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Saturday, 28 February 2009

Pretty bloody….


…boring…did the laundry, put new Betty Boop car seat covers on Ida, my car, and wrote much. There’s nothing happening here pilgrims.

But just before I go – from the complete and utter wanker files…

Waterside workers, truckies and rail workers will block the passage of Pacific Brands' government-subsidised machinery when the manufacturing giant moves to ship it offshore.
Pacific Brands, which manufactures household-brand names including Bonds, Hard Yakka and King Gee, this week announced it would sack 1850 Australian staff and move its clothing manufacturing operations to China.”

“Corporate Australia, it would seem, has lost its moral compass," ACTU president Sharan Burrow said.

Chief Executive Sue Morphet saw her pay almost triple to $1.68 million after being promoted from general manager of underwear and hosiery to the company's top job.”

http://business.smh.com.au/business/unions-to-block-pacific-brands-offshore-move-20090227-8jih.html

The outrage in Australia is enormous. They sacked good, hard working Aussies, to send the jobs overseas - after previously asking the government for all sorts of taxpayer funds – and they awarded themselves 170% pay rises for basically screwing workers over. Complete and utter wankers. These corporate types are not human. How can they be when they think they can justify dumping staff due to reasons of profit and economic uncertainty yet put their hand in the till for more pocket money? Because of the backlash they are now “re-thinking” – translation – “oh crap, people hate us let’s do some token time out stuff” - about the job cuts. Really? Do you think you may have done the wrong thing? I also have to ask how are any of these corporate nitwits worth the money and were they born without a soul? The answer is of course no they’re not and they are soulless bastards. And yeah, I’m pissed off at them and I will not be buying my favourite Bonds knickers anymore. I am all for the workers and I hope the Unions give ‘em hell.

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

Friday, 27 February 2009

Soapboxing…



McDONALD'S is lifting prices in poorer suburbs where it believes consumers are more likely to accept higher charges without complaint.
http://www.news.com.au/couriermail/story/0,23739,25107277-952,00.html

Well, this completely sucks. No, I don’t eat at this establishment – hell, I worked there as a teenager – I ate more than my fill in that time – but the fact that they plan to charge people in lower socio economic areas more $$ to buy their food is wrong. Yes, I know people should not frequently indulge in junk food but there is a whole list set in stone with all the things people “should not do but do.” I believe it’s wrong to target the weakness of one group of people for profit – yeah this company is in business and profit is the main aim of that business but singling people out because of their perceived habits due to ‘class’ or economic realities is just wrong and haven’t revolutions started this way? And yes, this company could say ‘well, we’re only charging more to stop people eating unhealthy food’ but then this would then imply their food is rubbish. So, solve the problem and charge everyone – rich or poor – the same amount. Treat people with some respect will ya? I think you’ll find it works.

The two main child actors from Slumdog Millionaire are to receive new homes from the Indian authorities after the low-budget movie swept the Oscars, winning eight awards.
http://au.news.yahoo.com/a/-/newshome/5353135

Okay – so what would have happened to these poor little buggers if they had not been in a movie that won an Oscar? What happens to the thousands of kids living in poverty in the slums of Mumbai or other parts of India? It smacks of tokenism to me and it solves the problems of two kids but leaves thousands in jeopardy. Yes – great, perfect – happy for those 2 kids but what about the other 2 million – give or take? How do they get into a movie and get a brand new dream home? It smacks of Eva Peron handing out ‘wishes’ to the ‘shirtless’ ones in Argentina. Sure, it looks pretty and nice and everyone goes ‘aww’ but what happens after that? Cast all kids in peril – no matter what country – in a movie and give them a safe life? If you care – sponsor a child – give them a real chance at health, education and clean water and decent food. Plenty of charities do this – I sponsor kids through World Vision Australia. Come on – do not let these kids have to audition for movies to get a good home. As crap as the economic crisis for all of us – consider helping just one kid.

Almost off my soapbox….


Nadya Suleman, the American woman who gave birth to octuplets, has been offered $US1 million ($A1.54 million) to star in hardcore porn.
http://au.news.yahoo.com/a/-/newshome/5352758

OH. MY. GOD….who comes up with these sleazy backroom ideas? “Hey – you know the chick that had the 8 kids? Let’s see her naked.” And the thing is there are people who would pay to see that. Why? I don’t know. I don’t think I’m on enough drugs to grasp that. Clearly this woman is not in her right mind. Clearly there are lots of issues that she is dealing with. Only some sick and perverted bastard would want to exploit that. Whoever you are stop playing with yourself and move on sunshine.

That’s it – it’s Friday – and by definition that means it’s a beautiful day...and I picked up another book contract – I can’t complain – well I could but who wants to listen to someone else’s problems?

*** Picture is from Melbourne’s Chinatown…it amused me…click on it to see it in full. You can try to dress something with a pretty name but it still is what it is.

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

Thursday, 26 February 2009

Tattoo you…

Would I get a tattoo? No. Why not? It wouldn’t suit me – some people, in my opinion, look dumb with tatts. Me – a short, chunky, pasty looking woman with a tatt? Hmmm, no. I would look better with Spock ears than with a tatt. No, not thinking of committing myself to those either, at this stage. Beside I think forcing ink into your skin is not natural. I mean I always get pissed when I get ink on my hands at work. It would piss me off no end to be forever inked. I have also discovered I am quite a sexist in the fact that I think men look great with tatts whereas I don’t think a lot of women do. Mmmm, men with tatts….but I digress…why have I come to these lofty conclusions? Well when I was away down in Melbourne I watched this show called – LA Ink – never watch TV at home - it was all about tattoo artists. I found it utterly fascinating and I went from thinking tattoos were some weird arsed form of rebellion to tatts having great meaning in someone’s life. See? Travel does broaden ones horizons and room service is golden.

Well duh, you say – everyone knows that about room service and as for tatts - yes traditionally ancient cultures have always used tattooing as a form of spiritual and familial identification. They defined a person or people as one. But I guess I always viewed tatts as a need to rebel and to stand out – to be different – and there’s nothing wrong with that but why ruin your skin because let’s face it a tattoo is for life. Yes, you can have them lasered off but your skin never looks that same. So, back to the show – I became quite interested in the reasons people were having tatts done. It was all about ‘the place’ they were in life. They wanted to mark that, celebrate it or just remember what it took to get them where they were. That had never really occurred to me – yes, I am as sensitive as a sledgehammer. Anyway I listened to these stories and realized each tattoo had a purpose and that these people needed them to move on in life. It was most interesting – not enough for me to get a tatt – it is ‘literally’ wearing your heart on your sleeve and I don’t do that.

And the tattoo artists – my god – how talented are they? They turn a sketch on a paper into the most amazing three dimensional pieces of artwork. Just incredible and any half arsed stereotypical ideas I had about tatts were blown out the window. Women with tatts – still not sure about that but then it’s got nothing to do with me and it’s about the individual and what the image on their skin means to them – I applaud that. It’s quiet courageous putting your thoughts out there for everyone to see.


Check the show out here - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c08auIRzI74


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

Wednesday, 25 February 2009

XYZ…whatever...

While Generation X is portrayed as confident, cashed-up and sexy in television shows like Cashmere Mafia and Desperate Housewives, in reality they are buckling under the pressure of meeting career goals while juggling demanding children and baby-boomer parents who refuse to slow down.
http://www.news.com.au/story/0,23599,23607445-421,00.html

I was listening to something on the radio this morning about generation Y and how they defined themselves differently to generation X. Hmmm, I have always thought this whole need to label yourself as a number or letter a load of crap. What’s it all about and why the need to be pegged as something to explain who you are? Can’t you just be you? Is there a problem with that?

It often amuses me when people ten or 20 years younger than me say - “well, I’m not of your generation.” Now, depending on who you speak to or which page of the internet you look at, a generation is measured in anywhere between 25 to 32 years. Okay, so let’s settle on somewhere in between – say 28 years. “Honey, sorry to upset you, but you are my crotchety ‘generation.’ Need a tissue to deal with the realization? Maybe have another soy-latte-no foam-decaf ?


I don’t believe in generation gaps. I believe there are people who are scared to grow up and others who are scared of aging. It’s just about numbers and how much they frighten you. The less frightened then the less need to tag yourself into a certain tribe. Or is that just me that thinks that way?

THEY'RE hip, smart-talking, brash and sometimes seem to suffer from an overdose of self esteem. And if there's a generalisation to be made about young Generation Y people, it's that they don't like waiting.
http://www.news.com.au/heraldsun/story/0,21985,22034750-5006016,00.html

This then reminded me of the panel I went to at the convention that was discussing e-books. The issue of e-book piracy reared its ugly, dumb arsed head. Anyway one lady concluded that it was her generation – generation Y – that did it because they believed it was okay and they were so used to ‘taking’ things and that it was not something they stopped to think about. Hmmm, I sat behind her and thought – what the? There were a lot of eye rolls around the room as she indicated her ‘generation’ was non-caring of other people and that was okay to her. No, it’s fucking not okay and to even identify yourself with selfish people who do not care is not saying a lot for you as a person.

So are you a person – unique, individual and able to stand alone when it counts or do you fall back to your “tribe” and blame them for all the mistakes you make? Are you an individual or a puppet defined by a ‘hip’ term? Do you want to be yourself or be one of the masses?

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

Tuesday, 24 February 2009

No place like home…


So, I’m back home in Brizzie. I got off the plane and a wave of humidity hit me and I thought – home. Melbourne was fine but Dorothy was right – not about the gingham dress – that’s just plain wrong - but when she said “there’s no place like home.” Damn straight D. I missed the casual speech, manner, style and general quirkiness we have up north. There is nothing wrong with our southern cousins but I just missed the madness of home. A big thanks to Virgin Blue who flew the Melbourne to Briz route – and an even bigger thanks to the Novotel on Collins for patiently answering all my questions and not slapping their heads when I lost my hotel key at various times – well, it’s not really a key is it? It’s a lump of plastic that you throw in your handbag that you never see again. I need solid, real people keys, not Ken and Barbie pseudo play keys …still wondering if anyone has the Amarinda show bag of books and stuff with the hotel key cards in them…hmmm..

All in all, the whole Melbourne gig was good – I met my editor - after two plus years of driving her insane and I collected many receipts to claim against my tax – Ha! And bugger off Mr Tax Man. I talked to readers who did not piss around with half truths – they said what they liked without fear or favor. I respected that. I saw the famous who were most gracious and the not so famous who were too busy trying to be famous to be real. We would call ‘em legends in their own lunchtime – but I guess some people need to feel famous or recognized or something.

That’s it – I have a mountain of washing to do and the domestic pixies are not answering my call to magically appear to do stuff…bloody pixies. Til’ tomorrow….

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

Monday, 23 February 2009

So....


…when I left you last I was wandering up to the Australian Romance Readers Convention via Chinatown and the Greek precinct. They were interesting but pretty much like any ethnic hub. I was most amused at the grotty alleys in Chinatown that had names like Celestial Lane - can junk and chaos ever be celestial? If so I have been celestial most of my life without knowing it.


Eventually I made my way up to the Convention for the e-book panel. It was most interesting – the usual questions were asked – what the hell are e-books? How do I get one? How can I write one? When is lunchtime? I was most surprised – I won a big bag of books…hmm…more creative packing required for the trip back to Briz. I swore blind I would not buy any books…but then I swear a lot. I spoke to Borders book stores, selling books there, who told me they had sold lots of books but they did not have mine there. My books were with another bookseller but it was nice to think they even knew who the hell I was as most of the time I had my name tag on backwards.


I met the lovely Aggie from JERR – Just Erotic Romance Reviews – so that was great – a lot like old home week. It was nice to put names to faces. The other nice/surprising thing was the amount of readers who tapped me on the shoulder and asked for autographs as I wandered around. I like that more informal book signing. I spoke to other readers who bought my books after specifically hearing me use the dreaded cock, penis and fuck words. So, there you go – being bad can be good.

I am eagerly awaiting the results of the silent auction for the Victorian Bushfire victims. I bid on something I really wanted – was gzumped a couple of times but gzumped back and when I left I was in the lead. Toy with me? I think not. So fingers crossed. But, all in all it was good to see so many people getting into the spirit of it. Last time I spoke to the organizers it was up to the $5,000 mark in bids. I’m sure that has surpassed that.

After farwelling my editor – who may I say has a much bloody heavier suitcase than me – I wandered off to the Queen Victoria markets and bought some Melbourne souvenirs that I will use in an upcoming contest – so keep your eyes peeled for those…how does one peel their eyes? Anyway…I also went to the Old Melbourne Gaol (Jail for non Commonwealth types). If you are ever in Melbourne, Australia, hot foot it to the Gaol as they have the best tour there. Essentially you get arrested and treated like a criminal. No, I have never been arrested and no, I am not into BDSM though handcuffs are always fun…er…so I have heard. Anyway the Sargent who did the arrests was so good – she scared the crap out of the younger visitors because they did not twig she was an Aussie actor – Wendy Huggins (apologies if I spelled you name wrong Wendy). She made the experience really enjoyable – you know as much as being arrested can be – and I congratulated her on it.

After that I wandered Melbourne some more and crashed back at the hotel, dumped my heavy bag of goodies on the floor and me on the bed, absolutely knackered. And hell yeah, I am off playing tourist again today. It’s my last day down south so I plan to make the most of it.

What I have learned from this little adventure? That conventions are an amazing slice of life but it’s not real life and it has reinforced to me once more not to believe your own publicity and just be yourself.

Off to brekky

Amarinda

Sunday, 22 February 2009

A bit from day 2 and what should be day 3….



The following happened yesterday arvo….

- book signing – scary, scary stuff…I needed 17 glasses of wine and considered taking up smoking after it…may consider counselling….

- Left convention – and walked by pudgy thighs off – if only - around Melbourne.

Today….last day of convention…

- saw three fire trucks out the front of the hotel as I ate breakky (breakfast) they came loaded with many yummy looking fireman – forgot bacon and eggs for 10 mins as I pressed my nose up against the glass and looked on in appreciation of the male form.

- Watched one woman scoff almost the entire buffet – yes, it is all you can eat but a human body must get to the point of exploding after 27 plates of food…and she was skinny…bitch.

- plan to go walkabout this morning – heading for Chinatown and the Greek precinct then will head to the convention around 10ish – correct – I am not a dedicated convention goer. Organized events naturally want me to rebel.

- Will attend the panel about e-books – I have discovered more Aussies than I thought know about them

- Apres this - plan to go to Melbourne Jail to check out the history. Followed by more wandering Melbourne streets playing tourist

Important note –

Today is the national day of mourning for all those that lost their lives in the Victorian bush fires. No words can express my deepest sorrow at the devastating loss. It’s wrong and unfair and life stinks sometimes.

That’s it…

….the convention has been an excellent receipt collecting mission. I plan to hand it all in the the Australian Tax office and go – "ha! Tax me will you? I think not."

Have a grouse – since I’m in Melbourne - day

Best wishes
Amarinda

Saturday, 21 February 2009

Day 2…


The following happened between 6am and 2:pm….


- had a fantastic breakfast with 4 cups of coffee

- got to convention hotel – bought books – chatted and drank more coffee

- saw my books on sale – took mental imagine of amount hoping to see stack decreasing when I wandered back next

- met up with my editor again – we were both dressed in either Cerridwen Press or Ellora’s Cave finery so not hard to spot either of us.

- went to the panel erotic discussion. It went well – I managed to say ‘cock’, ‘fuck’ and ‘penis’ so my work was done.

- had lunch

- decided as no need to be at convention til 3pm I would go in search of Doc Marten boots – none I like – bugger

General convention stuff – listened to a talk by Mary Janice Davidson – very down to earth woman. Not at all caught up in being famous – unlike some. You know, the convention is interesting in that I always wanted to attend one but I doubt I would ever go again. I’m not a hype person. I think I have too many jaded genes. And lord knows, I could not stay there all day. I have the attention span of a flea.

However – speaking to readers has been INVALUABLE as they are more then happy to tell you what the hate in a book and would SHOULD be in a book - a big thanks to the readers.

That’s it…back around three-ish to sign books or watch other people do it.

Til later…
Amarinda

Now day 2…

Day 1

The following happened between 3.30am and 10:30pm….

- cab to the airport – cab guy insisted he knew where he was going – he didn’t – I insisted he follow my directions – we get to the airport and did not end out west in whop-whop

- carried my excessively heavy bag to the scale at airport check in – limit was 23kg – held breath – bag came in at 22.95kg…yay me.

-got stopped at the bag x-ray – who forgot to take the two pocket knives out of her hand bag? Bugger. Got the whole bag searched. The man – very nice – said why do you need all this crap? I bet no one questions MacGyver. Cleared to go through after a lecture. Yes – I should have had more thought…head hung in shame

-Virgin Blue flight from Brizzie – excellent – staff – excellent

- Hotel – "Ms Jones we have upgraded you to a King size suite with complimentary breakfast" Hmmm, what the’s the catch? None – Ms Jones very happy.

- Met my editor – a goddess among women – chatted to H for quite a while. Met in her hotel room. Discovered her hotel room has freaky coloured louvres between the bedroom and the bathroom – means you can watch someone as they use the bathroom. Resolved never to use that as a decorating idea.

- Ms Jones loses key to hotel several times – horrible feeling it is in one of the gift bags I will give away

- Convention drinks night – "what??? I can’t hear you." So loud, no real food and very tempted to drink like a fish to forget it all but refrained. Left at 10pm as losing plot and starving

- Got back to hotel – did something decadent and ordered room service – OMG – love room service - but always suspect that would be the case.


Day 2

- Breakfast – fan-bloody-tastic – thinking of leaving home for good and living in a hotel

- Got another replacement key to room – staff very nice and no one rolls eyes – "It’s not a problem Ms Jones…"

- Dressed in Cerridwen Press t-shirt – way, way too large – why do we always think we are fatter than we are?


- Breakfast in belly, swimming in shirt – off for day 2

Wishing you were here....

Amarinda

Thursday, 19 February 2009

Infinity and beyond…


….or in this case Melbourne – down south, the land of the trams (cable cars), strange football and people who talk funny. I will check in on Saturday sometime to let you know what’s going on at the Australian Romance Readers Convention. Be good or be fast and leave no trail.

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

Wednesday, 18 February 2009

Possibilities...



So, I'm packed...ready for a 6am Friday flight to Melbourne. I was talking to the man who makes my coffee every morning and he said there's something about getting on a plane and just flying away that is exciting. Yeah, there is. It's the infinite possibilities of the unknown. That, or just getting out of work for 5 days.

My bag is too heavy of course. I have to make sure I have a male check-in attendant because I may have to employ some flattery/flirting/crying to get out of the excess baggage. I have made it all worst by bringing down something to be auctioned off in the silent auction at the Australian Romance Readers Convention for the bushfire victims. But it’s a good cause and I can be disgustingly charming when I want to get out of something.

So, I'll leave you with this song.
Click here. I was singing it on the way out this morning...no, not going to LA but it's an airplane song and I dedicate it to Miss Moon who threw me out of the Girl's Brigade when I was six years old for excessive blaspheming. She hated this song. She said it made her want to scream. Excellent. It was on the charts at the time. At six, the chuck out experience taught me two things - 1. Religious dictatorships never work and 2. I will never be a team player. It wasn't my first chucking out - got thrown out of the Girl Guides 6 years later for smoking - and it won't be my last.

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

Tuesday, 17 February 2009

Hmmm...


Just been a twisted bra strap kind of day....annoying, painful and easily solved by ripping it off but the fallout is the problem....

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

Monday, 16 February 2009

Boring day....

So the Australian Romance Readers Convention starts this Friday. I’m looking forward to going to Melbourne, meeting my editor, seeing how romance writers act en masse - I expect it will be quite frightening - and buying a new pair of Doc Marten boots. Why the boots? Yes, I could buy them in Briz but I never find the time to get into the Valley (Fortitude Valley) to do so. Do you notice that it’s not until you are away from home that you think of all the possibilities you don’t have time for at home? So I am going to play tourist in Melbourne and yes buy those Docs I want.

That’s it – just another boring Monday. I was in the factory again for a couple of hours this arvo. I think I provide light relief down there with my bumbling attempts to help. They think the office staff are pretty protected and useless…we are. I am knackered…man, they work hard. I will probably be a complete wreck by the convention…same old same old for me really…

Comments…most amusing but not unexpected…anyway, ding, ding, ding we have a winner. An email comment – yes, people don’t always want to respond on the blog – K**** D** from the London wins. Why? Her email said these four words that made me nod my head at their significance. “Why did you bother?” Yes....

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

Sunday, 15 February 2009

Sunday free for all…

Comments are on the blog for today – got something pressing to say about any issue or whatever? Go for it. The one most interesting comment about anything either in the blog comments – or as always you can email me, for reasons of privacy (amarinda_jones@yahoo.com.au) or on facebook - will win the koala t-shirt. Yes, it does come in XXL. The Aussie company that sells them is donating money to the bushfire victims on each sale. So speak your mind. The winner will be announced on Monday’s blog.

Did you hear…

SLEAZY men are taking advantage of Sydney's rental crisis by placing online advertisements offering women free rooms in exchange for sex.
http://www.news.com.au/story/0,23599,25056894-2,00.html?from=public_rss

Yes, it is disgusting but if there was no interest from women, taking up these offers, then these offers would not exist would they? So no one, regardless of gender, is exactly squeaky clean in this circumstance and this has been going on for ages. It’s just now, in the light of crap economic conditions, that it becomes a story. Ah, sensationalism…

This line interested me the most…..

"I'm not that kind of person,'' he said.”But, yes, it would possibly involve sex.''

http://www.news.com.au/story/0,23599,25056894-2,00.html?from=public_rss

Translation = oh hell yeah I want sex but I don’t want to look like a complete toe rag.

I have to wonder what the requirements are for a ‘suitable’ tenant?

That’s it – watched Sabrina today – not the Audrey Hepburn/ Humphrey Bogart epic but Julia Ormond/Harrison Ford were almost as good…it makes you think…

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

Saturday, 14 February 2009

Love...whatever...



"Don't threaten me with love, Baby. Let's just go walking in the rain." - Billie Holiday

Saturday…nothing happening here…if you believe in Valentine’s Day – enjoy it however you chose with whomever you chose. If you think it’s a load of commercial clap trap designed to force people into making declarations of love – well, yes it is but look at it this way – the more money that gets pumped into the respective world economies thing right now is a good thing. We need cash to flow freely. Yes – commercialization could save our arses. What’s not to love about that? Though may I suggest you watch out for short, chunky, naked guys with arrows …you don’t want to go there. That’s not good for anyone and there are therapists for that.

"Love has the power of making you believe what you would normally treat with the deepest suspicion." - Mirabeau

Okay - tomorrow - Sunday - comments will go back on the blog for a day and you can say whatever you want - about anything you like - go for it. Got something you are burning to say? Say it. And - there will be a prize for best comment.

My Secret Valentine by Ashley Ladd is out now at Total-e-Bound. Click on the cover to buy.


Wes Donovan was never lucky, but today it seemed his luck had changed.
Blake Kirchner, the object of his fantasies, stepped onto the treadmill two rows in front of Wes, just enough to the right to award a perfect view of Blake’s toned, beautiful body and let Wes do the secret admiration thing.
The way Blake’s tight-sculpted gluts flexed and strained against his skin-tight shorts made Wes’ mouth water. Blake’s broad, well-muscled shoulders made Wes long to be swept into Blake’s arms.
Wes vowed anew to work out until he was so buff Blake’s mouth would water for him, too.
Light refracted off Blake’s shiny blue-black fall of hair, and Wes made out blurry images of the exerciser behind Blake in its silky fall. His breath hitched in his throat and his palms became clammier.
Again he wiped his hands on his towel then mopped away perspiration dotting his brow. The heart-rate monitor on his machine jumped from ninety-six to one-forty-five although he needed no external acknowledgment that he couldn’t breathe.
He’d give anything if Blake returned his affections, but the man had never been more than cordial if he saw Wes at all, so he was still very much a secret admirer.
Exhausted, he knew he’d pushed himself to his limits, but he was loath to leave as long as Blake remained. Maybe, just maybe, Blake would turn, catch his gaze and think him the hottest guy in the world.
He caught himself staring hard at Blake and wondered what he could do to win his affections when Blake suddenly stopped, turned and pinned him with a steady look.
Wes’ heart stopped, and he gulped. Guilty heat flooded his cheeks and dust coated his throat. The earth quaked beneath him as his feet were dragged out from under him, and he stumbled off the equipment.
The woman beside him caught him, but he cringed to the soundtrack of loud snickers, snorts, and even a few scathingly muttered, “Geeks.”
Raging with humiliation, he mumbled a raspy, “Thanks,” as he grabbed his towel, ducked his head and bolted.
Damn! So he wasn’t such a ‘secret’ admirer after all.
“Some piece of work you are, dude.” He was so mortified he didn’t think he could ever show his face in the gym again. Worse, he wondered how big a dork Blake must think him.
When he reached his car, he flung his soaked towel on the passenger seat and lifted his eyes to the heavens. “Why?”
The sun floated peacefully on the horizon as if everything was cool with the world.
“Why of all men I could have a thing for, why him?”
Wes would have a better chance of winning the next United States presidential election than getting Blake to look twice at him.
Still, he yearned only for Blake. Worse, he dreaded going to his baseball team’s Valentine Party stag—again.
There had to be something, somehow, he could do to trick fate and get his man.


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

Friday, 13 February 2009

What a week…



Sam the Koala update - she and new love Bob are doing well…click here

Yes, Mr Black, I like koalas as you like puppies.

Someone said to me today… “I am so sick of hearing about the bushfires and I wish they would take it off the television news and current affairs shows.” I responded – “You’re a bloody wanker.” Yes, I have always been shy and retiring.

But, despite this drongo, I have to tell you that Australians are the best bloody people on the planet as they have come together to donate millions upon millions of dollars to help the victims of the bush fires. We are a big country with a small population – approximately 21.5 million people depending on who you talk to on what day but we have quadrupled that in donations – and I’ll only talking about us ordinary, everyday folk. That does not include businesses who have given generously. Mateship is everything in Australia.

However we have our Scum of the Earth…

The 39-year-old man was charged with three counts in Morwell Magistrates Court in Gippsland on Friday - one of arson causing death, one of intentionally or recklessly causing a bushfire, and one of possessing child pornography.

http://au.news.yahoo.com/a/-/newshome/5318886

Disgusting, despicable toe rag who must die. All agreed?

That’s it for me today….I won 2nd prize in employee of the month contest - yes, I can bluff with the best of them…now I can slack off for another six months and rest on my laurels…


Nancy’s Sweet Spelling Bee by Elaine Lowe is out now at Ellora’s Cave. Yes – click on the cover to buy then relax on the sofa and forget about the laundry, cleaning, the kids dinner…about time they learned out to make toast anyway…

The excerpt….

It was that same damn dream again. The one that he’d had since he was fourteen. With minor changes of course, as Nancy had gotten older and even more beautiful. Once he’d actually gotten to kiss her and then seen and felt the glory of her breasts, it had only gotten more intense. The first time that they had made love had chased the dream away for months, because the reality of sex with Nancy was so much better than any fantasy. But now they been happily fucking for years but she had to go and wear that dress.
It had been velvet…black velvet. She’d worn it to the Library Ball at New Year’s and it had been incredibly soft and…furry. He was amazed he’d even let her out of the house, or that they’d stayed at the goddamn shindig for a whole hour before he practically ravished her in a hallway and she’d dragged him to her tiny office where they’d finished against the door. As usual, Nancy whimpered and moaned in a feline manner and she left a bite mark on his shoulder than he still could feel even a month later. He’d run his hand over it at work and smiled a loony smile that made his assistant Patty’s eyebrows waggle at him with prurient interest.
They were both weres. But he was a wolf. He wasn’t supposed to be so damn turned on by Nancy’s jaguar form. But he couldn’t help it. That dress has been like the texture of her fur whenever she let him stroke her. The flash of her eyes when they went golden, the way her nose twitched when she was angry and raring for a fight, all of it was who Nancy was and he loved all of her.
His dreams were full of Nancy. Always a bit of the same, Nancy visiting him in the nurse’s office after he’d broken his arm playing football. It was a full moon and prim and proper Nancy had been having a very difficult time controlling her transformations and her libido. She’d woken him up after sneaking into the room and she looked wild and luscious. She had pointed black ears and the long sinuous tail that curled high in the air behind her. But in his dreams, she wasn’t the eighteen-year-old girl who’d tried to seduce him. She was the full, voluptuous, sexy-as-hell twenty-five-year-old Nancy.
This time, his dream wasn’t interrupted by the nurse, or dreams of the captain of the football team, Rodney Michaels the bull were, coming in and carrying her off for his own enjoyment. No, this time it had cut straight to the good part, where she had stripped off the thin nightgown she’d been wearing and was slowly approaching him on all fours, her eyes alien and golden with slit pupils and yet they still held the vast intelligence and challenge that was uniquely his girl. Her altered tongue flickered out to moisten her lips and he could feel his cock pulse with blood at the sight. Her beautiful breasts swaying, as she stalked him, her tail slowly mesmerizing him into utter and complete submission.
She bent her head, the long curls tumbling forward revealing twitching cat ears. He felt her raspy tongue stroke the skin of his calf and he almost fell off the tiny infirmary bed at the sensation. His skin was tingling with anticipation. She purred in amusement. Her fingernails were longer, sharper, as she stroked his skin, teasing his supine body as her tongue worked its way over his knee, his inner thigh.
“Wanna play?” she purred at him and he almost growled in response, wanting with every fiber of his being to pounce on her and engage in a wrestling match for domination that would end in screaming, throbbing, spurting satisfaction for them both.

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

Thursday, 12 February 2009

Thursday...

I’ve had my steel caps on for the last couple of days. Lordy they’re comfortable boots – you can also kick in a door with them – I’m yet to try that but I am ready to. Actually I want to try it. I just have to come up with a reasonable excuse to do so.

Anyway, for the last couple of days I have spent the morning upstairs in the office and the arvo downstairs in the factory doing stuff. Alas, no one handed me a power tool but I did get to bash stuff with a mallet and punch holes in things with a nifty machine – you’ve got to be happy with that. It’s a different world down there and it’s hard to believe we’re the same company. How so? It’s about perceptions. The office staff are viewed as doing clean, paper shuffling jobs in the air con – we do - and the factory does hard yakka (work) – and they do - under the power of large industrial fans that can blow your socks off. We both work but in different ways for the same company and that colours our view of the other and I believe we would be naïve to think that doesn’t happen. I always think it’s good to experience what others do. I agree with the factory workers. The office staff does need to come down on the factory floor more – and I countered back the factory workers need to come upstairs and see what we do. How can you understand either workplace without working in them?

That’s it – I’m knackered. I’m a wuss. Back to normal work tomorrow and maybe back down to the factory next week…depends how much work I have stuffed up. They were way too polite to tell me.

People who should leave the planet immediately –

A Brisbane man has been charged with fraud after he allegedly posed as a charity worker collecting money for the victims of Victoria’s bushfires.

http://www.thewest.com.au/default.aspx?MenuID=2&ContentID=124243

Leave now.

Desert of the Damned by Kathy Kulig is available at Ellora's Cave and it’s in e-book and paperback so you have a choice. Now, what more can you ask for in hot romance? Click on the cover to buy.

Excerpt

Amy awoke on her hands and knees. She was not in her bedroom where she’d gone to bed. Was it hours ago? She was outside in the desert and had no idea how she’d gotten there.

Dreaming? Yes, dreaming by the way the scenery continued to shift in colors. And the cactus and bushes were moving as if she had spun around in circles and then stopped.
A cool breeze teased her bare skin, sending chills up her arms and legs, along her back, drawing her nipples in to taut points. She was completely naked. Blinking several times, she tried to clear her head and vision. Drained and weak, she doubted her legs would support her if she tried to stand.

The ground swayed and the ten-foot-tall saguaro cactus in front of her blurred, sharpened into view, then blurred again. The woven material beneath her came into focus. It was the Indian blanket Dante had given her. Searching her memory, she couldn’t remember when the dream began. Was this a dream? Did Dante summon her? Did he hypnotize her? Or was it something more ominous?

Trying to move was like swimming in molasses. What did Truly put in those margaritas? She forced her muscles to respond so she could get up but her wrists and ankles were staked to the ground with ropes.

A hand pressed on her back. “Don’t move,” Dante’s husky voice said. “This is a new game.”

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

Wednesday, 11 February 2009

Wan Lao Yang



Last night I watched this documentary, several years old, about a little girl in China called Wan Lao Yang. It was called The Girl Who Lives in the Dark. She had a terrible genetic skin condition that basically made it impossible for her to handle UV rays. Awful, disfiguring tumors spread over her entire face.

As this graphic documentary unfolded, following her to hospital in Shanghai for surgery to remove the life threatening tumors that all but covered her face, I sat there praying she would be okay. She was hopeful, the doctors were not. Even when most of her face was removed, she dreamed of a being normal, of more in life. She went back to her small village with the one aim of going back to school and then getting married.

Wan Lao
Yang died soon after the operation. She was nine. I sat there and cried. It was so sad the once again someone with so much potential was no more.

And once more it struck me how stupid and senseless all the petty, trivial shit we go on with about who hates who, or what someone looks like or how they think or whatever the fuck it is we are bitching about this week is totally irrelevant - meaningless. We are damn lucky to have a chance at life. Some people never get it. We – and I mean all of us – take that for granted. Do you need a reality check? Watch this doco and you’ll realize that we haven’t begun to realize how lucky we are. If we had one hundredth of the spirit and the guts of Wan Lao Yang, we would know that. We have everything and yet we whine about all the nothing things in life.

It’s just plain sad.

About Wan Lao Yang - click here -
http://www.sbs.com.au/blogarticle/109065/The-Girl-Who-Lives-In-The-Dark/blog/Documentaries-SBS

www.amarindajones.com
Go Ahead : Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your

Tuesday, 10 February 2009

Been at….

…the hairdresser getting the two tone grey and brown effect washed out and my usual intense red foils done so my editor will recognize me at the Australian Romance Readers Convention when we meet…or maybe she will do a runner when she sees me or anyone with reddish hair…you can run but you can’t hide….

That’s it other than the TV guy came today. My television, which I rarely ever watch bar for news and Jack on 24, is working but it’s not. The switch at the side is buggered – that’s probably not the technical term. I could turn it on but not off unless I use tweezers to pull the button out in order to turn it off – I’m very mechanical – not. Yes, I did have vague visions of being electrocuted. How did she die? Death by tweezers. The idiot box is under warranty still so out he came to fix it.

- Why don’t you turn it on at the remote like everyone else does?
- Well I’m not like everyone else.

Enough said…


Ménage romance Playing For Real by Madison Blake is out now at Ellora’s Cave…check it out – warning – the excerpt below is adult rated - and yes it's another click on the cover and buy moment.

Remembering the discussion he wanted to have with Ethan, Adrian moved down his lover’s body and gave his cock one regretful lick before sliding up to settle beside him. “You were in a hurry tonight.” He referred to their wild coupling.

Ethan raised his head and supported it on an upraised palm. They stared at each other intently before he answered wryly, “So were you.”

Though he had always been able to speak with reasonable frankness with Ethan, his usual embarrassment with Shelli overcame him just then. His gaze slid away. “I, uh, there’s something I have to tell you. I don’t know how you’d feel about it but I’d appreciate if you could, uh, that is, keep an open mind—”

“Is it Shelli?” Ethan interrupted.

Adrian’s gaze flew back to him in a hurry.

“Have you suddenly realized what a desirable woman she is, how frustrated she made you feel tonight and you want to fuck her but you’re afraid she doesn’t like you in that way?”

With each phrase, Adrian nodded, though he was bewildered as to how Ethan could know what he was feeling. They were close and could almost read each other’s minds but this—

“Good,” Ethan said with a savage light in his eyes. “Because I feel the same way.”

Incredible joy ricocheted through him. “You do?”

“Yes. So now we go about seducing the lovely Shelli Madison.”

Now that he knew Ethan shared his goal, Adrian was able to voice out his doubts. “But tonight, it didn’t seem like she wanted to fuck us. For one thing, she flirted with all her colleagues when she wouldn’t even give us the time of day, though we were supposed to be her dates.” He sent Ethan a sardonic smile. “For another, she went off with that guy and let him have his way with her.” He looked curiously at his lover. “What did you do to him anyway?”

Ethan cracked the knuckles of one hand and sent him a very satisfied smile. “Let’s just say he won’t be bothering Shelli anymore.”

A sudden thought struck him. “You didn’t beat him, did you?”

“No,” Ethan said, annoyed. “I don’t want to get Shelli into trouble. I just warned him very succinctly and fiercely what would happen to his crown jewels should he go near Shelli again.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have. What if she fancied him?” Adrian sighed and shook his head. “Because it sure looks like she’s very satisfied being just friends with us.”

“We’ll just have to change her mind.”

Which was just what he was thinking earlier on. “I don’t want to ruin our friendship for the sake of a fuck, Ethan..”

“We won’t,” Ethan said impatiently. “Look, I was there at the party too and I saw what you saw and I agree, your interpretation of things could be right. But what if—for the sake of argument—what if she’s hot for us the way we’re hot for her? She could be confused and bewildered at her new feelings and so, she hid behind safe and known actions. Until I get a definite ‘no’ from her, I’m not giving up.”

With each word that Ethan uttered, Adrian felt hope springing from within him. “What’s the plan?” Adrian had a good brain and if applied diligently, he could have come up with something. But Ethan’s was more cunning and he always had a lot of tricks up his sleeve.

That was why he knew better than to interrupt when Ethan’s eyes lost their focus the way they always did whenever he was thinking. But when he laughed some time later, Adrian knew his lover had hit onto something.
“I’ll tell you about it later,” Ethan promised as he lay back on the bed. “But now, shouldn’t you continue what you were doing with my cock?”


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

Monday, 9 February 2009

Tragedy…

The death toll from Victoria's bushfires could top 200 as authorities sift through the piles of ash that were once entire communities.

http://au.news.yahoo.com/a/-/newshome/5307913

Horrific fire storms in the state of Victoria, Australia, have killed at least 130 people. Small towns like Kinglake and Marysville have been wiped off the map. We see the victims stumbling around on television in a state of shock. They have lost loved ones and their homes and if you feel nothing after watching and listening to them, then you are made of stone. It’s just horrifying and all Australians are reeling. This could happen so easily to any one of us. It’s a wake up call on a massive loud speaker. Cherish what you have for it may not be there tomorrow.

All fire-devastated areas will be treated as crime scenes to determine if arson was involved, Victorian Police Commissioner Christine Nixon said.


An emotional Prime Minister Kevin Rudd said deliberately lit fires amounted to "mass murder".

"What do you say about anyone like that? There are no words to describe it other than mass murder.

"This is of a level of horror that few of us anticipated."

http://au.news.yahoo.com/a/-/newshome/5307913

Shoot the mongrel bastards…

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

Sunday, 8 February 2009

Classic…

I was in a state of knackerdom last night so I decided to vege out and again watch The Brain that Wouldn’t Die AKA Jan in the pan. Never seen it? Really? Quel tragic. Forget Dances with Wolves – boring movie, the English Patient – die already will you or Out of Africa – ho hum - The Brain is a classic film. It has pathos, unintentional humor, drama, terrible photography and a dreadful script yet it’s quite awfully, wonderfully lovely (Whoa! Adverb violation – go straight to author hell do not pass go) and I can’t see it enough.

What’s it about? Okay - Jan and her scientist boyfriend Bill are in a car accident. Jan literally loses her head and the presence-of-mind Bill collects the head, as you do – why notify emergency services - and he keeps it alive in a dish of nefarious looking, dark liquid in his laboratory. Jan, when she wakes up is a tad pissed, as you are when your boyfriend shaves your hair off and gives you a weird hood. Well, hoods are not always in are they? She soon discovers Bill, who always seemed like a nice guy, is actually fucking nuts and he plans to find the perfect body to reattach Jan’s head to. Yes – correct – Bill has to kill to get it and Jan’s not real happy about any of this. I could never work out why Bill couldn’t save her body because that’s the bit with the heart that pumps. How smart can be Bill be? Anyway…while he is out checking bods, Jan discovers she is not alone in the lab. There is a monster locked behind a door. She is scared but like the headless trooper she is she trash talks with the monster and they soon become mates. The rest I’ll let you watch yourself as it’s now part of the public domain. Click
here to view.

The moral of the Jan in the pan story? Well, I’m not saying don’t date a mad scientist but if you do always check your bits and pieces are intact the next morning, maybe take separate cars and it’s good to make friends with those you fear as they can help sometimes you.


My Everything by Julia Barrett is out in March at Cerridwen Press. Check it out below – and also click on the cover and read Julia’s other great work.

Ben drove to the rear of the hotel. There were no spaces available so he had to park in another lot behind a thick hedge. He stepped out of the car and waited patiently in the shadows for several minutes, simply looking and listening. There didn't appear to be another soul in the parking lot, so he grabbed two of his bags, locked the car and strode confidently to the nearest entrance. He passed under the lighted archway to the rear door, used his key card and climbed the stairs to the third floor. So far so good. Tom wouldn't have indicated this hotel if he thought Ben would be walking into an assassin's bullet. Obviously Tom felt this would be the safest place, otherwise he would have sent him to his old apartment. Evan Spencer's old apartment, he reminded himself. Even Julie had only been there once and she didn't know who lived in the apartment. She assumed he was one of Ben's coworkers. Ben always believed that what she didn't know couldn't get her killed. That's what he'd thought. Ben shook the memory off and opened the door to the third floor hallway.

The only problem with this hotel was that the hallways were long and turned several times. The rear door was the closest to room 313. Ben came around the corner and stopped dead in his tracks. His room was three doors down on the right. Sticking out of the little recess where the door to his room should be were two long, very bare legs. Two long, very bare, extremely shapely legs of the female persuasion. Ben glanced quickly behind him and listened carefully but he saw and heard nothing. He turned back to the legs. They moved slightly. One long but delicate foot arched upwards and then came back to point. The other leg bent at the knee just slightly. Then both knees were drawn up and slender, naked arms wrapped around them. A tousled head of gold-brown hair fell forward to rest on delicate hands.

Ben heard a quiet whimper. He approached the girl soundlessly. He walked right up to her but she didn't acknowledge his presence. Long hair obscured her face. He perused her silently. She didn't appear to be a threat. As a matter of fact, other than a plastic bottle of Coca-Cola in one hand she held nothing. She wore so little that as far as Ben could tell she wasn't hiding a weapon unless she was sitting on it. He didn't think so. He'd seen enough bad guys that despite his innately suspicious nature all his senses were telling him she was harmless. Unless she was a decoy, a distraction. That was a possibility. She was most definitely a distraction. Ben's body and his mind were both instantly aware of that fact. He heard his brain say, "Down boy," and he almost laughed. Almost. He hadn't laughed in a very long time.

He set his bags down quietly and crouched beside her, both hands free and loose and ready to defend himself if necessary.

"Have you been drinking?" he asked softly.

"Mmmmmph," the woman mumbled.
He leaned a little closer and he heard her say, "No." Ben inhaled deeply. Checking. She didn't smell like alcohol. He was pleasantly surprised to note that the scent of vanilla drifted his way.

"Sick?" he asked quietly and he found himself automatically reaching for her forehead. He drew his hand back before he touched her.

She lifted her head slightly. Even though her eyes were half-closed, he could see that her pupils were very dilated. Ben wondered if she was on drugs.

"Mm-m-migraine," she stuttered, her voice pitched very low. He had to strain to hear.

Ben sat back on his heels and considered the situation. He didn't believe in coincidence. Why, of all the places in the world, would this strange woman be sitting on the floor in front of the door to his hotel room at one in the morning? Half naked. Her long, slim, leanly muscled runner's legs reminding him of things he believed were best left forgotten.
"Where's your room?" Ben asked.

"Can't remember," she mumbled. Then she moaned quietly, almost reluctantly it seemed to him and pressed the Coke bottle to the side of her head.

"Your room key?" he persisted.

"In the room."

He saw tears squeeze out the corners of her eyes and roll down her cheeks. Ben noticed that her teeth were beginning to chatter. It was cold in the hallway. Either she was a very good actress or she was telling the truth. He decided to believe her. He couldn't leave her in the hallway. She was a sitting duck for any unscrupulous male who decided to walk by. But he couldn't take her down to the front desk either. He didn't want to draw unnecessary attention to himself. His only reasonable option under the circumstances was to bring her into his room and put her to bed. If it was a migraine, she'd be better in the morning. Julie had suffered occasional migraines. He'd search her once he got her inside, make sure she didn't have a knife blade stashed away, maybe in the rolled-down waistband of her boxers. They sat very low on her hips and didn't cover much. He could see the margins of a tattoo on her lower back and he suddenly realized he'd like to see the rest of it. He felt himself stir at the thought and then admonished himself. If she was really sick, he'd put her to bed and get rid of her as quickly as he could in the morning. There went his good night's sleep. He'd be sleeping practically on top of her to avoid being unexpectedly gutted in the middle of the night.

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

Saturday, 7 February 2009

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.”


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