Santa uncovered…

A – From my investigation Santa, you have elves on the verge of revolution, Mrs Claus is a shrewish ex-pole dancer and a playboy moose is pretending to be a reindeer. The North Pole does not seem to be the happy place that it’s portrayed to be by the media. What do you have to say about this?
S – No family is without problems
A- Are you just putting on a brave face to stop people panicking over what happening at the Pole?
S - Ho, ho, ho - of course not Amarinda. Have you been a good girl this year?
A. I've been bad to the bone and loved every second of it.
S - Dear me, how disappointing. You look like such a sweet lady.
A- Cut the crap Santa. People need to know the truth about what is going on at Santa’s workshop.
S – You’re right. I can’t take it anymore. I am on the verge of cracking up I tell you. Rudolph is bleeding me dry with his demands and the elves are revolting.

A – Sure, they’re annoying but I wouldn’t say they're revolting.
S – They plan to overthrow me.
A – Really? How do you know this?
S - I hear them whispering and when I pass by they quickly shut up and give me the death stare.
A – Hmmm…sounds like call centre staff. That could be dangerous. What do you plan to do?
S – Hide
A – Don’t you think it would be better to talk to them about their issues?
S- Why?
A- Because pissed off workers are unhappy workers
S – So if they were happy they would work faster?
A – Maybe…
S- I could make more money, get a new sleigh, go to the Gold Coast on holidays…
A – Hey, what exactly does Christmas mean to you? Is it a grab for profit or a time to celebrate life?
S – If I said profit that would be a bad thing?
A – (Eyeroll) Good luck with the revolution. You’re going to need it.

On www.kkirch.blogspot.com Kelly left us with….

"You almost had me there Chi-Psin!! I should have known you'd try sentiment where brute force has failed."

"Drat! You foiled me again, Emmeline."

"Did you really think I'd believe Zoltan had come back to life? You fool! You did this to obtain the Obelisk of Ostentatious Obliteration! I should have known."

"Where is it? This maybe a mirage room, but I can make the images very real. Real enough to kill even you!"

Bloody hell…that girl tries the patience of a plaster saint. I’m going with….

“Emmeline, this was supposed to be an essay on what Christmas means to you!”

Emmeline opened her eyes wide at the sharp sounding voice. She looked around her. She was standing in front of her 7th grade class in old her school uniform, now restrictingly tight on her fully grown body. She had aged but her classmates hadn’t. Miss Snyder, her old teacher, was as cranky looking as ever. She looked down at the essay in hers hands. “How did I get here?”

“Don’t try any of your tricks on me, Emmeline. I’m a wake up to you.”

Emmeline now knew why Miss Synder was so horrible, she needed a damn good shagging. The warrior woman looked around the room slowly trying to calm herself down. There was a reason she had been dumped back in her past. Think. What does not fit in this room? Desk, chairs, bored kids, an obelisk, school bags, books…an obelisk? She looked at Miss Snyder. “Nice try The Mary. I knew all along you were behind this.”

The Mary laughed and transformed back into her normal persona. “You’re such a smart arse.”

“I know.” Emmeline watched as her old classmates disappeared. “So what’s this all about?”

“I think you know.”

“He will never love you.” There was only one woman he loved and that could never be.

“He will if I have the obelisk.”

A sudden green flash lit up the room and he appeared. “Neither of you shall have the obelisk.”

Emmeline gasped in shock. “What the bloody hell are you doing here?”

Hmm…who is he? Only Anny knows. Check out www.annycook.blogspot.com for this year’s last thrilling episode of the blog serial. Due to popular demand its back again in January 2008.

If you are about to go on the road this holiday season, take it steady and remember it’s better to get there thirty minutes late than not at all. And, as we say in Australia, if you drink and drive you’re a bloody idiot. Be safe and be careful and come back again to the Amarinda blog.

Til' the witching hour....

Remember you have until midnight on the 21st December to get your answers in for the 12 Days of Romance comp. We have had a huge response so far. Thanks to everyone who entered. But if you plan to enter or you think what the hell is Amarinda talking about then check out below.

Do you want to win some fantastic holiday reading? If so come celebrate the Twelve days of Romance with 12 authors from Ellora's Cave, Wild Rose Press, Total-E-Bound and Cerridwen Press. Each day beginning December 8th and running through December 19th one of the twelve authors will tell what their "True love gave to them" on either their blog or website.

Collect all twelve answers and e-mail them to anny@annycook.com with 12 days of Romance in the subject line to win some great books. There will be three lucky winners. The prizes –1st prize--6 book, 2nd prize--4 books, 3rd prize--2 books. Entries must be in by December 21st at midnight EST. All books and prize winners will be drawn randomly.

Anny Cook Winter Hearts
Sandra Cox Boji Stones
Bronwyn Green Ronan's Grail
Heather Hiestand Cards Never Lie
Barbara Huffert Deal of a Lifetime
Amarinda Jones Mad About Mirabelle
Kelly Kirch Time for Love
Cindy Spencer Pape Cowboy's Christmas Bride
Brynn Paulin Fallen
Jacquéline Roth Access Denied
KZ Snow Mrs. Claws
Lacey Thorn Earth Moves

I will tell you my clue is “Twelve Tantalizing Tim Tams.” Okay – now go and click on the names above and seek out the rest of the true love clues. Good luck!

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

The Wednesday Interview

Mad About Mirabelle – released today through Ellora's Cave! Let the pigeons loose!

Holy crap! Mirabelle Turner's new next door neighbor is the last man she expected to ever see again. It was one thing to have knee wobbling sex with this dark sexy stranger in the back of a limo but quite another to find him staying next door with his Aunt Lila. Can she resist the temptations of the boy next door?

Flynn Curtis is more then happy to tempt the delectable Mirabelle. He is mad about her. When his Aunt Lila's house mysteriously burns down he gladly accepts the reluctant Mirabelle's offer for he and his Aunt to move in with her. It is the start of all sorts of moves Flynn intends to make on his new neighbor.

Mirabelle is trapped by courtesy, lust and sudden realization that she is falling in love with Flynn. But does the person who burnt down Lila’s house have other plans for Mirabelle? And is Aunt Lila really the sweet old lady she seems? Can Flynn save the woman he is mad about?

The Wednesday Interview…

The last brilliant author of the year is the dazzling and talented Kelly Kirch – she made me say that. Her book Time For Love is released through Cerridwen Press on Feb 14, 2008. I know? How can we wait that long? So to check all Kelly Kirch sightings and machinations go to www.kkirch.blogspot.com

Time for Love – the Blurb…

Sarah Hanson opens her eyes to a darkly sexy man leaning over her and the strains of a waltz playing in the background. Further, she is no longer dozing in the taxi that escorts her from the job where she was just fired but inhaling the strong scent of beeswax and dressed in Regency era clothing.

Drake, Lord Hayworth, rake extraordinaire, is unable to reconcile his sudden attraction to the shelved miss who is meant to chaperone the daughter of a dear friend. Different from every other female he has known, he is keenly aware of the differences between her and his new fiancé--the young woman Sarah escorts.

As Sarah develops lasting relationships, she discovers the unconditional love of family and a passion for a man she is not meant to have, in a time she may not be able to keep. And for Drake, finding a pliable bride to marry so he can claim the last of his inheritance has become decidedly more difficult now that Sarah has turned his ordered life on its head.

The interview…

1. You have some sizzling sex scenes in your book. How hard is it to write sex and make it convincing? Yes, I do. It is completely difficult to write sex but to make it convincing? No, not really. If your plot calls for it, it’s because you’ve worked up to the stage where it flows naturally for the characters. If it’s forced, I’d say you have a chemistry problem with your hero and heroine or you are forcing the timing.

2. Romance and the condom. How hard do you find to slip it in or on when the action is hot between characters? A minor inconvenience but one that the edits will require. So I weigh the options. Do I want to fight the inevitable or slip on a slicker? It’s the post coital clean up I find icky.

3. Do you think romance just happens or do you make your characters work for it? I think chemistry just happens but romance, as a relationship takes work. If it didn’t there wouldn’t be a romantic plot.

4. What is it about your hero that makes him irresistible to women? He’s eye candy without recognizing it. He doesn’t know how devastating he is and he thinks the heroine is drop dead gorgeous no matter what she looks like or what she’s wearing. He goes weak-kneed for her, makes himself a fool for her, does ridiculous stunts to get her attention. It’s the kind of thing every regular woman wants to experience from a man who is beyond sexy.

5. Do you think readers want to escape or do they want to identify with a character? Oh I hope they want escape. I want escape and that’s what sparks the story. However, if they don’t identify with the character then the reader won’t stick around for the end to happen and the escape to be realized.

6. What do you think is the most important thing to remember when writing romance? The Happily Ever After. Don’t give me a story without the HEA, the joining of kindred souls through difficulty and humor. I won’t read it and I wouldn’t expect that from my audience either.

7. What are you working on now? I’m writing a Cerridwen book about an author who gets sucked into her own book as her characters are murdered one by one. She writes by the seat of her pants and never plots, like me. So she doesn’t know who the killer is, who is next, if she’ll return to reality and if she gets to keep the hero she falls in love with. Its working title is More Than Words. I’m having a lot of fun making fun of myself in this one.

The excerpt…

Sarah’s ears rang.
“Lady Billington?”
They had to be ringing. The stains of a waltz bloomed in her head. The last time she had heard something like that was when little Timmy Gustaffson had chased her in the playground and she’d run into an arching wooden swing.
Being fired felt kind of like that. The sick crack to the head of disbelief, the stomach-plummeting nausea…an arching wooden swing to her psyche.
“Lady Billington?”
Rich chocolate tones called her name. She peeked and quickly sealed that one eye back up.
Whoa! He’s hot! Maybe I should get fired more often. Love the hallucination.
“Sarah. Open your eyes.”
She did. He was lovely. “Yummy.” Oh crud! Did I just say that out loud?
Crystalline green eyes looked back at her curiously.
The angel of sex appeal bent deliciously near her. As sensation seeped back into her numb body, she also realized he held her slumped body against him. A steely arm wrapped supportively around her upper back and pressed her against the lapels of his coat. She decided his shoulder made a wonderful, albeit firm, pillow.
He smelled like heaven too. Male. Musky. And sandlewoody. She could sink into flavors like that.
“Oh, Sarah, you dropped your rose! Lord Hayworth, maybe you should take her onto the veranda while I pick this up. I should have waited until tomorrow after the festivities before I presented it to you, dear girl.”
She’d brought a woman into this fantasy? Sarah reopened her right eye. Reluctantly, she looked beyond the ebony haired vision. She had brought several other people apparently. She opened her other eye to take in the full scope. A dark-haired woman bent to collect the shards of a crystal rose and emerald stem that lay at Sarah’s feet.
Another woman, blonde and wearing a petulant frown tapped a cornflower-blue slipper. Two woolen clad male backs screened Sarah from the dancers on the floor. The crystal strains of an orchestra seeped past their guard and filled her head.
The sound system in this room is amazing. Sounds like they’re right here with me.
Sarah stood upright with Gorgeous Guy’s support.
“What is the matter with you? People are beginning to notice. Mother, make her collect herself. What if someone sees? I could be ruined.”
Fully supporting her own weight, Sarah faced the owner of the whinypitched complaint—the one with the petulant frown. The girl had to be upper-teens. She had platinum blonde hair and wide azure eyes. She was petite. Of course. She was Martha Mullen-esque, standing maybe five-two and all of a hundred pounds.
“Alexandra. Hush,” the brown-haired woman admonished. “Lord Hayworth, please.”
The beautiful man clasped Sarah’s hand to his arm. Another man followed behind, whisking her toward double French doors. She stared across the room. There was a live orchestra here? Where the heck am I?
Lord Hayworth tugged her back into motion and they gained the dark, cool safety of the veranda. Not nearly as crowded as the ballroom, Sarah was grateful for the claustrophobic relief. “You stay with her. I will be back with some lemonade.”
The other man smiled pleasantly at her before nodding to the cluster of women near the doors taking in the fresh air.
“Hi,” she said.
Confusion settled on his forehead. “Perhaps you should come to the bench and rest.” He led her to the bench, patting it. The solid thump of his hand on the stone slab seat reassured her of its reliability. She leaned back on the cool stone trying to still the cacophony of confusion swirling in her head.
Music floated out to them. A breeze ruffled the hairs on the nape of her neck. Candles burned brightly from every sconce in the room beyond. A couple waltzed past the open veranda doors. She wore an elaborate silver ball gown. He was dressed in peacock colors and a tall, stiff collar.
“Where am I?”
“At Grantham house attending their introduction ball for Miss Alexandra. You have been planning this with Lady Grantham for weeks. Don’t you remember?” The blond gentleman leaned toward her, concern written on every feature. His blue eyes shone with friendship and mild alarm.
Was she dreaming? Every sense tingled with accuracy. The cool gritty stone under her hands caught roughly at her gloves. The orchestra played sweet notes which floated on the same breeze that ruffled her skirts. Jasmine and candle wax warred for recognition. Never had a dream been more real.
Great! Getting fired has made me loopy.
She looked down at herself. She too was dressed in a ball gown. Navy colored slippers peeked from the hem of her navy satin dress. Sarah raised her hand touching the heavy pendant at her throat and higher to her elaborately piled hair. “Where am I?” Panic welled up inside her and settled about her breast bone.
“Is she all right?”
Sarah turned to the sound of Hayworth’s velvety voice.
“She seems to have forgotten she’s at the ball,” the fair-haired man said.
She didn’t know what was happening but she wasn’t about to show her hand either. “I’m fine. I just need to rest a minute. I must have hit my head harder than I thought. You know, temporary amnesia.”
“You hit your head?” Lord Hayworth asked.
“When I fainted?” she offered.
“Was there some other time I should have caught you?”
“Uh. No. Just this last time.” How come I sound English?
Lord Hayworth shook his head. “I think you’re right Lord Milstoke. She’s not well.”
She sipped the lemonade Hayworth handed her. Her eyes darted, trying to settle on something that made sense. None of it did. Her head throbbed. Lord Milstoke, the fair and Lord Hayworth, the sexy, were looking at her with marked concern.
“Perhaps you should go to your quarters,” Lord Hayworth suggested.
“And where would they be?” she asked.
Lord Hayworth and Lord Milstoke exchanged looks.
“I’ll have Elizabeth take you. I may be a common sight in the Grantham house but my escorting you to your rooms would cause raised eyebrows for which even my title won’t compensate.”
“Of course you have a reputation. How cliché.”
“Pardon?”
“Nothing. Don’t mind me. I’m just hallucinating. I got fired today.”
“You’ve been burned?” Milstoke asked in alarm.
“No. I was let go.”
“That’s impossible. I caught you myself. You never touched the ground.” Hayworth looked offended.
Sarah grinned. “Never mind. Take me to your leader. I need a nap.”
Lord Hayworth tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. She turned back to Milstoke before entering the ballroom again. “Hey, if you see my cab driver, don’t tip him. I don’t appreciate the joke. It’s been a hard enough day as it is.”

www.kellykirch.com and www.kkirch.blogspot.com

The competition…

Okay, you’ve been waiting patiently for the last true love clue…here it is -

On the twelfth day of romance my true love gave to me…Twelve Tantalizing Tim Tams….what a man

So, you know your next step. Email all 12 answers to anny@annycook.com with 12 days of Romance in the subject line to win some great books. The competition closes midnight on 21st December. Good luck.

As always check out what Kelly is doing on www.kkirch/blogspot.com and Anny has the blog serial on www.annycook.blogspot.com

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

Darling or Diva?

Quote for the day - That which does not kill me makes me strong

Another Mad About Mirabelle moment….

….His eyes snapped open wide and he grinned in instant recognition. Yep it was definitely him. She would know that face anywhere. Same wavy black hair, scarred forehead and same wicked “let me do what I want to you eyes”. She could only hope he was gentleman enough not to explain to Lila that her neighbor had begged him to fuck her. Lila Standish made mouth watering homemade cookies and Mirabelle would hate to have her supply cut on a moral technicality.
Be cool, be calm and be collected. He’s just a man you had knee wobbling sex with. No big deal.

Released 19th December through Ellora’s Cave

The comp…

Only two people left to say what their true love gave to the. I’m one – who’s the other? Which one of us has the answer today?


Another Five Fantastic Reasons to buy an e-book this Christmas….

1. You won’t have to move house. What? Do you love books and can’t throw a book out but you are running out of space in your current home? Don’t move, buy e-books for you PC/laptop instead.

2. Last minute gift giving. Bugger! You forgot a gift for your cousin, twelves times removed, so go online, click, buy and email. Problem solved.

3. You will be able to eat chocolate as you read as you'll have a hand free as you don’t have to turn pages

4. Only want a short, quick satisfying read? Buy an Ellora's Cave quickie book or a novella. You don’t have to buy a full book and it’s cheaper – ker-ching.

5. Need to look busy at work? Have an e-book loaded onto you computer/laptop and be engrossed. Wow, Ms Jones is certainly working hard today. Just look at the concentration on her face. We need to pay her more.

And because e-books are so good for you, here are some great books to buy this Christmas because…

Because what happens in the elevator does not always stay in the elevator – Because I Can - Amarinda Jones - http://www.ellorascave.com/AuthorsBooks.asp?AuthorCode=AJon

When faced with yet another guaranteed bad day find a commanding stranger and do exactly as he says. My Last Dark Day – Barbara Huffert http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?s=acbeyw74921&strParents=&CAT_ID=&P_ID=169

A race through time, connected only by their minds. Always On My Mind - Judith Rochelle - http://www.jasminejade.com/p-3724-always-on-my-mind.aspx?skinid=14

"A ghostly encounter in a Welsh town changed Sally Carter's life forever." Isabelle’s Diary – Anita Birt www.anitabirtstoryteller.blogspot.com

How far will a desperate man go to break a 300 year-old sidhe curse? SEDUCING THE STONES by Kathy Kulig
http://www.ellorascave.com/productpage.asp?ISBN=9781419913143&Page=Page1

What happens when the imaginary boyfriend you invented turns up in the flesh? Deal of a Lifetime – Barbara Huffert http://www.ellorascave.com/productpage.asp?ISBN=9781419909641

Click on the titles or links above and buy the book. Go on, you know you want to…be daring…. See how easy it is to shop on the Amarinda Blog?



What’s her story?

Mrs Claus – who exactly is she? A sweet homemaker content to stay at the North Pole and make cookies or a sharp business women pushing Santa onto world wide domination? I was fortunate enough to interview her.

A – Thanks for talking to me Mrs S.
Mrs S – A pleasure
A – Is it true the elves hate you?
Mrs S – Fucking little green men ….er…I mean what a challenging group of individuals they are.
A – They seem to be working under terrible conditions.
Mrs S – Hmmm…you spoke to one of them? Which one?
A – I can’t tell you but I want to know how important the elves are to Christmas
Mrs S – They are paramount! We cannot get by without them and they know it, the little bastards.
A – Sorry, what was that? I missed that last bit.
Mrs S – I was saying how they make great baskets.
A – Your husband Mr Claus is a busy man. How do you feel when he is away from home over Christmas?
Mrs S – He is a true man of the people, I would never stop him from carrying out the noble traditions of his calling.
A – I hear the police had to break up a noisy party here at your home last year on Christmas Eve two hours after your husband left on the Christmas run
Mrs S - Er, that was…er…
A – Apparently there were male strippers?
Mrs S – Um no, they were unfortunate men we were helping to clothe
A – Yes, I understand leopard print g-strings were big last year
Mrs S – No doubt you want to hear about Santa’s good deeds.
A – In a moment…is it true that before you met Mr Claus you were a Pole dancer at Swifty La Rue’s bar?
Mrs S - Santa adores handing out present to the little children as their happy faces make him so happy.
A – Let’s face it Mrs S you and Santa run an Elf sweat shop for profit
Mrs S – That’s a dirty lie! We barely break even! Oh wait, cut that bit out.
A – I think I have all I need. Anything you’d like to say to the boys and girls?
Mrs S – Just remember Santa knows when you’ve been naughty or nice.
A – Apparently, not with you though…


On the blog serial Kelly on www.kkirch.blospot.com left us with....

Instantly they were outside as she bobbed over his shoulder with each racing step he took down the path. "I--need--the--key," she gasped.
"I have the only key ye be needin' wench. Harrrrr!"
"Diff-ffrent--key,"
"Harrrr! Harrr! Haaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrk." A dark green loogie slapped the path in her line of sight. "Aye, that's better. Been havin' some sinus congestion lately."

I'm going with...

“Oh fuck, I’ve had enough of this,” Emmeline
muttered. There was only one person who could help her. When the pirate’s hand caressed her butt she screamed the name out. “Zoltan!”

In a puff of blue smoke he appeared. “Yes my love?” He was dressed as Santa Claus.

“Who the hell are you? The pirate looked at him menacingly.

No fake white beard could hide from Emmeline the darkly handsome man’s identity. “You were a donkey when I last I saw you.”

“I am never what I seem you know that, Em.” He tilted his head and looked at her hanging upside down. “You look like you need help.” He grinned.

“You think?”

“Unhand my wife, you villain!” Zoltan stood his ground and stared at the pirate.

“Or what?”

“Or this.” With a flick of his wrist he turned him into a frog. This was not a good thing to be so near the Gutted Frog Inn.

Emmeline fell heavily to the ground. “Jeeze, give a girl some warning.”

“I like to take you by surprise.” Zoltan helped her to her feet. “So what’s the scam?”

“A key and an ancient map.”

“Sounds boring. I have other plans for us.”

Us? “I don’t want to be naked with you.” She did dumb things when that happened.

“Chicken,” he massaged her hand within his. “I want to show you the true spirit of Christmas.”

Emmeline snorted. “I’m not interested in shopping or eating myself into a coma.”

“Come with me,” Zoltan implored. “Trust me.”

Where will Zoltan take her? Check out www.annycook.blogspot.com. tomorrow.


The comp...

Gee, so I don’t have the clue today nor have I had it on any other day so that must mean I have it tomorrow. So, have you collected all other eleven answers? You have one more until you can e-mail the final 12 to anny@annycook.com with 12 days of Romance in the subject line to win some great books. As you know there will be three lucky winners. The prizes –1st prize--6 books, 2nd prize--4 books, 3rd prize--2 books. To be fair, all books and prize winners will be drawn randomly. All answers must be received no later than the stroke of midnight 21st December (Northern hemisphere time). If you missed out on an answer don’t despair. Check through the blog and web sites listed below. Good luck

Anny Cook Winter Hearts
Sandra Cox Boji Stones
Bronwyn Green Ronan's Grail
Heather Hiestand Cards Never Lie
Barbara Huffert Deal of a Lifetime
Amarinda Jones Mad About Mirabelle
Kelly Kirch Time for Love
Cindy Spencer Pape Cowboy's Christmas Bride
Brynn Paulin Fallen
Jacquéline Roth Access Denied
KZ Snow Mrs. Claws
Lacey Thorn Earth Moves

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

Free the elves…

Five Fantastic Reasons to buy an e-book this Christmas….

1. You are saving the environment because fewer trees are being cut down.
2. You are proactively looking after your health. How? You’re not lugging a pile of heavy books around because you can have zillions of e-books all loaded onto a reader or a laptop.
3. They make excellent Christmas presents that don’t need to be wrapped. Just buy on line and sent to the person’s email.
4. They are psychologically good for you. What the? Last minute Christmas present buying can be stressful so you log onto to…say… for instance Ellora’s Cave, Cerridwen Press, Total-E-Bound or The Wild Rose Press and with a few simple clicks you have a selection of books for the hard to buy gin-tippling Cousin Polly.
5. You deserve to relax with a good book and forget about whether you can sit crazy Uncle Al beside starched-knickered Auntie Maud at Christmas lunch. Let ‘em work it out themselves while you read and relax with a glass of plonk


And because e-books are so good for you, here are some great books to buy this Christmas because…

It’s a warm and funny Christmas romance. “The Cowboy’s Christmas Bride” – Cindy Spencer Pape
http://www.thewildrosepress.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=277&zenid=
80060d1da8ddfcbbfca5f4c122de68b1

Because the man has a tattoo and nipple ring. “Last Man Standing” – Janet Davies
http://www.cerridwenpress.com/productpage.asp?ISBN=9781419910753

Who doesn’t like to be naughty in the library? "Scandalous Profession" – Elaine Lowe
http://www.ellorascave.com/productpage.asp?ISBN=9781419911521

A great book to buy this Christmas because…shifters, vampires and psychics make this book a compelling holiday page turner - "Beneath A Christmas Moon" - Ariana Dupre
http://www.cerridwenpress.com/productpage.asp?ISBN=9781419913280

If you have ever loved a Marine - husband, brother, father, lover . . . this book is a must read. "North Atlantic Nights" - Emmie Graham.
http://www.cerridwenpress.com/productpage.asp?ISBN=9781419909122


His trembling fingers rested on the keyboard as he leaned toward the monitor, an uncontrollable twitch running through his misshapen body as he devoured the article with the greedy need of a child offered chocolate. Boji Stones – Sandra Cox http://www.cerridwenpress.com/productpage.asp?ISBN=9781419910647

Click on the titles or links above and buy the book. Go on, you know you want to…be daring…. See how easy it is to shop on the Amarinda Blog?

Santa’s elves – exploited or what?

Okay, so we know Santa is the big draw card at Christmas but I have to ask you what does he really do? Oh sure, he walks around being merry and doing the ‘ho,ho, ho’ thing but is that it? I suspect he really takes all the glory off the faceless masses of the North Pole – the elves – who have been working their arses off all year so he can stand in the limelight and look like a swell guy. What about them? Let’s just stop a moment and think the people with the pointy ears churning out presents for everyone. Santa gets all the kudos but what gratitude do they get?


I caught up with one of the elves, who preferred to remain anonymous, but they wanted to dish the dirt on the Santa deal

A- Thanks for meeting me
E - I can’t take it anymore. That man has to be stopped!
A – I see…so tell us a little about the conditions at the North Pole. How much do you get paid?
E – Pay! Ha! We get nothing but these tatty, unfashionable green suits that no one would be seen dead in. It’s an embarrassment to look like this.
A – Green not your colour?
E – Nope and those pointed shoes just kill my feet.
A – Let’s talk about Health and safety. Lugging around all those toys must be hard. What sort of compo do you receive if you get injured?
E – None – we either work or starve. The Claus’ have the monopoly on jobs at the Pole.
A – That’s an evil look you have on your face.
E – Let’s just say we have plans to break that monopoly very soon.
A – Right, on the creepy note, let’s change the subject…we always hear of Christmas treats being left out for Santa -cookies and milk etc. What do the elves get?
E – Diddly frigging squat! We have to wait until the fat guy’s asleep to nick his food.
A – Wow, that’s terrible. How do you keep up morale?
E – We have a still. We make Elf wine and we stick pins into our Santa effigy.
A – Uh huh, but what about Mrs Claus? She seems like the nice caring sort.
E – That bitch – she works us harder than Santa. I can’t stand her. Sweet one moment and back stabbing cow the next. She’s fucking treacherous.
A – But you must get some perks on this job. Do you get to take home some of the toys you make for your own family?
E – You are frisked on the way out of the factory. You don’t want to know what happens if you get caught but it involves sleigh bells tied to certain parts of your anatomy.
A – So sum up Elf life at the North Pole in one sentence.
E – Fucking horrible – but come the revolution that will all change.
A – Thanks for speaking to me today
E – Spread the word Toots. The elves will rise up.

So this Christmas think of those less fortunate.

Tomorrow Mrs Claus - who is she exactly? Darling or Diva?

Kelly has the blog serial on www.kkirch.blogspot.com. Anny is all about Christmas on www.annycook.blogspot.com


I am clueless today…but the days are running out on our competition so I have to tell you what my true love give me sometime in the next two days…stayed tuned…same Amarinda channel…same Amarinda time..

Collect all twelve answers and e-mail them to anny@annycook.com with 12 days of Romance in the subject line to win some great books. There will be three lucky winners. The prizes –1st prize--6 books2nd prize--4 books3rd prize--2 booksAll books and prize winners will be drawn randomly

Anny Cook Winter Hearts
Sandra Cox Boji Stones
Bronwyn Green Ronan's Grail
Heather Hiestand Cards Never Lie
Barbara Huffert Deal of a Lifetime
Amarinda Jones Mad About Mirabelle
Kelly Kirch Time for Love
Cindy Spencer Pape Cowboy's Christmas Bride
Brynn Paulin Fallen
Jacquéline Roth Access Denied
KZ Snow Mrs. Claws
Lacey Thorn Earth Moves

All answers must be received no later than the stroke of midnight 21st December (Northern hemisphere time)

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

Sunday reading...

Do I have the clue today….hmmm…maybe…maybe not…

Collect all twelve answers and e-mail them to anny@annycook.com with 12 days of Romance in the subject line to win some great books. There will be three lucky winners. The prizes –1st prize--6 books, 2nd prize--4 books, 3rd prize--2 books.

All books and prize winners will be drawn randomly
Anny Cook Winter Hearts
Sandra Cox Boji Stones
Bronwyn Green Ronan's Grail
Heather Hiestand Cards Never Lie
Barbara Huffert Deal of a Lifetime
Amarinda Jones Mad About Mirabelle
Kelly Kirch Time for Love
Cindy Spencer Pape Cowboy's Christmas Bride
Brynn Paulin Fallen
Jacquéline Roth Access Denied
KZ Snow Mrs. Claws
Lacey Thorn Earth Moves
All answers must be received no later than the stroke of midnight 21st December (Northern hemisphere time)

I have been house painting today – so not exciting - so instead of me waffling on about the joys of turpentine and paint – they both smell - I present you two sweet smelling excerpts from two great books that are out now through Cerridwen Press. Both can be purchased as excellent Christmas presents by just clicking on the cover. See how easy it is to shop on the Amarinda Blog? Or alternatively click on any of the websites – eyes left – to the side of the blog and buy some great books to read over the holidays


Prime Time by Vicky Burkholder

The blurb...

In the dark corners of the Lunar habitats, Deena has safety and friends. In the light—danger lurks. To find those responsible for the death of her parents and the disappearance of her friends, she must join those who work in the light—if they’ll let her. After all, they’re Techies.

Jake has every advantage of a Techie. Head of an elite security force investigating the Utopia drug, he is certain the pushers are the Porters. He needs to find a way to integrate with those who work in the dark, but Techies aren’t welcome.

Deena and Jake must put aside their differences and work together against a common enemy—a threat to both Techies and Porters. Along the way, they discover love doesn’t care where you come from, and evil has a long reach.

The excerpt...

She saw the reality on their faces. All the years of put-downs for being a Porter and a Prime suddenly became too much. She was tired of struggling to survive with no hope of a better future because some goon shanghaied her parents. Not all the transported people came from Earth’s jails—some of them had been rounded up and sent here with no choice. Her parents fell into the latter group, but the manner didn’t make any difference once you arrived. Luna was supposed to be a free, open society, but Deena never saw it. She clenched her jaw until she heard her teeth grind. How many other lies had she been told because of where she came from?
“What’s the saying? ‘Once a Porter, always a Porter’? If you’ll excuse me, I need a shower. It’s rather dirty in here.” She grabbed her towel and strode to the door.
“Deena, wait.”
She heard Jake calling her but didn’t stop. If anything, his accented Techie voice compelled her onward. She pushed through the corridor to her room, ignoring the startled looks she got from the other people. The door to her quarters slid open and she strode in.
“Zeus, put a privacy seal on the door coded to my voice.”
“Yes, Deena,” the AI replied in his deep tenor voice. “Is there a problem?”
“What makes you think so?” She meant the question as rhetorical but forgot the AI would take her literally.
“Your heart rate, respiration, blood pressure and ambient temperature have all increased beyond your normal range. Oh and you’re wearing a hole in the carpeting from your pacing.”
Deena stopped mid-stride and chuckled. “Point taken. Thank you, Zeus.” She relaxed.
“You’re welcome, Deena. Are you interested in visitors?”
“Who?”
“Jake.”
Deena’s heart rate, respiration and blood pressure soared again. “No. No visitors.”
“He is rather insistent.”
Deena smiled. The expression was not pretty. “Give me exactly five minutes and you may let him in.”
“Understood.”
Deena skinned out of her damp gi, entered the shower cubicle and turned on the sonics. Instead of staying to enjoy the cleansing, she stepped back out and shut the door. The control panel would show it as in use. The ruse should give her a good head start. She went over to her cot, shoved it away from the wall and pulled the grill off the wall vent. Smaller than the vents she was used to, but not impossible, the sides scraped her skin. The opening was one of the first things she’d checked out when she moved in. Halfway in, Deena realized she’d have to cover her tracks. She pulled back out and glanced around. Nothing in the Spartan room looked flexible enough to use as a tie and then she spied her gi.
“Got it,” she muttered. Deena grabbed the belt, fed one end through the wall grill and tied the other end to her cot with a slipknot. Feet first, she climbed back into the vent, pulled the grill into place and tugged the bed back into place. Once there, she gave the belt a yank and it came away from the cot. The door to her quarters slid open as she pulled the loose end of the gi through the grill. She caught her breath and held still.
“Deena,” Jake called.
As quietly as possible, Deena scuttled farther into the vent.
She couldn’t see the room, but she heard Jake’s steps as he crossed the small space to her bathroom and heard him knocking on the door to the cubicle.
“Deena, come on. Talk to me.”
An inch at a time, Deena backed into the vent. To her ears, she sounded like a crowd of workers at quitting time. The vent’s soft lining scraped against her sensitive skin. Good thing I’m not claustrophobic, she thought.
“Deena!” Jake called. She could hear the touch of anger in his voice. “Zeus, open the door.”
Deena could hear Jake swearing as she worked her way deeper into the vents. She didn’t stop until she got to a junction where she could turn around. Six vents opened off the space.
“Eenie, meenie, miney, moe.” Deena chose the vent at front right. It was larger than the one she’d exited, but not by much.
She crawled until she arrived at another junction. Large enough for her to stand in, it had dozens of openings, some small, some almost high enough for her to walk in if she ignored her straight posture. A strong wind blew through the junction. She turned around until she found the strongest breeze.
“Thank you, Mom,” she whispered. Her mother had worked on the vent installations and taught young Deena all about them. The larger vents led to the public areas. Huge fans designed to circulate the air throughout the habitat hung at their wall ends. The smaller ones led to private offices and quarters. She chose a large vent. Once she got to a public area, she could get her bearings and get home. She’d endured Techie prejudices all her life, but at least in the Uppers she had some respect. Even a steady gig with Security wasn’t worth putting up with their insults and innuendos. She may be a Porter, but she’d be space dust before she’d let them treat her like one.
A short time later, she pushed the button and opened the trap door in her old room. Although the ducts were dust-free, the effort of getting through them was hot work. A quick sonic cleansing did much to revive her. The two weeks away from the Uppers seemed like a lifetime. She closed the shower door and strode into her bedroom.
“What took you so long?”
Deena spun around. Jake leaned against the wall next to her closet. “What do you want, Techie?”
Her heart beat so hard, she could hear it, but she refused to let Jake know how she felt. The wide-eyed ogle on his face reminded her that, except for her brief panties, she was naked. She strolled over to her storage chest and pulled out a pair of shorts and a tank top. She felt anything but nonchalant but refused to show him how nervous he made her. The unwelcome stab of interest in him fueled her anger. He was a Techie.
“Deena, you have to understand something.”
“What? That because my parents were transports, I’m a prisoner here? Guilty by association? Right, Pretty Boy?”
www.vickyburkholder.com/books.php

Isabelle's Story by Anita Birt. Isabelle's Story is the sequel to Isabelle's Diary and will be released on December 27 by Cerridwen Press.

The blurb…

Isabelle Linden's parents insist she wed a suitable man. The man they have in mind, Isaac Witherspoon, a curate in a nearby parish is eager to marry. He lusts after nineteen year old Isabelle.
She has a mind of her own and flaunts society's rules to meet secretly with Sir Harry Manderlin. The lovers vow to remain true to each other while Harry is on an extended business trip to America. He will speak to her father on his return and ask for her hand.
While he's away Isabelle discovers she is pregnant. Harry apparently ignores her letters pleading with him to marry her. Her father orders her out of the house. Abandoned, alone and penniless, she writes a farewell note to her mother and on a dark, rainy October morning makes her way into the hills above Llandrindod Wells determined to end her life.

The excerpt

Isabelle stepped aside when she heard horses coming up behind her. Two beautiful young women elegantly turned out in green velvet riding habits, rode towards her. They cast withering glances at Isabelle and one turned to the other, laughing.
“C’est linfirmiere du Spa. Imaginez! Elle se promene toute seule sans chapeau. Elle est affreuse avec cette coiffure.”
Her companion nodded. “Et lavez-vous entendu parler? C’et accent Gallois terrible!”
Isabelle understood every insulting word and threw her stick at one of the horses, whacking it firmly on the rump. The startled animal reared and took off in a tearing gallop with the girl clinging to the reins. Isabelle burst out laughing.
“You should not have done that.” A man’s voice startled her. She spun around to confront him, lost her footing on the muddy path and tumbled down the hill, skidding to an awkward stop when her skirt caught in a patch of thorny blackberry bushes. He vaulted from his horse and slid down the grassy slope after her.
“Are you all right? I am sorry. I did not mean to frighten you.”
Isabelle scrambled to her feet. Embarrassed and well aware of her muddy, disheveled appearance, she straightened her skirt. “I am quite all right, please join your friends.”
She kept her gaze firmly fixed on the ground and waited for him to leave before climbing up to the path. Throwing the stick at the horse had been childish. What if the girl had fallen? Isabelle forced herself to look at him.
He smiled, very likely enjoying her predicament. His riding jacket stretched taut over his broad shoulders. Momentarily at a loss for words, Isabelle blinked and stopped staring at him. A lock of auburn hair had fallen across his forehead and laughter lurked in his eyes. Was he laughing at her?
“I said, you may go and join your friends, I do not require your assistance.” There. She would not apologize for throwing that stick, let him think what he liked.
“But I must know your name. It is not every day I frighten young ladies into falling down hills.”
“I am not the least bit frightened and see no reason for you to know my name.” With a haughty toss of her head, she started up the slope only to slide back and flounder awkwardly on her knees.
He gripped her arm. “You must allow me.”
Isabelle bit her lip, furious at herself for slipping on the wet grass. The steely strength of his arm pressed against her side unnerved her. Feeling light-headed, she accepted his help to the top.
“Thank you.” She tugged her arm away and started down the path, desperately trying to hold back tears.
“Wait!” He caught her hand. “You still have not told me your name.”
He towered over her and for seconds she gazed helplessly into the depths of his dark blue eyes. Her knees trembled.
“I am Harry Manderlin.”
Isabelle died inside. His mother was her patient at the spa! Why did he wish to know her name? Fearful of some punishment for throwing the stick, she refused to answer. Her behavior might reflect badly on the clinic.
“Surely, my name is not important, neither to you nor your friends.” In a rush of anger, she snatched her hand from his and glared defiantly at him. “Please tell them this. Although they find my Welsh accent deplorable, their French accent leaves much to be desired.”
She raised her chin. “Vos amies parlent Francais comme des vaches espagnoles. What is more, they have the manners of the gutter!”
Blinded by angry tears, she fled down the path. To be seen by such people, looking like a muddy gypsy girl was mortifying. Then to be insulted! She was glad she’d thrown the stick. Glad. As for him, he probably thought helping her up the hill was a great joke, a wonderful story to tell his companions.
Harry watched her until she disappeared around a bend in the path and into the shelter of some trees. A rueful smile tipped his lips. She wanted nothing to do with him. He swung into the saddle and cantered up the path. When he caught up with his friends, Sylvia fumed at him.
“That girl! That bedraggled, half-witted gypsy hurled a stick at my horse and it very nearly threw me. I hope you spoke sharply to her and gave her a piece of your mind.”
“We recognized her.” Mary Anne declared. “She gives treatments at the spa. You must have her dismissed.”
“Dismissed, because she was so offended by your rude remarks, she threw a stick at you?”
They gaped at him. “She speaks excellent French and suggests you both mind your manners and take lessons to improve your accent.” He did not mention the girl thought they spoke French like Spanish cows.
www.anitabirt.com

Nah, I didn’t have the clue but one of the talented people on the list at the top did...

On www.annycook.blogspot.com Anny has wedding photos and on www.kkirch.blogspot.com Kelly is sharing words of wisdom that we need to be reminded of it every now and then.

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

Friday stuff...

Do I have the Christmas contest clue? Maybe...maybe not...

Is it just me or are there some truly horrible clothes in the stores at the moment? They all look like they have been made from recycled curtain material. They are bloody awful. Are we supposed to look like demented refugees from the 1970’s? Big blotchy flowers and weird contrasting geometrical designs seem to be big this summer Down Under. The fashionistas are either drunk or drugged. How is wearing curtains fashionable or even attractive? I don’t follow trends. I am unique. I wear what suits me and what I am comfortable in. I do not bow to fashion and could not give a rat’s arse if I was ‘in’ or not. I refuse to wear curtain material. Yeah sure, Scarlett O’Hara hoiked down her mum’s green velvet drapes to make a dress to wear when she needed to bat her eyes at Rhett Butler but that was completely different. She was on a mission. In my opinion, the 1970’s curtain fabric fashion at the moment is pukeable.


Christmas shoppers – are they feral or what? I heard one women with a pram tell her probably 5 year old son – “I’m going to ram the next person who gets in my way” – charming…. What will that kid grow up learning?

I moved the lawn this arvo. Yes, how exciting. It’s not, but it’s mindless and you have a lot of time to think. Every time I mow the lawn I think of best friend Katie’s husband. He keeps data on which way he mowed the lawn last time. Yes, apparently you have to mow in a different direction each time in order for the grass to look nice. Boring. Who has time to remember which direction you hauled a lawn mower over grass? Do you? I am just happy if I manage not to get mower fluid on my foot. I have no doubt directional mowing is a perfectly valid and logic theory but so is attaching a rope to your ankles and bungee jumping – I ain’t doing that either.

I have been offered quite a few jobs in the past week. No, I have taken none. Why? I would like to, for once, possibly take a job I would stay at for longer than a couple of months. I have this theory that I deserve more. I will find it. Today a job agency person rang me. I have had a frenzy of job slutting. What is this? It’s when you apply on-line for any job that looks vaguely okay. You get to a point where all jobs look the same and you cannot remember what the hell you applied for – hence job slutting. Anyway a woman from a job agency called me. We chatted for a while, I spun my usual line of how fantastic an employee I am – ydah, ydah, ydah. She said you don’t remember do you? Oh crap! What elaborate piece of embroidery (lie) had I told that she may be able call me on? Don’t you hate then when it happens? Okay, you’re probably too good and honest to do that so scratch that question. Anyway, she turned out to be someone I worked with a year or so a go. The minute she saw my name in the database she had to call me about a job. Do I remember her? Nope. That’s always awkward especially as she remembers everything about me. So, I’ll go chat on Monday about jobs. My biggest problem is I have no idea what she looks like so unless she has a name tag on, I’m going to shake every hand in that office until I find her. I may be forgetful, but I will be polite.


On www.kkirch.blogspot.com Kelly left us with…

Two could play that game. She'd read the same manual. Hadn't everyone? "I've crushed seventeen men's skulls between me thighs!" she quoted back.

The little man har har'd at her comeback. "Arrrr, matey. I'll plum you with my missenmast."

"After you show me the treasure, little man."


Yes….cracking skulls between thighs…uh huh…I’m going with…

“Hey Emmeline, you old bag!” Maud Crabapple yelled across the room of the Gutted Frog Inn. "How the bloody hell are you?”

Emmeline looked over and grinned at her old friend. “I’m doing well, you trashy tart.” Maud had bleached blonde hair, ruby lips and a body Marilyn Monroe would have killed for. “Excuse me little man. There are grown ups I have to talk to.” She walked over to where Maud stood with a jug of beer in one hand and a bag of Cheetos in the other. “Still quite the sophisticate I see.”

“Jealousy is a terrible thing oh Mistress of–” ­ ­

“Ssshh!” Emmeline looked around her quickly. “No one knows my real identity.”

“You’re kidding me?” Maud shook her head in wonder. “So you’re still using the warrior woman thing? And people believe that?”

“I’m dealing mostly with men.”

Maud snorted. “Oh well, say no more then. So, what are you doing here?” She popped a Cheeto in her mouth.

“’Seems you have access to a key that a lot of people want.” Emmeline knew pure rat cunning would be needed to get that key from Maud.

“I suppose you want it as well?” She chewed her cheesy snack thoughtfully.

“You know me Maudie, I’m always up for treasure.”

Maud pinged a Cheeto at a man who was leering at her. “I’ll tell you what, you announce to the bar your true identity and if you can get out of here alive then I’ll give you the key.” Maud smirked at her mischievously.

Oh crap. Emmeline knew true identity would kill her.

Who is Emmeline exactly? Warrior princess or fraud? Find on tomorrow on www.annycook.blogspot.com

12 Days of Romance contest – no Virginia, I don’t have the clue but someone does

Do you want to win some fantastic holiday reading? Of course you do. If so come celebrate the Twelve days of Romance with 12 authors from Ellora's Cave, Wild Rose Press, Total-E-Bound and Cerridwen Press. Each day beginning December 8th and running through December 19th one of the twelve authors will tell what their "True love gave to them" on either their blog or website.Collect all twelve answers and e-mail them to anny@annycook.com with 12 days of Romance in the subject line to win some great books.

There will be three lucky winners. The prizes –1st prize--6 books, 2nd prize--4 books, 3rd prize--2 books. All books and prize winners will be drawn randomly
Anny Cook Winter Hearts
Sandra Cox Boji Stones
Bronwyn Green Ronan's Grail
Heather Hiestand Cards Never Lie
Barbara Huffert Deal of a Lifetime
Amarinda Jones Mad About Mirabelle
Kelly Kirch Time for Love
Cindy Spencer Pape Cowboy's Christmas Bride
Brynn Paulin Fallen
Jacquéline Roth Access Denied
KZ Snow Mrs. Claws
Lacey Thorn Earth Moves

All answers must be received no later than the stroke of midnight 21st December (Northern hemisphere time) or worlds collide and you don’t want to be responsible for that now do you?

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