Friday, 31 October 2008

Freaky Friday…

Maid For Death

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?

Isn’t this cover pretty? It’s a collection of Halloween sexy, spooky stories available from Ellora’s Cave. My story Maid for Death is in there. It’s based on a real period of my life and a ghost I knew of. Was the hot Scottish ghost hunter in my story real? Well, he was certainly Scottish and awfully nice ….ah, memories…head slap…move on.

So – we don’t do the Halloween thing in Oz….well I guess some people cave in to the American tradition but we do tend to hold to our own beliefs. As small as the world has become, living down under keeps us true to who we are. Other cultures – I love ‘em - they’re fascinating but not to the point that I want to emulate them. I like that we all retain individuality. In the end you are who you are. To thine own self be fair dinkum and spooky stuff happens all the time.

And yes – dressing up for Halloween is fun – it’s stress relief – we all need that – but just think for a moment if we put all the money spent on Halloween into real scary things like - feeding hungry children, helping endangered children, funding crisis centres for teens and abused women, schools, the homeless, medical research, transport, substance abuse programs, treatment for depression, planning for the world’s aging population …you know I could go on and on. No, you don’t have to agree with me and call me what you want. The fact is donations are tax deductible and they also make you feel good and I think the world would be a little less scary all the time for those in need. Just a thought

That’s it – I will settle back tonight with a glass of the old amber liquid and contemplate my navel –
how the heck did my gall bladder come out of there?

….hoping you are the same….

Heard about The Picton Belcher? No? Check it out here -
Uh huh….takes all kinds…
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Thursday, 30 October 2008

Thursday once more….

Saw the doc today…I had two vital questions –

1. When can I have plonk?
2. When can I stop wearing these bloody stockings?

Quote – ‘you can return to your normal lifestyle.’ Woo hoo! But all kidding aside, this has served as a good reminder to me to be thankful for my normal good health and not to take it for granted. I am lucky.

I got another book contract the other day. That’s a good thing. It means someone does not think my writing sucks. Well, actually, I’m sure someone thinks my writing sucks but there are others who have faith in it. Faith verses sucking – I’ll take faith for two hundred points thanks, Bob.

Anyway, to a scribbler such as myself that means I continue on with the next book. There’s always a story somewhere churning in your brain or written on a notepad piled on pieces of paper with other stories. And I do have one that was coming along nicely and I looked at it this morning and thought – yes, I like it – but….hmmm…I don’t feel like dealing with you characters at the moment. I will. When I am ready to. I just felt the sudden need to jump from one book to another. I think that reflects my mood at the moment – all over the bloody place. So I started another vampire book. It follows on from Prince Vampire, who follows on from Marlow’s Curse and Shades of Gray – you know the whole this begat that thing. Moods – you gotta’ go with ‘em or they’re going to take you there regardless.

A work friend emailed me to see how I was and said ‘you’re probably not drinking enough coffee.’ I suspect she is right. It’s so much easier to have some expert make it and hand it to you. I pointed out to her that my breasts are probably safe from shrinkage at the moment. Did you see that news story last week about how three or more cups of caffeine make your boobs shrink? Load of crap of course but I like that idea. Less boobage to deal with is excellent. Anyway we went on to discuss other myths – when we were teenagers we had this dangerous belief that if we coated our legs in baby oil – some used olive oil – that it made out legs tan faster. Yeah right. All that meant was we had really sticky, greasy legs. I have never tanned in my life. I burn. I tend to avoid the sun. Probably why I like vampires.

Other myths that fascinate me are those lotions that guarantee – for 72.5% of women (translation those genetically disinclined to bloat and are freakishly unnaturally beautiful) that you will rid yourself of cellulite in 14 days. Yeah, I’ve tried it. I’m not in that percentile and even though I make myself walk an hour a day, the hail damage is still evident on my thighs. Yes, how attractive am I? I personally believe that we are all screwed up genetically in some way and whatever it is we are never going rid ourselves of the problem. So throwing money at it seems crazy. Buy chocolate instead and avoid looking at your thighs.

Anyone but Youreview – total credit for this book goes to my editor at Ellora’s Cave. I absolutely suck at formatting manuscripts. This one was a nightmare of epic proportions because somehow - and I have no idea how – I managed to have the letter ‘p’ at the end of hundreds of sentences. When I sent the ms in it wasn’t there but in editing it appeared. It drove my editor insane. So, once again I apologize to H and as always I am grateful beyond mere words. Thank you.

The review…

Amarinda Jones has created a story that is captivating. It has spicy sex and dramatic intrigue. There is so much going for this book that there are almost no words to describe how great it is. As an avid reader, this is the kind of book I enjoy reading. I can not wait to read whatever Amarinda Jones comes out with next.
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Wednesday, 29 October 2008


Scarlett: I can't think about that right now. If I do, I'll go crazy. I'll think about that tomorrow.

Back on deck Thursday-ish.
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Tuesday, 28 October 2008

Tuesday twaddle on….

I spat the dummy this morning – er – had a tantrum – and decided I was sick to death of the sick thing and sitting still, being good and doing nothing much. It’s just not me. So I hauled on a wrinkled ensemble and hiked down from the Heights where I live – no not Mt Olympus but damn close – and went to the shopping centre. I am not supposed to drive at the moment. Fair enough. Walking does not bother me – it’s relaxing. It’s normally a brisk Amarinda fast paced 15 minutes-get-out-of-my-way-I-have-things-to-do-walk to the shopping centre. This time it took me a drag-my-arse-I’ll-just-lean-here-for-a-moment-35-minutes. But I got there and that was all that mattered. Of course there was a sale on and of course I was forced to buy some half priced things. It would have been genetically impossible not to buy something and it was half priced so I did actually save money I can use somewhere else. Yes – of course that’s logical. I am actually ahead in $$. If something costs $50 and you get it for say $20 then you have saved $30 so you are in profit and you can use that money someone else. It’s old Jones logic handed down by the women in the family. I also bought a chocolate and broke the chocolate drought that had been forced on me.

Anyway came home in a taxi. It was the cab ride from hell. The doctor said to me you can drive the car when you don’t have to worry about breaking suddenly and hurting your stomach. No worries there. The guy behind the wheel of the taxi I swear was either on drugs or a drunken six year old on skates. He was all over the place – stopping, starting, breaking, skidding – I was thrown all over the backseat - however I now know I am good to drive my car come Friday so it was a valuable if not nerve wracking experience.

When I got home I had a phone call from the Managing Director of the company I work for. Never had that happen. Instantly I started thinking up an alibi why whatever it was could not have been me even though it probably was and damn-it-how-did-get-caught? But no - he wanted to know how I was. Huh? What the? I told him it took a lot to kill me. He was unsure what to say. But the thing is this is the first company I have ever worked for, in a looooong list of jobs, which actually gives a rat’s arse about you.
Bizarro world

That’s about it for Tuesday, despite dire predictions from well meaning friends my walk did not kill me. I did turn heads of course in what I call my Little Lord Fauntleroy outfit – white surgical stockings up to my knees while wearing ¾ length pants and thongs (flip flops) but someone must set the trends. Paris Hilton has nothing on me…

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

Monday, 27 October 2008

Follow that fanatical dream…

I’m off work this week due to the gall bladder thingy. Anyway, I checked in with my boss at work just to confirm I was not dead, and no my coffee cup, my sharp knife (apples not backs) and paper clip necklace collection was not up for grabs. He said ‘don’t worry about us we’ll be fine.’ Trust me. I wasn’t worried. Maybe I could have feigned worry but I wasn’t in the mood for pretence. Besides it’s work. Who worries about that? Worlds within worlds still turn regardless who is or is not there. Have you noticed that? For example, look at the US elections. Aren’t we sick to death of all those smiling people, shaking hands, kissing babies and making Disney promises? In a week or so when it all ends whichever personality loses the US elections, they will go on with their lives as will everyone else and in a months time the winner will be fending of allegations of something or other – you see it all the time. Winner – loser – politics – all the players are cardboard and interchangeable and out for what they can get. But we know that and we try, regardless of country or political system, to pick the one least likely to stuff up. We do the best for us with what we’re stuck with and dreams only last twenty four hours after the last champagne cork has been popped.

It amuses and worries me how wrought up people get at elections. How they believe their party must win at all costs. Really? What are the costs when it comes to winning? What does one have to trade on their soul to get where you want to go? I find the diehards that follow other people on to victory scary people. Why? Have you ever listened to them? They sound so one-eyed, almost like they would rather the opponent die than live, that the winner must be their candidate or their world ends and that the whole world will be so much better and brighter with their chosen one. How does anyone know that? How can you place so much faith in one human being not to let you down? That’s not rational when someone is running for something they want and will do it whether you’re there or not. Aren’t you just someone holding a placard and cheering amongst another bunch of people holding placards in a cheering crowd of people holding placards? Does the guy at the front of the crowd waving really care? Isn’t it a popularity contest after all and he will say whatever carefully crafted monologue he has to in order to win?

Yes, I believe that hope springs eternal and that sometimes it is the only thing that keeps us from true and utter despair. Believe in yourself and what you want and do your best to get it. But can you pin your hopes on another personality, their/group ideal and one carefully manufactured dream? Is that reality? Or are you several inches past reality and living in some little fantasy world no longer your own?

Yep – there will always be leaders. Yep – there will always be followers. But I also believe that there are individuals who think for themselves and do not get all fanatical about someone else’s dreams. And yes – I’ll open this up for comment…
by all means do.

Thought for the day….

Opinions are fine if based on fact and reasoning and not ridiculous hatred of one person. Anyone can hate. That requires no thought.
www.amarindajones.blogspot.com ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Sunday, 26 October 2008

Of oranges and bird feathers….

So I dragged my arse out of bed this morning determined to get moving and not let a simple operation knock me down for the count. I have only one speed and that is full on. I gathered up the laundry and wandered downstairs. I made an executive decision on getting up that I would not change from pjs all day. I feel I can allow myself this luxury under the circumstances. So far my attire has only scared flower delivery people. One man I swear was going to fall down the steps at the loveliness of my appearance. That or he was backing away because he thought he may rush forward and ravish me because I look mighty fine in flannelette.

Anyway, on perusing the back yard I noticed two things. One there were three oranges on the lawn - and two there were a lot of feathers on the ground. I don’t have an orange tree and once again, due to the drought, the mango tree does not look like it is going to do its thing this year. Bugger. No fresh mangos unless I buy them. Whinge, bitch, moan. As for the oranges, I chose to believe aliens from outer space dropped them in the yard. Why? Because they could and they wanted to confuse life on Earth. I have no other theory as to why three oranges are there so I’m sticking with that.

The bird feathers – there were lots of them. I have a lot of trees and a lot of birds hang out in my backyard and sometimes they all do not get on. I have seen birds attacking each other so I believe that was what happened yesterday – or the alien space ship that dropped the oranges scooped up the birds but did not want the feathers so they plucked them. I feel this is probably the most logical answer as I saw no carcass and I suspect there are a couple of naked birds on planet Zork wondering what the hell is going on. No, I’m not on drugs. This is my normal lucid state…scary huh?

That’s it for today – now totally knackered…what will tomorrow bring at chez Amarinda?
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Saturday, 25 October 2008

Back on deck...sorta...

Knock Three Times review

This one has enough twists and turns to please me and any one else I do believe. A woman with a boyfriend, secrets upon secrets, burglars, hot screaming sex, mayhem, and fear, panic and a few frills and dressin's.... throw in some humor and a keen wit and you have a fun read.
Posted by reviewer: WitchGiggles

Back from hospital – gall is bladder gone. Thanks to all the great staff at the Holy Spirit Hospital Northside. And no, being the out and out heathen that I am I did not get struck down by the omnipotent hand from a supposed higher power as I entered the hospital. Either they do not exist or I was too quick for them. Anyway feeling pukeable and I have had to restore every bloody file again on my computer because it chose today to lose it.... so a very short blog tonight as I am sore and now cranky.

'Sick to death of hearing about how many gazillion dollars the Republican Party in the US spent on Sarah Palin’s wardrobe when they could have put that money to good use elsewhere. Shoulders pads do not win elections in the current economic climate. Yeah, the woman intrigues me due to how far she had got and no one seems to know why but I personally would not vote for clothes. I expect she won’t get in as I believe the US wants another Camelot with the nearest thing to JFK they can have with Obama. To be honest, like any political parties they all sound the bloody same to me – be they Aussie or overseas. Let’s get the hoop-la done and move on and solve the problems sans shoulder pads.

LAST MAN STANDING is a thrill ride of adventure that places two very strong and passionate people on a collision course for love. Smart dialogue and ingenious situations will have you riding along with Amy through her mire of emotions. Amy Hart is easily the most likable character in this novel. She has not had the best of experiences where Alex is concerned, yet she takes each new hurdle in stride, unafraid to stick up for herself and willing to stand her ground and to stand behind the man she loves.

Alex is the quintessential tortured hero; his scars and the prophecy that hangs over his head make him the ultimate hero. His responses to Amy and his outward reluctance to embrace his feelings may have been justified, but clearly did not reflect the man within. He has incredible honor and, scared or not, he is absolutely sexy.

LAST MAN STANDING is a wonderful addition to any eBook collection. Nevertheless, I would recommend reading SWIFT OF HEART prior to LAST MAN STANDING, which is also available at Cerridwen Press. ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Thursday, 23 October 2008

Double Crossed....

I will be away for a couple of days getting pierced and sucked. What’s that you say? It’s the gallbladder op thingy on Friday and not some amazing, vampire sex…oh well…maybe some other time. Lots of people have asked am I nervous? Nope. I never am. Someone asked was I ‘excited’ - hmm, gee no. It will be good to get it sorted but excited - no. Mind you this is the same person who said to me when she heard about the op ‘well that doesn't sound much fun at all' - she was serious. I said it was okay because I got ice cream fed to me by clowns while in hospital. Head slap - that's probably why she thinks it's going to be exciting. I’m back on Saturday-ish

So, not to leave you blogless, talented Aussie author Barbra Novac kindly stepped in to fill the blog for me while I am away. Barbra’s book is called Double Crossed. OMG! This one singed my eyebrows off and it is a most definite recommended read. You will want to buy Double Crossed. It’s set in Kings Cross, Sydney, Australia -a very interesting place.
Click on the cover to buy.

Who is Barbra Novac? The sort of hard questions…

1. What star sign are you? Name one fabulous characteristic of this sign.

I am a Capricorn. I know this is too much info… but I have a lot of Scorpio (Moon, Rising, Venus) – so much that I am almost equally ruled by that sign. So I always think of myself as both of those, or a combination of them. Best thing about that is determination. Both of them are power signs and I like the drive that comes from them.

2.Is what you look for in a man what you write in the hero?

Yes. I need to have a ‘thing’ for my hero and I can’t write about men I wouldn’t like in person.

3. Do you think your heroine is like you and if so why?

My first heroine is a great deal like me, but doesn’t look like me. That is because it felt safer to write feelings, ideals; dialogue that I knew would be authentic because I would experience them. But my second heroine was like my best friend. My third isn’t like anyone I know at all. This is because I felt braver.

4. If your book was made into a movie who would play the hero and heroine?

If Double Crossed was made into a movie – Marianne would be played by Emmanuelle Beart (when she was young) and Peter would be played by Keanu Reeves.

5. On your wedding day the man you have secretly lusted after turns up as one of the guests and declares he loves you. What do you do?

I marry the guy I intended to as a way to get back at the one I secretly lust after for leading me on for all those years and doing nothing and then coming in just when he thinks he may have lost me forever. He’s too late!

6. Do you believe in soul mates or is it just hype?

Both. I think it’s hype, (the way we sensationalize it) but I also think something very special goes on between two people equally committed to the same dreams and each other. There’s a feeling of eternity in the love, and I think that is where the concept has sprung from.

7. What is the most unforgettable thing about your book that make people glad they picked it up to read?

Readers say over and over that they love the detail in Double Crossed. They feel the crack of the bondage whip, they learn about BDSM along with Marianne, they smell the hot night Sydney air, fall in love with Peter etc. But for me, my favourite thing is the twist at the end and my villain’s speech about a certain view of the world. I like that a lot.

Double Crossed – out now at Loose Id

The Blurb….

While living in Sydney's hot red light district, Kings Cross, Marianne Ferguson makes a deal with her gangster ex-lover. She'll help him stay out of jail, in exchange for her freedom. However, keeping Joe out of jail isn't easy, and Marianne can't help but be inexplicably drawn to Joe's lawyer, Peter Adams.
Peter is ready to work for his client, but he didn't expect to be so attracted to the chief witness for the defense. Marianne's habit of using the small booths at the back of sex shops makes him want to introduce her to his darker kind of loving--taking her to places she's ready for, but never been.
Now that she's sleeping with Peter, gambling with her freedom, and coming to terms with her sexual role as a submissive, Marianne's life is more complicated than ever. It seems everyone is against her new love affair--including the mysterious doctor who lives next door and seems to know her every move. Is he on her side? Why is he so suspicious of Peter? And who is Joe's secret partner? Are they all playing games, or is Marianne in danger of being Double-Crossed?
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Wednesday, 22 October 2008

Anyone But You….

Anyone But You – released today at Ellora’s Cave – click on the cover to buy.

I have to say I love this cover and it has been removed by others and replaced by me on various sites on a regular basis due to some authorities getting their knickers in a knot over 2 naked people. I bless the cover gods at Ellora’s Cave once more for their amazing talent and controversy is always good.

Now….what is Anyone But You about? As always, my books are based on a period of my life. This one? Have you ever met someone you have disliked intensely for all sorts of half arsed reasons and decided even if he was the only man alive on the planet you would rather sit in the dark and decline his offer to change your light bulb? But suddenly things change and sometimes someone so ‘terrible’ turns about to be anything but…. I knew a man like that a long time ago but that’s another story…

The book that follows this one is Penned Again. It’s due out December.

The blurb…

Verity Kane is normally a calm, efficient worker. Normally nothing upsets her. However in the last six months her patience has been tried dealing with her charming playboy boss, Mercardo Gentry. When she walks in on him having sex with a woman on his desk, she has had enough. It’s about time Mercardo learnt a lesson and she’s the woman to do it.

Mercardo Gentry fell in love with Verity Kane six months ago. He would like nothing more than to get to know her but the lady is most definitely not interested. Can he really be blamed for reading her private diary when he comes across it by accident? When he reads that her most intimate fantasies revolve around him, Mercardo decides to seduce Verity with her own thoughts.

Verity is amazed and aroused that the playboy understands her needs so well. But falling in love with a playboy is not something she counted on. Leaving her job is easy, forgetting Mercardo is impossible.

The excerpt

Ten minutes later, the office door opened and the latest girlfriend passed by Verity’s desk with a very satisfied look on her face.
“Fucking slut,” Verity mumbled under her breath. What was it with women like this? They were perfect in face and form and they never had a hair out of place after being shagged within an inch of their lives. Verity knew if positions were reversed she would be flushed and sweaty and she would probably not be able to find her shoes.
“Did you just swear, Lady Verity?” Mercardo asked mockingly as he came around the cubicle partition to stand beside her.

Verity bit her tongue. He knew she hated being teasingly called Lady Verity. She wasn’t that prim and proper. But then he was never going to know that. Verity intended to remain a functioning robot in his presence. A robot with thigh sweats and a rampantly beating heart but still a mechanical being who had the strength to resist this man. At least one woman had to dent his ego occasionally and she was that girl.
Verity looked up into his amused blue eyes. Mercardo always stood too close. But then he did that with everyone. He was a people person. Verity liked to keep people at a distance. Everyone had their place in her life and no one got close enough to intrude on her space. When he stood so up close and personal to her it gave her a head spin. It wasn’t unpleasant. It was like drinking too much wine and wanting to throw your inhibitions out the window. Verity started thinking all sorts of thoughts she was determined she would never have about him.
“No, of course I would not have sworn.” Verity pushed at her spectacles as they again slid down her nose. She only ever wore them when working on the computer at the office. “I have papers for you to sign.” That’s right, be calm and cool and do not allow him to fluster you. Though that was hard to do when tall, dark and handsome was standing beside you reeking of sin and sex.
“I am sorry if we alarmed you before.”
No you’re bloody not or you would have stopped doing it long ago.
“On page eight you need to sign twice.” This was business. What he did in his office stayed in his office. Verity often had trouble sitting in that closed room with him thinking about what and who he did in there. She handed him that papers.
“No response?” Mercardo murmured in amusement.
“About what?” When under pressure act dense was Verity’s motto.
Mercardo sat down on the edge of her desk and looked at her assessingly.
“Are you always so cool Lady Verity? Do you ever lose control?”
I would like to smack your smug handsome face and maybe realign your already crooked nose. How’s that for control?

An email from Amarinda mail…

I have a project I want you to run with us. It involves exportation of35,000 barrels of crude oil daily from Kirkuk, Iraq.If you are interested, email me via:
Mr. Yan.

Gee, I only have an average size sedan. I guess I could try and fit a barrel in to help out. How big do you reckon a barrel is? And Iraq? What is the distance from Australia to there? And its not the safest place in the world right now but for all that Mr Yanstrangely not an Iraqi name – sounds like he knows what he is talking about. I will consider this offer with the penis enhancement offers I have and treat them both with the respect they deserve. Why doesn’t someone offer me ice cream or chocolate? Maybe I’m already enhanced enough for those…
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Tuesday, 21 October 2008


I made this huge stuff up at work today and I thought oh bother. Actually I said something else much more colourful – but you get the picture. I was feeling like crap – 3 sleeps until the gall bladder goes – not that I’m counting – and I had no idea how to fix what I had done. I was talking to best friend Ethel via email as I do everyday. She is on the south side of Brisbane while I am a northerner. Anyway, I mentioned the ginormous mistake to her. Her words of wisdom? Can you shred it? Oh, if only life was a matter of shredding mistakes huh? And no, it wasn’t shredable as I had already had that thought myself.

Mistakes – yeah, I’ve made a few thousand in my time…maybe more…who counts after the first hundred? We used to have this flow chart at Promptel (code name for crap phone company I used to work for) and it was made up by management to avoid management dealing with problems. It was, as management liked to call it, ‘empowering staff to overcome mistakes and making decisions to effect a win-win solution.’ Management translation – When a manager is outside having an unauthorised cigarette break, you are to leave them alone and read you’re bloody chart and sort the problem out yourself because they probably don’t know anyway. I hate flow charts. Any time I have had to make one I have refused. In my refusal I have explained the people act and think according to the situation and stopping to read a flow chart as the building is on fire is not going to happen. So, I never got to make flow charts and I have a few black marks against my name but life goes on and flow charts are stupid.

So management had their ‘empowerment’ flow chart. Naturally staff had their own with boxes and arrows pointing to who you could blame if you could not hide the mistake, what was the probability that you would get caught for stuffing up, was this the sort of mistake the required you bursting into tears and/or suddenly becoming sick (amnesia was a popular one) or was this mistake going to turn into enjoyable chaos that you and the other staff could gossip about for weeks and or would it cause the building to be evacuated? Evacuations are always popular. See? Every mistake has a silver lining.

What did I do in the end to correct my mistake? I employed helpless female routine number 52a and got a man to work out it out. What’s that? A cop out you say? Oh honey, if you cannot or won’t work you femininity to save your arse then you are probably tying yourself up in knots. Men are natural problem solvers. They love to help women. So let ‘em I say. Mistakes – I make ‘em and will continue to do so. Worried about ‘em? Nope…never sweat the small stuff.

“Don't take 'no' for an answer, never submit to failure. Do not be fobbed off with mere personal success or acceptance. You will make all kinds of mistakes, but as long as you are generous and true, and also fierce, you cannot hurt the world” – Winston Churchill
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Monday, 20 October 2008

Feeding on fear…

He who fears something gives it power over him. ~Moorish Proverb

So, we all are scared of something. That's human nature. Maybe we acknowledge it. Maybe we don't. The thing is fear exists and sometimes it's not a bad thing. How? Well I believe fear keeps us safe. Sometimes the odd shiver of fear up your spine in a situation will give you warning that all is not as it should be. So it can be a safety mechanism. Or when you are watching a really scary movie and you are hugging someone close it’s an adrenalin rush that maybe can turn into something more interesting - and I'm not talking about making hot chocolate

But what about the fears that are thrust upon us by others? What about people who get panicked by other people either consciously or not? They listen to the fear mongers and then start to feel the gloom descent on them . Think of the classic War of the Worlds (the original not Mr Cruise’s version) about a town that gets panicked into believing aliens have landed after they hear a radio broadcast. No, I know you and I are too smart to do that but have you noticed others that do? I've seen it. It brings people down, they start to wonder about themselves and then before too long they start to wonder what the point of doing whatever it is – and all because one other person sent a ripple of their own fear through them. Sure it's okay to be scared but I believe it’s wrong to project your fears onto someone else - unless you know they are in danger. Let's face it we all have more than enough to deal with without someone else’s baggage or hysteria.

I had a case recently where someone in some authority tried to make me insecure about my worth. They wanted to see me scared and worried. Of course it didn’t work but I have to wonder how successful her ploy is on others – controlling them so they do as she wants. That’s using fear for advantage. Think of the McCarthy era in the 50’s and the cry of reds under the beds - where anyone with the slightest hint of communist or socialist leanings could be ruined by their thinking outside the square. It was a way of keeping everyone the same so that no one was allowed to break from the norm. Look at today, not all believers in Islam are terrorists and to be feared.

So what the hell am I rabbiting on about? There are always going to be negative people who espouse doom and gloom or trade on fear to try and make you feel less than you are. Don’t listen to them. Listen to your heart and your mind and be guided by your beliefs. Just because they tell you the sky is falling doesn’t mean it is.

A cat bitten once by a snake dreads even rope. ~Arab Proverb

Okay – enough pontificating….Talented Aussie author Barbra Novac interviewed me for her blog. Check it and Barbra out here.
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Sunday, 19 October 2008


I was listening to the radio, as I do every morning, and I half heard an advert for The Warwick Rodeo. Click here if you like rodeos or read on if you have no idea what the sweaty horse thing is about. I must admit I have a thing for cowboys but the whole bucking bronco, riding bull thing and falling on your arse in the dirt while clowns spring in to action is a little too surreal me. Anyway – back to the advert. They listed the events – you know horses doing horse stuff etc – and then they mentioned wild cow milking. What the? Wild. Cow. Milking. Huh?

I am a city girl. My natural environment is cement so that I had not heard of wild cow milking did not surprise me. Wild – I understand and my understanding of cows is that they have four legs, an udder and look utterly bored as they chew grass. However the concept of a ‘wild cow’ going all crazy was beyond me. Though, do you remember that song years ago called ‘Cows with Guns?’ We loved that in Oz. Click
here for a reminder. So maybe cows can be wild. What do I know? I only see the end product in the supermarket.

So I went and searched Google and found wild cow milking. It exists. I know. It surprised me too. I thought I had been having a dizzy spell when I heard it. After reading about it two thoughts came to mind. What is the point? And is this a joke?
This is wild cow milking and frankly I cannot believe grown men want to chase a pissed off and no doubt frightened cow to milk it. What is the point? Please explain? Is it a test of manhood to run and squirt milk? Can you not milk it when it’s still or is there some amazing thing like the milk turns to milk shakes when the cow runs? I really want to know. Please email me if you can explain it to me for I see no point in running around and traumatizing a cow. Surely there must be saddles that need cleaning or whatever cowboys do? Wild cow milking – just weird and wrong - go and read a book or something and leave the cow alone. Didn’t your mother tell you not to play with your food?

On to other stuff….

I believe I saw the first snake of Summer. Actually I am preferring to call it a really long lizard as that’s a more comforting thought. I don’t like snakes.
They’re icky.

Hmm…what else…mowed the lawn, did some painting and made a half arsed effort to clean the house just in case someone comes to visit me after the op next week – even though everyone has been forbidden to do so – I want the house vaguely clean so there will be no lawsuits if unplanned people trip over stuff on the floor.

So, that’s my boring arsed Sunday and joy on freaking joy tomorrow is pukeable Monday can life get any better?
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Saturday, 18 October 2008

Reporting in…

If you keep your feet firmly on the ground, you'll have trouble putting on your pants.

I wasted an hour and a half of my life today. How? I decided to do one of those pages – you know where you put photos, your blog and stuff so everyone can see it. After I had wasted time getting it up and running I got an email saying my photos – my book covers – see left had all been deleted as they were pornographic. Uh huh. I cancelled my account that I had just set up as I will not be censored – simple as that. These covers are on my website and my blog. These covers are on publisher websites. And yes, you are correct – this ‘page’ place had a right to their rules. I just find it funny one set of rules apply to new account holders but not the old. I emailed politely back and told them to stick it in their ear. They sent me an email back with a generic FAQ letter in the body of the email. Well FAQ you too.

Not much else to report….I spent time chatting to some online friends about books, blogs, star signs and past loves. Oh god – totally depressed myself on the last one. There is always one you never forget no matter what isn’t there? I also realized I have not eaten chocolate in a month. No wonder I am dizzy and light headed. It’s just wrong to deny yourself the stuff you love.
What else…put the washing on the line – took the washing off the line. It remains in the laundry basket until I can’t find any clean knickers and then I will eventually fold it. Yes, how glamorous life is. To fold knickers now or later – that is the question.

In the works…

Just about to send off a manuscript to my stoic editor - so we’ll see if that comes good in several weeks. ‘Got my signed contract back for Lickety Split. It’s a book that will be out next year with Ellora’s Cave. It’s part of the Creamy special. What’s it about? Ice cream and sex. Need I say more? Also the vampire book I mentioned a couple of weeks ago got a contract with EC as well. What’s it about? Vampires and sex. Hmmm…I sense a common theme here….


Micah Blue is a fun and totally absorbing novella that had me continually grinning throughout. Micah, unbeknownst to her, has a demon visiting her in her dreams. But she'd rather have the real thing or in this case, Ned. The demon isn't amused and determined to make Micah his. The dialogue between the characters entertained me with their banter and quick wit, making them memorable, and in the case of Micah and Ned, lovable characters. The love scenes are seriously hot and likely to singe. This is a wonderful story and one that will have me checking out other books by Amarinda Jones.

Thought for the day…

Alcohol doesn't solve any problems, but if you think again, neither does Milk.
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Friday, 17 October 2008

The pursuit of pleasure...

We can often endure an extra pound of pain far more easily than we can suffer the withdrawal of an ounce of accustomed pleasure. ~Sydney J. Harris

SYDNEY (AFP) - Sex sells, as the saying goes, and while failing banks may give the stock market jitters, they have yet to rattle the world's oldest profession, Australian industry members say.
here to read more

This article does not surprise me in the least. Think about it. Sex has been around since day dot. It’s a commodity that is always going to weather the hard – excuse the pun – times. But anything you enjoy will. And regardless of your moral stance – sex is eternal and it’s always been there and people will always make money from it. I have mentioned on the blog before that I view sex workers being in business like anyone else – sure, they may not have been sitting on their arse all day doing office work/answering phones/or serving behind a counter but they still earn a living and must endure like you or me.

I believe in the strength of the human spirit. I believe in the crappiest times people carry on as best as they can and do not let things drag them down. Oh sure, there are always wimps who whine and want pity but most people gird their loins and move on. They juggle finances and make do. We’ve all been there and done that. I know I am not the only one who has been down to their last dollar and jumped on a train without buying a ticket, hung out at secondhand stores or eaten generic 2 minute noodles for weeks on end. We do what we have to survive.

But in saying all that, we are still human beings who crave excitement and relaxation. That the business of sex is doing well means people are not about to deny themselves pleasure – and pleasure means different things to different people. I know a lot of writers go into a panic if their end of month check for book sales is not what they want it to be. They blame the economic climate. You know, I don’t agree with that and I think that’s an easy thing to point the finger at. Maybe a small percentage of people will drop their book buying budget down for the month but ardent readers, in whatever genre, will still buy and still read. Why? Because it’s a pleasure, an escape and maybe the one thing that allows them to zone out for a couple of hours and think of anything but what is happening around them. Reading like sex is a constant in life. It’s like chocolate sales – people are hardly going to stop indulging in chocolate just because the stock market is crap. They may just wait until say - Tim Tams – are on sale and then buy. And sex – in whatever form – physical or written is no different. People will still crave what they do.

Am I condoning prostitution? I see no problem in sex workers who willingly ply their trade. Am I condoning buying chocolate on sale? Yes. Do I think alcohol or cigarette sales will drop because of the world markets being kicked in the arse? Of course not. We’re human beings first and outside work or inside the home work automatons second. We need pleasure, in whatever form to survive. Live first, worry second and then do what you can with what you’ve got.

I take it as a prime cause of the present confusion of society that it is too sickly and too doubtful to use pleasure frankly as a test of value. ~Rebecca West
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Thursday, 16 October 2008

When I grow up….

…. I am going to be like this woman. But for the cigar because I don’t smoke. I have enough vices now. Oh, and I’ll probably have red tinted hair. What I like about her is she is fabulous and herself. I suspect she is ageing exactly as she wants to and I doubt very much whether she gives a stuff what anyone thinks. That’s real power. To thine own self be fair dinkum (true).

Ageing – it’s going to happen so why agonize over it? You cannot be physically young forever but you can be spiritually and mentally young. I’m going for door number 2, thanks Bob. I have always believed that people who were beautiful in their youth have the hardest time aging as no one can keep up that fa├žade without fears. So, I say go the plain girls. We shall be fantastic in our older years and kick arse.

Old age is no place for sissies.”-- Bette Davis

When I was a kid – I was worried I was plain looking. You know – kids worry about that stuff. My mother said – so what if you are? No one is like you and that’s why you are better than everyone else. My mother always said her ducks were swans and if you hear that enough when you are young, you will believe it. That’s empowerment.

So ageing – forget about it. Plain looking? Oh what power you have if only you realize it.

Age wrinkles the body. Quitting wrinkles the soul.”-- Douglas MacArthur
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Wednesday, 15 October 2008

Polly wanna’ cracker…., stick your cracker in your ear. ‘Not well at the moment and the only thing I can eat is dry crackers and I swear to god if I have another one I will scream at the universe for bringing this foul plague of crackers down upon me. I am luckily rarely ever sick but when I am I don’t do it calmly or patiently. Whinge, bitch, grizzle, moan. I hate not being in control and I have a feeling the universe is giggling its fat arse off at me now.

I’m not a pet person. How do I go from my rampant dislike of crackers at the moment to pets? Well, I just can….but seriously or not seriously as the case may be and let’s face it the world is too damned serious at the moment so veering off into any non serious subject seems a good idea. Pets – or in this case stuffed pets. Someone stole someone else’s toy dog at work yesterday. No ransom note was left leaving us to believe either one of two things – 1. the toy dog left of it’s own accord because it was tired of being treated like a play thing or 2. Aliens descended one night in the deserted work place and thought a toy poodle was what human beings looked like and they have taken it back to experiment on.

Un-work like related office knick knacks are sacred objects in the work place. They are the things that keep people sane. I don’t have any myself as I rely on paper clips - to make long non glamorous necklaces out of - and sticky tape -makes excellent suspension bridges between desks until someone foolishly walks into it and breaks the bridge and then your whole day of work has been wasted. However stuffed animals and photos of pets are often plastered around people’s desk. I know that people’s pets are their babies but damn it’s hard to say something polite about a pet photo when some of them are butt ugly looking critters isn’t it? Oh he looks – um – like, er, he would be able to…um eat a lot of food and er sleep a lot. Or my, that’s a lovely looking lizard - when it’s really a hairless cat.

So back to Polly and crackers. I often wish that when people chatter inanely to creatures like Polly the parrot that Polly would say “Piss off, lady. I don’t want cracker – bring me tim tams and a bottle of tequila with a straw.” That’s my kind of pet.

And this is my kind of office…

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

Tuesday, 14 October 2008

The line forms here....

I went in with a form to a government office to get a rebate. I took a ticket and sat down. There were a lot of other people with tickets. Great. I felt like crap but I was there with my ticket and I wanted the rebate so I sat and waited with the other people clutching white tickets. Anyway, A267 was finally called. Yay! That was me. The other ticket people looked at me with jealousy. All eyes were on me as I, lucky A267, wandered over to the counter with my form. Hey, I waited in line. It was my turn. Although queuing with tickets is deemed civilized, I am damn sure if you dropped your ticket someone else would snatch it up. It’s like when you first go and get the ticket, someone will always try to beat you to the machine. But I always parry with a body swing to left or right and people generally move to avoid my handbag of death that is bouncing on my hip. I could kill a man with that handbag it’s so heavy. When I was in hospital last they weighed me. Okay – not super model slim but okay for me. I weighed my handbag while I was there - 3 kilos or approx 6.6 pounds. Bloody hell. No wonder I have strong shoulders. And no, I could not possible take any of the incredibly useful stuff out of there. What if something terrible happened and I had to re-build a city, make a boat or fix the engine of a plane or file my nails? I would be lost without my handbag.

Anyway….where was I…oh yes, forms…so I went to the counter and handed my form over to the person behind the desk. She looked at me but didn’t. You know that vacant god-I-can-hardly-wait-until-it-is-five-o’clock-and-I-don’t-have-to deal-with-the-feral-public-again stare. It’s a stare I do well and having once worked in a government department you must perfect this stare if you are going to survive. So, Flossie-Lou behind the counter took the form. “It’s wrong.” What? “You need the other part of this form.” Hmmm, now I did not take the other part as it looked exactly like the one I had brought in and I thought the other one was a duplicate. I told her that. She could care less. “Come again with the right form. I’m very sorry.” She wasn’t. I saw the faintest hint of satisfaction in her eyes. I said, “Gee, you don’t sound sorry, Flossie-Lou.” She just gave me the death stare and I smiled back as brightly as I could. Needless to say the other ticket collectors were thrilled I have been dealt with so quickly as they had more chance of their number getting called out. It’s almost like waiting for the lotto balls to drop.

So I went back home and got the duplicate form. I came back and got another number - A392 and waited in the corral with the rest of ticketed ones. Ten minutes later and I was up at the counter. Flossie-Lou wasn’t there. I presented the forms and my card to the woman. I asked why I had to bring both forms in. She pointed to a tiny, weeny little number in the bottom left hand corner. “We need that.” Seriously? Who could read that? It looked like something an ant had written. She also added that they ‘could have also gotten by without it.’ Yes, of course but sending me back home for it was more fun.

Government departments I love ‘em and really I should have known better. They have forms and processes for everything and if an I is not dotted ( I never ever dot I’s) or a T is crossed on the wrong angle then they all grind to a halt and have to form a sub-committee who will look into the angle of T’s being crossed. They would then present those findings to management who would in turn form a committee to elect a spokesmen to present the T slash findings to a parliamentary sub committee who would consider whether to pass it on to a legislative committee to put on the agenda for the 2009 sub planning committee on the changing the rules regarding the formation of T in government language and how those changes would effect the country. Still, I guess it keeps them in a job.

Did I get the rebate? Yes. It did not cover my time or petrol but it did make me appreciate life. How so? That I can still laugh and move on. Where would you be if you could not laugh at the anality (could be a made up word) of it all?
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Monday, 13 October 2008


George Bush irritated me the other day when he prattled on about us ‘all being in this together.’ Hmmm…are we? When the Wall Street or whatever moguls were making a shit load of money was there any togetherness then? Did you see any of that? I didn’t. But now we have to be all touchy feely and tighten our belts and weather the frigging storm these dickhead people threw us in to. Don’t we scrimp and save enough now without having to do more? And how ‘together’ will we really be? These greedy sods will still play the stock market short selling stocks. How are they going to come together with us? How are they going to come together with retirees that saw there savings diminish? How are they going to come together with third world nations? Do they give a rat’s arse that greed and stupid mismanagement, economic policy and back scratching has put us in this position? Ah no, I think not.

How much togetherness is there really? Yes, we come together in times of great tragedy like terrorist bombings, tsunami and famine. But I tend to think during this time of world financial crisis we are all hunkering down and looking after ourselves because frankly who the hell can you trust? If you believe the taxi driver I spoke to the other day he said put ‘your money in gold’. Hmm, that would be okay if you had the money and how safe is gold? If you believe the Superannuation funds (410k funds I think you call them) don’t panic and pull out your retirement money even though it makes you puke when you see how it has dropped. The housing market says put money in bricks and mortar because it’s safer than paper stock and bonds. Riiight. I am thinking of collecting coffee jars and stashing cash under the bed. I would only need to protect myself with a baseball bat then. Finally – some control.

So Kev, our Prime Minister is making sure Australia weathers the financial storm that appears to be getting worse.

Prime Minister Kevin Rudd has taken unprecedented action to safeguard Australia's banking system, placing the nation on a war-like footing to deal with the global financial crisis.
After two days of crisis talks with senior ministers and bureaucrats, Mr Rudd announced a three-pronged plan to further ensure the stability of the Australian financial system, including a government guarantee for up to $700 billion in deposits.

Yeah – we’re doing okay but we are going to do better and get out of this. I’m not dumb. I know we all trade internationally and are connected financially. But this is a good sign for Australia and the hard reality is we have to look after ourselves whichever country we belong to and pretty words about togetherness are just that.

And I also read this....

LONDON (AFP) - Undertakers hit by the financial crisis are refusing to carry out funerals unless they get paid in advance, The Mail on Sunday newspaper reported.
With undertakers unable to extend credit, some poor families are having to wait more than two months before receiving government help paying for funerals, the weekly tabloid said.

People die – people have to bury them – no $$ equals no funeral it seems. Are the Undertakers being cruel? No, they have to survive too. It’s a crap catch-22 situation.

Yes…what a pissy mood I am in but I do not suffer fools gladly and it is Monday after all. I’ll be all sparkly tomorrow…possibly…
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Sunday, 12 October 2008

Oh no, no, no…

Kim: I'm not criticizing you, I'm just saying you look bad.

It’s just wrong, wrong, wrong. When I heard the news I thought – Oh no – there’s just no way it will work. We’re too different.

What am I on about? The American version of Kath & Kim. True Kath & Kim fans know there is no way this television series can translate into American. It just can’t and it looks like the ratings for the US version have proved that. Humor, although it may be universal, does not always cross every barrier. As similar as we may be – we are very much different.

What is the Aussie version of Kath & Kim about? Basically Kath (the blonde with the frizzy hair) is the mother of the trashy Kim who thinks she is as foxy or as hot as or better than Elle McPherson. You know the sort – always tries to wear the latest fashion even though they do not suit her figure. Kim is married to the long suffering Brett who takes his sales job in the electronics story very seriously. He is treated like crap by the selfish Kim . Kath is Kim’s mother and she is married to the Kel – the studly, ladies man butcher and they have quite the sex life. It’s a tacky, trashy show that revolves around their lives. It’s a parody on Aussies that we all know exist and maybe we all have a little Kath & Kim in us.

The best character of all is Sharon Strezlecki. Sharon is the overweight, netball playing, ever hopeful of romance best friend of Kim. She is down trodden yet incredibly positive that something good will happen in life. I love Sharon. She is a woman that goes on regardless and makes the most of whatever terrible situation she is faced with – and the US version does not have a Sharon in it. Again – it’s just wrong, wrong, wrong. I was wondering if that was to do with the superficial issue of weight?

I don’t watch a lot of TV but I do watch Kath & Kim – the Aussie version. I like this slice of trashy suburban Aussie life. Will I be watching the US version that airs in Oz tonight and I suspect will not be on next week? Oh hell no. Just the small snatches I have seen make me vomatose.

…Some people are really protective and horrified that we’re doing it in the United States,” Blair said. “It’s a case of, “How could you? Oh my god you might ruin it.”
The Sunday Mail 12th October 2008

No, the Aussie version is not ruined. The US version is crap and cringe worthy. Thankfully it will be off TV soon. Okay - whinge, bitch, moan over….

Brett: Kim, please come home... I don't know how to use the washing machine.
Kim: Oh. That's all I am to you? Just a slave? Well I don't know how to use the washing machine either, Brett.

Speaking of suburban life…a neighbour I had never seen before came over and told me they were going to have a surprise party for the bare chested, long haired man – no, trust me, you don’t want a picture – across the street. She said they may be loud and a little wild. Thank you for telling me. So that night I waited for the said loudness and or wildness. There was none. I was tempted to go over and tell them how disappointed I was. You call that loud? I am more loud and wild as I drive to work singing to the radio. Sigh…where have all the ratbags gone?
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Friday, 10 October 2008

Passionate Spirits…

I am away until Sunday – however, I wanted to post the new release of Passionate Spirits by Trinidad West. It’s out now at Ellora’s Cave. This book really intrigues me as it’s not just the standard – wham, m’am, thank you m’am book. Oh yeah – it has wild, hot sex like all of Trinidad’s other books but it also has the something more than makes you stop and think – what if? I love books like that. I highly recommend Passionate Spirits for all women, and men, of passion. Buy it and you will not regret it. And yes, - as always click on the cover to buy.

Passionate Spirits – Trinidad West

The blurb…

Iris Cooper is in a slump. She’s out of work and she hasn’t had so much as a date in ages. She doesn’t expect a weekend at an old farmhouse hunting through generations worth of dusty family papers to fix either situation but at least it will get her out of her freezing apartment for a couple of days. She hasn’t reckoned on sexy sculptor Mathew Hall, though—or the ghost of his great-grandmother, who’s determined to find a woman for him.

With the ghost sending her vivid, sexy dreams and Mathew sending her temperature soaring, it’s hard for Iris to remember about the job she was sent to do. And when Mathew asks her to pose nude for him, work is the last thing on her mind.

The excerpt…

Iris knocked on the door frame and peeked in. This room looked like it might once have been a screened-in sleeping porch but the screens had been replaced with windows that filled the room with daylight, even on such a gloomy day. Iris stepped inside. Mathew was not here but she guessed that this was where he spent his days. Blocks of wood from shoebox size to steamer-trunk size lined one wall of the room, but what drew her attention were the figures on the work table in the center of the room.
Scattered among a variety of woodworking tools, Mathew’s creations stood and sat and reclined, beautifully rendered carved women, whose finishes caught the fading light and seemed to glow with a magical aura. Their tiny faces were perfect, their limbs graceful, their proportions utterly lifelike, and not a one had a stitch of clothing on. One of them was lying on her stomach with her legs bent up and crossed at the ankles and her chin propped on her hands. Another, a work in progress, sat with her legs curled up underneath her and a book open on her lap. She was gazing into the distance and the expression on her face looked dreamy and sad. Iris ran her finger down the figure’s back. The wood felt warm and alive. She bent down to look more closely at the unfinished hands holding the book. The completed fingers were so perfect and lifelike, she would not have been surprised to see a hangnail on one of the them.
“Do you like them?”
Iris straightened up so fast she got dizzy.
“That one’s a commission. For a book collector’s library.”
He moved out of the shadows of the doorway and crossed the room to stand next to Iris.
“Do you think her breasts are too pert?”
“Pert?” Iris repeated stupidly. She tried to look critically at the woman’s breasts. They were the kind of breasts Iris had always wanted—full but perky—probably a physical impossibility, at least past the age of twenty. Gravity would never allow it.
“They’re perfect,” Iris said, hoping fervently that she wasn’t blushing, or worse yet, gazing too enviously at the carved breasts.
“That’s what worries me,” Mathew said, rubbing his chin. “I don’t want them to be too perfect.”
“Maybe idealized would be a better word,” Iris suggested.
Mathew glanced at her.
Oh, God, please don’t look at my breasts. She resisted the temptation to cross her arms to hide them. Nobody would ever accuse Iris’ breasts of being perky. On good days she rather liked them but today gravity and a past-its-prime bra were doing nothing for them. She reminded herself to buy new bras as soon as she had money again.
“Anyway,” she said, trying to shake off the thought of breasts, “I should get going before it gets dark. I hate driving in the rain at night.”
“That actually won’t be a problem.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was just out in the barn and I walked a little way down the road with Daisy. You might make it out but you’ll probably just end up getting stuck in the mud if you try.” He gave her an apologetic smile. “I should have thought to check sooner but I got caught up,” he said with a glance at the half-carved statue.
“With the breasts. Understandable. So I’m stuck here?”
“It’ll save you driving back in the morning. I’ll bring you down another box from the attic before it gets dark so you can keep working.”
“That would be great.” Iris forced a smile. She supposed it might be a potentially very romantic situation—lonely woman, handsome recluse, dark stormy night. She glanced around the room at the carvings. Unfortunately she was not the right lonely woman for this particular handsome recluse. He was obviously interested in lithe, long legs and gravity-defying breasts. At least it would probably be better than another night shivering in her cold apartment.

Back Sunday – be good or be fast and have an alibi ready.
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?