I am a failure…

My name is Amarinda and I cannot curl ribbon…I am a complete and utter failure when it comes to decorating any gift. Hello Amarinda. Yes, I know how it’s done but it’s all a matter of patience isn’t it? I have none for fiddly things like this. I believe the world is essentially broken up into two types of people – the fiddly, patient gift wrapper types and the oh-my-god-I-don’t-have-time-for-this type. Type 1 – are the sort of people you want with you when a bomb needs to be disarmed. Type 2 just thinks “bugger it, I’ll cut all the yellow wires as I have never liked yellow and oh, that black wire looks like it should go too.” So type 2 are bad people for bomb disposal but good people if a decision needs to be made quickly based on very little information because we like risk. Yes, we’ll probably take you all to hell in a handbag but won’t it be a memorable ride? Type 1 is usually, in my experience, the peacekeepers. They want everything calm and friendly. Type 2 are the peacemakers – they have already gone in and kicked arse, solved the problem and made enemies but did you want the problem sorted out or not? I believe the world cannot survive without the patient gift wrappers or the arse kickers. What’s that? Have I researched this from an anthropological study? Nup – just life, mate. And that’s not to say either type cannot crossover. I can be extremely patient and watchful if I want something and I have seen some patient people chuck a magnificent wobbly (tantrum) and I have stood back and applauded. So, the crux of all this is if you are at the Australian Romance Readers convention and you win an Amarinda show bag of Amarinda and mates stuff just reflect for a moment when you look inside - as white men supposedly cannot jump, Amarinda cannot curl ribbon. But every bag is guaranteed a book - so hey – what’s a bit of ribbon?

24 is back on TV is Australia. I don’t watch much TV but I will watch Jack Bauer. I love that man. Now Jack is a classic example of someone who would not be able to curl ribbon as he doesn’t play well with others yet if we were in deep shite, I would want to be at his side. I love Jack and if the Jacks of this world started curling ribbon, I would be worried.

Now – please check out Anny Cook’s latest bestseller now out at Ellora’s Cave – and yes yon can click on the cover to buy…

Love Never–Ending by Anny Cook – adult excerpt.

“What are you doing here?” she asked suspiciously.

“I came with Traveller. He was hurt and I was looking for help. This is where we ended up.” Bishop polished off the pie and stood up. As though he did it every day, he gathered up the dirty plates and deposited them in the sink before dipping out a bit of soap from the soap jug on the counter and running the hot water. Briskly, he washed the dishes, setting them on a towel to drain.

“No,” Rebaccah clarified. “What are you doing here, at Samara’s?”

Turning to face her, he crossed his arms over his chest and smiled pleasantly. “How old is Samara?”

“Twenty-seven.”

“Then don’t you think that should be between me and Samara?”

Rebaccah floundered, looking for an answer. “I, uh…”

“Samara is a big girl now, Rebaccah. It’s time for you to let her go.”

His implacable posture left Rebaccah with no defense so she stood up, bent to kiss Samara’s cheek and announced that it was time for her to go home. Before Samara had time to usher her to the door, she was gone. Samara stood in the kitchen doorway and stared at Bishop with awe.

“That was wonderful!” she declared before rushing over to fling her arms around his waist.

Immediately at the touch of her soft curves against his body, his cock took note, poking against the front of his sharda, seeking the warm home hidden between her thighs. He slid his arms around her, palming her ass with his big hands and tugging her closer.

“I should be shot.”

“Shot?” She tilted her head back to look him in the eye. “Why?”

“Oh, because I came here specifically to stuff my cock in your pussy and fuck you until we pass out from exhaustion.”

“How long must I wait for you to begin?” she teased as she pressed her hips closer to the hard cock outlined beneath his sharda. Then she found the tabs that fastened it and released them, brushing the fabric out of the way. “Ahhh. You’re so hard and soft at the same time, Bishop.” She wrapped her hand around him and stroked and squeezed. “I love your kzusha.”

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