Saturday, 31 May 2008

The wondrous Cliff....

Unbreakable is released at Ellora’s Cave. To go into the draw to win the Aussie stuff in the picture - all you need to do is answer two simple questions. The answers can be found somewhere in the book or on this blog….say if you scrolled down a bit.

Question 1: What subject does lecturer Dash Lomard teach?

Question 2: How old is India Blake?

Email the answers to Please put ‘Contest’ in the subject field of the email.

The first correct answer, drawn at random, to those two specific questions wins the Aussie gift set in the picture. And yes, the t-shirt comes in XXL – I checked. The contest closes at midnight (USA EST) on June 6th. The winner will announced on the blog after they have been contacted by email. Good luck.

I got an urgent phone call today. A friend was in a state of panic and I had to help her or she was in deep trouble. I mentally calculated what bail money I could scrape together and I realized I could only probably get one of her arms released from jail. The rest of her would have to stay in the nick. Her desperate question to me? What did I remember of Pilgrim’s Progress??? Huh? “You read it at Uni didn’t you?” Well, technically yes, I browsed it at Uni until I realized that there was no way I could read that book without falling asleep and I got the Cliffs notes. “So you cheated?” No, Cliffs notes aren’t cheating. They are study aids that cut through all the boring crap and tell you the crux of the story – anyway that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. “Okay, whatever – what do you remember?” It seems she has been given this book in one of her Open Uni (study from home) classes. Remember? Other than knowing where all the Cliffs notes were housed in the University library – not much. There was a pit of pitifulness or something like that and a slough of somewhere or other…and there’s also a Slough outside of London. “London? How does that help me?” Well, it doesn’t, it’s just an

aside. I burbled on about Christian wandering through various obstacles, temptations etc. “Why was he doing that?” I can’t remember…possibly something to do with challenges in life or maybe he was looking for the Holy Grail or maybe there was no place like home and he just had to remember that and tap his heals together. “You’re hopeless,” she said.
Hey, I know that. Anytime I got assigned books to read at Uni I used to look at them and think ‘Holy crap…seriously?” I love books but these are not ones I would choose. Yes, I know they’re all classics but I could never see how they related to getting my degree. Another book that drove me to Cliff and his wondrous notes was The Scarlet Letter. You’re probably all saying – what? That’s a classic. Is she a philistine? Yes, more than likely. The thing that turned me off that was the fact that the woman took all the blame for sleeping with the weak, spineless so called hero. My lecturer at the time said – ‘but what about the passion in the book, Amarinda?” Now if the heroine had of slugged the weak kneed hero and then stuck the scarlet letter to his head with superglue, then yeah, I would have called that passion. But otherwise, sorry Nathaniel mate, I did not like the book. Again, Cliff saved my arse. I wish I had of known about him
when I was in my senior year in high school and instead of reading the exceedingly boring Day of The Triffids, I watched the movie. Humongous mistake that. The book and the movie were only a like in the title and to base my essay on that had my teacher laughing his arse off.
So what is the point of this? Well, maybe that you have to read a story instead of asking someone else to form your opinions. Maybe, that everyone is so different that we’re not always going to agree on stuff so why get pissed off if we don’t. Or maybe don’t ask me to help you to do book reports. And no, please don’t try to explain Pilgrims Progress to me. I prefer to blissfully unaware. How did I ever get my Bachelor of Arts with this half arsed philosophy? I turned up to the required number of classes, I parroted back what the lecturer said in my papers – because that’s what they wanted to hear – their words and not my opinions - and I knew if there was only one degree up for grabs then I would get my chubby fist on it first because I wanted it. What have I used my degree for in life so far? Hmmm…absolutely nothing. It’s in a frame somewhere in the house. No, it’s not on a wall. I have more important crap on the walls like 1950’s Spanish bullfighter posters and flying plaster ducks…a degree can’t compete with that. However, that’s not to say that anything I have learned is wasted. I’m sure it’s just in abeyance somewhere until it’s needed. And by the way – thanks Cliff.
By the way – the rain I mentioned in the previous blog was a fizzer…never mind…life goes on.

Also…remember Mervina the possum? No, she’s not back terrorizing me but here’s a possum that was found in the same part of Brisbane as where I live. Click here. Thankfully Mervina was a little smarter than this one….

Author Nancy Hunter has an ongoing summer contest for theme prizes related to her first release, Taste of Liberty, coming July 17. Sign up for her newsletter at to be eligible for cool prizes like Native American jewelry and free book downloads. First drawing will be June 7.
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Friday, 30 May 2008


Unbreakable…the contest

Unbreakable is released today at Ellora’s Cave. To go into the draw to win the Aussie stuff to the right, all you need to do is answer two simple questions. The answers can be found somewhere in the book or on this blog

Question 1: What subject does lecturer Dash Lomard teach?

Question 2: How old is India Blake?

Email the answers to Please put ‘Contest’ in the subject field of the email.

The first correct answer, drawn at random, to those two specific questions wins the Aussie gift set in the picture. And yes, the t-shirt comes in XXL – I checked. The contest closes at midnight (USA EST) on June 6th. The winner will announced on the blog after they have been contacted by email. Good luck.

What is Unbreakable about? I’m glad you asked…you didn’t? Well, just pretend you did. It’s about an older woman who finds herself falling in love with a man who is 13 years younger than her. How can that be? And what is she going to do about it? Well, I’m not telling you – you have to read the book.

I found this an interesting book to write for two reasons. The first is naturally age. I personally believe you who are you are regardless of the number of years you have been on the planet. Age means nothing to me. It’s like your shoe size – it’s just a number and you’re not defined by it. Having discussed this issue with my friends and acquaintances, I learned two things - firstly the ‘stigma’ of being a woman with someone younger no longer applied and secondly they all considered that woman to be incredibly lucky. Why? Because the idea of being loved for who you are, regardless of background, is liberating and sexy.

The other reason this book was interesting to write? The tattoo on the hero’s thigh, (among other interesting things he has on his body – and no, I’ll not telling you what they are or where. You’ll have to read it and find out.) The idea of a man with a tattoo on his thigh fascinated a lot of women. I knew a man with a similar tattoo but that’s another story….

Woo hoo! A severe weather warning has been announced for the weekend. Rain – yay! And severe winds – not yay – but hey, the rain is all that matters. We are unbelievably excited despite it being a weekend. Rain – who would have thunk it?

Unbreakable….click on the cover to buy…

The Blurb

India Blake is forty-three years old and in lust with her lecturer. She is well aware of the age difference between them. But a woman can look, wonder and dream.

Age is not an issue for Dash Lombard. He has had his eye on India since she joined his class. He knows the sexy red head isn’t the slightest bit interested in learning. But he has a thing or two he plans to teach her outside of the classroom.

The Excerpt

“I will do anything to pass this semester,” India announced in glib frustration to her fellow classmates as she dropped her books down on the table in a haphazard mess at the start of the evening tutorial. She was over the whole study thing and she was only two weeks into a twelve-week course. Who the hell had time? She had to attend college at night and work during the day at her office job. She looked at the people around her. Young smart, study nerds. She stuck out like a sore thumb. It was high school all over again. Only this time she was forty-three and high school had been a long, long time ago.

Why she had ever thought she could go back to school was beyond her. Initially India had some vague idea that she could easily pass this Ethics in the Workplace course her boss had enrolled her in at the local College. How hard could it be? She was forty-three, no longer the inattentive teenager she had once been at school, so passing a simple course and getting a promotion to become a level six manager did not seem like such a big deal. But it was. All the reasons why she had been an inattentive teenager at school came crashing back to her. School was boring.

India looked up as Dashiel Lombard—call me Dash—came into the room. Tall, dark with shoulder length brown hair and soulful brown eyes. He had the whole Heathcliff thing going on. And that voice. Oh boy! Deep, husky and sensuous. India could listen to him for hours. This man could make cricket scores sound sexy. He was sex on a stick and he was the main reason she had stuck out the first two weeks of this class. She was in lust with Dash Lombard. But India was not silly. She knew whatever fantasies she had of her lecturer were never going to come to fruition. She was like the rest of the horny women who sat and salivated over him. The chances of being fucked by him were limited but a girl could dream. Added to that the man had to be in his late twenties and it was not like he would be interested in a forty-three year old woman.

Yet India felt her heart beat a little faster when he looked at her. Dash was the kind of man who looked at each student individually as if making them feel important. Each time he looked at her, India felt a thrill shoot straight through her body and down to her pussy and she had to close her legs tightly to contain herself. But that did not stop her spending more time in class wondering what he looked liked naked, than paying attention to what he was trying to teach her. India loved his voice but it was the sound and not the content that had her fantasizing ripping off his clothes and sliding down on what she was sure would be a sublime cock if the interestingly large bulge in his jeans was anything to go by. How ethical was that? India had a feeling she could be the poster child for unethical behavior.

India shook herself mentally and dragged her eyes off the man’s jeans. She knew she should be listening to the content of her lecturer’s words and not trying to work out if he was wearing boxer shorts or going commando under that denim, or if his cock was semi-erect as she suspected. After that delightful interlude in the car park last night she was as horny as hell and she craved the strong, thrusting feel of a cock or cocks inside her once more.

Jacqueline and Charlene also have contests….check ‘em out. And, as always Anny's words of wisdom will make you think.
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Thursday, 29 May 2008

Come hither Friday...

I upset someone at work by breathing today. No, not an unusual occurrence for me. I have the power to upset people within seconds, even at a great distance. But you get that. This current upset was over an envelope that I opened by accident. What’s that? Did I unleash the 12 deadly plagues of Egypt that were contained in the envelope? No. Did I learn where the lost treasure of Atlantis was, therefore destroying another’s chance to find it, when I opened it? No. Did I read a scandalous love letter when I removed the contents? A confession? No and no again. I just opened an envelope by mistake. Remember making those? Anyway, I did offer the individual, who was frothing at the mouth over the ‘envelope incident’, the choice of cutting off one of my fingers as retribution for such a heinous act or a roll of Velcro so she could get a grip. She chose to stomp off. Probably wise. Blood is so hard to clean up and stomping off burns up calories.

I had to ring a company yesterday and got their call centre. No one, as per most call centers knew anything because firstly – they don’t get trained properly and secondly – they don’t give a rat’s arse as they are just there to get paid and to go home. I completely understand that. After explaining that I wanted to speak to a grown up they transferred me to their complaints section. The consultant gave her name and I wrote it down as I do and I asked her location. Why? Because I like to have a trail of who I have spoken to when it comes to stuff so I cannot be fobbed off later. And yes, she could have given me a dodgy location. It happens in call centres. We never gave out our location at Promptel as customers often felt the need to come and take things one step further – kicking in glass front doors and smacking staff members in the head – ah…memories. Anyway the operator told me she was in the Philippines. Uh huh. Yes, I am in Australia. This is an Australian company. I have never agreed with jobs going off-shore. It’s just wrong. Jobs should stay in the country of origin regardless whether it is cheaper to pay someone in another country a pittance for what another operator would do in Australia. But that’s happening all over the world. No surprise there. I often get Bollywood consultants who try and sound Australian to fit in with their market and it just doesn’t work and you spend most of your time hooked in listening to their fake accent rather than what they are saying. No one can really successfully fake another nationality can they? You always know. Only an Aussie can make Gidday mate sound real.

Anyway, this lady turned out to be the most competent customer service operatives I have come across in a long time. She listened, she re-stated my words back to me to let me know she understood and fixed the problem – and she was pleasant to deal with. And you know why I reckon that is? Because the job actually means something to her. It’s important. I think some cultures value the importance of having a job and doing the job to the best of their ability as opposed to ‘there’s plenty of jobs out there I’ll leave this one when it sucks too badly’. I am very good at doing that. Now, I’m not saying all call centres offshore have staff with the same attitude as the lady in the Philippines. They don’t. But it had me re-thinking the whole off-shore jobs thing. I still ideologically don’t fully agree with it but as a consumer I can see the potential. And yes, I asked to speak to her team leader and congratulated him on his staff member as I believe good service deserves recognition.

War Trail by the talented writing team of Terri Beckett and Chris Power is out today at Cerridwen Press. I am in awe of the amount of research these authors put into each and every one of their books and they are bloody good reads. As always, it’s a click on the cover and buy moment.

The excerpt....

“Mother, Kherin wishes to become D’Shael, to seek his name in the Eye of the Sun. But first he must be born to us.”
“Does he, now.” Chiera’s voice was harsh and cold and her pale eyes flashed with anger. Then became hooded, introspective. Slowly an icy amused smile twisted her mouth. “So. The Sword Vow isn’t enough for him and he seeks to bond himself ever closer to us. I wonder why? Not just to ask for Emer Nianresdaughter, I’ll wager.” Her smile became a dreadful grimace. “So be it. Tied so close, he’ll share our fate.”

Myra found Kherin grooming Llynivar in the stall behind the hearthhouse, working on the summer-glossy coat with a hay-twist while the horse drooped his head and closed his eyes in bliss. She found a seat in the piled hay, inhaling the sweetness of the herbs and flowers in the mix and waited without impatience for him to finish. Finally he patted the sleek neck, letting the horse lip at his open palm and then turned to Myra, making the hand to brow salute that was her due as priestess.
“The Old One has consented,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
“She could find no reason to refuse.”
“Of course not. This is in the pattern, Mother and we are all part of it. Tell me what I must do.”
Little of the ceremony surrounding the rebirth was known to anyone other than the priestesses. Kherin listened in silence, accepting all she told him without demur, which didn’t surprise her.
“In all ways and in all things, let her will be done,” he said calmly. “As you are her priestess, Myra, so I am in your hands for this thing.”
“The Hooded One is also her priestess,” she reminded him and he smiled wryly.
“On Midsummer, at the Grove, she took a lock of my hair. If she wished to do me ill, then she could have worked with it. But I think the Lady has shown her the unwisdom of that.”
“Where she’s concerned, Kherin, I’m no longer certain of how she will act. She wishes you no good, that I do know. But she’ll aid in the ritual as is required. Come now. We have little time and you must be cleansed for the rite.”

Kherin followed the Second Priestess through the Hold to the opening of the caverns and from there, by torchlight, down to the lower levels of the cave complex where the Third waited. He registered only the dark reaches of the cavern, given an illusion of warmth by the torchlight before Chiera stepped before the altar on its island and greeted him with a brusque “When did you eat last?”
He blinked. “During the Council, when Rythian had bread and ale brought. You were there, Old Mother.”
“Don’t be impertinent with me, boy,” she snapped. “You will fast now, eating and drinking only what we give you, until such time as the Lord has shown you your name—or not, as he chooses. Strip him, Daughter—he will come from the Mother naked, as do we all.”
He gave his kilt and sleeveless shirt into Myra’s hands, standing clad only in torchlight and the bracelet of the Sword Sworn. That he would not remove and both priestesses tactfully ignored it. Myra took his hands and began to lead him around the pool that surrounded the altar and joined her voice to Chiera’s.
“We call on the powers of the air that gives breath, of fire that warms us, of the earth beneath us and the water that is life. Air, fire, earth and water, witness this death and this rebirth.”
Welcome, child of mine.
He felt himself smile, felt the familiar presence enfold him, his feet becoming light, his body weightless in the Lady’s embrace. Myra drew him to where a spur of rock jutted into the water.
“Do you offer yourself to the Lady freely and of your own will?” she demanded. “She who knows the secrets of all hearts knows your mind.”
“I am hers,” Kherin said firmly. “As I have ever been, her servant and her sacrifice.” From her expression, he realized that last was not in the ritual.
“So be it,” she murmured and made a sign on his brow with her thumb. “Go to her now and may you be reborn from her.”
Chiera gestured him forward. As he stepped into the chill of the water, it seemed that a breath of air moved over the surface. I am the wind that moves on the water, I am the fire of creation, I am the fertile earth… He moved forward and the floor shelved steeply beneath him. Kherin let the water take him, closing over his head.
My child, my lover, Beloved, my self…
There was solid rock under his feet. As he broke water, Myra cried out, the wail of a woman in travail as the infant leaves her womb and Chiera’s bony hand reached out to bring him before the altar. Three candles burned there and a cup and platter lay between them.
“Child of Anu, eat of her body, the food brought forth to sustain life, drink of her blood, of the milk of her breast.”
Bannock sweetened with honey, milk mixed with barley-spirit. Wrapped in the ecstasy that was the presence of his Lady, he took a mouthful of the food and wet his lips with the drink, needing nothing more.
“You are D’Shael, now,” Chiera said. “Blood and bone, body and soul.” He heard the venom of her thought,
Much good may it do you…
It did not signify. Still uplifted, he followed Myra from the cavern, up into the world again.

It was full dark when Kherin emerged. The moon was fully risen, the stars pricking the night sky. Below, in the space between Sun Hall and Elder Hall, was a mass of torchlight where the people waited. Where Rythian would be waiting. He drew a deep breath.
“Come, my son. For my son you are now, given to me by the Lady.” Myra took his hand. “Let us go down. Your hearth awaits you.”
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Wednesday, 28 May 2008

Not so pukeable Wednesday....

Marlow's Curse - review

Vampires, demons, Archangels, witches; what a mix to throw into a pot. Add in some selfless love, misunderstandings, hard-headedness and various other emotions as well as mind-blowing sex and it's a recipe for an outstanding read. I found the book fast-paced, the characters realistic and well rounded, and the encore performance of both Asher and the intemperate Temperance refreshing.

I was up early, as always, damn internal clock, and I was exercising – puke, spew – and I was watching an interview with Peter O’Toole. Robbie Williams was also there. It was an interview based on hell raisers and bad boys. They made no apologies for their lives. They made mistakes and they moved on. That’s how we should be. Seeing Peter O’Toole reminded me of a 1960’s movie called “How to Steal a Million”. Yes, I know it’s an old movie and people seem to refuse acknowledging movies made before 1980. How sad is that? Think of all the excellent movies missed. But their loss. "How to Steal A Million," to me, is a one of the quintessential quirky, romantic comedies and Peter O’Toole played the dashing, crazy hero perfectly. Where have the real hell raisers gone? It seems to me we are all too worried about perception and political correctness….shame.

Kevin Rudd – Aussie Prime Minister – people believe he looks a bit like Tin Tin - has been in the news. Well, you’d expect that. But in fact if was due to Kev’s butler. The Opposition Party is upset that he has an assistant who helps him when he travels. Well duh. How is this a drama that can overshadow hospital waiting lists or the drought? The man travels the country and the world constantly on behalf of Australia. He’s not a backpacker who can roll his duds into his swag and move on is he? This so amuses me in the hypocrisy of it. Recently when he was in the US with his wife meeting George, so called Aussie fashion experts were all pissed off that his wife Therese wasn’t dressed fashionably enough to meet the folks in the US and why did she not have the help of an assistant? A – I think she looked perfectly fine and Aussie women do not feel the need to compete with others because we know who
we are as women. B – Its apparently okay for a woman to have an assistant but for a man to have one is wasteful. Seem to say to me that a man only needs a couple of suits in a suit bag, his socks and jocks rolled into his shoes and his razor while a woman needs so much more help to look presentable in the eyes of fashionistas, who frankly, to me, look like coat hangers with shrouds over them. Just my opinion of course. Let people look like they want to for god sake.


I got bitten on the back by a spider last week. Only a small one thankfully. It’s the price you may for having a lot of trees. Anyway it’s developed into this really itchy series of lumps. You know when you want to scratch but you know you can’t because you’ll make it worse so you do things like scratch around the area? I keep getting told ‘you’ll scar’. Please, what’s another one? Scars are proof of a life well lived or a least a reminder to watch for spiders going down your shirt. Anyway, it’s been a trying week. I’ve had to keep telling myself to stop scratching and only copious amounts of tea tree oil – fabulous for everything – has stopped me from ripping my skin apart. Some itches you scratch just get you in trouble don’t they?

A child killer died last night. She was a woman that watched as her mongrel husband raped a girl then they both tortured and killed her. Lower than pond scum. So she’s dead. Who cares? Not many people, me included. No, I don’t believe in forgiving and forgetting for crimes like this. She died without having the human dignity to let those who still suffered the loss of loved ones the knowledge of what she knew about them. Rot in hell I say.

Looooonnngg day at work. Ethel, best friend and I, probably made it worse because at the end of each email back and forth to each other we stated the time…"it's now 10:53am", "at the third hiccup it will be 11:06am", "fuck…is it only 11:13am??" Yes, you get the picture. We were slowly driving ourselves insane - not a difficult drive of course. I am a chronic clock watcher at work. My work day is divided by tea breaks and lunch and going home. I never look at the clock at home…funny about that. We also discussed our ongoing campaign to win money as we are both - quote - 'over work.' We buy tickets every week and are obsessed in winning money. Will having sudden wealth make us happy? Oh hell yes.

I foolishly did not buy petrol yesterday when everyone in Brisbane knows it's cheaper. I meant to but I got side tracked so I had to buy it today - on a Wednesday when only dimwits buy it as the price has shot up. Forehead slap. After filling up I wandered in to pay for it. The man behind the counter said, “You should have bought yesterday when it was 17c a litre cheaper.” Yes, I know. “Do you know what you would have saved?” No and don't tell me. He told me. I had to buy a chocolate to cope with the shock. I said why did he care as he got paid either way. “To educate people.” Thank you Mr Kotter.
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Tuesday, 27 May 2008

Deadly serious and not the slightest bit funny…

I had a comment on my blog yesterday saying that someone was disappointed that my blog was too serious and not amusing. I thought about this and then what I really consider serious. I know the fact that I loathe Mondays is not the lightest bit serious. It’s just one of those things. Also the fact that the phrase ‘But it’s all good’ is just a phrase that annoys me but it’s not important or serious. Or whether an author gets a ‘good’ cover or not, is again, not serious. Whether our computers work or we can’t buy something we want or whether we are having a bad hair day – all again - not serious.

The following to me is serious…stop reading now if you do not want to read about serious stuff. None of it’s funny. Read the links to find out more.

Poverty is serious…

Every day 30,000 children die as a result of extreme poverty. This shameful situation must end. If we have the will to act we can Make Poverty History.

Female Genital Mutilation

Female genital mutilation (FGM) comprises all procedures that involve partial or total removal of the external female genitalia, or other injury to the female genital organs for non-medical reasons.

Honor killings

Over 5000 women and girls are killed every year by family members in so-called 'honour killings', according to the UN. These crimes occur where cultures believe that a woman's unsanctioned sexual behaviour brings such shame on the family that any female accused or suspected must be murdered. Reasons for these murders can be as trivial as talking to a man, or as innocent as suffering rape.

Child rescue

Child Rescue is a program that reaches out to children who are struggling to survive in appalling situations.
These children are beyond the reach of child sponsorship. Some have no parents. Some have just escaped from a brothel or factory. Many are homeless and trying to survive on the streets.

Burma – Myanmar

Unofficial UN estimates put the death toll at 216,000, with 2.4 million affected, around 2 million homeless and 220,000 missing.


As of Thursday 22 May afternoon, Xinhua quotes government’s statistic of the nation-wide impacts of the earthquake with 51,151 deaths, 288,431 injured, and 29,328 missing. Media reports up to 5 million people are homeless.

Hate crimes

Hate crimes (also known as bias motivated crimes) occur when a perpetrator targets a victim because of his or her membership in a certain social group, usually defined by racial group, religion, sexual orientation, disability, ethnicity, nationality, age, gender, gender identity, or political affiliation.[1]
Hate crime can take many forms. Incidents may involve physical assault, damage to property, bullying, harassment, verbal abuse or insults, or offensive graffiti or letters.[2]


Since 1981 when HIV/AIDS was first described, an estimated 60 million people have been infected with HIV, of whom some 20 million have died. UNAIDS reports that, globally, less than one person in five at risk of HIV has access to basic HIV prevention services. Only 28% of people who needed HIV treatment had access to it by end-2006.

Of course this is just the tip of the ‘serious’ iceberg – cancer, mental illness, substance abuse, war, any form of discrimination…I could go on and on. I think we forget, I certainly do, that many of us are incredibly fortunate. We have food, warmth and safety and the things that we think of as ‘unlucky‘ or ‘terrible’ for us are generally nothing in the scheme of things. Yeah, most of us will not be able to save the world. And yes, being silly and flippant is sometimes the way to cope with the crap that may be around us. Nothing wrong with that. Or maybe we just need to pull our heads in every so often and realize the petty trivializations of our lives are just that. So what’s serious to you?
If you want something non serious after that please check out the contests on Sandra's blog and Mona's blog.
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Monday, 26 May 2008

Arse dragging day…

An Unbreakableadult - moment…released 30th May through Ellora’s Cave

“Harder…I need more.”
“Sugar I am going to make you scream your lungs out as you come.”
“Oh yes,” India Blake moaned as she wrapped her legs tighter around the man’s waist. His cock was lodged high and firm inside her. It was exactly what she needed. Her three-speed, power-thrust, ruby-red Rabbit vibrator was good but it was not the real thing. She needed the heat and power of a solid human cock. Nothing beat that. It had been so long since she had ever felt this primed to be taken. The force of his thrusts made her body bounce up and down on the hood of the car she sat on. She could feel herself sliding back and forth in her own juices.

I put in a cover request for Male Me. It’s a ménage that will be released through Resplendence Publishing. What did I ask for? I said ‘go wild’. I don’t agonize over covers or ask for the impossible. I figure cover artists know better than me what sells. So, I can hardly wait for the cover to land in my inbox.

It's all good…this is a phrase that annoys me. Have you heard it? Of course you have. It’s generally said by people at a point when nothing is all good and generally everything is falling to crap. I assume people say it to keep themselves sounding optimistic but to me it always comes out as sounding pathetic. Example – house burnt down, leg broken running to flee the flames and the rescued cat in the person’s arms has gouged the person’s face in its panic. But it’s all good. Huh? How can it possibly be? You’ve lost your job but it’s all good. What? Your lover has left you for the trollop down the road – but it’s all good. Seriously? Look, I’m all for being stoic and optimistic but to me this is such a pathetic phrase. How is it all good? Please explain...

Dragged myself into work today and I mean dragged. You know those mornings where you can barely throw clothes on and the ones you do, you’re convinced they look crap on you but you don’t care enough because it’s only work and it’s not like anyone is going to see you that you care about and even if they did they would know better than to say you look like crap. Correct - its Monday…pukeable, pukeable Monday….abandon all hope…until Friday, that is…

KJ, a reader, asked me why didn’t I put an excerpt from Tantalizing Tilly, releasing January through Ellora’s Cave, on the blog when I showed the cover off….hmmm…not sure, I suspect I was having a dizzying spell or something. Thanks for asking KJ – here it is….and it’s very, very tame… I thought I should after the Unbreakable one.

Tantalizing Tilly...the tame excerpt...

Tilly Moor was pleased with her efforts so far. She was pretty sure the target had no idea she was trailing him. But then, nor should he. She had been doing this job for many years now and she believed she was damn good at what she did. Hiding in plain sight was an art. Tilly dipped her sunglasses down her nose and watched him as he turned down Eighth Avenue.
“Yep, that’s where I thought he would go,” she muttered to herself as she waited a moment before following. She did not want to follow him but she had no other choice. Tilly had a problem to sort out and she was not one to shy away from unpleasant things. As she put one of her Doc Marten boot shod feet down on to the metal grate set in the pavement, she felt it tilt dangerously beneath her. She looked down in horror.
“Oh shit!” Tilly yelped in panic when it gave way completely beneath her. She plummeted helplessly downward, knowing the landing was going to be painful and yet there was no way she could stop it happening or prepare herself for the fall. She closed her eyes and hoped for the best.
The best was she landed in the outstretched arms of a man. The worst, she had no idea who he was or what he was doing standing in an underground sewer tunnel in the middle of Brisbane city. Even in her less than sane world, that was not normal.
“Hi,” said the tall, blond man. He grinned at her widely.
“Hi?” Tilly struggled in his arms as she tried to free herself. “Who the fuck are you?” She turned her head and glared at him as she tried to break the hold he had on her. The arms that held her were like steel.
“I was just passing by,” he murmured pleasantly as he held her against his chest.
And what a chest it was. Tilly could feel the rock-hard pecs against the side of her breast. She was disgusted to find herself getting all girly and giddy at the firm, warm flesh pressed against hers.
Get a grip, woman. He’s a weirdo standing in a sewer.
“And you just happened to be standing in an underground sewer?” She slapped at the arms that held her tight. “Let me go.” It was weird being suspended in the air like this. Tilly had no control at all and she didn’t like it one bit. Added to that she was amazed he was holding her not inconsequential weight without any effort at all. She had heard that crazy people did sometimes have supernatural strength. I always attract the nutcases. Why me?
“I saw you falling.”
“So you immediately stretched out your arms to catch me?” She looked in the vivid blue eyes and saw amusement. How dare he be amused by this?
“Lucky huh?”
“Bullshit.” She smacked his chest and wriggled to free herself. “Put me down.”
“I like holding you.”
The way he said it in a deep, husky voice made Tilly suddenly hot all over.
“Put me down before I poke you in the eyes.” She held her fingers up threateningly.
The man shrugged and gently placed her feet on the ground.
“As you wish, cariad.” He set her down carefully but kept his hands on her shoulders.
Cariad? Tilly looked up at him. Whoa. He was much taller than the average man and he appeared to be solid muscle under the black knit t-shirt and well-faded jeans. His dark blond hair could be best described as shaggy but neat and the plain polished metal stud in his ear gave him a rakish look of battered elegance. He smiled at her as if amused by her perusal. It was an awfully nice smile and a delicious looking mouth. It had the full bottom lip that she found sexy in a man—if she was interested and she wasn’t. Tilly dragged her eyes from him and looked around for a way out. Be proactive and find a solution and not reactive and panting at the hot guy. The hot guy in question suddenly pulled Tilly to him.
“Hey, back off, mate,” Tilly snapped in anger and shock. The shock was due to the fact that the heat from the body plastered tightly against hers was seeping into Tilly’s senses and her sex-starved hormones were going crazy with delight. She pushed her hands against his chest in an effort to stop feeling stuff she did not want to feel.
“Shh,” he dropped his head and whispered again her ear.
Oh boy. The hot breath skittered teasingly over her skin. Tilly felt an instant tightening response between her legs.

…and, as they say, stuff happens…
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Sunday, 25 May 2008

Where art thou Sunday? Where hast thou gone?

Some comments on Friday's blog...

Are you taking Mervina with you to the country? – Barbara Huffert um, that would be a big no. She went with a nice man in a cage…she was in the cage…the man was in a car…

Did you know what "Tilly" means in Jamaica? In case not, it means a man's penis.
Ashley Ladd….no Ashley but thanks for sharing and I’m sure we’re all a little wiser for that knowledge

I almost feel sorry for poor Minerva, especially if she is part of a couple. You're about to separate her from her one true love. Now he'll have to traverse miles and miles of torturous terrain and overcome odious obstacles to reunite with his soulmate
Jacqueline Roth Yeah – what a bugger for him.

Back from the country in one piece. It is as dry out west as it is in the city. Quite scary that nothing is green anywhere you go. Let it bucket down rain soon.

Every time I come back from the country I usually have a car boot (trunk) full of produce. I like to drive through the small towns. There is this fancy bypass that misses them all and it only saves 5 minutes. It’s also as boring as all get out and the likelihood of hitting a kangaroo is high a so I prefer to go through the small towns. I also prefer to know, as I drive, that there is civilization close by if the car breaks down. On the bypass there is nothing for kilometers – nor are there roadside fresh produce stands. It’s not unusual for me to come home with whole pumpkins, apples, jams, pickles, honey and whatever else ma and pa are flogging along the roadside. The prices are good and they are more than likely doing it cash in hand so it’s a win for all of use.

Poker machines or pokies as we call them in Queensland – want to speak like a Queenslander? Put an ‘ie’ or an ‘ee’ on the end of words – anyway are pokies boring or what? After having lunch at a local pub on Saturday the people I was lunching with wanted to play the pokies. Now, I’m not adverse to controlled gambling, taking risks or chances – hell that’s what life is all about. But how long can a person sit and play poker machines without being bored to tears? Despite all the congratulatory ‘you’re such a winner’ music and messages those machines play, it’s dead boring pushing a button and watching the little wheels spin around. I don’t get the whole process of free spins and play so many numbers on so many lines. To me, it’s put $10 in and expect to lose it, then walk away. I did actually bankroll my $10 to $30 and cashed out. Apparently this is the wrong thing to do as it could have been a ‘lucky machine’ because I had won $20 already. Possibly, who knows. All I know is its mind numbing playing them. How on earth do people play them all day and not lose their marbles? Anyway, that $20 is now coffee money for the coffee man next week. Sure, I’d like to win big money but I’m not a dedicated pokie player and more importantly nothing it ever that easy and all the feel good messages that machine spouts out will not convince to play on.

Okay – picture the scene…I was chatting to this male acquaintance and this younger woman walked past. His eyes instantly fixated on her. Guess what he said? “Jeez, she’s a big girl.” What was my response? Yes, correct, it wasn’t pretty but damn it I refuse to let people downgrade another in my presence because of the way they look. I explained that to him in most succinct tones. I also pointed out some of his less that model male like features and asked how he felt being compared to a ridiculous ideal of a woman’s fantasy male. What did he say? “I knew the minute I said she was a ‘big girl’, you would go for my throat.” But why say it? I also want to know who judges who is ‘big’ or ‘small’. If a 'petite' sized woman walks past, how many men do you reckon say “jeez that’s a small girl.” I suspect none. So why can we not allow people to just be whatever size and stop putting them into fucking stupid pigeon holes of what is acceptable? If you do this then stop it. If you really believe you can justify this then email me as I would like to know how you can. I personally believe that before you judge another’s looks, first look at yourself and unless you are an exquisite beauty (and even they are flawed in some way) then either think before you speak or shut the fuck up. No one wants your opinion on what you deem is the perfect body because there isn’t one. Yes, this topic makes me mad as hell. And yes, I’ll debate anyone on it. Bring it on…

'Sorry to say I missed the annual Brisbane Zombie walk. What is it?

(Taken from Wikipedia) A zombie walk is an organized public gathering of people who dress up in zombie costumes. Usually taking place in an urban centre, the participants make their way around the city streets and through shopping malls in a somewhat orderly fashion and often limping their way towards a local cemetery or other public space. The earliest zombie walk on record was held in the summer of 2001 in Sacramento California. Zombie walks occur annually the world over, one of the most famous being the Toronto Zombie Walk.
The Brisbane Zombie Walk will take place in Brisbane City, starting off in the Roma St Parklands where participants will amble their way through the city and continue through to Fortitude Valley where there will be an after-party. The walk is purely for fun and for those obsessed with the living dead. Everyone involved in the walk is encouraged to dress up as and act like a zombie, to the shock (and delight) of the unaware public.
This is the walk last year in Brisbane Last year.…click here. I love people who do weird-arsed stuff just because they can. Check these sites out too. You never know when you may have to walk like a zombie and I think it’s nice to know the etiquette.
Terror4Fun Zombie Makeup Guides
Zombie Pub Crawl Makeup Tips
Cheap Zombie Makeup Tips

Anny is being all wise on her blog…check it out here.
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Friday, 23 May 2008

Ding, dong, Mervina's gone...

Okay – here’s the cover for Tantalizing Tilly. I love it and I love the cover gods at Ellora’s Cave. This book follows on from Penned Again but in saying that they are all stand alone books hence the reason I was against a series title. This one’s released early January. What? Yes, you have to wait. Why? Because happily I have lots of books released right up until then.

The Blurb…

Tilly Moor’s life is complicated. She is in debt up to her eyeballs and a bunch of freaks are out to kill her for revenge. The last thing she needs is an immortal being in her life offering her knee wobbling sex when staying alive is her prime objective.

Spellbinder Titch isn’t about to let anything happen to the woman he knows is his true love. Fighting off freaks is easy, getting Tilly to admit she loves him is anything but.

Ha! Trapped like a fat rat. I heard Mervina get her comeuppance last night. The trap is under the house. My under the house is your standard messy basement where I drive in and park the car, where the laundry is and it’s full of amazingly useless crap that I can’t throw out because what if I need some of it? Anyway I am an exceptionally light sleeper. Stuff three blocks away will wake me up. I heard the trap shut on the possum last night. I heard said possum kicking at the trap door as if pissed off and I am fairly sure I heard some pretty graphic swearing. I snickered…okay I laughed because I was in charge now and not some kamikaze rodent. I wandered down on my way to work to take a squiz at her. Mervina gave me the evil eye. Ever had a possum do that to you? It ain’t pretty. Anyway, I stood and explained to her that if she just stayed outside in her natural surroundings in and amongst the trees and the large cement animals that adorned my backyard, then she would have been okay. She said nothing – what could she say…you know if she could speak? She did not have a furry leg to stand on in her defence. It’s quite interesting having an in-depth conversation at 7am with a possum. You ask
yourself two things. Am I mad? The answer – yes, most definitely. The other thing…I wonder if I can knock off work at 3pm instead of 4pm…well not everything is about the possum and it is Friday.

Speaking of which I am going out west to the country so no blog Saturday. My eye is twitching madly at the thought of being out in the country. It’s so rural and full of cows and crops and stuff. I have the necessary survival equipment – mobile phone, laptop, strawberry bubble gum – so I can face anything. Talk to you Sunday…if I make it back alive that is… Thar be animals in the country that can kill…cows, tractors, cowboys…hhmm…cowboys…

Emerald Green is now on sale now at Ellora's Cave. Author Desiree Holt had kindly passed on an excerpt for you to enjoy and yes, you can click on the cover to buy. The Amarinda Blog brings you only the best books.

Emerald Green – the blurb

Meredith Kincaid wouldn’t be at her grandmother’s bed & breakfast in Maine in October instead of enjoying the warmth of the Caribbean if she hadn’t discovered her fiancé in bed with two of her bridesmaids before the wedding. Tired of seeing her hiding away, her grandmother sends her off to the village for the afternoon. In the village candy cum jewelry store, she meets a handsome stranger who buys her an emerald pendant and offers to share his fudge with her. Mesmerized by his sensual good looks, she agrees to take a ride along the coast with him. Before she can blink her eyes, she is naked on a private, secluded beach, and the mouth-watering stranger is coaxing her into sexual situations that both startle her and bring her more fulfillment than she’s ever had. The afternoon is an initiation into the pleasures of the flesh, but sadly, all good things must come to an end. When Meredith wakes up at her grandmother’s, she wonders if the afternoon really happy or did she just dream it? But life is about to hand Meredith another surprise, one which will open yet more doors to her own sexuality.

The Excerpt – be warned – this is for adults only

“That looks like it belongs on you.” The voice was deep and warm like honey.
Meredith turned her head and found herself pressed full length against the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen. Dark hair brushed the collar of his shirt and thick lashes framed whiskey-colored eyes. His tanned face, more rugged than handsome, had deep grooves etched into the sharp planes and a sharp scent drifted past her nose. Pulses throbbed instantly in her breasts and her cunt.
“Oh!” Her breath felt rapped in her lungs. “Thank you.”
She tried to move slightly away but his body enveloped her, keeping her in place. She knew she should feel threatened but instead she only felt turned on. The heat from his body was like a cloud of air around her and she could feel the thickness of his cock just touching her buttocks.

He must have gestured to a sales clerk, because in a moment the case was unlocked and the pendant lay displayed in its glory on the counter.
“Allow me.” He lifted it with long, slender fingers and fastened it around her neck.
As his hands fell away they brushed across her breasts, so briefly she wondered if in fact she’d imagined it. His fingertips lifted her chin and moved her head so she was looking into the mirror on the counter. The pendant glowed as if it was alive.
“I knew it,” he said, his hands resting on her shoulders. “It matches your eyes perfectly.” He bent his head so his lips were almost touching her ear. “Do you know in ancient times emeralds were coveted for their magical powers? They were believed to heighten sexual desire in women.”
Liquid dampened her panties and her nipples tightened. What was she doing here with this stranger, his voice slowly seducing her? She touched the little tree, running her fingertips over the miniscule stones, hardly aware that he was paying the clerk. Her eyes widened as he pocketed the receipt.
“I can’t let you buy this for me. It’s way too expensive. I don’t even know your name.”
The smile undid her again.

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

Thursday, 22 May 2008

Be very, very careful, we’re hunting possums….

The possum man…let's call him Neville…rang me at work to advise he was at my house and 'going in' to set traps. "How many possums are there?" he asked. I said as far as I knew only Mervina. This threw him slightly until I explained that was her name. "Uh huh," he said. It seems not many people name pests. I explained it was a Jones family tradition. We name everything…hence Flo the 50kg cement chook (chicken) in my garden, Maurice, the big cement frog, Terry the old ram’s skull and Murphy the snail riding cement gnome. I could go on but I suspect you have the picture. My mother had a cement flamingo called Monique and I would have taken her but for the fact that her metal legs bowed then broke under the weight of her cement body and she looked dumb without the legs.

Anyway…where was I? Oh yes…Neville then went on to ask was I sure it was just the one. Well no Nev, to be honest they all look the same to me – like a really big, rat with a long black tail. Neville tells me that apparently you can tell. I'll take his word for that because I don’t want to check and I simply don’t care. Anyway he says there are probably 2 as they are couples. Yes, how frigging cute. Possum romance. And no, I'm not writing a were-possum love story. I'll leave that up to some other crazy person. Anyway, my job is now to check the traps and alert him as soon as Mevina and partner are nabbed. I admit I am looking forward to the little bugger leaving Chez Amarinda. I can only stand so many surprise jump-outs in a week. She is becoming too big a smart arse and as far as I am concerned one of us at Chez Amarinda is more than enough. They catch her and take her to the home of someone you don’t like…okay, no, they don’t…I asked if they could…they relocate the fat rat.

I was in charge at work for a large percentage of the today. This was excellent – no, not because I wanted to prove what a great worker I was so people could look at me with management potential…huh? No, it was excellent because I still haven’t worked out all the whiz bang things my mobile (cell phone) can do and it gave me time to read the instruction book. From my understanding I can call Mars while ordering pizza and writing my blog. You never know when that could be handy.

I got sent something today that I had to look into and apply for as part of a contract. You know when you are reading stuff but none of what is written on the page is actually taking hold in your mind and all you can hear is white noise in your ears? Yes, that’s is me when I really am bored with something and I just go into the I-don’t-want-to-deal-with-this-who-can-I-hand-this-to-zone. I am exceptionally good at ignoring things then acting vague when someone says ‘but I sent/told you that’….thankfully I was the dumb look down pat.
Sandra Cox – who is she? You already know? Good. If not she is a talented multi-published author that has a new release out today. I have read many of Sandra’s books. They are excellent. Black Opal is released today at Cerridwen Press. You will not be disappointed if you buy this book and may I suggest you check out the other Sandra Cox titles on offer. How? Click on the cover and you will be magically taken there.
Black Opal…the excerpt
She stared intently at the computer screen. She'd broken the code and figured out her father's password. It'd been easy. The warden said her father had written her name and the word amulets in his own blood before he died.

Scanning the screen, she read:

'Legend has it that out of all the mortals on earth five women found favor with the gods:

Sophia whose face was pitted and ravaged by pox,
Pelagia who had the body of a woman and the mind of a child,
Olympia a poor widow with children to feed,
Helen, who lost four of her children to the plague and begged the gods to spare her remaining child, and
Zoe, a young queen whose village was razed and plundered and, she herself taken as a slave.
Moved, the gods created five special amulets in the form of armbands for the women to wear on their forearms.
For Sophia an amulet forged with beauty and creativity.
For Pelagia an amulet forged with knowledge.
For Olympia an amulet forged with wealth.
For Helen an amulet forged with healing and
For Zoe a golden amulet, with a black opal at its center, forged with power.'
The air conditioning in the room was cold enough to leave goose bumps but Victoria Price didn't notice. The black leather chair creaked in protest as she leaned back, her breath leaving her lungs in a hiss.
The pain in her hands made her glance down. They were fisted so tight the moon-shaped crescents in her palms, where her nails dug in, were filling with warm red blood.

Sandra has a blog of her own. Click here to see it. After you peruse Sandra’s I suggest wander over to Anny’s for further enlightenment and Barbara has some very wise words on her blog.
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Wednesday, 21 May 2008

A whole lot of nothing....

I received an excellent cover for Tantalizing Tilly from the Ellora’s Cave cover gods but I can’t show it to you yet as there is always a breathing space between the cover being sent and approval for general plastering it everywhere by the author. So I reckon I’ll wait til the weekend. But once again it is verrrry nice.

Other than that, nothing to report…nothing to say…been a nothing kind of day. No drama, no intrigue, no hissy fits, no happy stuff, no weird stuff. Just boring. So I suggest you check out the fine blogs to the left. Back tomorrow when I'm sure something of some note will happen…actually it's high noon for the possum tomorrow...
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Tuesday, 20 May 2008

On my high horse...

I mentioned on Sunday I believe, that I was detrashy-fying (and no, that is the correct spelling - I made the word up therefore it's my spelling) a book - a ménage novella - to send a publisher. Originally the novella, called Male Me, was destined for another publisher but I was not happy with it so I let it sit for a while until inspiration hit me. I can be as trashy as the next person but I wanted it to be better than it was. It was, as we say in the Jones family - all arse and no class - literally. It still has much arse (or ass) but not in such trashy proportions. Anyway I banged it off to Resplendence Publishing on Sunday and they shot back with an offer of a contract for Male Me. Excellent. Sometimes it's better to bide your time. Who is Resplendence Publishing? Click here to check 'em out. No, I still will be writing for Ellora’s Cave as they are a excellent mob to work with. What's Male Me about? Well I am yet to write a blurb but its one woman who meets two men who are buddies (not bisexual) who enjoy sharing the one woman. Lucky her…that is, if I was into ménage and I'm not….not that there's anything wrong with that as they would say on Seinfeld. But the most French thing I will indulge in is croissants or crème brulee or Moet…ooh la la… passez vous le plonk et beaucoup croissants avec side order de la crème brulee s'il vous plait. Yes, I speak French like a native…of Australia.

Someone said something to me this morning that annoyed me. It was to do with their belief that I was into ‘non commitment’. All this because I said let’s back off from doing something. This person is an acquaintance and it’s always tricky to word something in an email at the best of times let alone to someone you really don’t know and cannot see. I always think ‘how am I going to word this?’ With people you know and trust implicitly it’s different. You can just say things and they get it because they know you. I think it comes down to levels of trust. While I give my opinions freely on the blog and in life, I’m not about to tell people I barely know everything about me. That would be crazy, right? Do you do that? No, of course not. If you do then I personally think you have other issues to do with need. My opinion, of course. Commitment to me comes down to trust. Maybe some people consider not divulging all as ‘non commitment.’ That’s their belief. I respect that but they also have to respect that I do not feel obligated to the same needs they have. What is commitment anyway? To me it means that you are 100% behind someone or something, that you have a total belief in them or it. Sure, maybe I am non-committal to some. But trust to me is hard won and unbreakable when secured. So, there it is. I am a human being and I disappointed someone. That’s what humans do. I am never going to measure up to all nor do I expect or want to. Okay, vent over.

I sent another email today to a person I do not know and proposed something to them. Hell no, not marriage -read the above entry - I am apparently non committal - and I also have the broken big toe thing that precludes me from romantic attachments because as Ethel, my best friends says, you don't want to pass that on as a genetic fault. Anyway I suppose it was fairly cheeky and in your face what I did but I thought - oh why the hell not? What is the worst they can do? Say no? Tell me I am a pain in the arse? I've heard both of things before and neither has killed me. Opinions never do unless you let them. So I await their response. Yes, what I have asked of them will benefit me. I'm not stupid. I’m the daughter of Maureen, a woman who inspired her kids to go out there ask for stuff and to accept the consequences - good or bad - of doing so. But the thing is I believe this person will benefit too. If they are game and you have to be with me. Do you ever shy away from asking for things? Do you think – “oh no I couldn’t. What will the other person think?” Probably they will be surprised, maybe irritated and maybe interested - but hey, you’ve got to try don't you?

I have been listening to my Evita CD is the car. Yeah, the one with Madonna and the luscious Antonio. Hmm, yum… anyway, I like the movie and the music and I have always thought Eva Peron was a fascinating woman. I read a couple of books on her in the past. She was ambitious. She was greedy. She was unrealistic. But the thing is I admired her. I defy anyone to come from a dirt poor background and not be any of these things. Let's face it, power when you have none is like a fairytale come true. I personally believed she dragged Peron’s arse to the top and he was never the same after she died. While she had an ardent desire to help the 'shirtless ones' of which she had grown up amongst, she really didn’t have a clue about how to do it other than dealing in granting wishes and relying on fairytale logic. And yet what an amazing woman she was.

Another interesting woman I have been reading about is Marie Antoinette. In some ways similar to Eva due to the fact she was a product of her environment. How on earth did they expect to a ridiculously pampered child to go to France and be a queen without stuffing it up? How
could someone who had everything and been denied nothing ever understand how the poor people of France thought or what they needed? She was a pretty, ninny but she had been brought up that way. Yes, probably a case of both nurture and nature. It was only at the end of her life that she got it - when she suffered hardship and cruelty. They are huge lessons to be had in life aren’t they? They make you grow. No one really learns much when they are given everything do they? Look at some of the airheads we have popping up in the media. I personally believe Marie Antoinette was doomed from birth.

So, all over the place today with the blog but life is like that isn’t it? Please go check out Anny’s blog where she is more Zen and logical for a moments breathing space – and remember author Barbara Huffert had a brand spanking new book…okay, I haven’t read it yet so not sure if there is spanking in it... but check it out here.
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?