Wednesday, 31 October 2007

Maid For Death - a special Halloween release

Let the pigeons - er, vampire bats loose! Maid for Death is released today! Click on the cover and buy the book!

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…

“Miles is a ghost lass. He died in this room in 1924.”
Cassandra looked at him in a mixture of shock and relief. Not gay …excellent. Having sex with a supposed ghost…what?
“Are you out of your mind?” Could it be possible someone so sexy looking was insane?
Sebastian did not look surprised at her response.
“He’s a ghost hell bent on revenge and he plans to kill a chambermaid this evening.”
“He’s a vengeful ghost from 1924?” Cassandra looked at the man incredulously. “Okay you’re not insane, you’re drunk.” Drunks she could handle. She had been working at The Philbeach Manor Hotel, in the London suburb of Earls Court, for the past four weeks and she had seen and heard a lot doing the chambermaid gig. People having sex in every bizarre way imaginable, vast sums of money offered for her to slide on down over the cocks of desperate and delusional men and more drugs and alcohol than she thought imaginable. Nothing behind any of these doors scared or surprised Cassandra anymore. She was an Aussie working in London and she had pretty much seen and done it all. But a ghost? Come on.
“I assure you I am completely sober, Cassandra. Every year on Halloween Miles Copeland takes a chambermaid in this room and she is never seen again.”

Vengeful ghosts and sex with a Scottish Ghost hunter – what more could you ask for

We Aussies don’t do the whole Halloween thing. We’re too laid back or lazy – either one. But I did ask some of the Cerridwen Press and Ellora’s Cave authors who have appeared on my Wednesday interview a burning question - WHAT IS THE SCARIEST THING IN LIFE?

Anny Cook - The scariest thing in life is watching a loved one dying and not be able, or know how, to save them

Cindy Spencer Pape - A teenager (especially one of mine!) with a driver’s license.

Charlene Leatherman - My scariest thing is losing my soul mate

Vicky Burkholder - Anything worrisome happening to my family.

Sandra Cox - The little demons and beasties we carry around inside that play on our fears and insecurities.

Elaine Lowe - To face your true self, with every artifice and delusion ripped away.

Terri Beckett: Being left alone. Forever.

Chris Power: Being unable to read and write through disability

Molly Daniels–The scariest thing in the world would be to be caught in a situation similar to 9/11

Carol Lynne - Dying with regrets.

Rita Sable - Losing the ones I love - that scares the crapola out of me!

Rena Marks - Depends. For an erotica writer, I think it would be an unexplained pregnancy.

Solange Ayre - The scariest thing in life is to be alone on a holiday.

Anh Leod The scariest thing in life is seeing what old age and ill health does to people.

Ashlyn Chase - I’m not scared of much, but I’d probably shiver a little if I was around a pissed-off giant alien with supernatural powers that decided a little torture would make him feel better.

Bronwyn Green- CLOWNS!!!!!! They're freaking terrifying and should be shot on sight!!!!!!!!

Jean Hart Stewart-that you'll love someone deeply and who'll not love you

Kelly Kirch - I once saw a movie where a girl laying on a couch screamed and a giant tarantula fell into her mouth; that would be mine.

Katie Blu - Grown men who think baby talk is foreplay

Brynn Paulin - Children who like expresso

Jacqueline Roth A gymnasium full of 900 middle schoolers

Judith Rochelle - This may sound stupid, but driving on the highways as every nut in the world seems to have a driver’s license but not the brain to go with it.

Amarinda Jones – Wedding photos in the newspaper where the bride and groom look freakishly alike…scary stuff that.

**click on the names and check out some great reading

See? We all have different things that scare us. I used to have a friend who was scared of frogs. She used to run through the car park after work at night screaming, seriously, that the cane toads were after her. All fears are genuine and valid but we should not let them dominate us – though I will be honest I cannot look at the wedding photos in the Sunday newspaper as it freaks me out. Have a look and you will notice the bride and groom always look freakishly alike. It’s just wrong. The moral of that is if you see someone who looks a lot like you and you don’t want to be married – run. Just a handy Amarinda tip.

I am sure you are just about to click on to see what is happening on the blog serial. I am quite surprised that Anny was very good and left the whole carrot thing alone. Kelly picks the carrot back up on Thursday on She never ceases to amaze me with the machinations of her mind. Who will die? Will anyone eat the carrot? And what happened to the hamsters? Stay tuned…all will be revealed…possibly.

I wish you a spooky yet safe Halloween.

Quotes from two of my favourite schlock horror movies –

The Brain that would not die –
Let's Put Our Heads Together - Head, to Closet Creature: "I am only a head, and you are whatever you are, but together, we are strong!"

Plan 9 from outer Space –
Paula Trent: ...A flying saucer? You mean the kind from up there?
Jeff Trent: Yeah, either that or its counterpart.
Or my other favourite I use a lot –
Air Force Captain: Visits? That would indicate visitors.
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Tuesday, 30 October 2007

Big fat lies.....

Last night someone lied to me. No, it did not surprise me. It annoyed me. I have this theory, if you cannot lie well, then don’t. On the whole lies do not bother me if they are for arse covering purposes and no one gets hurt. A lie to help someone or to help yourself is acceptable in my books. Please don’t be shocked but I am not a saint. I lie. In fact I lie very well but I only use my power for good. I am also quite good at it. I suppose some people may think admitting to being a talented liar is a bad thing but then I am not one to worry about what ‘some’ people think of me. If you are wondering, my nose is quite short. I do have a conscience but it only kicks in every so often.

So on to the person who lied to me. It was via email. Most of us can spot a liar by the look in their eye, the sound of their voice and the way they touch their face as they talk. Email is harder but not impossible. This person claimed sole responsibility for an attachment they wanted me to read. They insisted it was all their work and no one else’s. That declaration in itself made me instantly suspicious as why do you have to tell me that so insistently? I clicked once on the document and discovered the name of the person who was actually responsible for it. It was another person I knew. So it was a crap lie. If you are going to claim credit for something wouldn’t you at least save it in your own name first? By all means lie if you want to but lie well. That I can at least admire. Did you ever see the movie Dirty Rotten Scoundrels? I love that movie. That is great lying. As for the credit claimer, I said nothing. I am keeping that knowledge under by hat for another time. I’m a Scorpio. We have long memories.

Today Sara, my overseas counterpart, told the most outrageous lie to save her arse but in turn it got me in trouble. The lie was so massive and complicated and it had so many holes in it that it was obvious it was a lie. The males in my office were baying for my blood. I sat and listened to the crap they espoused about what Sara had said. Then I pointed out all the flaws in her lie. By the time I had finished they were very quiet as they felt foolish for being such dipsticks to believe such a crap tale. I rang Sara, after I shooed them for the office, and told her I was disappointed in her. Covering you arse is one thing but keep your lie simple and plausible and never drag someone else into it. Was I upset by Sara? Sort of. I had been doing my best to corrupt her and that was the best lie she could come up with?

The moral to the story? Does their have to be one? Everyone has their own set of morals. If you are going to lie, make sure you can pull it off, that you keep it simple and you do not hurt anyone else in the process - otherwise forget it. I know, you were thinking I was going to say don’t lie, cheat or swear. I’ll let a good person deliver that sermon. Just think before you open your mouth is all I ask.

The Blog serial

On Kelly left us with….

With disbelieving eyes, Grasshopper watched as a pool a black morass pooled at their feet and they seemed to shrink. They were melting! Were they witches? No! But there was no other explanation. "What the...??"

"Pheeet! Death to all who enter here. Phrrrreeeeet!"

Well Phrrrreeeeet indeed. I have a feeling Kelly made that word up. Anyway my turn....

“So do you think they’re falling for the old-melt-into-the-black-morass trick?” Oz asked as they started dissolving into the quagmire she had created for their escape.

“Who cares? I just think it was a brilliant move for you to pick Rinalda’s pocket and take the map to the location of the golden carrot without her knowing,” Sparky said. “Do you think Lawrence will be able to hold them off?”

“Have no fear of that Lawrence is extremely cunning.”

Lawrence watched the action on screen with an experienced eye. He knew exactly how long it would take Oz to pull off her matter into anti-matter disappearing routine. Now all he had to do was regurgitate the key from his stomach and fly the coop “Woe betide those who do not believe. Phrrrreeeeet!" Who’s a pretty bloody smart parakeet then?

“Oh shut up Lawrence,” The Mary commanded as she beamed in beside his cage. “We all know that Oz is doing her standard disappearing trick again. I saw her nick the map.”

Lawrence spun his head around and sighed. “Oh for god sake Mary you always spoil my fun. I suppose you want the golden carrot too?”

“You know I am the only one that can handle the true power it contains.”

Grasshopper looked at the two of them agog. “You two know each other?”

“We go way back,” she smiled at Lawrence. “Who do you think turned him into a parakeet?”

“Bitch,” Lawrence spat indignantly.

The Mary just smiled. “You deserved it. You were a very naughty boy when you touched me like that.”

What will Anny do tomorrow on Where exactly did Lawrence touch The Mary?

Because I Can - a man, a woman and an elevator. Should what happens in the elevator stay in the elevator or is it just as good on the desk, the floor, the stationery room…out now though Ellora's Cave
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Monday, 29 October 2007

I give you the foot...

Lust in Time - review

Amarinda Jones has yet another hit with Lust In Time. Ms. Jones has a knack for creating true to life strong characters in both centuries. Vivid scenes and interplay between characters makes for an easy enjoyable read. Lust In Time heats up the centuries with very erotic interaction between the main characters. This is an intriguing storyline that reminds me of the movie, Somewhere in Time. Very, very enjoyable!

Click on the cover and buy the book – time travel, romance and wild sex. What more could you want?

Feet. Have you ever really thought about them? I know what you are thinking - Amarinda did not have a topic in mind when she sat down to write her blog so she has picked a topic out of the air and plans to waffle on about it for the next couple of minutes. You just may be correct but just for one moment think about your feet. Where would you be without them? How lucky that some of us have them and yet we take them for granted? I say take them for granted no more. I pay homage to the humble foot.

My feet are flat. It is my understanding that all the best people have flat feet. Would I lie to you on a Monday? Okay yes, I would but the thing is I believe flat feet keep you grounded as more of the surface of you foot is actually touching the ground. I reckon if you looked at all the great thinkers in the world they had flat feet. Just a theory of mine but I am pretty certain it’s true.

Look at Cinderella. Yep, it wasn’t just any foot Prince Charming wanted. It had to fit the glass slipper. See how important feet are? A whole fairytale kingdom could have disappeared if not for Cinderella’s foot. Oh sure, you think it was the whole romance thing. It wasn’t. It was the power of the foot. A woman’s foot can bring down a kingdom.

We all know what they say about a man and the size of his feet. Do you believe it? No of course you don’t because it’s a crock but you still look and wonder don’t you? And what about all those weird foot fetish people? What if there were no feet? What would they fantasize over? Knees? Elbows? Or would they all just have to go into counseling and put an enormous strain on our already over-worked mental heath workers? Think about it, without the foot we are stymied. How would anyone ever know you were angry if you could not stamp you feet or put your foot down? How emotionally repressed would we be? How would the shoe industry cope if tomorrow some weird Day of the Triffids thing happened and we all woke up without feet? There would be mass unemployment.

The things you can you do with feet are endless. You can stand on them, walk, skip and jump with them. You can kick arse with them, dance up a storm and run on them when you need to avoid trouble. I say treat you feet with the respect and dignity they deserve. Those of us that have them should appreciate them.

What will I waffle on with tomorrow? Who knows...

Anny had author interview day on so meander on over and take a squiz. As for Kelly she has the next riveting chapter in the blog serial on
Looking to win some prizes? Author Sam Cheever has put together a group of 13 fantasy and paranormal romance authors and organized a Trick-or-Treat event that starts today. Rush over to her website right away and follow the instructions and join in the fun to win great prizes. One of the great authors taking part in this even is Sandra Cox - Check out her blog But before you rush off anywhere, read an excerpt from her latest best selling novel from Cerridwen Press.

Boji Stones by Sandra Cox

Monitors beeped and clear liquid dripped through an IV into her arm. Her entire body throbbed in pain. She looked around, confused and afraid, nauseated by the smell of alcohol and antiseptic. Where am I? What happened?
The last thing she remembered was a man with the face of an angel and what must be the heart of a demon, swerving his car against hers, his expression determined, fanatical.
He was after the amulet! She looked down at her bare left arm. Oh my God, where was it?
The door opened and a stout black nurse sailed in, much like a majestic ship breasting the water, her white uniform so crisp it rustled as she walked. “And how are we feeling, Miss Sinclair?”
Like every bone in my body is broken, that’s how WE are feeling. “Like I’ve been in a car wreck. Can you tell where my amulet’s at?”
The nurse stopped. “Say what?”
“My bracelet. Please where is it?”
The nurse checked the monitor. “Probably in your bedside table.”
The table sat on the left side of the bed. Maureen Kelly Sinclair looked at her bandaged left arm, her left leg in a sling and then at the table. Pushing back the hysteria welling in her throat, she asked as calmly as she could. “Would you check please?”
“Just as soon as I change your IV.”
The nurse looked up, her eyes narrowing.
Maureen snapped her teeth shut, her jaws working. She took a deep breath and concentrated on relaxing one vertebra at a time.
As the nurse puttered with the IV, Maureen’s mind raced. Who besides herself knew about the amulet?
“The police were here while you were sleeping. They’ll be back later to get your statement.”
Maureen rubbed her aching temple. “I thought I already gave them a statement.”
“You were pretty hysterical at the time. Understandable.” The nurse clucked and shook her head. “What’s this world coming to when a madman runs you off the road? Lucky for you there was an unmarked car directly behind you.”
“My amulet, please.” Her chest tightened and her nerves screamed.
“Sure, hon, I’m almost done.” She straightened the bag, walked around to the table and opened the drawer.
“It’s not here.”

Bloody hell? Where’s the amulet? 'Better buy the book and find out…. How do you buy is? Click on the cover and but the book. Go on, you know you want to…
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Sunday, 28 October 2007

Sunday stuff...

Thief of Mine - review

Amarinda Jones is one of the best erotic writers I’ve been fortunate enough to read. The storyline is excellent. Suspense, erotic scenes and a fast pace are the ingredients she puts into Thief of Mine. The scenes are very vivid and the action begins at the first paragraph and ends at the last. There is no shortage of downtime in Thief of Mine. Ms. Jones kudos! You’ve told a wonderful story.
**Click on the cover to buy the book**

I am officially knackered. If a Greek god stood ten feet away from me and held a pack of Tim Tams and beckoned me forward for chocolate and who knows what else, I would say no thanks. I’m too tired…but throw the Tim Tams over before you go. I’m tired – not dead.

I am getting a new drive way put in soon. I have the quote, I just have to go through all the hoop-la of filling in forms to get the council to approve my driveway crossing over part of the footpath - oh and by the way please pay $56.00 for this privilege. Yes, we know you pay your rates diligently but this is for an inspector to come out and look at the footpath. I think it’s like his lunch money or something. Anyway, I have this quote which is very good as I can haggle with the best of them. I decided I could quite easily rip up part of the driveway myself to save me money. So I did that today. I don’t get the driveway done for several weeks and the bit I am ripping up does not affect access.

So, this morning at 7am, dressed in shorts held up by a safety pin, a bleach splattered shirt, and broad-brimmed hat, I set out to commence the ‘ripping up.’ Two things about me – I always think ‘this won’t take long’ and it always does – and – I never ask for help. If I was hanging by a finger nail on a rope bridge over a crevasse and Indiana Jones was hanging around, I would still not ask for help as ‘I can do it.’ And five hours later, I got it done. I drank 4 litres of fluid, swore 57 – 58 times, broke all my fingernails and used nearly an entire tube of sunscreen but it’s done. I was so pleased with my fabulousness I decided to spend the next two hours in a frenzy hacking, slashing and weeding garden.

Of course now, I can barely move and I am contemplating spending the night at the keyboard as getting up seems like such a chore. Thankfully, I only have to go to work tomorrow so I don’t need to be alert.

Did you know Anny Cook is a wicked woman? Read Everything Lovers Can Know and you will know how wicked she is. This book is sweet, sexy and funny – not to mention informative. I would recommend it to anyone looking to spice up their love life. It’s out now through Ellora’s Caveclick on the cover to buy it. You will not regret it. Its book one in the Mystic Valley series. You can then buy book 2 & 3 after you’ve read this one.

Speaking of all things mystic – on Kelly is still on the path of dinosaurs and dragons however they are smart enough to be hiding from her. Anny has the last episode of The Learning Tree on If you have been in outer Mongolia where the Internet connection was crap and missed the first three episodes you can always flick back and start at the beginning. And, as always the blogs to the left have scintillating news and stories to liven up your Sunday so there is no reason to be bored. The blog serial is back Monday so we will all have to wait to see what Lawrence the parakeet makes of Grasshopper and if Rinalda divulges the secret of the golden carrot.

Tuesday is rant day on the Amarinda blog…feel free to email me on if you want me to bitch about something for you. Otherwise I am sure I can come up with a rant on my own….there are so many to choose from.
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Saturday, 27 October 2007

Saturday stuff...

Because I Can - review

I can’t help but wonder if this is a true story with names changed to protect the guilty. Because I Can is a romp filled delight with plenty of engaging characters and witty dialogue to make this story wiz by. Miranda is tough as nails, but soft as putty when it comes to enjoying all that Justin has to give. A man who knows what he wants and doesn’t waste time second guessing himself. It was refreshing to see someone so willing to take a leap of faith and allow love to have its way. I loved the regional dialogue used in this story and also thought the realism of the workers added a depth to this story that was appreciated. This is my first taste of Amarinda Jones’ work but hopefully not the last.

It’s almost summer in Australia and it is already hot. I always find it reassuring that what I wore last year (no I don’t follow trends, I am my own trend) still fits. Whew! I breathed yet another seasonable sigh of relief as I was able to do up the snaps of my favourite denim shorts. As I have mentioned many times before, I do not believe in bodily perfection. I do, however like to get my shorts done up without the maximum amount of effort and with the minimal amount of fat ballooning over edges.

So it being Saturday morning, I wandered off to do Saturday stuff. I always wear Betty on a Saturday. What’s that you ask? Who is Betty? Well Betty Boop of course. Doesn’t every, progressive, thinking woman have a Betty Boop t-shirt? A militant acquaintance of mine thinks that by me wearing Betty I am “feeding the stereotypical, false illusion of women having to be sex symbols.” Wow…really? I just like wearing the shirt and to be honest I happen to believe Betty Boop is a woman we should all consider aspiring to. Why? Because she has her own brand name, is instantly recognizable and she gets what she wants with a simple wink and a boop-oop-a-doop. I mean really how is that stereotypical? I believe Betty is a shrewd woman. She has been around since the 1930s and she knows how to manipulate a man. She flirts only so much to achieve her aims and she has the ability to look all demure and innocent when she has to. In my mind Betty Boop is the quintessential female.

Anyway…where was I? Oh yes, Saturday stuff…I had to have a search and destroy mission done on the stray pesky grey hair that turns up when you least expect it. I was in the ladies loos at work yesterday – the only male free zone and I am keeping it that way – when I noticed the grey hairs under the strong fluorescent light. Egad! They had to go. I went and saw Mimi my hairdresser, no, not her real name, and was given some ghastly news. It was so shocking we both had to have two of the free courtesy chocolates she gives out to patrons. There was no intense red hair colour. Quel horreur! I always have intense red. Apparently the shipment had not arrived. This was the sort of news that sends normal people into counselling. Thankfully I am not normal. I am a woman of action. I called commandingly for the colour chart, freaking out the new apprentice, and we flipped through it like women on a mission. What about purple? Nice but a tad dark. Blue streaks? Yes, but they would only look excellent with the intense red. Blonde streaks – nah…I wasn’t in a blonde mood. Black? It would match assassin black Monday but I would look like Morticia Adams. After another handful of chocolates we finally decide on fire red. It looks okay but it does not have that same fake, totally unnatural intense red look about it that I normally favour.

So for the rest of the day I did exciting things like the laundry, cleaning and I am still trying to finish self-editing my latest epic before I send it to my editor. At this moment the self editing is meandering along and the washing is still on the clothes line. I have accomplished very little today but I am blaming it on the hair dye tragedy I suffered earlier in the day. I think you will agree there is just so much one woman can bear. Because of this drama I know I will have to have a glass or seven of wine tonight.

Anny has the blog serial today on She has been unfolding, piece by piece, a fascinating story that you must read. As for Kelly, she is being all mystical and mythical and discussing dinosaurs and dragons on And speaking of dragons…Cindy Spencer Pape sent this message along - Sam Cheever has put together a group of 13 fantasy and paranormal romance authors (including some very big names!) and has organized a Trick-or-Treat event that starts Monday, October 29. But you can go to her website right away and take a look. The prize bag is gonna be HUGE!

So, there you have it – great reading and prizes…what more can you ask for? Okay, I could ask for intense red hair colour but I swear I’m over it…sort of…

Thief of Mine - review

This is a sure fire book for those looking to laugh their way to ecstasy. Thief of Mine is full of some of the funniest characters around, from the female villain to a heroine with more sass and wit than should be allowed. Amarinda Jones is well becoming an author to watch with her interesting style that brings with it a touch of Australian culture I find extremely fascinating. Kit and Stella’s adventures in the world of high stakes thievery is a light tale that takes you from one hilarious mess-up to another and left me on more than one occasion in stitches. With all the laughter and caustic wit, the one thing that sealed the deal for me was the actual romance. It took a little time to work things out but in the end these two who were opposites yet perfect for each other made this tale a pleasure to read. Until the next book, I will have to reread this one when I need another taste of Ms. Jones’ style!

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

Friday, 26 October 2007

Hallelujah and pass the gin it's Friday...

You know you are a writer when…

…you are sitting around in your underwear typing and you look up at the clock and realize you have four minutes to get dressed and get to work but finishing the paragraph is way more important than a day job. Anyway a writer can always think up a good excuse for being late.

…the garden you were once proud of makes you wince when you look at it and denial by squinting does not work.

… you hear an interesting name and ask how to spell it as it sounds perfect for your next book

….friends send emails that begin “Once upon a time a friend called and left a message on you machine… and they write a descriptive paragraph telling you to pull your head out and answer your damn phone messages.

… you encourage the voices in your head to keep talking or repeat what they said so you can write it down. They really have to talk slower.

…you are in business meeting and it’s your turn to take the minutes but you cannot hand them in as you owe your publisher first right of refusal and you have written some bloody fantastic stuff that your editor would love.

…friends specifically ask you not to use their embarrassment, love life, problems etc in a book and you cross your fingers behind your back and say “Well of course I wouldn’t dream of doing that”.... while all the time you are thinking they love me, they’ll get over it especially if I make the character drop dead gorgeous.

….you stare at a great male arse and think how would the heroine react to that arse.

So another Friday has come and gone for me. What did I learn this week? Hmmm…nothing. What good did I do this week? Hmmm…nothing. What plans do I have next week? Gee, I can’t say as I hate to be tied down to anything. Did I waste outstanding amounts of work time doing personal stuff? Why yes, I believe I did and I am certain when judgement day comes around I may have explain myself butI'll wing it. Whom did I upset this week? It’s impossible to count that high without taking my shoes off. So tell me, what fabulous thing did you do this week?

And now, once more we visit a land where no one really dies, where umbrellas can kill and quills clack in the breeze…yes, that’s right…it’s the blog saga. Kelly on left us with…

The Mary cleared her throat, tapping her hairy chin, setting the decorative beads to dancing musically. "I believe that decision is left to Great Oz. You know with whom you deal, do you not, Emmeline?"

"No. Do you mean---" she broke off tremulously, "--the Triad?"

I had no idea what Grasshopper was talking about so I went off on another tangent, as I do….

“What Triad?” Sparky asked as she watched the action on the casino security camera.

“Us, they think we’re a Triad.” Oz laughed gleefully. “Even better they think I am great. See what self promotion does for you?”

“But triad means three and there are only two of us.”

“There is Lawrence.”

“Lawrence is a parakeet.” Sparky looked over at the bird swinging on a perch in its cage.

“But they don’t know that. I add Lawrence’s name to every threat I send out.”

“Oh yeah, what’s our latest threat?”

“Let me see.” Oz scrabbled through the messy papers on her desk. “Ah, here it is.” She picked up the Tim Tam stained Threat Schedule Version 2-c-x1.0 and ran her emerald tipped finger down it. “Okay today is Friday 25th so that means we are due to either break Giant Gerald’s legs over a gambling debt or carry out the threat to Rafe and Rinalda.”

“I don’t think I can deal with Gerald today.” Giants bathed only once a week and on a Saturday. As today was only Friday the thought of dealing with a pongy giant did not appeal. “What was the Rafe and Rinalda threat again?”

“We shrink Rafe to the size of a peanut unless Rinalda reveals the secret of the golden carrot.”

“Whoa! Do you think she will do it?” Sparky was in awe that Oz would demand something so audacious. The secret of the golden carrot was the stuff of legends.

“I guess that would depend on how much she likes peanuts.” Lawrence squawked in shock. “I said ‘peanuts’ Lawrence.”

So Anny has a parakeet and a golden carrot to deal with tomorrow. I’ll be honest, I am a bit worried about what she will do with the carrot. Have you read her books? Whoa! However check tomorrow and find out.

Seducing Celestine – released November 2nd 2007 through Ellora's Cave

Celestine Holt has no money, no job, a broken down heap of a car and someone is trying to kill her. Her life sucks. But there is this man…a man that keeps appearing in the moonlight to make love to her. Can he suck the life back into her?
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Thursday, 25 October 2007

Onwards and Upwards...

My mother always told the Jones kids that we were swans. What she meant was that misguided others may see us as ducks but we weren’t and that there was nothing we could not do if we wanted to do it. We carry a belief and confidence in ourselves when others don’t believe in us. I am confident. I have never believed that I could not do things. But others, through whatever circumstance, doubt their swan-like capacities. I would like to share with you this poignant, true story by author Barbara Huffert, a good mate of the Amarinda blog. I believe many of you will identify with it, either by being in the same situation or knowing someone else that is. You can change your circumstance if you believe you can. Barbara had the courage to do so.

I Am a Swan – by Barbara Huffert

Something I’ve always known but have forgotten much too often during the last few years. Why? Because I let the man who professed to love me whittle away at my self-confidence until there was so little of the real me remaining that I barely recognized myself. Instead of putting an end to what I knew was a failed relationship, beyond hope, I deluded myself into thinking I could make it better if only I tried hard enough, was good enough, transformed myself into what he claimed to want. Sure, I knew it wouldn’t work. Or I would have if I’d been at all honest with myself. Somewhere inside I knew nothing other than permanent separation would put an end to our mutual misery, that that was the only way to prevent us from inflicting more hurt.

So why didn’t I do something sooner? Why did I let myself go on thinking I couldn’t make it on my own when, in reality, I was the one carrying us both and had been for quite some time? Why was I so willing to keep pouring more effort into something that was already long debunked? Why wouldn’t I let myself admit that I was the only one still trying? And why was he willing to live like that too?

I could answer those questions in many ways. One, because I hate to acknowledge that I’ve failed at anything even though it wasn’t solely my failure. Two, because I’d grown so adept at playing the game that I’d begun to believe my own propaganda. Three, because I’d fallen for all his verbal abuse and had started to accept that I was as useless, worthless, undesirable as he insisted I was. Four, because I fooled myself into thinking that being truly alone was worse than being alone and lonely with another person in the house. Five, because I would rather live with the private humiliation of how bad things were between us than risk the public humiliation that might result if anyone else knew. Six, why wouldn’t he stay and be supported by someone who did everything for him without needing to give anything in return?

We may have gone on like this indefinitely since he was as unwilling to reveal what our relationship had become as I was had I not woken up one day two weeks ago and decided enough was enough. In three days, I went out and found myself a reliable car because making me drive something guaranteed to let me sit was one method he used to control me, went to a lawyer for an official eviction notice, purchased new locks for the doors, arranged to have the master code for the alarm system reprogrammed, separated a selection of tools necessary for any standard home repair since mine had been incorporated into his way back at the beginning, and prepared myself for whatever scene might develop.

I waited until what I thought an appropriate moment and then attempted one last time to discuss the situation. As expected, I got his typical response which was first to yell and berate me and then to ignore me after declaring he had nothing to say. (He never had anything to say unless it was hateful and mean and eliminated more of my dwindling self-esteem.) I presented him with the eviction notice which was immediately thrown on the floor. Calmly, I handed it to him again, stating he had to read it or I was calling the police. Yes, I had the phone in my hand. After a you’re-less-than-dirt glare, he read it. And then he threw it again as he reached for the TV remote. If any of you have ever been dismissed by a remote you’ll know how I reacted. Having that to spur me on, I told him in no uncertain terms that he was leaving at that exact moment. And, without another word, he did.

In my case I was very fortunate. We’d gotten engaged the year after we met but for some unknown reason I never let myself take the next step and actually marry him. Also, the house was mine long before he showed up. Luckily, I have a place to live but, thanks to him, that’s all I have. In the week since I tossed him out, I’ve discovered many things missing, mostly of sentimental value, and I’ve accepted I’ll never see them again. It hurts as much as it makes me angry but I do have the memories associated with them and, most importantly, I have me again. Or I will as soon as I can coax the deeply hidden parts of me back out from where I stashed them for safekeeping.

I’d like to say something to anyone who’s feeling trapped and all alone in the world. You’re not really alone and you’re only trapped if you let yourself stay that way. If I can do this, anyone can. I’ve discovered friends I didn’t realize I had from all corners of the world and all aspects of life. I have moral support of the best kind from the most amazing group of women any time I can manage to let myself ask for it and also when I can’t. They know I’m valuable even when I forget and don’t hesitate to remind me whenever they sense I need it. I bet, if you take a good look around you, whether in person or in the vastness of cyberspace, you’ll find that you have friends like them too.

So yes, it would be very nice to have someone to share my life with but I really don’t need a man around, especially one that’s not good for me. Not having one is much better than having one who acts like an anchor with a too-short rope and is trying to drag me under with him. I will survive this and be better for doing it. I am a strong, intelligent, resilient woman who is more than capable of taking care of myself. I am a swan and I have the friends to prove it. Thank you, my friends. I couldn’t do this without you.

Believe in yourself. Be confident even if you are swan-like on the surface and paddling your web feet like mad underwater to stay afloat. Do not let anyone tell you that you are nothing or worthless. Who cares what they think. You are a swan and they can get stuffed….yes, you can quote me directly on that.

Maid For Death – released 31st October 2007 through Ellora’s Cave

What happens when a ghost becomes obsessed with a hotel maid and the only man that can save her is a man who wants to use her for bait? Should she find another job or see what the ghost hunter really wants from her?

Anny and Kelly – what can I say? The toe tapping duo is back today with fascinating stories to inspire, to make you laugh or maybe just to make you query their sanity. Check out and now. Sanity is, after all, overrated.
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Wednesday, 24 October 2007

The Wednesday Interview

Today brilliant author Anita Birt graces the Amarinda blog to discuss her excellent book Isabelle’s Diary. So, read, enjoy and then click on the cover and buy it. You won’t regret it. Next week is Halloween…spooky…so in line with that I will be a little more frightening than is usual - yes it is possible. Read on…

Isabelle’s Diary - The Blurb

Llandrindod Well, Wales

Can a ghost appear in broad daylight? Can she sit in a café weeping over the pages of a diary? Who is the beautiful young woman dressed in somber Victorian black whose tearful presence disrupts Sally Carter's orderly life?

Puzzled over the mysterious disappearance of the stranger Sally is compelled to discover her identity. She visits the town museum where a photograph of nineteen year old Isabelle Linden dating back one hundred years adds to the mystery. Isabelle is the image of the girl weeping in the café.

In her search to identify the stranger Sally is assisted by handsome Welsh historian, Dan Conway. During their search of parish records Sally is shocked to come across long buried family secrets.

But questions remain unanswered. Who was the girl in the café? And why was Sally the only person to see her?

The Interview

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

I like to lead up to the scene. The location is important. A bedroom. A sofa. The floor! A tent.The lighting if it's the first time they've made love. The feelings. Thoughts in their heads. Uncertainty. It's easy to write a sex scene if I make it sound convincing as if the two people involved want it to happen but are not sure it should. Then gradually removing clothing. Admiring each other's assets! That delicious moment when he enters her and she wraps her legs around him. I like to feel that feeling without getting into clinical details.

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

I decided to do what Nora Roberts does. Don't mention condoms if they are a mature couple. Assume they know what they are doing. However, if he uses a condom, best not say another word about it or the action gets messed up.

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

I believe that falling in love can happen quickly. I think men fall in love faster than women but that's just me. However, no sensible man or women believes in love at first sight so they have to get used to what has happened. Might try to walk away but can't. He might want to make love to her without a commitment and she will resist. When he finally realizes he's really in love, she might have up and left! But he'd get her back.

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

First of all he has to have a non-threatening face. He doesn't have to be wildly handsome but he has to have integrity. He can cope with danger and with everyday complications as they arise. If he is divorced or his wife has died, he can have kids and show he's a good Dad. My hero will never put my heroine down or say rude things to her. He might lose his temper but never resort to any kind of violence or even hint at violence.

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

Both. We read romance to lose ourselves in a fictional world. Our readers will like a strong man who is trustworthy and handsome as hell. Even an evil character might resonate with some readers. They know he/she can't hurt them but like to watch how the hero and heroine deal with evil.

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

To work towards a happy ending. At they turn the last page I want a reader to feel as if they've met real people coping with real life situations and the ending is totally satisfying. Leave the reader thinking about the story and the characters.

7. What are you working on now?

I'm working on a historical romance set in the Regency period but most of the action takes place in the countryside. I have two heroines and hope I'm not painting myself into a corner so to speak. What is the story question? The return of a prodigal son who is not who he seems to be.

Click on the Cover and buy the book

Last weeks brilliant author – Judith Rochelle and Always on My Mind.

What is Anny and Kelly up to today? On Anny is wisely talking about the need to prepare for emergencies. I think we have all had a few of those in our lives. Speaking of lives, on, Kelly is pondering UFO’s and time travel. Are we well rounded authors or what? And check out Brynn on and see what’s happening her life. How many loads of washing will she do today, hmm?
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Tuesday, 23 October 2007

Blogspit on the Blogspot…

To have a spit or spit the dummy – is to get angry, to stamp your feet and to let someone know they have pissed you off. I believe it’s good to let it out. Some well know Ellora’s Cave and Cerridwen Press writers recently vented their spleen….

What pisses me off is when people refer to my writing as a 'nice hobby'. Does that shoot anyone else’s blood pressure up?

Mine, mine, mine! I want to do evil things to them. Really, really evil. I’d like to see these people sit down and sweat through a manuscript,. Then bust their ass trying to sell it and kill themselves promoting it. Hobby? Kiss my grits!

Totally! If you count a hobby which consumes your waking thoughts, absorbs your free time and no so free time, requires promotion, and personal credibility.

Here’s another one, mate.
“Oh e-books? That’s nice. When are you actually going to get something published.”

or "When are you going to publish a REAL book?"

My personal favorite -- when I showed my father the cover for my first mystery, he said, quote, very nice. Did you do it myself or did you have to pay someone to make it?

Or my second favorite, when my mother gave one of her books -- a Harlequin regency -- to a man who lived across the alley from her, he said. "Oh, thanks. My wife loves these crummy little books."

My favorite... "What's taking so long? It's just a bunch of sex scenes..."

Don’t be messing with writers. We may be working quietly away but we can turn on you the minute if you ask us an inane question about what we are doing. Writing is work. So whatever you were going to say re-think it and back away or you may just be the character in the next book that meets a ghastly end. Is it really worth it?

Something pissing you off? Send me an email and I’ll put it on the blog –

Last time on the blog serial, Kelly on left us with cryptic mumblings of a dragon….

"To the West if doom is your quest. To the East if you value life least," the dragon answered cryptically.

"Well isn't that just peachy? What about north or south genius?"

"It's a two dimensional choice, Emmeline. Chose wisely for once you have chosen your path, your path has chosen you. There is no turning back." The dragon faded into the myst leaving Emmeline alone. Left or right? And assuming she actually could tell which way was east and west, did she want doom or death? Was there a difference?

And I’m not in the mood for being cryptic so my turn…

“Well, fuck it.” Emmeline murmured. She wasn’t about to listen to mystical psycho-babble from a dragon. She looked down at the ring on her left thumb. The emerald flashed green fire. Should she use the power it contained to get her out of Faeryland? She knew the risks of calling on this power. But who would know? Zoltan was in another dimension hanging out with naked pixies. “Bugger it, I’ll use it. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“What are you talking about?” The dragon asked querulously. He had given his best inscrutable, riddle of the sands speech and this woman had dismissed it with a swear word.

“I’m out of here dragon breath.” Emmeline closed her eyes, put the ring to her mouth and kissed the stone. “Take me to somewhere where riches flow, people are happy and the colours shine brightly.” Within the blink of an eye she disappeared.

* * * * *

“Whoa head spin!” Emmeline staggered to a nearby wall to clear her head. She had never used the ring to travel though dimensions before and now she knew why. It made her feel pukeable. “Where am I?”

“You’re in Vegas, baby,” a passing Elvis impersonator told her in his best King-like voice.

Emmeline looked down at the ring and swore. “Dumb ring. I wanted real riches not possible riches.” She looked around her. A gaudy sign caught her eye. Her mouth dropped open in shock.

“Holy snapping ducks!” Rafe and Rinalda’s smiling faces beamed out at her. “What the hell are they doing here?

What will the ever zen-ful Anny do tomorrow on Your guess is as good as mine.

Looking for a great book to read? Well of course you are. Check out - On Your Knees – by Brynn Paulinclick on the cover and buy the book

Jessica needed sex and she needed it now.

She barely registered being dressed in the most transparent pink baby doll top she’d ever seen. Three tiny ties held the front closed between her breasts, but left her belly totally bare. Coupled with a miniscule thong that tied on the sides, she was hardly clothed. The fabric chafed her clit and she tried to push it away.

Fin pulled her hands away and lifted her from the table. He guided her toward the secret door. “Come with me,” he instructed.

“No. I can’t. I need—”

“Your needs will soon be filled,” he assured her.

Leaving Bobby in the room, he took her down a flight of stone steps that lead to a long dimly lit hallway. They passed several iron-studded doors before Fin stopped in front of one near the end of the hallway. Moans punctuated the cool air around them.

Lucky people.

She had to join a party. No sex for her. Could she just peek in, say hi and dash home to her vibrator? She frowned, knowing she should be more concerned about joining the party dressed in a transparent scrap of lace and drenched panties.

Fin opened the door, revealing a deserted torch-lit chamber. She turned frantically as he shoved her inside. Now her freaking senses decided to return? Chains, cuffs, and various whips lined the upper half of one wall, along with several other items she was hesitant to identify. The lower half was a bank of drawers. Hastily sizing up her situation she scanned the rest of the room. An odd bench stood to one side of the room near another iron-studded door. A set of manacles dangled on a thick chain from the center of the ceiling.

Her knees buckled.

A dungeon!

“Wait! There’s been a mistake!” she protested.

“It’s no mistake, miss.” He pulled her toward the chain. She was no match for his strength as he fastened each cuff around her slim wrists. She yanked on them trying to get free. The increased movement served only to amplify the ache throbbing in her cleft and breasts.

“Let me go!”

“You can voice your complaints to the dungeon master.”

The who?

“What! Let me go!” she demanded. Finn shook his head, wishing her a good night, and strolled from the room. The heavy door closed with an echoing thud behind him.

What had she walked right into? She closed her eyes as horrible, scary as hell images filled her head.

Madam Curie had better be right about that happily-ever-after part or I’m hunting her down. Somehow, Jessica couldn’t imagine her happy new future beginning in a dungeon.

Ryan almost lost himself—again—when he entered the dungeon. Damn he was getting soft. Surveying his woman, he was anything but soft. His cock throbbed against the thick leather pants containing it.

Jessica, unattainable Jessica, whom he’d wanted for months, stood in the middle of the room, her hands bound above her head. Her thighs flexed as she pressed and released them, fighting her arousal.

She turned when she heard the door shut, her sparkling green eyes narrowed with anger. “You must be the dungeon master,” she spat out derisively.

Yes, this would be difficult.

“Let me go, you prick! I swear if you don’t release me, I’m suing all your asses off. This place will be toast.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that.”

Her anger sent strength through him. Disciplining her would be a pleasure. He crossed his arms over his chest, knowing the muscle beneath the tribal tattoo banding his right biceps would bulge making it more prominent. She wouldn’t know the mark was a symbol of his power.

“Try me.”

He smiled at the phrase she’d picked up from him. “I intend to.”

For a smile and the chance to go in the draw for a great Halloween competition check out

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

Monday, 22 October 2007

Monday, Monday

Thief of Mine

At the reception…

As plates of soup were served, Stella felt movement under the table. Her skirt was suddenly being tugged further up her leg. She looked at Kit Kincaid, who in turn looked back at her innocently. A horrible thought occurred to her. Oh God, he wouldn’t, would he? Stella’s mouth dropped as she felt his hand starting to burrow further under her skirt. Bloody hell! This could and should not be happening. Did the man have no sense of decorum at all?
“Stop it now!” Stella hissed softly at him, as she clutched her soup spoon in one hand and slid her other hand under the table to push his hands away from what she knew was his objective. Although she did not want to create a scene she would.
Kit’s hand slid up the bare flesh of Stella’s thigh seeking and finding the edge of her panties.
“Talk to me, princess,” Kit said sotto voiced, looking like he did not have a care in the world as his hand sought out the hidden, hot prize he knew awaited his touch.
Stella dropped her spoon and grabbed the table edge with one hand as she battled the other that was sliding into her panties.
“I don’t want to talk to you!” Stella returned in a furious whisper. “Stop it now!”
Kit slid his long fingers under the fabric and stroked the soft curls between her legs. He felt Stella tense and heard her strangled gasp. She was soft and wet to the touch. Perfect.
“Agree to meet me outside now and I’ll stop.” He continued to push his way on into the moist folds between her legs, seeking entrance to the core of her.

Oh, dear…what will Stella do?
Dear Amarinda, this is your horoscope for Monday, October 22th:
Scorpio,You will not accept a new task at work but your superior will try to force you. In Love, your beloved will complain because you are not paying enough attention to your partner. Tip: try to be compliant.

It got explained to me today what my problem was. What’s that? Wasn’t I aware that I had a problem? Apparently not and I do so enjoy it when a man decides he needs to tell you what your problem is. Yes, of course, he’s an idiot because he has no idea of the bollicking he is about to receive when he finishes his dissertation on Amarinda Jones. Hey, I know I have faults. I can’t whistle. There are probably others but they are probably only trivial.

Anyway back to the man.

“You are very strong willed Amarinda. That’s intimidating.”

An office full of men is intimidated by one woman?” I asked faking shock even thought I knew it was true – but let’s face it, we women are good at faking it when we have to.

It’s like this Amarinda, when we make a decision and we expect everyone to follow it, not suggest how we can make the decision better or why you think the decision stinks.”

If I can correct you, I believe I said the decision was crap.” (pardon the on)
What was the decision? That the men could use the ladies toilets. Not over this little black duck’s body.

I know there is one of me to ten of you but unless you have a vagina, you are not using the female toilets.” When I mentioned the ‘v’ world several men fell silent. I suspect because it was the closest they were every going to get to one.

Deep sigh. “It would make things easier if we could all share.”

And it would be fine if you all adhered to the same state of hygiene a woman adheres to but as you don’t I will consider this a health and safety issue and take it further.”

I won. Yes, I am a pushy bitch but they know they would be lost without me - my last sick day (Okay I wasn’t sick, I was writing) proved that when they all ran around like headless chooks. Sure, they could sack me and it would not bother me a whit. At the moment until something better comes along, that has the same writing in work time potential, I’ll stick it out as it suits my purposes.
I am strong willed. Yet most women are considered worse when they thwart a man with logic. You are considered a ball breaking bitch. Yes, I am – get over it. I don’t hate men, on the contrary, but I just can’t see the point of the ones I work with. I am sure someone loves them though…their mothers or their pet goldfish.

So, you’ve noticed the pictures of strong women? No, I am sure they did not have to fight over access to the ladies loos but they are women that we should admire and aspire to be like. The quiet, confidence of Eleanor Roosevelt as she directed the US President, the guts and arrogance of Elizabeth the 1st as she held power over Britain in a dangerous time and where would Kermit be without Miss Piggy? In the swamp and he knows it.

I think too many women worry about what a man will think of them. Sure, lots of men won’t like you but they probably weren’t going to like you anyway. Besides, who wants a weak man?

Last Man Standing
Sequel to Swift of Heart

Present Day in the Dimension of Melotia

“I am not the father.”
The words were cold and harsh to hear and even harder to speak. But it was all Alex Navarro could say when he stopped dead in his tracks and he saw her. Amy Hart. The shock of seeing her so suddenly gripped him like a vice and squeezed at his heart. This was the woman who had haunted his dreams for the last six months. The woman no other could ever compare with in his heart and mind. The same woman, who now stood before him, momentarily flinching as if his words had stung her. But it was only for a moment, for as his eyes locked with hers he knew once again Amy Hart had raised her invisible shields against him allowing nothing to touch her emotionally.

Alex looked down again at swelling of her stomach. He was not sure which emotion gripped him the most—shock, delight or just plain anger at not knowing of her condition. Amy Hart was pregnant. She was standing before him looking so damn vulnerable and so incredibly beautiful that it made him feel so many things he had denied ever wanting to feel again. Love, longing and forever. The one word that came catapulting into his mind was ‘mine’. It had never been any different. Such was her effect on him. Alex Navarro wanted Amy Hart. Yet he could never have her. He knew he would be her downfall. He could not risk either the woman he loved or his child. Alex had to deny his heart.

What does Alex do? And more to the point what will Amy allow him to do?
What are Kelly and Anny doing you ask? Good question. Anny is interviewing author Jacqueline Roth on a www.annycook/ Kelly has the blog serial today on Watch out for the mystical talking dragon.
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Sunday, 21 October 2007

Sunday reading...

Okay, once again, I present you great writers on a Sunday. Why? Because my Sunday has been so utterly boring – woke up, staggered out of bed, stumbled outside for the Sunday newspaper and wrote all day, while not changing from my pj’s or brushing my hair. Yes, it was a feral Sunday for Amarinda. Only those with a whip and a chair could approach me.

So I am on the point of losing consciousness with the non excitement of my Sunday and my backside is so numb from sitting. However this is a valid reason to keep cellulite. It cushions pain. I think the reputable medical journals should consider publishing my view on this. I’ll write them later. For the moment I am still writing in between contemplating whether I will paint my fingernails emerald green or trashy turquoise. Either will match with Monday’s assassin black ensemble. Ah yes, back to work. Oh how pukeable.

So, enough waffle from me – I’ll be back tomorrow to carry on where I left off. Remember to check out the ever delightful, toe tapping duo of Anny – and Kelly – And now, the Amarinda blog is proud to bring you three published book authors and a published Poet. Can I bring you culture or what? All three writers are completely different and I think that variety is the spice of life for this Sunday. So settle back and read. ..there's one by the Jones girl at the end.... just a little, shameless hint

From Incognito by Lisabet Sarai – out now through Total-E-Bound
**Warning – this is an adult excerpt.

As in Chinatown, all the businesses on Charles Street were dark. The gas lamps made pools of golden light at intervals along the street. Miranda could hear her heels clicking on the cobblestone sidewalk, and a few paces behind her, the muted sound of the businessman’s leather soles. A mild spring breeze stirred her skirt and touched her naked privates underneath. She shivered at the touch, delicate but intimate, the fingers of some ghostly lover.
A few blocks up the street, Miranda reached the alleyway that led to her apartment. She ducked inside and stood with her back to the brick wall, breathing deeply.
Overhead, the moon shone cold and distant. Halfway down the alley there was a lamp, but the area near the entrance where Miranda lay in wait swam in darkness. It seemed a long time before the Japanese man reached the narrow passageway, and then, for a moment, Miranda thought that he was going to pass right by. But no, he turned abruptly as he caught sight of her. Before Miranda could move or speak, he seized her in a fierce embrace and had his tongue deep in her mouth.
Flirting, playing, teasing the man on the subway was one thing; his sudden physical presence was something else, shocking and foreign. He smelled of some men’s cologne, brash, almost bitter. He tasted faintly like liquorice. His tongue was agile and his mouth demanding. She was no longer in control. Miranda gave herself up to the kiss; it sent electric sparks shuddering down her spine to her sex.
He sucked her earlobe into his mouth, nipping at the tender morsel of flesh with sharp teeth. The brief pain was immediately overwhelmed by delicious spasms between her legs. Now he was nuzzling at her neck, his coarse, thick hair tickling near her collarbone. He held her with one arm and with the other, pulled up her jersey, reached behind and deftly unhooked her bra. The night air caressed her bared breasts as he pushed the bra out of the way and fastened his mouth on one swollen nipple.
Miranda’s knees grew weak. She loved his force, his strength. When his hand moved below her waist, she spread her legs wide, silently offering him her sex. But instead, he unzipped his trousers, releasing his straining penis.
He stood back for a moment, so that Miranda could see it. Smooth and pale, it seemed almost luminescent in the moonlight. His cock was elegant, slender and straight with a glans scarcely larger than the shaft, and totally hairless. Like ivory, Miranda thought. That thought disappeared as the man roughly pulled her legs apart and, with a single upward thrust, buried himself in her depths.
He was as hard as ivory, or bone, or stone. He worked her cunt with fast, furious strokes, leaving her little time to breathe. Miranda could only moan and clutch at his shoulders as his unyielding rod slid in and out of her. Her eyes closed. Other sensations mingled with the exquisite roughness of his thrusts. She smelled his sweat, dampening the armpits of his business shirt. The brick wall scraped her back. She heard a siren, blocks away, and it seemed like its keening rise to crescendo matched the progress of her arousal.
She was soaked, so wet that at one point he slipped out of her folds. He uttered what sounded like a curse in Japanese. With both hands, he grabbed her buttocks and raised her off the ground, settling her firmly on his erection. Miranda instinctively locked her legs around his waist. Their bodies thus coupled, the stranger resumed his thrusts, his penis now embedded tightly in her hungry cunt.
In their new position, Miranda had more control. She rocked her pelvis back and forth, seeking deeper penetration. There were always those aching places, too deep for any cock, that craved stimulation. Her partner growled and dug his nails into her hind cheeks. Wonderful pleasure-pain. She clamped her thighs more tightly. At the same time, she tensed her cunt-muscles, gripping the ivory rod inside her and grinding down fiercely. She teetered on the edge of orgasm, screaming inside for that one perfect thrust that would push her over.
He felt her insides clench around him, and exploded. He rammed her against the wall, tearing her jersey. Oh, that was what she wanted and needed, to be torn open! His cock pierced the balloon swelling inside her, and her climax took her like a hurricane. The gale rang in her ears, bore her aloft, battered and blessed her.
When the force of the orgasm faded, she realised that she was still entwined with the body of the Japanese man. She looked at his face, for the first time since the subway. He smiled, a bit sheepishly, and helped her to stand.
Miranda felt dizzy. No, giddy, overwhelmed and amazed by her own audacity. She pulled her bra and her tattered shirt down over her naked breasts. Brushing brick dust off her shirt, she watched the businessman stuff his now-limp penis back into his pants and close the zipper. She smiled, a secret smile that the stranger did not understand.
He had straightened his clothing and retrieved his briefcase from the pavement where he left it. With the same care he had used on the train, he extricated his eyeglasses and put them back on.
Then he surprised Miranda. He stood very straight, looking conservative and affluent, and bowed low. “Arrigato gozimus,” he murmured. Picking up his case, he turned and left the alley. Miranda could hear his soft footsteps on the sidewalk as he disappeared from her life.

Click on the cover and buy the book – you know you want to. Check out for more of Lisabet’s hot and steamy erotic romances

Old Age

In a house all alone
It gets quiet at night
Hunger remains
Eating is a fight

Whispering past
With voices long gone
Families all grown
Alone life goes on

Rumble around on
Weak wobbly legs
A few paths through the house
Excercise today

Laughter of children
Whom grandbabies came
Holiday visits
Always hearts pain

His passage of love
Went to a black box
The fighting and hardship
Your memory blocks

Wondering just how long
Loneliness lasts.
Finding fewer and fewer
Things for time to pass

Looking for a grittier, darker kind of fiction? Then check out Jackie’s work on

Love Finds A Way by Molly Daniels. It’s coming soon mid November 2007

"Slagal said you were cute, and for once he was right," remarked Troy, appraising Amy.
"Thank you," was the cool reply. "Is that your car outside?"
The four young people walked out to the dark-blue sedan. Don and Stephanie climbed into the back seat, leaving Amy no choice but to ride up front with Troy. During the ten mile ride, they got acquainted. It was revealed that Don was enrolled at UCLA, and Troy, the University of Illinois.
After arriving at the party, Matt was nowhere to be found. Troy disappeared into the house, so Don got each girl a cup of beer from the keg, and the three stood talking. Matt arrived with three girls on his heels, and Amy was noticeably upset. Troy came back and began flirting with her. Against her better judgment, she responded, and the two bantered back and forth, trading one-liners. A bonfire had been built; the four of them gravitated toward it. A while later, Troy went to see about getting another keg, and Amy noticed Don and Steph getting cozy, so she discreetly left. As she stood talking with some other guests, Matt came up and called her over.
"I've got one thing to say: Don't mess around with anyone here."
Amy's anger exploded. "You can't come get me, but you can leave to pick up three others?"
"Well, I'd already..."
"I know," she interrupted. "Would it make you jealous if I did?"
Matt gave her a strange look. "No, go ahead. Do what you want."
Amy softened her tone. "I came here tonight to be with you. The only man I’m interested in at this party is you. And when you get that through your thick skull, you know where to find me." She turned and went back to the fire, but Stephanie and Don had left. Presently, other guests joined her. Fifteen minutes had passed before the missing couple appeared.
"Amy," whispered Stephanie. "Can you show me where the bathroom is?"
"Sure." They excused themselves, went inside the house, said hello to Matt's mom, and borrowed the facilities.
"Where did you and Don go?" Amy inquired as she shut the door.
"Don't tell anyone," Steph pleaded. "But Don and I...well...sort of fooled around behind a bush. Does it show?"
Amy grinned. "That's what I thought. Of course it doesn't show!"
"I hope you don't think any less of me..."
"Don't be silly. I slept with Matt barely three hours after we'd met last year! And besides, last month, I went on the Pill. Matt doesn't even know yet."
"Really?" Steph was amazed. "How's it going with him, anyway?"
"When he's ready to talk, he'll come to me," Amy replied. "When he's through hitting on every other girl, he always comes back to me."
"And you put up with it?" Steph stared at her.
"Yes." Amy clearly did not want to discuss it. "Are you ready? Let's go back to the fire."
The two returned to the crackling fire, and Troy swooped on them like a hawk. "Amy, honey, " he said, his voice carrying over the backyard. "I missed you!" He hugged her, and she caught Matt's angry glare.
"Uh-oh," she thought. "Now I'm gonna get it. But so what? He's not paying any attention to me; let him know I'm not his personal property!"
But, she was wrong. Matt came over and said he wanted to show her something, so they left the backyard and went to the driveway.
"Of course! Your new Lebaron!"
Matt held the door for her, and she sat in the plush-covered bucket seat. Matt sat in the driver's seat and adjusted the seat.
"This is really nice!" Amy exclaimed. "Power windows, nice stereo, bucket seats...Matthew! Automatic transmission!"
"Yeah, well, my mom bought it," was the reply as he recalled his three previous stick-shift vehicles. "Come here."
She leaned towards him and he held her close. "You're not mad at me?" she asked.
"Hell no."She kissed him, then touched her lips to his sensitive neck. Matt led her hand downwards, then tried to pull her across.
"Wait...the gearshift...You know, this would be a heck of a lot more comfortable up on your waterbed," she said gently.
"You want to?"
"Is it safe?"
"Definitely," Amy smiled.“Okay."They climbed out of the car and walked hand-in-hand into the house."Go on up and get naked," he ordered. "I'll be up in a minute."
"I will not," she declared. "I will, however, be waiting for you."
She turned and went upstairs. Turning on the light, she discovered a suitcase and clothes spilled on the unmade bed. She sighed, kicked off her shoes, and took off her belt, earrings, watch, and ring. She had just placed the suitcase on the floor, along with the wrinkled clothing, and was making the bed when Matt waltzed into the room, locking the door behind him. He flicked off the lights and took the slender girl in his arms. They kissed, then Matt gently lowered her onto the bed. Carefully he peeled away her clothes and explored her body. Amy sighed, giving into the sensual feelings of his caresses. She undressed him, then heard him fumbling with something in the dark.
"Matt? What is it?""A rubber. Different brand."
"We don't need it."
"Why not?"
"If you'd read my last letter, you would know." Amy shook her head. "I...went on the Pill."
Matt stopped. "What for?"
"For my own benefit, and yours. Now, we're already protected."
Matt reached for her. "Then let's try it out."

Go to the lovely Molly’s website to check out her books and to have a chat.

And Because I Can…here is an excerpt from Because I Can – by the Jones girl – out now through Ellora’s Cave. Warning – this is an adult excerpt.

Miranda flashed her blue and yellow employee badge importantly like it was the key to her automatic entrance to anything Promptel. “Look important and you become important.” Or maybe that was, “Be pushy and get what you want.” Either one worked. She looked at the woman’s name plate on her desk.

“It’s okay Ellen. Justin is expecting me. You won’t get into trouble. I am well aware he is on a conference call.” Miranda pushed inside the Executive Suite. It was as she expected. Large, plush and it had Justin Hale pacing around an expensive looking desk. He looked pissed off and not in the mood to be distracted. Too bad for him. She was going to distract the hell out of the man.

“I don’t care what the profit margin is. Do it now or suffer the consequences,” he snapped out over the hands-free phone. Several disembodied voices in Melbourne immediately agreed with him. He hated dealing with people over the phone. He preferred looking them in the eye so he could see what they were thinking. He didn’t need “yes” men or women he needed people who could think for themselves and come up with logical solutions to problems.
Miranda shut the door and turned the lock. It had taken her an hour to work up the courage to come and see him. She had a plan. It was something she had never done before but she was ready to do now. Justin Hale was going to lose control. She was going to see to it. Vengeance thy name is Miranda.
* * * * *
Justin looked up to see Miranda. He was both delighted to see her and irritated to be stuck on the call. To have this woman come to him willingly was a surprise. Or was it? And why had she locked the door? That indicated something was about to happen that did not invite an audience to watch. He was intrigued as he watched her approach. She was still dressed in the same clothes. Yet by the look in her eyes Justin knew something was decidedly different about her. Attitude? Confidence? He tried to concentrate of what the people in Melbourne were telling him and not on the woman who approached but that was damn near impossible. He put the conference call on mute.
“Now is not the time Miranda.”
“Oh but it’s the perfect time for me.” Miranda ran a hand lightly down his chest. “I dare you to keep talking.” She reached up and with both hands ripped open his cool crisp white shirt sending buttons flying off in all directions. “I dare you not to move.” She ran her tongue down his bare chest, smiling as he tensed at her touch. She looked him in the eyes. “I dare you not to lose control, Justin Hale.”
Justin’s eyes widened in surprise and anticipation. This was the last thing he had expected from this woman and he loved it.
“Are you there, Justin?”
Justin snapped off the mute button as Miranda licked the hot skin on his chest. She pushed his hands away from her indicating she was in control.
“Yes, I’m here.”
“Well what do you think?” the voices asked.
“I have no idea what to think,” Justin murmured as he watched with fascination as Miranda’s hands moved down to his waistband and caressingly over his groin. He felt his cock stand instantly to attention.
Miranda reached down and pulled down his zipper freeing a mischievous penis who wanted to come out and play. The skin was smooth and soft and stretched to the limit. Perfect. He would not last long.
“I…ah…” Justin had no idea what he was saying as Miranda had hold of his cock. His eyes widened as she dropped to her knees and roughly pulled down his trousers to his ankles. She wouldn’t, would she? Here? Now? In the middle of an important conference call? He both prayed she would and hoped she wouldn’t.
“Don’t loose control now, Justin.” Miranda leaned forward and licked the tip of his cock.
“Oh god… I mean…ah…well yes, this, ah…financial year has seen some major challenges and…” Justin groaned as Miranda’s tongue flicked lightly over his hot, hard flesh. “We have to be prepared for…” Justin could not think straight. What did they have to be prepared for? How could any man prepare for a beautiful woman dropping to her knees and covering their cock in red lipstick?
“We missed the last bit, Justin. We must have a bad connection,” a disembodied voice said through the speaker.

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