a Monday interview – spooky. So we will tag team.

Next week I will have my first guinea pig, er, author. I belong to an elite writing group called the Frogspond. No, we are not green unless hung over and we are all too pure to drink (liar liar pants on fire). However there are a lot of good authors in the pond. So I thought I would give myself the first run at the questions to see if they were doable.
The Questions....

1. You have some sizzling sex scenes in your book. How hard is it to write sex and make it convincing?

Great sex is great imagination. We all know where the parts fit but without imagination it’s all mechanical and boring. You want the heroine to scream in wild, toe curling passion and for the hero to make love to her like she is the only reason he exists on the planet. So I sit in my pajamas and fluffy slippers at my keyboard and think hot thoughts. Yes, I will get out more.

2. Romance and the condom. How hard do you find to slip it in or on when the action is hot between characters?

This is a hard one – no pun intended. My editor - best in the world – keeps mentioning the use of condoms. I generally try to work them in by some strange, amusing way as sex should be fun. Until the couple is in a “committed” relationship they are generally used. However, like in real life mistakes happen.

3. Do you think romance just happens or do you make your characters work for it?

I think romance is the old eyes-across-a-crowded-room attraction. However I try to complicate my characters lives so a happy ever after ending has to be worked at as nothing good ever comes easy and maybe I just like to drive my characters insane.

4. What is it about your hero that makes him irresistible to women?

He is strong and smart and he knows what he wants. He understands that the heroine has hang ups but he is prepared to do anything to get her into his life. He is funny and sweet yet he will kick down the gates of hell to save the woman he loves. Bring me that man.

5. Do you think readers want to escape or do they want to identify with a character?

Escape is important but if you don’t believe the escape is possible you are not going to go along with the story. The heroines in my books are average woman who do average things until forced into a bizarre situation. I want a reader to think she could be the heroine or the heroine is her best friend.

6. What do you think is the most important thing to remember when writing romance?

Make it real and make it enjoyable as readers are smart and they will not be fobbed off by some half arsed attempt at writing.

7. What are you working on now?

I am working my arse off (if only that were possible) at the moment to finish a time travel book. I won’t say much about it as I got burned recently be a fellow author who nicked an idea of mine. Needless to say she is forever off the Christmas card list. However I will modestly say the book will be fabulous.
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Monday, 25 June 2007

Adults have been warned...

I was trying to think of something scintillating to say in this blog but I am too brain dead after work. I have a policy of not trying to think too much at work and yet all day people come up to me and ask me to solve problems. No matter how much I glare at them or pretend to be deaf they ask questions. This is exceptionally annoying when I am trying to write the latest chapter of my next book. But there you go. They pay me and I like to believe I do a good job at looking like I care. Am I a bad employee? Possibly. However I like to think I am a creative employee using my skills to advance myself in company time. See? It does not sound so bad if you say it like that.
So, being brain dead with a blog to write, my friend Ethel, not her real name but a long time ago in a company we both used to work for (let's call it the mythical company of Promptel I use in my books) she was Ethel and I was Lucy. Yes, very original nicknames for a pair of schemers. As Lucy I always had lots of plans that tended to get us both in trouble - but we had a very good time driving people insane. What is life without insanity and a little mischief making I ask you if you get enjoyment out of it? Work cannot always be about work. So wise Ethel said put that "Halloween sex thing" on and get people to read it. So here is a tiny snippet of "the Halloween sex thing" courtesy of Ethel and this blog is dedicated to every Ethel and Lucy combination in the world.
Be aware that it is not for the faint hearted do not read on if sex or swear words offend you....
Maid For Death
The Blurb...
Cassandra Kent has a problem. Two men want her. Fantasy is great, reality can kill you.
One would be lover is a pissed off ghost. Once a year Miles returns on Halloween to kill a maid as an act of vengeance. The other is a dark, sexy Scot who is hunting the ghost. Sebastian plans to make sure the ghost stays dead and buried. Cassandra is the means to do it.
Cassandra is under threat from both men. Both want to have sex with her and both could be the death of her. What's s girl to do?
Maid For Death
The excerpt...

Cassandra Kent moaned as she gripped the back of the sofa and pushed her butt back against the man whose cock was hard and tight between the cheeks of her ass. She knew there was nothing like the feeling of a hard cock inside her. All Cassandra wanted now was to come.
“Harder…faster…” she panted as the man’s hands sensuously massaged the swollen mounds of her naked breasts, tugging on her nipples, as he ground in and out of her body. She heard him laugh loudly at her request. His hands gripped her hips firmly as he forcefully slammed his groin up against the plump flesh of her ass forcing the shaft of his cock deeper inside her. The sound of his balls slapping up against her backside competed with her shrieks of pleasure. “Oh God yes…” she moaned knowing she was going to explode soon.
Ten minutes ago Cassandra had knocked on the door to hotel room fifty-two planning to clean the room as fast as possible so she could get ready to meet up with friends at a planned Halloween party. But that was before she had let herself into room fifty-two and cannoned into hard muscle and warm male flesh. As Cassandra’s hands had roamed that flesh in an attempt to steady herself she had looked up and blinked in surprise as her gaze was caught and held by the most dazzling green eyes she had ever seen. Mesmerizing was the first word that came to her. Hot, fast instant attraction grabbed at her. And when he had suddenly smiled down at her in such a sexy yet arrogant way, Cassandra had the sudden overwhelming impulse to give him whatever he wanted. There was something about this man that demanded hot sweaty action.
“I want to fuck you,” the man had said. Just like that. His hands had grabbed her ass and pulled up against his already erect cock.
“I shouldn't…” Yet Cassandra had known she would. The man compelled her to be crazy in one lustful look. She was instantly wet with wanting. Whatever ideas she had of Halloween parties or room cleaning had disappeared in that one hot look from him and the feel of the cock against her stomach. It seemed a shame not to take advantage of that…
“My dear, you know you have no choice. I have to and will fuck you.” He had told her as he ripped off the blouse and bra from her body, his mouth sucking on her breasts as he yanked her panties down.
The next thing Cassandra knew her blouse and skirt were on the floor, her bra was God knows where and her panties were flung over a nearby lampshade. So much for her plans. But then action was always so much better. Cassandra had never felt so wild and hot and aching to be filled. She had never behaved this way before but in this one crazy moment she did not care about the moral rights and wrongs of having this stranger fuck her. All she knew was she wanted his hard length all the way inside her. Morality be damned.
“Fuck me then.” She allowed him to spin her around and push her to the sofa. She spread her legs and stuck her ass out desperate to take all of him inside her.
“You chambermaids are all the same,” the man murmured as he licked the side of her neck and impaled her in one strong thrust.
Cassandra shrieked in sheer pleasure. Her employer would have a fit if he saw one of his cleaning staff balling one of the guests, but the mental health of her employer did not concern her at that moment. Having an orgasm did. Besides she did not literally run into gorgeous auburn haired gods who felt this damn good every day when she was cleaning rooms at the Philbeach Manor Hotel.
“Oh God…” Cassandra moaned deep in her throat as she felt the orgasm spiralling up through her body. She felt like she was on the verge of exploding into a million pieces.
Sebastian Lord stood inside the half opened door and watched the scene before him. He was intrigued by the woman getting fucked in the ass. She was wildly abandoned. Her head was tossed back and her body was arched as her full breasts swung in time with the thrusts of the man who was taking her hard and fast. She in turn pushed her ass back against him demanding more and looking like she was enjoying every moment. It seemed a shame to intrude. Sebastian thought about letting her come but that would be too dangerous. He pushed through the gap in the doorway left by the cleaning trolley she had abandoned earlier.
“She is not for you Miles.” Sebastian watched as the woman’s eyes snapped open in shock and anger.
The man called Miles stopped momentarily as he looked at the intruder. He thrust hard again into the rounded ass before him.
“Holy crap!” Cassandra jerked forwards at his thrust and looked at the tall, dark haired man. “Who the hell are you?” The man in the black leather jacket and jeans did not look the slightest bit perturbed that he had interrupted them. In fact he looked at her as if he wanted to fuck her as well. Cassandra moaned deeply. Just let her come now and she would think about whether or not to have him as well.
“It’s too late Sebastian this one is already mine.” Miles continued thrusting inside the woman. He was so close to taking her completely.
“Not yet.” Sebastian could not allow this woman to be so easily taken.
“She will be.” Miles had decided that the minute he had seen her.
“Excuse me I don’t belong to either of you. I just want to come. Now either help or get out.” Cassandra Kent belonged to no one but herself. If she chose to have sex with someone that was because she wanted to, not because she was looking to be possessed and that sounded eerily like what these two men were alluding to. And why the hell had this happened before she had come? She wanted an orgasm damn it but suddenly the green eyed man was no longer thrusting into her as hard as he had been and her likelihood of getting an immediate orgasm was dying rapidly. Not fair. If they wanted to beat each other’s brains out why couldn’t they do it later?
“You have to leave Miles.” Sebastian drew the gun from the waistband of his jeans. He knew a bullet would only momentarily slow Miles down. It would not kill him. Miles needed to be stopped by other means. But now was not the time to do it.
Miles sighed angrily and stopped thrusting. The woman wailed in disappointment. This one he liked.
“You know this is not the end of this.” He slid out of the ass before him. “I will have this one Sebastian.
Cassandra spun around and looked at the auburn haired man then the intruder. What had she found so wildly compelling in this Miles guy only moments before? With his cock no longer inside her, this man paled into comparison beside the tall, dark haired man whose shoulder length hair was tied back in a ponytail. What with the hair and that Scottish accent of his, he was dead sexy as his eyes roamed her body with definite intent. Cassandra shook herself mentally. She was naked, pissed off and horny as hell. The two men in the room ogling her did not seem to be making any moves toward claiming her naked and eager body. Not one of her more sexually definitive moments. But if she was honest, Cassandra would have had either man’s cock inside her at the instant in order to satisfy the empty itchy feeling between her legs. When had she become so slut like? Who cares…just let me come.
....hmmm...does Cassandra relieve that itch? Who is Sebastian? And what are they going to do with the pesky Miles?
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Sunday, 24 June 2007

Bring on the cleaning pixies...

I just arrived back from a weekend away. You know all the deadly boring stuff you try and cram into the weekend like washing and cleaning, well I have that still ahead of me to do this lovely Sunday arvo (afternoon for non-Aussies). I would rather be doing anything but. However the cleaning pixies refuse to answer my call so I am stuck with doing it. Bloody pixies. What is fascinating (no, not how I call on pixies to clean) but how one person, little old Amarinda, can make so much mess and create so much laundry in a week. And there is no one to blame but me. I live alone. I have to. It’s not a law…though a few people think it should be as I apparently am "impossible" to live with. I can’t see how. I want everything my own way and I like my own space. I can be a tad messy, okay really messy, but it’s my house and what few rules I follow are my rules and all must abide by them when they step over the threshold. Am I a tyrannical bitch? One week a month absolutely. I am hell on earth. The rest of the time I am just an average, pushy bitch.

My few house rules – I prefer not to cook. I can cook I just don’t like to. I will microwave anything you want but I am not going to that grill or use a frying pan unless there is a gun at my head or you have handed me a large sum of money. Other than that I encourage anyone staying over to cook. Please do. Other rules…do not tell me how messy I am. I know. Evidence of this is spread all around the house. Next, I like to sleep alone. No it’s not some chastity kick. It’s just I like the whole bed to myself and get sick of him saying “sleeping with you is like sleeping with a human thrashing machine.” Well sleep alone I say. So sex – yes. Sleeping together afterward – no, bugger off. If I want to roll from one end of the bed to the other I will. My bed. My house. My ideal man comes and cooks(or we microwave something) we indulge in earth shattering sex (I write romance remember – it’s not going to be ho-hum sex) and then he leaves.(no, not on a white horse) He is there when I need him and visa versa. Cold? Too practical? No, just realistic. I think you get to a point in your life when you know what you want and it’s better to let people know about front to avoid angst later.

So, I cannot put it off any longer...on to the laundry and the cleaning. Thankfully I was a chambermaid in a hotel in London many moons ago and I know all the shortcuts when it comes to cleaning. Scary – you bet? Think about that when you stay in the next hotel. Things are not always as they seem. But that is another story…or better yet, read Maid For Death. It’s a Halloween quickie through Ellora’s Cave - out at Halloween. You can learn about an Aussie chambermaid in London running into ghosts and a ghost hunter. Take a squiz at the blurb below....
Maid For Death - released Ocrober 31st 2007
Cassandra Kent has a problem. Two men want her. Fantasy is great, reality can kill you.

One would be lover is a pissed off ghost. Once a year Miles returns on Halloween to kill a maid as an act of vengeance. The other is a dark, sexy Scot who is hunting the ghost. Sebastian plans to make sure the ghost stays dead and buried. Cassandra is the means to do it.
Cassandra is under threat from both men. Both want to have sex with her and both could be the death of her. What's s girl to do?
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Saturday, 23 June 2007

Drama, chaos, pathos and plain insanity...

Quote of the week by a strong, smart woman….

“No one can make you feel inferior without your consent” – Eleanor Roosevelt

Damn straight Eleanor

What a week it has been. There has been drama, chaos, pathos and plain and utter psychotic insanity. I now believe that everyone I work with is either on drugs or need to be or I need to drink more. I have had a Sales Manager crying over the line, screaming over the line and then very quietly in a low, disturbing voice telling me it’s all because the planets aren’t in alignment. Okay. Sure. Why not? Lets all blame the planets for the insanity during the week. God forbid anyone takes blame for their own stuff ups. And there have been a lot of those. Not be me. I would like to say it is because I am too perfect but it’s more that I have lucky ability to see a stuff up and fix it before anyone notices – that or creatively hide it.

Anyway the week started with an office coup – as all the best weeks do. People trying to shaft someone else to get a better job, outcome, car space. If there is not an office coup being planned or staged I become very bored as the people bunging on said coup like to sidle up and tell you what’s happening before it happens. People trust me. I have a policy of if you have nothing good to say then come and see me. Anyway the office coup this week was about one group of people trying to oust another group. It is still ongoing because both groups are not good at the whole takeover thing. I have enjoyed it as it’s better than going to the theatre. Office coup aside, the office bitch has been psychotic all week. One minute I am to blame for everything and the next I am her best friend then it goes back to the blame thing. I have just ignored her and stockpiled her insane, mouth frothing emails to use against her at another time. I like to be proactive.

But it just has not been the staff that have been cracking up under the non alignment of planets thing, the customers have been too. I do a scheduling/forecasting thing as my day job – most annoying as it gets in the way of my writing but there is it. One has to earn money to pay the pesky bills. Scheduling/forecasting is really like flying by the seat of your pants. You know logically what should happen but people aren’t logical and forecasting is throwing a dart against a dart board and hoping it sticks. All week just before something was due to be scheduled out for delivery, I kept getting frantic phones like “Can you send the 500 you were going to send to Upper Wagga now to Lower Ulla Dulla and 2000 for South Oonadatta to West Thargarmindah.” This has involved me running all over the warehouse. I don’t like to run. I am not built for it. When my mother was a trainee nurse she was told by the Matron “Only run if there is a haemorrhage or fire.” I like to stick to this principle. So I did a lot of running this week which had to be compensated by eating chocolate.

Today I am heading west to the mountains to visit my father in a retirement village. It’s more like a luxury setting for retired folks who live independently in their own houses in a senior’s community. They are all insane up there but they don’t care. It’s one of the perks of being old and I am looking forward to it. I want to retire and do what I want, pretend to be deafer than I am to avoid questions I don’t want to answer and terrorize people on my motorized scooter. But that’s years and years away. For now I will say hallelujah it’s the weekend, wonder what drama the coming week will bring and make a mental note to buy popcorn to eat while the drama enfolds. Who needs the movies? Real life is spin out.
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Thursday, 21 June 2007

Rose Perfect

Quote for today…one of my all time favourites….
“Do not look for trees if there are no rhinoceros around.”

I was talking to this man today. He was sexy, funny and he listened intently to way I was saying – no, he was not gay. Anyway, as we were chatting away I could only think of one thing about this gorgeous man – and no, it wasn’t that. I kept thinking he would be the perfect hero in my next book. How sad is that? I was more interested in his mannerisms and thinking how to describe him than the actual man. I have discovered that writers get so tied up in their writing that they become blind to everything else. So, I either have to give up writing. Hmmm…no. Or pay more attention to men as men and not potential story book heroes. So blinders off. Look at the man – okay maybe jot a few notes down but look at the man. I’ll see how that goes. It could work. I believe relationships are formed when you pay attention. Anyway, I thought I'd bung in a bit from Rose Perfect - out now through Cerriwden Press.

“I am trying to picture myself in this leading role, the gal next door. A man pops out of thin air and says he is from the future needing my help to stop a criminal. I loved that this is realistic and refreshing with a strong cast of personalities. This is a cross of The Time Tunnel, Star Trek and Magnum P.I. all rolled into one. For those like me that love time travel it is a must read. This gives long distance dating a whole new meaning.” Lainey - Reviewer for Coffee Time Romance – 4 Cups

The Blurb

Rosanna Harlow has just come out of the worst year of her life. 2005 was the pits. She lost her job, was ripped off by her feral cousins and she broke her big toe trying to do home renovations on the cheap. All she wants now is a peaceful, prosperous 2006 with no problems or excitement. The last thing Rosanna Harlow needs is the darkly attractive Archer McCall turning up on her door step telling her he is a Time Traveler from the year 2049 and that he needs her help to stop her best friend, Prue, from becoming a major drug lord. Sure he does. Yet, she soon discovers the Time Traveler is not mad and he is indeed telling her the truth. So why her? It’s not like she’s Wonder Woman or anything. She has no special powers. If she had, she would have used them long before this to sort out her own life.
The evil of one woman will bring Rosanna Harlow the enduring love that she never knew she needed. But will she survive 2006 to be with Archer? Will their efforts to save the future be in vain?


Rosanna Harlow was drunk. Not falling down, gut spewing drunk though. More like happy, glowing, in love with the world tipsy. The sort of tipsy that made her cheeks glow red and her green eyes dance with happy enthusiasm. Tomorrow, of course, her face would be pale and her eyes red but that was okay. It was New Years Eve 2005. Rosanna had a lot to celebrate. She had no job and no man in her life. Add to that a broken big toe, from her latest renovating disaster and the fact that she was in debt up to her eyeballs and she was doing just swell, thank you very much. Rosanna Harlow’s life was just one big celebration of madness. She was glad to farewell 2005. As far as Rosanna was concerned, 2005 had been crap. She could not wait to see the back end of the year. Queen Elizabeth, the second, had had her annas horribilus. Rosanna Harlow, the first, was happy to drown 2005 in alcohol.
“Woo hoo!” Rosanna howled at the moon as she staggered around the backyard pool with a glass of champagne in one hand and a ridiculous shiny green party hat perched jauntily on her head. No one at the crowded party noticed her specifically. Everyone else was in varying shades of alcoholic happiness and having just as good a time at the party. It was the second one she and her best friend Prue had attended that night. They would go home soon and collapse. But for the moment Rosanna felt invincible, broken toe and all. She laughed out loud as Prue echoed her call.
Rosanna heard beeping and reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out her mobile phone. She squinted down at the display. “I have a message.” She announced out loud just because she could. Prue cheered drunkenly. Rosanna smiled as she accessed her message with uncoordinated fingers. “Archer? Who the hell is Archer?”
“William Tell was an archer.” Prue informed her in a drunken slur as she barely missed stumbling into the pool she was drunkenly trying to navigate her way around.
“William Tell left me a message?”
“Actually, I think he’s dead.”
Rosanna looked at Prue. “Why would a dead man send me a message?”
“Maybe he’s lonely.” Prue laughed out loud at her own inane comment.
“You’re drunk.”
“As a skunk.” Prue slumped down on a nearby deck chair.
Rosanna giggled and shook her head. She squinted down at the display again. “I’ll meet you 1st January 2006—caller Archer time 11:58pm date 31/12/2049” 31/12/2049? What? Someone was calling her from the year 2049? Ah huh. Either her mobile was on the fritz or she needed to stop drinking now. Preferring to think her mobile was the problem she slipped it back into her the pocket of her jeans and staggered over to follow Prue. The effects of the alcohol and the pain of her toe were finally starting to register. Okay, maybe there was something to be said for not mixing pain medication with alcohol. She slumped beside her friend on a neighboring chair.
“2006 is going to be the best year ever!” Rosanna yelled up at the night sky. The stars twinkled down at her non-committally. They had heard it all before.
“Yeah, we have nothing and no one!” Prue yelled in response.
“Here’s to having nothing and no one!” They both cheered out loud then giggled at their own silliness. Once their mirth subsided, they lapsed into quiet reflection for a moment wondering what the following year would bring to each of them. Both were aware that they were responsible for their own destiny and choices they made in the year to come. Although, 2005 had been a bitch of a year for Rosanna, she could blame no one for the events that dragged her down. Job loss, subsequent unemployment and bad choices were all apart of life. And life just happened. Mainly when you least expected it to. But, Rosanna was resilient. Experience had made her so. Life could get better. Surely the worst was over?
Prue broke the silence. “I have every intention of getting ahead.” There was a quiet determination in her voice that went essentially unrecognized by Rosanna. Later, Rosanna would think back to this conversation when the changes started to affect both their lives.
“You’ve already got a head, Prue. Why would you want two?” Rosanna pictured a two headed Prue and laughed. It was like something out of a 1950s schlock horror film.
Prue slapped her friends arm playfully. “No silly, I intend to get rich this year.” There was a calculating gleam in Prue’s eye that Rosanna was too befuddled and caught up in her own thoughts to notice.
“Oh yeah, how?” Either Prue intended to win the lotto or marry a rich man. The first option appealed to Rosanna. Winning money was always a great option. The last one didn’t. She didn’t see the point of marrying even if it was for money. The thought of having to deal with your own problems and that of another’s seemed too complicated to Rosanna. Besides who needed a man? She was quite capable of messing up her own life by herself. She was proof positive of this.
“I have plans.”
Rosanna Harlow had never had a plan in her life. She was thirty-five years of age and she had stumbled her way through life without a clear destination. She kept waiting for a destination to register in her mind but so far nothing checked in. Maybe one day all the pieces would fit together but she wasn’t counting on it. “I’m thinking about getting a goldfish. How’s that for a plan?”
“Damn fine plan!”
“To goldfish!” Rosanna toasted as their glasses clinked together.
“And to gold!” Prue added softly. “And however you can get it.”
Rosanna pulled her mobile out of her pocket again and looked at the time displayed. Two seconds after midnight. 2005 no longer. A new year had dawned. A year that was to be the turning point in her life. Just how that would happen she wasn’t sure. But positive vibes and good intentions had to count for something surely. “Happy New Year, Prue.”
“Happy New Year, Rosie.”

Last Man Standing

Quote of the Day...hhmmm...very deep and meaningful in an existential way

If my goats aren't as good as Ivan's then I should kill Ivan's goats instead of making my goats better
Charlene Leatherman, Prophecy of Vithan by Cerridwen Press, released August 2, 2007 Defeating the villain, destroying the monster, delivering the hero, and never breaking a nail.

As promised here is the excerpt from Last Man Standing. It is the sequel to Swift of Heart. Both are from Cerridwen Press and both are fantastic reading but then all my books are says she ever so modestly. Don’t you just love the hero on the front cover? The cover gods have smiled on me with all my covers. The talented people in coverland at Ellora’s Cave/Cerridwen Press are the best in the business. Would I lie to you? Am I sucking up so I get another fantastic cover for my next release…possibly but they are damn good. By all means check out my brilliant covers and see what I mean.

My 70 years old Aunt is constantly shocked into a fit of giggles when I send her a cover. Age means nothing when romance and sex are on offer – Go Auntie!

Last Man Standing

The Blurb

Six months ago, when battle scarred warrior, Alex Navarro jumped into Amy Hart’s car, he said he was doing it to save her life. He said a mad man from another dimension was after her. But how exactly is trying to seduce her saving her life? Shouldn’t Alex be after the bad guy? And why on earth did she give her heart to man who only wants her for the moment?

Six months later Amy Hart is pregnant, and the father to be denies paternity, announcing it for all to hear. That's just fine with Amy. She hates Alex Navarro with a passion anyway. And there is no way she is going to change her mind. She knows when she’s not wanted. As for Alex, his deliberate plan for Amy to hate him is backfiring. And that’s not the only problem he has. The threat of an old prophesy hangs over his head. He loves Amy but he will not endanger her. But what choice does he have? Can Alex win back the love of his life and beat the curse that has haunted him for years? Or will greed and jealously in out?

The Excerpt

“Who the hell are you?” Who was this annoying man who challenged her driving skills, jumped in her car and smiled at her as if he was amused by her words and attitude? Was that normal? And why her? What made her so lucky today?
“I am someone who is going to keep you alive.” To the best of his ability this was Alex’s intention. He just had to get Amy Hart to go along with him. It would make both their lives easier.
“You are doing that by scaring me to death jumping in my car?” It wasn’t so much she was scared it was more that she pissed off that this man had decided she looked defenseless and therefore decided to make her a victim. Well, not this little red headed duck.
“Turn left.” He ordered. Alex needed to get her to the safety of her home. Then he could tell her what was going on.
Amy had no intention of being directed to whatever fate this man had planned for her, so she ignored him and deliberately turned right even though turning left would have brought her closer to the police station. She was mistress of her own destiny and direction even if it was the wrong way. So there!
“Where are you going?” Alex Navarro was not annoyed by her action, more amused. The look in Amy Hart’s eyes indicated she had no intention of going along with his plans. Well, too bad, she had no choice and she would learn that sooner or later.
“I am going wherever the hell I want.” Okay, it wasn’t a great answer but it made her feel more in control. But that control lasted only for a moment as suddenly two large hands grabbed the steering wheel, and quickly pulled the car over to the side of the road, snapping up the handbrake. Those same two hands grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her onto his lap. The sudden close contact, made Amy gasp in fright for the first time. “Let me go!” She squirmed against him but he held fast.
“I’m not letting go until you do as you are told.”
“Well, you’ll be waiting a long time, mate!” She rarely ever did what she was told. She pushed at the hands that held tight around her waist.
As far as Alex was concerned the red head could squirm all she liked. He liked the feel of her soft, warm bottom grinding against his penis as she struggled to free herself. And Alex wasn’t the only one of them aware of the effect she was having on him.
Amy felt a distinct hardening beneath her backside. Her face flooded with color. Lord, this manhandling was not only infuriating and embarrassing, it was also strangely arousing. She made a sudden dive for the door handle, hoping to fling the door open and herself out of it.
Alex grabbed her as she made her desperate attempt. He smiled as she landed head first against the door, her khaki clad bottom in his face. One hand settled softly on the cotton covered flesh of her backside whilst the other slid under to rest softly in support against her midriff. Alex could feel her sudden intake of air at his actions.
“Do I have to smack your luscious derriere to make you behave?” He wasn’t averse to this idea at all. This was a woman that it would be a pleasure to try and tame.
“You do and you’re dead!” Luscious derriere? Her flabby backside? He was either deranged or on drugs. Either way, she had to get his hand off her ass. Being fondled by a car jacker was not on a list of things to do. Her hand reached desperately for the door release even though there was no way that she could slip from his hold.
“If you’ll be a good girl I’ll let you up.”
For a split second, the thought of being a bad girl ensconced on this man’s lap was appealing. Amy twisted awkwardly to look at him. Black eyes were locked with hers as if thinking similar thoughts. “I can’t promise anything.” Even as she said the words, they both knew they had more than one meaning.
“Fair enough.” Alex pulled Amy up and slid out from under her and took over the driver’s seat. Both of them were conscious of the bulge in his black trousers.
Amy smiled sweetly at him, hoping to make him think she had acquiesced to his demands. Alex returned her look with one of shrewd amusement. Neither of them was surprised when she grabbed for the door handle to pull it open and he grabbed her by the upper thigh to hold her in place. Alex pushed the driver’s side button for the car’s central locking.
The warmth of his hand seared into Amy’s bare leg making her wish she had worn jeans or leggings or something that covered the skin that was suddenly alarmingly sensitive to touch. But then she hadn’t expected to be manhandled after Saturday morning grocery shopping. The most she expected was to have a shopping trolley rammed into her leg by some on the loose child. “You won’t get away with this.”
“What?” The skin of her thigh was soft and smooth and had Alex thinking about the rest of her skin and how it would feel up against his. He could tell by the look in her eye she was having similar thoughts but suppressing them. Sudden attraction was a dangerous and delightful thing. And Alex Navarro was not against pursuing it further, however the lady in question had to be willing.
“Whatever it is you are doing I am no victim.” Amy pulled at the hand on her thigh to pull it off. His hold was neither cruel nor painful. It was just sure and certain.
“You don’t strike me as a victim.” Victims rarely fought back. By the determined, look in her eye; Alex knew this red head would probably fight the devil himself if she had to.
“I will fight you every inch of the way.”
Alex smiled. Strangely that sounded enjoyable to him.
“What do you think I am going to do to you? Ravish you?” He reluctantly took his hand from her leg.
Just the way he said the words made Amy feel both foolish and uncertain, two emotions that she did not entertain willingly.
“Well…” Amy looked down at the pink mark his hand had left on her leg. There was no pain, just soft warmth that remained. She knew she should have every right to feel violated and offended but she didn’t. All she felt was warm and distinctly uncomfortable because of it.
“No your virtue is safe.” Alex saw the confusion in her eyes. “Not that I wouldn’t like to make love to you.”
“Pig!” Amy slapped the man hard on the arm. The muscles she felt underneath the black jacket barely registered the blow.
“A pig that’s here to save you, Amy Hart.”
This man knew her name?
…….Alex does a lot of stuff to annoy Amy and there is an ancient but true prophecy that can possibly break them up but when did the course of true love ever run smoothly?

Tuesday, 19 June 2007

Mad About Mirabelle....

I ‘ummed’ and ‘ahhed’ whether to bung(Aussie for delicately shove in) an excerpt in from one of my Ellora’s Cave upcoming books to be released and then I thought what the hell – live dangerously. So be warned gentle, astute reader if you don’t want to read about sex or certain ‘bad’ words thanks for visiting and I will chat to you tomorrow when I will put an excerpt in from Last Man Standing…a less raunchier but still damn good (Yes, I love me) romance about people from other dimensions.

This is probably the only tame excerpts from Mad About Mirabelle I have. Feel free to check out my website for all my upcoming books or drop me a line and tell me what you think.

The Blurb….
Holy crap! Mirabelle Turner's new next door neighbor is the last man she expected to ever see again. It was one thing to have knee wobbling sex with this dark sexy stranger in the back of a limo but quite another to find him staying next door with his Aunt Lila. Can she resist the temptations of the boy next door? Flynn Curtis is more then happy to tempt the delectable Mirabelle. He is mad about her. When his Aunt Lila's house mysteriously burns down he gladly accepts the reluctant Mirabelle's offer for he and his Aunt to move in with her. It is the start of all sorts of moves Flynn intends to make on his new neighbor. Mirabelle is trapped by courtesy, lust and sudden realization that she is falling in love with Flynn. But does the person who burnt down Lila’s house have other plans for Mirabelle? And is Aunt Lila really the sweet old lady she seems? Can Flynn save the woman he is mad about?

The Excerpt….

“Get out!” Mirabelle pointed to the door.
“Oh you’re not getting off that easily. You are going to be really sorry you hit me bitch. I am going to fuck you so hard you will feel like you are being split in two.” The man advanced menacingly toward her.
Oh shit!
Mirabelle pushed back into the leather upholstery grateful that she still had on her ridiculously expensive spiked heels. She had originally blanched at the price of the come fuck me shoes when she had first fallen in love with them in the shoe store window. However now she could see these expensive lethal weapons strapped to her ankles may just save her life.
The door to the limo flung open.
Please let it be Batman coming to save my ass.
“You heard the lady—get out!” Flynn locked eyes with the man letting him know in no certain terms that he could easily beat that crap out of his yuppyfied metrosexual hide.
Mirabelle looked at her uniformed savior in surprise. Was this the limo driver? Two thoughts crossed her mind. Thank God he had come to her rescue and why had she not noticed this slab of beefcake before? Tall, dark and damn sexy what with that crooked scar above his left eyebrow.
“This bitch led me on,” the man whined.
“Regardless, when a lady says no she means it.” Flynn told the man. “Have you not gotten that into your skull yet?”
“Cock teaser!” The man yelled at Mirabelle as he started to get out of the car.
“Small-balled prick!” Mirabelle yelled back. She turned to look at the limo driver who was looking at her with interest. “With men like that you just naturally assume they are penially challenged.” Though Mirabelle doubted very much that this limo man was. Broad shouldered, lean-hipped with a mouth that was so delicious looking it was bound to be high calorie but definitely worth the tasting.
“And what should I assume about you?” Flynn asked as shut the door and sat down on the seat and looked at her lazily.
“What?” And what the hell was he doing in the back seat with her when the steering wheel was in the front?
“Don’t you know it’s not nice to get a man all hot and bothered and push him away? Men hate women like that. Those sorts of women need to be taught a lesson about getting all hot and bothered with no place to go.” He slid over closer to the woman in red.
Hot and bothered sounded pretty good coming from limo man.
“Do you have a problem?” She swallowed hard as she looked at the man. If she had to sum him up in a couple of words she could have said raw and sensual from the jagged scar over his left eyebrow to the full lower lip of his mouth. Just the way she liked them
“I have no problem. But you do.” Flynn looked down at her bare breasts and licked his lower lip.
Mirabelle’s eyes followed the path of his tongue. Some men were just watchable. This guy with the wavy dark hair was one of them. The smile he gave her was all hot wicked promise.
“Look I appreciate you getting rid of that creep but why are you in the backseat? Isn’t the whole idea of being a chauffeur to sit in the front seat and actually drive?” It was only then that it occurred to that as he slid closer in beside her his eyes were riveted on her bare breasts. “Frigging hell!” Mirabelle grabbed the straps of her halter top and tried to fasten it behind her neck. Could this evening get more embarrassing?
Flynn draped one long arm over the back seat headrest, his fingers within touching distance of the woman struggling to cover her breasts.
“What I don’t get is why a woman as sexy as you are would be putting out for a wimp of a pretty boy like that or aren’t you all that particular when it comes to men?”
“I was not putting out! And I am excessively particular when it comes to men.” Mirabelle snapped angrily as she struggled with her top. She was even more angry when she realised that limo man was right. She hadn’t been at all particular when the man had her breast in his mouth. Mirabelle hated it when people used her own weaknesses against her.
“He wasn’t even a real man. A real man never forces a woman to have sex.”
“And I supposed you are a ‘real man’?” Even as Mirabelle said it she realized she was probably sitting beside one of the most real men she had ever come across. It was just the spicy smell of him, the warm strength radiating from his body and the knowingly sexy look in his eyes that told her that. He would never have to force a woman. A woman would fall at his feet and beg for him to take her. Mirabelle didn’t beg. Not even for a man as hot as limo man…well…maybe… No, she definitely wouldn’t. Why won’t the clasp on this damn halter top clasp? It snapped shut under her panicked fingers.
“I’m very real.” Flynn watched vain attempts and smiled. “I wouldn’t bother. I’ll be stripping that dress off you very soon.” Flynn loosened and pulled off his tie over his head. He was ready for a little fun.
Mirabelle stiffened at his words. What the hell was going on? Was this some sort of orgy limo? She knew Clarisse was always up for a good time but she was seriously beginning to wonder about that girl. Did this happen every night in her rental limo? Mirabelle’s eyes widened as she watched him. Why was he taking off his jacket? Good lord look at those shoulders!
“What are you doing?”
.....and then lots of stuff happens.....
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?
Someone sent me this quote true...leap away!

"There is a microscopically thin line between being brilliantly creative and acting like the most gigantic idiot on earth. So what the hell, leap." -- Cynthia Heimel

Sunday, 17 June 2007

Frigging Monday…oh how I loathe thee

Bloody hell I have to go to work tomorrow. Oh how I love Mondays - not – puke, spew, gag. I know when I walk into the office tomorrow with my bucket of extra strong flat white coffee my assistant will not speak to me until at least 12 noon for she will be too hung over from the weekend to be able to answer the phone, input data or speak in sentences of more than one syllable. She will slump on the desk, look pathetic and I will ignore her. I know that my work email inbox will be full of problems that people want sorted out and this will stop me from reading my personal email until the afternoon. This will piss me off as Monday is a busy day personal email wise. I also know that my interstate manager will ring bang on 9 o’clock with some drama that really isn’t a drama but he has worked himself up to the point of believing it is. I will tell him to "stop shrieking, get a grip and I will sort it out - so please go away and unknot your knickers." I will then once again sit back in my fake leather office chair and wonder to myself what the hell am I doing there?

Of course the answer is money. I can’t imagine working because you want to unless it was some noble cause that benefited humankind and then I would still need access to personal email. Like a lot of people I have had a lot of different jobs. Twenty-six altogether – I counted them. It is hell trying to write a resume that looks like you are a secure and stable employee. Thankfully I am very creative and have no conscience whatsoever. I have been a waitress, a chambermaid, sales assistant, a call centre operator, a government employee (no, not a spy) a debt collector etc. You could say I have an issue when it comes to commitment or you could just say I have a low threshold when it comes to dealing with crap. Remember the story of the Emperor’s New Clothes? Well I am the person that when faced with the naked butt ugly Emperor will tell him to go put some bloody clothes on. This makes me wildly unpopular at times as I cannot always do what people ask me to do when I know there is a better way of doing it - my way. Yes, I am a pain in the ass and I proudly admit to it. Interestingly I have never been sacked. A friend of mine believes that people are too confused by what I say or do that they aren’t sure whether to be scared of me or leave me to my own devices.

I have never had a problem finding jobs as I tend to go into interviews and lie my arse off (if only this was possible). I get the job through sheer bull. I am also lucky that I have a network of people who will lie for me as I will lie for them when it comes to reference checks – always a bonus. I have told some whoppers to make sure my friend Ethel (you guessed it not her real name) got the job she has now. It was an Oscar winning performance – I had the employer on the edge of her seat wanting Ethel in her company. I basically had to back up whatever blatant lie Ethel had already had said without laughing hysterially. Of course Ethel hates her current job and I am now awaiting the call to lie to her next prospective employer. Yes, I expect one day to go to hell for this and other sins but at the moment it all seems to be working out for me.

So tomorrow when I drag my arse in to work I am prepared for drama, pathos and boredom. However as long as the internet works and the printer is free I will be okay. Besides I am planning on winning the $25 million lotto with Ethel Tuesday night so this will be the last Monday I will ever have to work.

Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Saturday, 16 June 2007

Vampires and other neighbours

I have vampires living in the house on the left of me. No really it’s true. How do I know? Well I just do. I have lived in my house for eight years now and I have never seen the neighbours. Correction – I should say I have only ever caught a fleeting glance of them as they rush inside whenever they see me. I think they are probably shy vampires. I should point out that I rarely ever even catch a glimpse of them outside in the day time hence the vampire theory. They do everything at night. Often when I lie in bed at night, I hear the squeaking of the laundry trolley at 2 o’clock in the morning as they drag it out to the clothes line to hang out their washing. But they are quiet so I figure living next to quiet vampires is okay as long as they don’t want to borrow a cup of blood.

Now the neighbour behind me is also interesting. I call him tent boy. Why? Because he has a perfectly nice, good home yet he sleeps in a tent in his back yard.Why? Stuffed if I know. He looks about mid thirties, he appears to go to work everyday and yet he lives in a tent. I have not worked out why as yet but I am sure it’s a fascinating reason and who am I to say what is normal? Tent boy’s one fascination in life on the weekend appears to be his motorized helicopter. He plays with this for hours upon hours. It does not do anything but hover off the ground in the same place and yet his is spellbound by it. I don’t understand it but then I don’t have to.

My neighbour to the right is a would be rock god. You know – blond hair, tight jeans and the belief that he can sing. And he can sing. Just not very well and he only sings one song over and over. Lola – L O L A – Lola? Know the one? Great song but only when sung by someone who has a clue and a voice. The rock god has some sort of microphone set up and he sings this song all the time. Nothing else. He just belts out Lola on a continual basis. Oh - I just realized this could be why the vampires hide inside. Anyway the other night a neighbour up the road cracked. He stood in front of the man’s house and told him to “Shut the F&$# up.” This was followed by much cheering by the other neighbours. We have not heard Lola since and the rock god walks around sulking like the wounded artiste he is.

Last but not least, the neighbour across the road. I will call her Drunken Betty. One a month Drunken Betty goes on a wild bender, drinking her body weight in alcohol and then she spends the rest of the evening swearing non stop at the top of her lungs about anything and everything. I have heard swear words I have never knew existed before or possibly she is just talking in a another language. Whatever. She is harmless albeit loud and slurred while under the affluence of incohol. But more importantly she is reliable as once a month you can set your clock by her. The next Drunken Betty swearing at the moon session is in a couple of weeks. The interesting thing is she is usually this meek quiet person who is very polite and would not normally say shit for a shilling. I love extremes.

And what do the neighbours think about me? It does not matter as everyone is someone else’s weirdo. And let’s face it, why conform with the crowd when you can sing, swear, live in a tent and be a vampire? I just write erotic romance – how boring am I?
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Friday, 15 June 2007

Tight knicker elastic...

The office bitch – no not me, I am more the worker who comes in to get paid, to acquire office stationery and to make use of the printer and the internet before going home – anyway she had another go at me today. She told the manager I did something that I did not do and that I lied to cover my arse in order to make her look bad. First of all she needs none of my help to make her look bad and secondly I admit, on occasions, to lying to cover my cellulite arse but not in this case.

Anyway the manager came at me mouth frothing and teeth gnashing – actually that’s his usual look – and he asked me to explain myself. As there are not enough hours in the day for that, I like to think I am complex and dramatic, I produced email evidence from the office bitch (that I kept for occasions like this) that got her in trouble from here to next week. Did I feel bad? Maybe I would have on any day that didn’t end in a ‘y’. Anyway the office bitch burst into tears – which is always a good thing to do around a senior male manager as they do not have a clue how to handle a crying woman – and stormed out dramatically. I tried to look like the angelic, conscientious worker I am not while pretending that I cared over the state of her mental health. Basically she is nuts and I want them to know it. Yep, I am a half arsed worker. But mess with me and watch out. The Scorpio within arises. So what is it with Women in offices? Is it the need to be the alpha female or is it a case of too tight knicker elastic?

I used to work with these ghastly women I called the ‘kidney donors’. I called them this because they were would do anything to make themselves look good in the eyes of management – from kissing arse to probably donating body parts if they were asked to. If there was an Olympics for suck ups they would all go for gold and get it. You know the sort. Anyway amongst their talents they were very good at tattling about people to management. I was called into a meeting with a manager because of these anal women. He said “certain issues had been brought up about your behavior.” This concerned me as I like to think I am too smart to get caught doing the wrong things I do. But no, none of those various crimes came up. My chief crime was that one of the kidney donors had watched as I crossed my name off the kitchen cleaning roster. This was a dreadful thing to do apparently as everyone ‘must’ clean the kitchen and to not to do so meant you were bucking the system. I have been bucking the system since I was 4 years old so why change now?

I explained to the generic manager that I did not use the kitchen and therefore I did not intend to clean up after grown ups. This was – seriously – entered in on my personnel file as a behavioral issue - probably under Jones, Amarinda - incorrigible – won’t clean kitchen. My next dastardly crime was declared as going to a break 2 minutes before I was supposed to. I live on the edge don’t I? This was followed up by the belief that I am not a team player - which is true because I’m not and I won’t pretend I am. I know there’s no ‘I’ in team but that’s the English language for you. I did not invent it. I would have put an ‘I’ in 'team'. So, because I did not put money in for a birthday gift for one of the kidney donors my file was again marked as not a team player. I explained to the manager that the birthday girl, in my opinion, sucked so why would I spend money on her when I did not care if she spontaneously combusted in front of me. He had no answer to this but he did advise me that I had to change my ways. I explained I wouldn’t be as I like myself the way I was and as I was getting the job done what was the problem? He sat there gob smacked or maybe that’s his natural look I’m still not quite sure, and he did not know what to say.

Like all anal tattle-tales the kidney donors were waiting to see me come out of the meeting in tears. As-frigging-if! I just walked over to them and said “Is that the best you can do?” That also got reported but what the hell, live like you mean it is my belief. I ask you haven’t we all got more important things to do in life than deal with crap like this? So tell me what is it with women in offices? Is it all those powerful contained hormones? Is it not enough sex? Is it too much sex or is it as I suspect a lot of tight knicker elastic making women in offices cranky? Maybe underwear should be outlawed in offices. Something to think about…
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Thursday, 14 June 2007

Hallelujah and pass the gin

Tomorrow is the most beautiful day of the week. It’s Friday – the end of the working week and even better it is pay day. Money- what a glorious word. So hallelujah and pass the gin I say! Bring on the weekend!

It’s been a hell of a week at work - drama, chaos, tears and cold silences. People resigned then un-resigned. I have had people wanting to record other people’s phone conversations – why I don’t know as it’s not like we talk about anything fascinating. There have been tears almost on a daily basis for god knows what reason unless we are all premenstrual at the same time and the internet crashed and put all our work behind. This annoyed me in particular as I rely on the work internet for reading personal emails.

But it all came to a head today when I had to talk someone out of – as she put it -“stapling his genitals.” How one uses a stapler for this I am not one hundred percent sure as it seems to me no man is going to stand still long enough to have his genitals stapled. And yes, I am sure there are men out there who probably deserve to have said genital stapling happening but I really don’t need it happening at work. I was not really sure why – let’s call her “Mary” wanted to inflict this damage on – let’s call him “Bob” other then Bob did something incredibly dumb that upset Mary and he was apparently a “bastard” and she was wild with rage. The only thing that makes me that upset is when one of the men at work decide they will use the ladies toilets as they are always clean. Hello? There is a reason for that and any woman reading this knows what it is. Mind you they have not done this for a while since I explained that unless they could provide poof of XX genes then they needed to pee elsewhere. But back to wild Mary. She calmed down after I pulled out my emergency stash of chocolate – third drawer down - and we bitched about men in general. She could see that genital stapling would involve the ambulance and the police and that I really did not want to hide all the staplers from a grown woman as we used them a lot during the day and did not need to be worrying which one had done the deed. So crisis averted and Bob is a very lucky and very wary man.

Aren’t work places just a hive of insanity? So this is why I praise whichever deity happens to be looking down on me for making tomorrow Friday and pay day. Bless you.

Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Wednesday, 13 June 2007

Swift of Heart - out now

Hello all...I thought I'd share an excerpt from Swift of Heart a current release I have with Cerridwen on fellow book lovers...
When Stephanie Hart opens her front door to find long lost love Mackinley Swift on her doorstep so many thoughts rush through her mind. Anger, love and an overwhelming urge to slap him then eat a chocolate bar. Here is the man who taught her to love, to want and to need then he walked out on her without a word. Now Mac’s back, a year later, telling her he’s been away fighting a war in another dimension. Yeah, right, whatever. Stephanie is simply not that stupid.
Mac knows he has the fight of his life on his hands to convince the woman he loves that he had no choice when duty called him back to fight a war against his country’s old enemy. He did not want to go. Duty to his country called him home. But love has brought him back to Stephanie Hart. How hard could it be to convince her that they are meant to be together?
However an old enemy is watching the lover’s reunion. He hates Mackinley Swift for killing his brother. He has every intention of making him suffer. The woman Swift loves is the means to do it. Hurt the woman, hurt the man.

“You just walked out on me. I thought you were dead or married to someone else and then I wished you were dead.”
For one horrifying moment Stephanie thought she was going to cry. She had promised herself six months ago she would never cry or think about Mackinley Swift again. But here he was, all male and hot and filling her with such longing and it made her feel pathetically weak and vulnerable. She hated feeling vulnerable. There was no way she was going back down that path with Mackinley Swift. It was too painful.
“Did I mean anything you?” God, that sounded whiny even to her. But oh, how she had loved this man. And he had left her. All those dumb dreams she had of building a life with him and he had had other plans. What a fool she had been. She did not intend to be a fool again. Once was painfully more than enough.
“You mean everything to me, beautiful.” Mac moved towards her. He wanted to hold her and comfort her and make love to her but the look in her eyes made him realize he owed her more. Besides holding her now would be like holding a wounded wildcat. Exciting but deadly.
“I can explain, Steph.”
If Mac touched her, even fleetingly, Stephanie knew she would lose what little self control she had left and she would either punch him or make love to him. Either option would be both satisfying and foolish.
“Gee, I can hardly wait for the explanation.”
Toughen up, she inwardly commanded herself. She knew letting this man back into her life would be a huge mistake. She never wanted to be that open and susceptible again. Especially not with this man. He knew too much about her.
Mac knew what he was going to say would test the most patient and trusting person. Unfortunately, Stephanie Hart was neither of these.
“I’ve been away fighting a war.”
Stephanie’s eyebrows arched up cynically. This was not the excuse she had expected.
When he had left she had run the gamut of all possibilities through her mind, but not this one. She would have accepted joining the foreign legion, being captured by aliens or being a James Bond-like undercover spy unable to contact her as he was being held prisoner by some evil doer.
“A war?” Afghanistan? Iraq? A ladies’ shoe department on sales day?
“Between Melotia and Carronas.”
A shaft of pain speared through her. Melotia and Carronas? Made up names to make her believe him. He either had great imagination or he thought she was monumentally stupid enough to fall for him again. Had she ever really known this man at all?
“Right, I think I saw that one on the television news…just how stupid do you think I am, Mac?’
“I don’t think you’re stupid at all, Steph.”
As much as Mac loved Stephanie he knew she was the most stubborn woman in the world to convince of something if she felt she had been used or treated badly. Once she had believed him wholeheartedly. He wanted that trust from her again.
“I want to tell you the truth. I should have told you before but I was called back so quickly.” It had been a case of his love for her or duty to his country. Both had torn at his soul.
“And you haven’t been able to get back until now…a whole year later.” Stephanie Hart did not believe one word of what she was hearing. Who knew lips that could taste so delicious and send shivers through her body could lie so easily? Had he been lying to her the entire time they had been together? Had she been so besotted with him that she hadn’t been aware of the lies? She liked to believe she was a good judge of character. Clearly she wasn’t if Mackinley Swift was anything to go by.
“The war went longer than expected.” Mac knew it would not be easy explaining what had happened to Stephanie. Since the moment he had met her he had done everything in his power to attract, seduce and make her believe in him.
“And before this fictitious war you couldn’t find time to tell me before you went? You couldn’t have written me a letter or an email or even damn well phoned me?” Even in the First and Second World, real horrible wars, people still managed to communicate with the ones they loved.
Mac knew Stephanie did not believe a word he was telling her. Even if the tone of her voice had not given her disbelief away it was easy to tell by the look in her eye and her defensive stance. He sighed softly. His next words were really going to seal their fate.
“Steph, my country is in a different world and a different telecommunications and postal system.”
“Uh huh…” Stephanie murmured as she was overcome with a conflicting need to cry and shout at him. The man she had loved so desperately was lying to her so badly that it hurt.
“Another world…like another dimension?”
..........and stuff happens...........
Reviewed by
Stephanie and her sister Amy certainly turn out to be two feisty redheads who can take care of themselves. I found myself cheering them on as they face adversity throughout the story. I found “Swift of Heart” to be a well-written, action-packed short story. I would definitely recommend it to people who enjoy a good love story -

Tuesday, 12 June 2007

Thief of Mine - released July 20 2007

I thought I'd drop by with another excerpt from Thief of Mine. You know from the previous blog that it's about a bad boy...hmmm...bad boys yum. To set the scene - Kit (bad boy) and Stella(really wants to be a bad girl) have been running from the bad guys(nasty people) – they hide in a photo booth…remember those?
Read on...

“They seem to have the knack of being everywhere. I suggest we sit here for fifteen minutes or so and then head to the lockers.” The sooner Kit had the idol and Stella out of Roma Street the better.
“You honestly think they won’t look in here, lover boy?”
Stella had her hands on her hips again looking all prissy and Kit wanted her more than ever. Was she aware that by putting her hands on her hip the jacket rode up and he could see the soft skin of her inner thighs and the curls on her pussy? Kit thought. But he wasn’t about to tell her that. Why ruin the show?
“It was either here all the men’s toilets and I know they would look there.” He tapped his thighs again. “Sit down or are you scared, princess?”
“Of you? No.” Of me and what I may do? Hell yes. Stella contemplated her options. Leave the photo booth and beg for train fare home in her half naked state? That seemed not only embarrassing but also possibly something she might get arrested for. Stay with Kit and sit calmly on his lap and avoid having sex with him. It seemed doable to Stella. He could hardly take her in a cramped photo booth where anyone could stick their head in for a look. Though, the possibility of that happening seemed strangely exciting to Stella.
“Come on, princess, I’m not going to bite…unless you want me to.” Kit saw Stella’s eyes narrow warily. “I will be a perfect gentleman and only do what you want me to do.”
Stella would have liked to have said that made her feel so much safer but it didn’t. She had a feeling Kit could make her do all sorts of things she never planned on.
“No funny stuff, right.”
“My word of honor.” Kit only planned on doing exciting stuff.
Stella rolled her eyes at this. She was tired and her feet hurt. Being able to sit down for a couple of minutes would be welcomed. She took a deep breath and sat down on sideways on Kit’s lap. It seemed the safest alternative.
“So what do we do now?” Even saying the words sounded dumb when Kit was looking at her in an “I could be so good for you in an awfully wicked way”. He was sort of like cheesecake but without the calories. Now there was a product worth marketing.
Just knowing Stella was all bare assed sitting on his lap made his cock instantly jut up in excitement. There was no way Kit could let this moment pass him by.
“I know what I want to do.” His hands encircled her waist as his tongue slowly licked the sensitive flesh near Stella’s ear. He loved the taste of this woman.
Stella moaned softly. She could feel the steel rod of his erection poking into her bottom.
“I want to be inside you again, princess. Once was most definitely not enough.” Kit blew against the wet flesh on her neck. The shiver that ran though her body, told him all he needed to know.
“In a photo booth?” Stella gasped, both at the thought of how wrong it would be and yet how good it would feel to have him inside her again. “Are you kidding me?” Though, the thought of having sex with Kit Kincaid with people passing innocently by was actually getting less shocking by the second. But did good girls do that sort of thing? There must be some sort of rule on that? She would have to remember to ask when she next met a good girl she could ask. Though good girls were few and far between these days.
“Why not?” Kit breathed softly into her ear.
Stella closed her eyes for a moment and savored the surge of warmth shooting through her veins. She put her hands on his broad shoulders to steady herself. The man was a drug. And it seemed like a shame to let that long, hard cock prodding insistently into her ass go to waste.
“There’s no privacy and anyone could walk in.” If Stella thought up enough good reasons it may just stop her from having sex with Kit again. That or she would feel better for having at least made an attempt to be good when Kit was once again hot and tight inside her.
“But what’s what makes it so excitingly, princess. It’s that possibility of getting caught.” Kit felt Stella squirm against his lap. He held his breath and counted backward. He wanted to be deep inside her when he came. “Besides the curtain goes to the floor.”
“Oh yeah, that makes a big difference—a flimsy barrier that could be pulled aside easily.” Stella looked down as Kit searched his pockets. Idly, for no real reason of course, she wondered if the Boy Scout had another condom hidden away in one of those pockets. “What are you doing?”
“We might as well take a photo of us while we’re in here.”
“What for?” Strangely enough a photograph of Kit sounded like a good idea. Stella knew she might never see him again after this night. It would be nice to have proof that he had once existed. She could then pull the photo out when her great-nieces and nephews came to visit Crazy Aunt Stella and bore them with stories about a blond haired thief she had once had a wild night of passion with.
“I want to immortalize the moment so to speak.” Kit reached forward and slid coins into the money slot. His hands then went back to Stella, sliding up to her breast, flicking jacket buttons undone as he went

…and stuff happens.