Amarinda facts...

I walked into work this working with a bucket of coffee in my gloved hand (arse freezing cold in Brisvegas at the moment) to find once again Skippy, my assistant, is not talking to me (no big surprise as she does not talk on a Monday) and that 57 work emails about god knows what awaited me as well as half a dozen phone messages about a bunch of stuff that seemed all too hard for a Monday - so same old same old for a Monday for me. So in lieu of nothing else exciting happening, I thought I would share some little known Amarinda facts – yes, I know you are riveted or at least try to pretend to be.

I cannot sing worth a damn but that does not stop me from singing really loud and out of tune whenever I want to – why? Because I can. I can dance as my mother insisted on dragging my brother and I to dance lessons (waltz, rumba etc) when we were ten years old. At the time it was torturous and I did not believe mum when she said that knowing how to dance would be useful in years to come but as usual mum knew everything. I did learn later that there is nothing like plastering yourself up against a hard male body and waltzing slowly and well…but that’s another story. What else? I can balance a pencil on my nose when bored (acquired this talent in high school) I can give the Vulcan hand salute (You never know when you will meet a Vulcan), I can read Tarot (either correctly or according to my mood) but I cannot whistle due to having braces as a teenager – but I do have perfect teeth (note to Kelly K– ha!) I am also quite the home renovator except for that one time I broke and almost sliced my big toe off – but on the bright side I did use that story in my first book Rose Perfect and the blood stain on the cement floor of the garage is most impressive and it freaks people out.

I hate, loathe and despise exercise yet I haul my arse out of bed every morning to do it in an effort to keep my weight in some sort of vague order. I am not looking for perfection, I just want to keep fitting into my jeans. I like to box. I find smacking a punching bag quite refreshing. I have been told I am very scary which is excellent –as this is exactly the look I am going for. I am a Scorpio - cross me at your own peril – hence the scariness. I am bossy and perverse but I am woman so I make no apologies. I mainline strawberry bubble gum when really pissed off or stressed so stay away if I am blowing big pink bubbles(my heroine in Last Man Standing does the same). As for writing books – I believe anyone can write them if they want to and that’s the big thing – wanting to. Everyone has life experience it’s just whether you are committed or crazy enough to write it down and send it off to a publisher. So if you want to write – write.

So what does this all mean? Nothing really...it just means Monday was a loooooong working day and thank god or whomever it is over.

Swift of Heart - the blurb

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.

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