Sunday stuff...

Sunday morning – cold, cold and cold. I am sure my dear American friends are rolling their eyes at what an Aussie considers cold. All I can say is stop rolling your eyes as you will go blind. I have no medical proof on that – it’s just a theory. Anyway it’s Sunday and I’ve just come back from buying a washing machine. You thought I was going to say Church didn’t you? No, there is no hope for me on that score. I blotted my copy book when I got thrown out of Sunday school for constantly blaspheming at 8 years of age - very true story…I am not an angel…shocking I know. I have been told that I am going to hell so I am not going to waste time fighting it. If the advertising is correct Hell is quite warm so that will suit me.

Anyway back to the wild excitement of buying a washing machine. After mine carked it (died) yesterday in a fanfare of smoke and the smell of burning rubber that was worthy of an Oscar nomination, I wandered off this morning to one of the major electrical retailers prepared to buy another machine as there is no way this spoilt modern woman is going to wash by hand. I freely admit I could not have been a pioneer woman. I can survive anything but I am not going to sleep rough, pee in the bush, live in a slab hut without electricity or wash clothes on a washboard. I love mod cons. And, as much as I would love the million prize money for winning Survivor and I can scheme and cheat with the best of them, I don’t want to light a fire with flint or run and climb over things to get an immunity idol. I also do not believe these reality shows where contestants say, “I did it to find myself.” Oh please…you did it for the money and now you are just pissed off you did not win so you are going to dazzle us with psycho babble crap to try and make us believe you are not a greedy manipulative bastard who got voted off because everyone hated you.

Right, went off on a tangent there – this is why writers have editors they cyber slap you and keep you on track - back to the washing machine…I don’t believe in paying full price for anything electrical. I like to haggle and I know, after a gig in retail, there is always a margin built in for annoying hagglers so as myself. Buying a washing machine in Australia is no small matter at the moment. Not only do you have to think energy efficiency but you also have to think water conservation and the more water your machine conserves the bigger cash rebate the government rewards you with. Anyway I picked a washer that the Prime Minister would approve so much of he would give me back some of my hard earned tax dollars and I haggled the salesman into the ground and the machine has pretty blue buttons on it so I was pleased with myself - so pleased that I decided to stop off and buy the scarlet red Cossack coat that I had been eyeing off as I had saved money on the washing machine (female logic) and a couple of chocolate and macadamia muffins (PMS logic so shut up).

Tomorrow it is back to work…puke, spew...I owe, I owe it’s off to work I go. Thankfully Monday to Wednesday my assistant Skippy does not speak to me – I don’t know why, I don’t ask any more - so I can get a lot of writing done…oh yes, and some of that stuff they pay me for…what was that again? That’s right I have the job description they asked me to write for myself I’ll read that again to remind myself.

Be warm, be cool, be safe.

www.freewebs.com/janetdavies

Princess, Ida and Flo

Saturdays – washing, cleaning, shopping – boring as hell but better than the Monday to Friday gig. Every Saturday morning I hear this screeching, cha-chunk-thud thud sound coming from downstairs in my laundry. My washing machine is on its last legs and it is letting me know it in the most dramatic and loudest way possible. Everything I own is either dramatic or heavy – possibly a bit like its owner. Anyway I have had the washing machine for 15 years – nothing lasts forever does it? It probably does not help that several years ago I ran into it with Princess. Who is Princess? Princess was my old car. The car from hell. Princess was the bane of my existence. She would stall at all the most dangerous and major intersections, she constantly had a heart attack going up any incline and every time I turned the engine on it made this truly impressive squealing sound which drew attention from all. She was the drama Queen of cars. When I finally parted with Princess the transmission was so shot I could not reverse and I prayed like hell that the car dealership who took Princess would not try and reverse it out of the lot before I had a chance to scarper. I wrote about Princess in Seducing Celestine. My new car is called Ida for no particular reason other than it looks like an Ida to me.

My family has a penchant for naming inanimate objects. Why? Because we can. Amongst my treasures I have a life-sized statue called Alphonse, a ghastly bright pink cement flamingo called Monique, a ram’s skull called Terry and a 50 kilo cement chook called Flo. As a kid I always liked the look of The Addams Family house. Flo is a family heirloom and used to belong to my mother. When Mum died I had to have Flo. I strapped her in the front seat of Princess and drove down the highway with Flo at my side singing loudly – me not Flo – sort of like Thelma and Louise but Brad Pitt wasn’t there and Flo doesn’t say much. Naturally I got pulled over at a Random Breath Testing stop. The officer who pulled me over was most surprised to see Flo and I guess I seemed like a natural choice to blow in the breath test machine. I never ever drink and drive as only bloody idiots do so other than leaving lipstick on the blower thing I was good to go on my merry way with my cement companion. Am I odd? Possibly but I like being so.

Anyway back to the washing machine. It has this lop-sided, scraped look going on. Very edgy and post modernist I believe. I park my car under the house. The laundry is under the house. Add stress and voila! Car and washing machine meet – a true case of opposites attracting. It’s actually the only thing – touch wood – I have ever hit with a car. Although Princess was a complete bitch of a thing she was also indestructible so there was not a scratch on her. A male acquaintance of mine said “Why did you drive into the washing machine?” My answer “Do I need a reason?” Men are funny aren’t they? They can have a zillion car accidents but no, not a woman. Yet we like to keep them around as they make us look good and they can be useful.

As I finished this blog the washing machine went to God. I am just hoping that the fridge, bought at the same time, does not go out in sympathy. They just don’t make stuff like they used to Grandma.

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Team time wasting...

The big boss from interstate called and said he wanted to organize a work function so we could all get together and play happy families. Okay, he did not say ‘happy families’ he said something about ‘bonding’ or some other touchy feely new age term. I instantly thought ‘oh puke, I hate work functions’ and I gave my standard I cannot go out in public after 6pm at night as I morph into a Mothra type creature ( Japanese b-grade movie monster) and terrorize cities. This of course only applies to functions I do not want to go to. I say that or something tactful like “No bloody way.”

I loathe work functions as people stand around and talk about – work – boring. The only time they are remotely interesting is when someone gets drunk and they decide they will tell the boss what they think of them or they are caught snogging the boss in the first aid room. Or there that one time, at a job a couple of years ago, when I caught the boss being awfully naked (ick) and familiar with the office tramp in a car in the car park outside. I did a little finger wave when he saw me and we both knew that that I had dirt on him for the next 6 months that I could use at any time of my choosing.

Anyway back to the current boss - he pointed out we could have the function after work or in work hours. Please, do not insult me – of course I am going to say in work hours. Did he have no understanding of me at all? I suggested we could finish early - say 12 o’clock - then have lunch and then all piss off for the rest of the day. He was a tad taken aback as he generally is with me but then he said okay. Shock and awe them is my tactic. He then asked where do we want to have said work function. I said as you are paying somewhere expensive. After a moment’s silence he said he knew I was joking. I wasn’t, I was deadly serious. Besides it's a tax deduction for them so I am really only being helpful and saving them money at the end of the financial year by giving them something to claim. He then left me the mission to discuss with my fellow plebs where we would go for this function. The general consensus was anywhere where alcohol was served and yes, the more expensive the better. So we downed tools for the rest of the arvo to plan where we wanted to go. No one can be expected to work when important things like lunch and an early finish to the work day are on the cards as there are menus to request and pour over in deciding if the beer being served at the Irish pub was just as good at the restaurant. To be honest I let others do the menu things as I had books to write - but the thing was we were all wasting time together as a team and I think that’s important.

We still haven’t decided where to go but we have another week to plan and waste. The one thing remains the same. There must be alcohol. Of course my office assistant wants some obscure Himalayan meal that consists of ingredients that are grown by an eighty year old monk on the side of a mountain and picked by virgins who then wash them in spring water. Uh huh…

www.freewebs.com/janetdavies

Re-unite me not...

I got a call last night from someone I knew in high school inviting me to a high school reunion. Oh gag. While I believe the past is an important element of the future there are some parts I don’t want to revisit it. I honestly believe that high school was a complete and utter waste of time. I feel I should have gone straight from Primary school and straight into life, traveled and worked etc. But that’s me…I was a smart arse at 4 years of age.

Anyway, Virginia called, no again not a real name, and she said she wanted to get ‘the gang’ together. Virginia, I should explain was and still is a very prim and proper woman who would not say shit for a shilling and was always the school goody two shoes – not a ‘gang’ type unless Pollyanna had a crew. She was shocked to learn I was not married. She said “how unfortunate” and there was much sympathetic tut-tutting over the line. However she did say that if I came to the reunion dinner she could seat me at a table where the single, the gay, the lesbians and the one Nun our class had spawned would be sitting - sort of a reject table. Virginia did mention that one of the lesbians had just had a baby so there was “hope yet for a straight single lady.” Whew! Thank goodness… boy oh boy was I worried my chances were blown. Virginia then went onto tell me what my fellow classmates were doing and I could not remember half the people she mentioned. She also said all the ‘mean girls’ from high school were still the same and would not talk to her.

A - Who were the mean girls? And B - Who gives a rat’s arse? High school is over. Build the bridge.

However despite the certainly tempting opportunity to sit at the reject table, I declined the invite as high school holds no memories I want to re-live. It wasn’t bad, it was just boring and being an ex-army brat I went to a lot of schools so they all pretty much blend into one in my mind. The only things I remember are skipping Wednesday afternoon sport, getting in trouble for refusing to call a nitwitted teacher ‘sir’ and being told to stand outside the classroom a lot for saying things I shouldn’t. So nothing to re-live there as given a chance I would still skip sport, to this day I cannot call anyone ‘sir’ as that word does not come naturally to my lips and I still get in trouble for saying things I shouldn’t – so same old same old. I am who I always was. Virginia did say she would “say a prayer that I would find a man”. I wasn’t aware one was lost.

Because I Can - review

Ms. Amarinda Jones has written a light, fast-paced story with a fresh plot, lots of sweaty sex, and love in the making! The book will be a hit among those looking for easy-to-read and fun-loving sexual escapades. I recommend this book, especially as something quick to take your mind off your problems!

http://www.theromancestudio.com/reviews/reviews/becauseicanjones.htm

www.freewebs.com/janetdavies

Amarinda recommends...

I like books that I can instantly identify with the characters. I want to believe in them and what they are saying and thinking. I also enjoy a good laugh and I love intrigue. Dragon in the System by Cindy Spencer Pape had me hooked from the get-go. This is a smart, funny and sexy book. I read it in a night I was so caught up in it. I particularly loved the character called Drake. If you believe in the possibility of dragons, if you know true love is just around the corner and if you want a page turner of a book snap up Dragon in System. I will now be looking at all the lizards under the house and in my garden with fresh eyes.

The Wednesday interview

Once again it is interview with a brillant author day. This week it is Anny Cook. Her new book Dancer's Delight is available 12th July so rush over to the Cerridwen Press website and grab a copy before they are all snapped up. New week I interview Dragon in the System author Cindy Spencer Pape – the dragon lady herself.

Dancer’s Delight - The Blurb

Fed up and heartsick, Dancer, virtuoso violinist and assassin decided to retire despite the angry objections of his boss. On the run for his life, he headed for a hideaway in the mountains. Safe in the warm shelter of his cave Dancer awoke to the strong perfume of flowers. His investigations revealed a tunnel leading to another cave and a beautiful valley. After a quick survey of his new surroundings he was shocked to find that the tunnel had disappeared trapping him in Mystic Valley.

A gardener and amateur botanist, Eppie spent her lonely days searching out new plants for the inhabitants of Mystic Valley while she waited for her destined bond-mate to find his way to the valley. Now time is running short. From the instant they forged a mind bond, her body began schalzina, the biological preparation for physical bonding in valley women. Each new occurrence of schalzina is stronger and nudges Eppie another step closer to the final consequence—death—unless Dancer reaches the valley in time for their oath-binding and physical bonding.

Will he agree to an immediate joining with this beautiful stranger?

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

Ninety percent of sex is in the imagination. So I fantasize about what my characters want to do. That’s what it is—writing a fantasy, the more imaginative the better. If you’re seeing the action in your mind’s eye, then it’s easier to figure out where the body parts go, regardless of the number of people involved.

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

Well. Hmmm. The thing about writing fantasy is that you’re not going to let pesky things like condoms get in the way. Let’s see… I think I had a scene in Traveller’s Refuge where my character Bishop was um, going at it hot and heavy in the kitchen. The lady was sitting on the counter…and when the moment of truth came, he dressed for the occasion with a condom from the kitchen drawer where he had a few stashed. He must have been a Boy Scout in his youth.

The other characters in the Mystic Valley series are actively trying for conception as that is a priority in the valley where the birth rate is very, very low. There is also the factor that Mystic Valley is a place out of time and condoms aren’t a commodity there.

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

I’m of the philosophy that there has to be an initial spark to work with. The characters may fight the attraction but there has to be some emotion to keep them coming back for more or they would just walk away. Having said that, doesn’t there have to be some type of obstacle to overcome? If not, there isn’t any story.

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

Dancer is a man carrying on in the face of terrible tragedy. Any man can be attractive (which he is). Any man can be capable, smart, talented, sexy. But when a man is all of that and vulnerable, then he’s irresistible.

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

I think they want to escape AND identify with the character however briefly. Usually when I as a reader can’t possibly identify with a character because they’re TDTL (to dumb to live) then the author’s lost me for good. My “suspension of belief” can stretch like a rubber band if the author sucks me in far enough. As an author, I want to be able to do the same thing for my readers.

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

Respect comes first. If the characters have no respect for each other then the romance is kaput from the beginning. I don’t believe in love without mutual respect. I don’t believe that abuse, physical or mental, demonstrates love or respect so I won’t ever have my main characters take part in that sort of behavior.

7. What are you working on now?

I just submitted my first shape shifter book to my editor. Yay! So I’m now working on a new series titled The Dead Relatives Club. The first book, Looking for Mr. Goodspeed is about Myrtle, the librarian traveling to the National Archives in search of an ancestor named Josiah Goodspeed. There she meets a luscious retired hunk named RJ Bozworth. And things happen…
***Amarinda note – The shape-shifter book has received a contract

Last week's brillant author - Vicky Burkholder - Prime Time

www.freewebs.com/janetdavies

For those of you who may not know, I am an Aussie – Aussie, Aussie, Aussie oy oy oy. If you don’t know what that means then you need to spend some quality drinking time with some Aussies. Anyway I live in Brisbane. It’s a major metropolitan city in the northern part of Australia. Brisbane is called BrisVegas by the locals as it is so not exciting. It’s a big city that at heart is just a big country town. My parents lived in Brisbane in the Sixties. My mother told me a story that when Dad and she arrived back in Australia from an Army posting in Malaysia, she thought she had landed at the end of the earth. There was hardly any public transport, only septic tanks and people were outraged that she wore thongs or what you non-Aussie’s would call ' flip flops' and she smoked!! She apparently set the neighbour on its ear with her bohemian behaviour.(See anything I do it’s not my fault. It’s genetic. That's my defence.) Although BrisVegas has come a long way since we’re still a little bit different to the rest of Australia and we like it like that.

BrisVegas is the capital of Queensland and I admit Queenslanders or Banana Benders as we are called (large Banana /pineapple growing areas) are a tad quirky. We refuse to have daylight saving in Summer like the rest of the country. Why? Because it will fade the curtains of course and the chooks won’t know when to lay eggs and everyone will be so tired from losing an hour’s sleep everyday that no one will be able to work or go to school – that’s why. We also have cane toads – big, ugly arsed toads that are a pest. They were brought in years ago from somewhere like South America to eradicate one pest and then they became the pest. I love it when plans work like that. These little buggers are a pain in the bum in Summer as they are insidious and if one follows you home in the car (hesitate in shutting the door) then you are stuck with them croaking their toad guts out all Summer. Queenslanders also believe fervently that the best day to buy petrol is on a Tuesday arvo. Why? Because someone said so. Coming home tonight there was a car queue stretching for miles outside one servo to buy petrol. Having passed that servo the day before I can tell you petrol was the same price. But it does not matter. You buy it on a Tuesday arvo and that’s that.

The thing I love most about Queensland is that everyone is so relaxed, you don’t have at attempt to dress up and we believe we are better that everyone else. We have fabulous beaches, winning football teams, great weather and a parochial spirit that cannot be broken. But then everyone’s home town is the best isn’t it? So come to Queensland - sit on the beaches, have a couple of beers, visit Australia Zoo and meet the locals.

Dictionary:-
Chook – hens
Arvo – afternoon
Servo – Service Station
Bum – the fleshy bit you sit on

Buggers - annoying creatures

Because I can Review
"one hot ride"
This is the first book I have read by this author, and I look forward to reading more. The way this author wrote this storyline was "Great". Who hasn't had a fantasy of having sex in the elevator? And with a "Hot" man also. I loved the way that Miranda turned the tables. I look forward to reading more by this author.
http://www.paranormalromance.org/reviews/review.php?id=25419

www.freewebs.com/janetdavies