I like it that pukeably crapacious never passes the spell check yet I put it in many sentences purely because I can. 
“I Don’t Think So” is a phrase I say a lot. It’s like “Because I Can”. Why not make it the title of a book? Actually I am thinking of having a curlicue ‘because I can' tattooed on my arm…hmmm…anyway, “I Don’t Think So” is a series about warlocks. It’s out now at Ellora’s Cave.
The blurb…
When dashing warlock Thomas Darcy suddenly appears in Mariette Jane’s home announcing he needs her help, she knows he is lying. She is a facilitator between worlds. She is used to supernatural beings seeking her aid. But this man is different. His story does not ring true. So what’s going on and why is she suddenly having hot, delicious sex with the suckable warlock?
Thomas is lying. He has been sent to subdue Mariette Jane but he’s not sure why. He was only told of her threat to all warlock kind. But it’s hard to subdue someone you want to have lick all over and slide inside. The more he is with Mariette, the deeper Thomas becomes involved. Saving her beautiful ass becomes his prime objective.
The excerpt…
God no, she looked anything but perky and Thomas Darcy was quite amazed. This was not the woman he expected to see. His research indicated someone completely different from the redhead who was so pissed off by a simple advertisement. Mariette Jane was supposed to work between worlds as a troubleshooter. This woman looked more like she would make trouble and enjoy it. “Have I got the right address?” Thomas had expected a soulful, deep thinker unfazed by life. But no, he got a short, curvaceous redhead wearing fire-engine-red sleep shorts and a tight, back singlet top with a skull positioned over large breasts.
“Why do you ask? Don’t I look like a facilitator between worlds?” She handed the magazine back to him.
“No.” And I cannot believe I have been sent here to deal with you. Had there been a mix-up? “You’re in your pajamas and it’s ten o’clock.”
Mariette’s hands went to her hips in defiance. “Well, I didn’t have time to dress for this unexpected meeting. You just showed up. Besides, I like to ease my way out of my pjs. Rushing stuff gives me a headache.”
Thomas almost smiled. She was kind of cute in an offbeat quirky way.
“So what’s your story tall, dark and I guess relatively-handsome-if-the- lights-were-turned-off-and-alcohol-was-involved?”
“You’re impossible.” They couldn’t have got this assignment right. They wanted him to kill her? How was she a danger? The only weapon she had was her mouth.
“And you’re not the first person to tell me that, warlock.”
That took Thomas aback. He had dressed deliberately casually in order to not look like a threat. “How do you know I’m a warlock?”
Mariette blew out a sigh. “Tall, pissy, arrogant attitude and your hair is a dead giveaway.” She waved her hands at him. “It’s long and floppy around your shoulders."
Floppy? All warlocks had long hair. It was their trademark. No one had ever called it “floppy” before. It pissed him off somewhat. Most women found his hair sexy especially as it caressed their naked skin. Thomas brushed a strand of hair from his face. What would she look like naked? He had the overwhelming urge to find out. “You’re a piece of work.” He had never met a woman like this one. Thomas was intrigued.
“Thank you.”
“It’s not a compliment.”
Mariette shrugged her shoulders. “Whatever. What’s the deal?”
At this point Thomas knew he had no choice. He had a job to do and this woman was the reason he was there. “I broke an oath.” Thomas had his story all planned out. It was designed to lure the woman in and then when she was vulnerable, crush her.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” Was the warlock, Cypher, correct in his intelligence? This woman? Seriously? She could be the downfall of all warlocks with the knowledge she possessed?
“I break my diet every second day.”
The cocky grin she gave him made his cock twitch. There was something about this woman that was annoying yet attractive. Just my type. Thomas liked smart ass women. You never knew what they would do next and that kept things interesting. He shifted his stance to lessen the growing pressure between his legs. And stop looking at her breasts, man. Though her tight top made that almost impossible. “An oath is important.” He had never broken one in his life but he had to make her believe he had.
“So is fitting into my jeans.”
www.amarindajones.com
www.amarindajones.blogspot.com
Be daring...read an Amarinda book
If you have nothing nice to say, come sit beside me -- Dolly Parton in Steel Magnolias
“The only gossip I'm interested in is things from the Weekly World News - 'Woman's bra bursts, 11 injured'. That kind of thing.” --Johnny Depp
Gossip – what is it really?
1. Rumor or talk of a personal, sensational, or intimate nature.
2. A person who habitually spreads intimate or private rumors or facts.
3. Trivial, chatty talk or writing.
4. A close friend or companion.
5. Chiefly British A godparent.
http://www.thefreedictionary.com/gossip
Number 5 on that list is interesting. If you are a godparent are you aware you are a gossip? Apparently it’s old English. Anyway, why I am talking about gossip? Well because I got a stream of emails from a place I used to work at today about someone doing something to someone else and how shocking it all was. It amused me as I had not worked there for a year or more. While I knew the people involved, it made me laugh that the senders thought I would care. I will admit, being the impure person that I am, I will listen to gossip. Quel surprise. I generally believe anyone who says they won’t is fibbing. Just my impure opinion of course.
I don't at all like knowing what people say of me behind my back. It makes me far too conceited.-- Oscar Wilde
Gossip is what no one claims to like, but everybody enjoys --Joseph Conrad
Don’t tell anyone but the next five people but…--Ethel
So why do you reckon we, those that admit to it, listen to gossip? I tend to think it’s because we are human beings and we like to hear interesting stuff about other people especially in the work place or in group – in person or online – situations. Maybe it makes our boring lives a little bit more interesting. When I wrote Because I Can it was set in a call centre where everyone knew everything or thought they did about everyone else. Call centres are the breeding grounds for gossip as everyone is bored as hell and gossip is the only thing that keeps you from banging you head against the keyboard until you mercifully black out. Feedback from reviewers and readers of Because I Can indicated people identified with that.
Justin was amused as the heads popped up over partitions to watch his progress through the office. It was like meerkats scoping out an intruder. Instead these were Promptel call centre operators, predominantly female and definitely wanting to know why he was there and what was going on. It was only natural everyone would look at him. Justin was new to the office. He knew he would be perfect gossip fodder in an unhappy environment full of red-blooded women. And he knew walking deliberately up to Miranda’s desk would fuel some flames. But he did not care. He wanted to see her. When she left his office yesterday afternoon, Justin had not been able to think of anything but Miranda Marshall.
Miranda felt eyes burning into her back. She swiveled around in her chair and saw the reason why. Bloody hell! What was Justin Hale doing here and why was he coming directly toward her? After their torrid day yesterday, part of Miranda had hoped he had gone back to Melbourne. Another part had prayed he had stayed and it seemed praying actually worked. Who knew? Miranda could feel her face flushing brightly at the downright sexy look Justin Hale gave her and she knew it would be impossible to expect her fellow colleagues not to draw their own conclusions. If situations were reversed, she would have. After all, gossip, rumor and innuendo were the only things that kept the office interesting. The last thing she needed was everyone knowing she had fallen for the boss. And she especially did not need the man in question to know. How pathetic and sex starved would she look falling hard for a man she had known for only a day? Who would even believe that?
http://www.ellorascave.com/productpage.asp?ISBN=9781419910418
Have I been gossiped about? Sure. Do I care? Nope, it gives people something to do. I do not believe in malicious gossip – keep that to yourself but gossip like did you know that X caught Y and Z outside in a car in the car park shagging? Or, L got mad at Q and spread around the office that he had a small penis - that livens an office or a dreary moment up. As for celebrity gossip - I don’t care for it. I don’t know them so why would I care one way or the other?
I emailed back my ex-co-workers ‘thanks for the goss.’ It was amusing and irrelevant but sometimes its stuff like that they keeps us from going insane at out jobs or in our lives. Call it a break in the madness if you like. So what do you think? Do you listen to gossip or not? Are you pure of heart or bad to the bone?
Has Anny got gossip on www.annycook.blogspot.com/? No, she is too Zen. While Kelly on www.kkirch.blospot.com/ is too pure to indulge in rumour.
www.freewebs.com/amarindajones/
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?
I realized I’ll have to start thinking what I want on the cover of my latest contracted book – Penned Again. This is, of course, a good situation for a writer to be in so it’s not a chore. What’s Penned Again about? I have yet to write a blurb but basically it’s about a three hundred demon, Penn Ripley, who married a mortal woman, Arlo, without her knowing his real identity. Naturally she was a tad pissed off when she found out the truth. They split up. Six months later Penn is back. Why? It’s all to do with a bet. Now I just have to put that into blurb speak.
Anyway what makes a good cover? I have to admit I am pretty flexible when it comes to cover requests. You get this form that you fill out and send away. It’s all about what you would like and how you see your characters. You can ‘suggest’ how the cover could look but there are no guarantees as to what you get. This does not bother me as I have been very lucky with the Ellora’s Cave Cover Gods. I appreciate their time and talent. Am I sucking up? Nah, ‘cause I suspect it wouldn’t work anyway. So you send off the cover
request once your Editor has checked it to make sure you can spell your own name correctly and you haven’t written something dumb on the form – for example – for my last cover request, for Anyone But You, I wrote under “Possible symbols or items that could be included on the cover” – ‘a purple person.’ My Editor emailed back and said a ‘purple person?’ Being the wise women she is she had read the story and knew, that unlike author Anny Cook’s novels, there were no purple/blue people in the book. We did however wonder how a reader would look at the cover and think “The two people in a clinch I get, but the purple person watching them? What’s that about?” And how disappointed would they be if they bought the book expecting a ménage with a purple person and there were only two people and a purple diary. See, this is why writers need Editors. Writers are rarely ever logical.
So, after you make suggestions – half naked, fully naked, do what you like as long as he has a tatt, I’m sure I’ll love it – those are my real life, general suggestions to Coverland – you get the cover
back. I have never been disappointed. But then I do not have a rigid belief in how my cover should look and therefore no other will do - foot stamp, angst ridden pout. I don’t have to have the hero holding the heroine on an alpine mountain top with the early morning sun highlighting, on a ninety degree angle, the blue-blackness of his hair while the heroine’s porcelain-like left hand is placed three-quarters, no more, along his muscular arm. Her fingers nails do not have to be persimmon pink, her bottom lip does not have to look like its quivering nor does her eye shadow have to be a particular shade of Rimmel - and how would I know if a cover model has size 34C breasts or not when they are squashed against the hero’s naked but not hairy chest? The doves that are flying in the background do not have to look like they were trained in the Himalayas by the monks, nor do the sheep you can barely see have to be merinos from the New South Wales Highlands. I do not ask for the impossible or improbable. As for the title and my name – as long as they are spelt correctly, I am good to go. Just give me a cover that people will be attracted to and want to buy the book. I
trust the Coverlandians to do this. They’re professionals. They know what they are doing. Pouting because your expectations are not met is your problem, not the cover departments. I think sometimes authors need to remember that ‘suggested’ means just that and expectations are sometimes a little too high faluting. As always, feel free to comment.
Eternity contest…nah, I don’t have the “My Darling…” line but someone does. Are you playing along? No? You’ve been on another planet? Welcome back. There is still time – just trawl through the sites below and find the line.
What could you spend an eternity doing? What is your passion? Your hunger? Your deepest desire? Each day beginning February 5 and running through February 14 one of the ten authors will complete the line, "My darling I could spend eternity…" on either their blog or website. Collect all ten answers and e-mail them to
anny@annycook.com with Eternally Yours in the subject line to win some hot, romantic books. There will be three lucky Valentine winners.
The prizes –
1st prize--5 books
2nd prize--3 books
3rd prize--2 books
The books
Sandra Cox Silverhills
Mona Risk To Love a Hero
Brynn Paulin Tribute For the Goddess
Bronwyn Green Mystic Circle
Cindy Spencer Pape Stone and Earth
N.J. Walters Seduction of Shamus O’Rourke
Elyssa Edwards Mating Stone
Amarinda Jones Shades of Gray
Kelly Kirch Time for Love
Anny Cook Honeysuckle
Entries must be in by February 16 at midnight EST. All books and prize winners will be drawn randomly.
Remember to check out Anny on www.annycook.blogspot.com and Kelly on www.kkirch.blogspot.com – they’re always up to something interesting and if they’re not – check out the blogs to the left.
Quote for today....
To err is human, but it feels divine--Mae West
www.freewebs.com/amarindajones/
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?
Day 2 at the new job - looking for job 28. Why? Because life is too short. Nope, I don’t ask or expect anyone to understand me. I like being a puzzle. Anyway, until job 28 approaches, in job 27 they mentioned the company cars that I have to drive around to do certain stuff. What sort of cars are they? They are trucks. Okay maybe not trucks but they make my car Ida seems tiny. Is it a good thing to put a woman with attitude behind the wheel of a big car? Sure it is…providing I can get inside it. I am of the shortish persuasion and as I get older I, like the other women of my family, am shrinking. Not in of course. That would be too bloody much to hope for. Things I used to be able to reach easily, I now have to stand on my toes for. I often notice that in a crowd, I cannot see over the top. This is why I have to hustle my way to the front to find out anything. See? Not my fault if I’m pushy.
Anyway, scrambling up gracefully into a big arsed truck thingy is hard to do. I, at all times, like to remain a lady out in public. In private I do whatever I like. However my mother’s teachings remain in my mind. And when I say ‘lady’ I don’t mean a prissy one that says “Oh dear me, I couldn’t so that.” It’s about dignity and not flashing parts of you
that you don’t want others to see. It’s about decorum, baby. I am often repulsed at some of the clothes I see people wearing. Nah, it’s got nothing to do with being fashionable. It’s about the amount of flesh you show out in public. Am I a prude? I don’t believe so but it is only Tuesday and the week is young, damn it. What I mean is women walking around with their arses hanging out of shorts or showing off mountainous cleavage. I once, in my duties, had to talk to a co-worker about the cleavage she had on display. How do you do this when it’s a personal thing and could be embarrassing? I said “B, here’s the thing, you sit in a team of women. Everyone has breasts. They know what they’re all about and the power of them. You are wasting them on us. I suggest you take ‘em home and trot ‘em out on the weekend to maximum effect to dazzle the male of the species.” She just laughed and said she wondered when she would get the ‘talk’. Apparently her boobs were infamous for hanging out.
Like everything. I believe it’s up to the individual, but I would suggest not everyone wants to see your bits and pieces so be selective. Let’s face it – mystery sells just as much as sex -and mystery is what keeps you intrigued. I love wondering what’s going on. Why did he give me that look? What am I supposed to do now? How can I drive him insane enough that he can’t help but come to me? You’re women – you know what I’m talking about. Or, if you are a man reading this - you also know what I mean and leave a bloody comment will you? Men are so quiet. Thanks muchly.
What’s Emmeline up to now?
The always entertaining Kelly on www.kkirch.blogspot.com left us with…
The methodical beating of drums began. From her vantage overlooking one of the temples, people left their huts to congregate at the bottom of steep steps. The steps ascended to a stone altar. Be-decked in feathers and shell, teeth and skins, a sculpted man emerged from the opening beyond the altar. He was more god than man and his subjects worshiped him as such. He raised his primitive implement in the air and screamed.
The people froze, the clouds parted as though commanded. Emmeline stared with disbelief as the Triad appeared at his side. Bound and gagged, they had been prepped for a massacre.
I’m going with…
“Psst, are you after the Tourmaline Chalice?" A man with a tattooed face whispered to Emmeline as he sidled up to her.
“Yeah - are these three a sacrifice?”
“Nah, it's a Cooksian marriage ceremony. One woman is roped to two men. It’s considered most enjoyable."
“Uh huh…” Emmeline dragged her eyes away. She was appalled yet fascinated. All those parts rubbing together like that and...She shook her head. Concentrate woman. “So where's the chalice?”
“Give me the code given to you by the villagers to prove your identity.”
Emmeline rolled her eyes. “Turtles in parachutes make excellent targets for swans with tambourines.”
He nodded. “Yet the rain is painful for the Queen of Hearts.”
“But only on a Sunday in Mudgee.” What a load of crap…
“Okay good, you are the one they spoke of. Come with me.” They moved through the throng into a hut where an old woman sat.
“Are you pure of heart?” The crone asked Emmeline. “Only the innocent can touch the chalice.”
Fucking loopholes. "Uh, yeah sure, that’s me.”
“Show me your eyes.” Emmeline leaned down and stared at her.
“Arrrggghhh!” The old woman jumped to her feet in alarm. “It cannot be you!”
“It was last time I looked.” Freaking nutcase.
The woman flung herself to her knees. “Your majesty, I have waited so long for your magnificent presence.”
“Okay…” What the frig is going on?
“I will give you chalice. Use it for good and do not let the curse worry you.”
Oh what? A fucking curse now? “What curse old woman?”
A curse now…what next? Check out Anny on www.annycook.blogspot.com for all the answers or maybe more questions tomorrow.
www.freewebs.com/amarindajones/
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?
What the?
I was exercising – puke, spew – this morning and there was this American early breakfast show on. They were talking about the best way to return unwanted Christmas presents and get the money. Apparently, the minute you are handed a present and you see that you hate it, you have to refrain for opening it in any way so you can be assured of getting all the money for it as there is a ‘re-packaging fee’ if you open it. What the? I know I am a compete heathen but my understanding of Christmas is giving and not expecting to cash in on unwanted presents. Is this correct? Seems all very tacky to me…this leads me to… 
Pet peeves...
- Child proof lids – I think you should be asked do you have a child? If not then you get the product without the impossibly hard lid to remove.
- People who have the inability to say thank you and please – what do good manners cost you?
- Pushing ahead of someone else to get served – don’t do it around me. Save yourself the embarrassment of being called on it
- Hearing someone describe someone else as “she’d be attractive if she’d lose weight.” Again, avoid humiliation to yourself and don’t say it
- Cigarette butts – smoke if you want to. That’s up to you but throw the butts in the bin. Why the hell do we need to walk around in your garbage?
Amarinda highlights today …
- bought champagne and a 3 kilo bag of carrots
- Interviewed a potential employer. Not sure how I feel about them. I was fantastic as always.
- Fell over a pile of shoes in my bedroom, split my lip and bruised my chin. It was a pretty good stack (fall) and I would give it a 7 out of 10. No, I wasn’t drunk and eating carrots.
- Broke my Rocky Horror Picture Show cassette tape that I have had for yonks (years). Quel tragedy! How am I supposed to listen to Dammit Janet now?
- Cheered when the Postie zoomed past on his motorbike as that meant no mail and that equalled no bills. Woo hoo!
-Listened to an acquaintance who rang to tell me how bored she was. After five minutes I told her to get a grip and that no one was guaranteed excitement in life. She hung up in a huff. Problem solved. She is boring. 
- Exercised for another 30 minutes and watched some cute American sitcom while I did. I have resolved never to be
perky
- Ate 6 carrots. Tonight I will wander out in the backyard and check my night vision. I should have x-ray vision by now.
- Was gob smacked that Patch is back on Days of Our Lives. Didn’t he die 15 years ago?
- Did absolutely nothing meaningful - that I recognized it wasn’t meaningful is probably something meaningful in itself if you get what I mean.
-Wrote lots, procrastinated much and wandered aimlessly around the house while I tried to think up words. Managed to get pukeable, bunny boiler and penially challenged into the book. Quite pleased with that. My Editor is on hols so it’s a surprise for when she gets back
- Thought about cleaning – but the feeling passed thankfully.
Justin and Miranda in Because I Can…
“Hello Ellen,” Miranda said as she stepped out of the lift on the eighth floor. Ellen looked mighty pissed off at her. It appeared she had not gotten over the naked Justin Hale thing. Miranda had barely gotten over it herself.
“You can go in,” the woman snapped.
Okay then, no Christmas card from Ellen this year. Always good to know where you stood with people.
“Anyone else in there? Have you got a spare whip and chair?”
Ellen ignored her.
Miranda straightened her shoulders and knocked extremely softly on the door. No answer. Excellent. Time to scurry home.
“I’ll come back later. Ellen, please pencil me in for six months from now.” Miranda turned to flee, in the most dignified and ladylike way possible that did not include flinging her shoes off and running for her life. The office door flung open.
Justin Hale smiled at Miranda Marshall. Oh, the plans he had.
“Hello Miranda.” He courteously, yet firmly placed his hand on her arm. “So nice of you to return to see me.”
“Like I had a choice,” she almost said. The dangerous gleam in his eye would have sent a saint into a panic. Miranda was no saint.
“I can’t stay long as I’m now on overtime and I don’t want to eat into Promptel’s profits.” Even primly said, the words did not sound the slightest bit sincere.
Justin knew Miranda did not give a rat’s ass about company profits.
“I don’t mind paying overtime for you, Miranda.” He turned to look at his personal assistant. “Ellen, I won’t need you for the rest of the day.” He pulled Miranda inside the office.
Ellen directed a nasty little look at Miranda. Clearly the woman had no sense of humor.
“Won’t you need Ellen to take notes or something?” Miranda asked as the door slammed shut behind them and it was only her and Justin.
“You are a bitch,” Justin said succinctly.
“And your point is?” And why was he running his finger back and forth across her arm with that wicked look in his eyes? It was awfully distracting behavior for a business meeting.
“You upset Ellen.”
“If she saw you naked then you upset her, not me.” Miranda turned to pull away from him. He was too close, too hot and too damn male. “I gotta go home I need to watch the evening news.” An awful war or ghastly disaster would take her mind off Justin Hale.
Justin pushed her back up against her the door and slid his body tight up against hers. He smiled as she gasped at the close, intimate contact.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
Miranda felt his hot, solid body up against hers pinning her to the door. That he wanted her was only too evident. This was definitely a déjà vu moment. She cleared her throat nervously and attempted to calmly look him in the eye.
“So I take it I’m here to discuss the staff complaints?”
“No Miranda, you are here to have sex until you can’t stand.”
Could she stand afterwards? Hmmm….
What are Anny and Kelly up to? Saving the world, feeding the hungry or stemming the tide of man’s inhumanity to man? Maybe…who knows? Check ‘em out on www.annycook.blogspot.com and www.kkirch.blogspot.com.
www.freewebs.com/amarindajones/
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?
amarinda_jones@yahoo.com.au
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?
I was speaking to Ethel today. We needed to get our stories straight for something so if questioned we both said the same thing. Yes, of course it could be called lying but I prefer to use the term the ’mutual response approach.’ Anyway, we got to talking about the bad old days at our old job at Promptel, no, not the company’s real name. If I speak the real name, the devil appears and tries to claim me as one of his own…oh, wait that happened last Thursday. Actually, I think it’s more like a plague of locusts appear. That’s right. Devil – locusts – easy to mix up. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, Promptel. It is a phone company that I worked at for many years – 13 and a half horrible years. Why did I hack it that long? The pesky mortgage and I was hanging out for what we called the Big R or sometimes the big arse – Redundancy. I still hear angels sing when I hear that word. Next to biting into a Tim Tam a redundancy is a beautiful thing. In our last year of Promptel, Ethel, Katie and myself talked about redundancy every single day at work. We were obsessed. We badgered management constantly about it. They denied it at all turns. There is the one infamous moments(there were a few) in my Promptel career when I asked the head of Promptel in a big meeting when they were going to announce redundancies as we needed to know fact as opposed to rumour. This, as you can imagine, went over like a led balloon as that was the last thing they wanted to discuss with staff. I was basically given the death stare and told to shut up. That answered my question in itself so I as happy.
So when the joyous day came and redundancies were announced we were hysterical with glee. We got to escape with money! God knows we deserved it. The thing was though, Promptel, in its infantile wisdom, decided to make the staff work at proving why they needed to be made redundant. This was no effort for me, Katie or Ethel. We had been driving Promptel to the point of insanity in the previous 12 months. We had to be on the top of their hit list. Still, we had to go through the ‘selection’ interview. This is a brief snapshot how mine went with the Centre manager Pee Wee, no, not his real name but deadly accurate all the same.
PW – I have to officially ask you Amarinda – do you want a redundancy? (Big sigh he knew the answer)
A – Hell yes and for the record and does a chicken have lips?
PW – Every word of this conversation gets recorded Amarinda. Do you want that on your record?
A – Sure why not. (3rd party recording interview giggled)
PW – Going by your record you are not a team player, you don’t pay attention to the stats you are supposed to get and you do not adhere to set break times
A – Uh huh and you’re point is?
PW – You are also demanding and obstructive to management
A – Yep, and don’t forget incorrigible
PW – And yet Amarinda for all that somehow your phone work is excellent
A – Well I cheat
PW – How?
(I told him – smirk from recorder, blood vessel ready to burst in PW’s head)
PW – You know I want to get rid of you
A – For once we agree on something. Where do I sign?
PW – There is a 2 week cooling off period
A – I’m not sweaty. Where’s the pen?
PW – I am happy to give you a reference
A - (hysterical laughter) Oh wow, you’re serious or maybe drunk?
PW – I think you would be surprised what I would say about you.
A – Honey, nothing surprises me.
That’s how I escaped Promptel. Katie was happily pushed out and Ethel was gone after a messy battle. Am I proud that I drove them nuts? Well of course, only I could have done it so well.
Five fast ones with author Sandra Cox…..
Last night someone lied to me. No, it did not surprise me. It annoyed me. I have this theory, if you cannot lie well, then don’t. On the whole lies do not bother me if they are for arse covering purposes and no one gets hurt. A lie to help someone or to help yourself is acceptable in my books. Please don’t be shocked but I am not a saint. I lie. In fact I lie very well but I only use my power for good. I am also quite good at it. I suppose some people may think admitting to being a talented liar is a bad thing but then I am not one to worry about what ‘some’ people think of me. If you are wondering, my nose is quite short. I do have a conscience but it only kicks in every so often.
So on to the person who lied to me. It was via email. Most of us can spot a liar by the look in their eye, the sound of their voice and the way they touch their face as they talk. Email is harder but not impossible. This person claimed sole responsibility for an attachment they wanted me to read. They insisted it was all their work and no one else’s. That declaration in itself made me instantly suspicious as why do you have to tell me that so insistently? I clicked once on the document and discovered the name of the person who was actually responsible for it. It was another person I knew. So it was a crap lie. If you are going to claim credit for something wouldn’t you at least save it in your own name first? By all means lie if you want to but lie well. That I can at least admire. Did you ever see the movie Dirty Rotten Scoundrels? I love that movie. That is great lying. As for the credit claimer, I said nothing. I am keeping that knowledge under by hat for another time. I’m a Scorpio. We have long memories.
Today Sara, my overseas counterpart, told the most outrageous lie to save her arse but in turn it got me in trouble. The lie was so massive and complicated and it had so many holes in it that it was obvious it was a lie. The males in my office were baying for my blood. I sat and listened to the crap they espoused about what Sara had said. Then I pointed out all the flaws in her lie. By the time I had finished they were very quiet as they felt foolish for being such dipsticks to believe such a crap tale. I rang Sara, after I shooed them for the office, and told her I was disappointed in her. Covering you arse is one thing but keep your lie simple and plausible and never drag someone else into it. Was I upset by Sara? Sort of. I had been doing my best to corrupt her and that was the best lie she could come up with?
The moral to the story? Does their have to be one? Everyone has their own set of morals. If you are going to lie, make sure you can pull it off, that you keep it simple and you do not hurt anyone else in the process - otherwise forget it. I know, you were thinking I was going to say don’t lie, cheat or swear. I’ll let a good person deliver that sermon. Just think before you open your mouth is all I ask.
Okay, once again, I present you great writers on a Sunday. Why? Because my Sunday has been so utterly boring – woke up, staggered out of bed, stumbled outside for the Sunday newspaper and wrote all day, while not changing from my pj’s or brushing my hair. Yes, it was a feral Sunday for Amarinda. Only those with a whip and a chair could approach me.
So I am on the point of losing consciousness with the non excitement of my Sunday and my backside is so numb from sitting. However this is a valid reason to keep cellulite. It cushions pain. I think the reputable medical journals should consider publishing my view on this. I’ll write them later. For the moment I am still writing in between contemplating whether I will paint my fingernails emerald green or trashy turquoise. Either will match with Monday’s assassin black ensemble. Ah yes, back to work. Oh how pukeable.
So, enough waffle from me – I’ll be back tomorrow to carry on where I left off. Remember to check out the ever delightful, toe tapping duo of Anny – www.annycook.blogspot.com and Kelly – www.kkirch.blogspot.com And now, the Amarinda blog is proud to bring you three published book authors and a published Poet. Can I bring you culture or what? All three writers are completely different and I think that variety is the spice of life for this Sunday. So settle back and read. ..there's one by the Jones girl at the end.... just a little, shameless hint
From Incognito by Lisabet Sarai – out now through Total-E-Bound
**Warning – this is an adult excerpt.
As in Chinatown, all the businesses on Charles Street were dark. The gas lamps made pools of golden light at intervals along the street. Miranda could hear her heels clicking on the cobblestone sidewalk, and a few paces behind her, the muted sound of the businessman’s leather soles. A mild spring breeze stirred her skirt and touched her naked privates underneath. She shivered at the touch, delicate but intimate, the fingers of some ghostly lover.
A few blocks up the street, Miranda reached the alleyway that led to her apartment. She ducked inside and stood with her back to the brick wall, breathing deeply.
Overhead, the moon shone cold and distant. Halfway down the alley there was a lamp, but the area near the entrance where Miranda lay in wait swam in darkness. It seemed a long time before the Japanese man reached the narrow passageway, and then, for a moment, Miranda thought that he was going to pass right by. But no, he turned abruptly as he caught sight of her. Before Miranda could move or speak, he seized her in a fierce embrace and had his tongue deep in her mouth.
Flirting, playing, teasing the man on the subway was one thing; his sudden physical presence was something else, shocking and foreign. He smelled of some men’s cologne, brash, almost bitter. He tasted faintly like liquorice. His tongue was agile and his mouth demanding. She was no longer in control. Miranda gave herself up to the kiss; it sent electric sparks shuddering down her spine to her sex.
He sucked her earlobe into his mouth, nipping at the tender morsel of flesh with sharp teeth. The brief pain was immediately overwhelmed by delicious spasms between her legs. Now he was nuzzling at her neck, his coarse, thick hair tickling near her collarbone. He held her with one arm and with the other, pulled up her jersey, reached behind and deftly unhooked her bra. The night air caressed her bared breasts as he pushed the bra out of the way and fastened his mouth on one swollen nipple.
Miranda’s knees grew weak. She loved his force, his strength. When his hand moved below her waist, she spread her legs wide, silently offering him her sex. But instead, he unzipped his trousers, releasing his straining penis.
He stood back for a moment, so that Miranda could see it. Smooth and pale, it seemed almost luminescent in the moonlight. His cock was elegant, slender and straight with a glans scarcely larger than the shaft, and totally hairless. Like ivory, Miranda thought. That thought disappeared as the man roughly pulled her legs apart and, with a single upward thrust, buried himself in her depths.
He was as hard as ivory, or bone, or stone. He worked her cunt with fast, furious strokes, leaving her little time to breathe. Miranda could only moan and clutch at his shoulders as his unyielding rod slid in and out of her. Her eyes closed. Other sensations mingled with the exquisite roughness of his thrusts. She smelled his sweat, dampening the armpits of his business shirt. The brick wall scraped her back. She heard a siren, blocks away, and it seemed like its keening rise to crescendo matched the progress of her arousal.
She was soaked, so wet that at one point he slipped out of her folds. He uttered what sounded like a curse in Japanese. With both hands, he grabbed her buttocks and raised her off the ground, settling her firmly on his erection. Miranda instinctively locked her legs around his waist. Their bodies thus coupled, the stranger resumed his thrusts, his penis now embedded tightly in her hungry cunt.
In their new position, Miranda had more control. She rocked her pelvis back and forth, seeking deeper penetration. There were always those aching places, too deep for any cock, that craved stimulation. Her partner growled and dug his nails into her hind cheeks. Wonderful pleasure-pain. She clamped her thighs more tightly. At the same time, she tensed her cunt-muscles, gripping the ivory rod inside her and grinding down fiercely. She teetered on the edge of orgasm, screaming inside for that one perfect thrust that would push her over.
He felt her insides clench around him, and exploded. He rammed her against the wall, tearing her jersey. Oh, that was what she wanted and needed, to be torn open! His cock pierced the balloon swelling inside her, and her climax took her like a hurricane. The gale rang in her ears, bore her aloft, battered and blessed her.
When the force of the orgasm faded, she realised that she was still entwined with the body of the Japanese man. She looked at his face, for the first time since the subway. He smiled, a bit sheepishly, and helped her to stand.
Miranda felt dizzy. No, giddy, overwhelmed and amazed by her own audacity. She pulled her bra and her tattered shirt down over her naked breasts. Brushing brick dust off her shirt, she watched the businessman stuff his now-limp penis back into his pants and close the zipper. She smiled, a secret smile that the stranger did not understand.
He had straightened his clothing and retrieved his briefcase from the pavement where he left it. With the same care he had used on the train, he extricated his eyeglasses and put them back on.
Then he surprised Miranda. He stood very straight, looking conservative and affluent, and bowed low. “Arrigato gozimus,” he murmured. Picking up his case, he turned and left the alley. Miranda could hear his soft footsteps on the sidewalk as he disappeared from her life.
Click on the cover and buy the book – you know you want to. Check out http://www.lisabetsarai.com for more of Lisabet’s hot and steamy erotic romances
Old Age
In a house all alone
It gets quiet at night
Hunger remains
Eating is a fight
Whispering past
With voices long gone
Families all grown
Alone life goes on
Rumble around on
Weak wobbly legs
A few paths through the house
Excercise today
Laughter of children
Whom grandbabies came
Holiday visits
Always hearts pain
His passage of love
Went to a black box
The fighting and hardship
Your memory blocks
Wondering just how long
Loneliness lasts.
Finding fewer and fewer
Things for time to pass
Looking for a grittier, darker kind of fiction? Then check out Jackie’s work on http://jackierogers.blogspot.com/
Love Finds A Way by Molly Daniels. It’s coming soon mid November 2007
"Slagal said you were cute, and for once he was right," remarked Troy, appraising Amy.
"Thank you," was the cool reply. "Is that your car outside?"
"Yes."
The four young people walked out to the dark-blue sedan. Don and Stephanie climbed into the back seat, leaving Amy no choice but to ride up front with Troy. During the ten mile ride, they got acquainted. It was revealed that Don was enrolled at UCLA, and Troy, the University of Illinois.
After arriving at the party, Matt was nowhere to be found. Troy disappeared into the house, so Don got each girl a cup of beer from the keg, and the three stood talking. Matt arrived with three girls on his heels, and Amy was noticeably upset. Troy came back and began flirting with her. Against her better judgment, she responded, and the two bantered back and forth, trading one-liners. A bonfire had been built; the four of them gravitated toward it. A while later, Troy went to see about getting another keg, and Amy noticed Don and Steph getting cozy, so she discreetly left. As she stood talking with some other guests, Matt came up and called her over.
"I've got one thing to say: Don't mess around with anyone here."
Amy's anger exploded. "You can't come get me, but you can leave to pick up three others?"
"Well, I'd already..."
"I know," she interrupted. "Would it make you jealous if I did?"
Matt gave her a strange look. "No, go ahead. Do what you want."
Amy softened her tone. "I came here tonight to be with you. The only man I’m interested in at this party is you. And when you get that through your thick skull, you know where to find me." She turned and went back to the fire, but Stephanie and Don had left. Presently, other guests joined her. Fifteen minutes had passed before the missing couple appeared.
"Amy," whispered Stephanie. "Can you show me where the bathroom is?"
"Sure." They excused themselves, went inside the house, said hello to Matt's mom, and borrowed the facilities.
"Where did you and Don go?" Amy inquired as she shut the door.
"Don't tell anyone," Steph pleaded. "But Don and I...well...sort of fooled around behind a bush. Does it show?"
Amy grinned. "That's what I thought. Of course it doesn't show!"
"I hope you don't think any less of me..."
"Don't be silly. I slept with Matt barely three hours after we'd met last year! And besides, last month, I went on the Pill. Matt doesn't even know yet."
"Really?" Steph was amazed. "How's it going with him, anyway?"
"When he's ready to talk, he'll come to me," Amy replied. "When he's through hitting on every other girl, he always comes back to me."
"And you put up with it?" Steph stared at her.
"Yes." Amy clearly did not want to discuss it. "Are you ready? Let's go back to the fire."
The two returned to the crackling fire, and Troy swooped on them like a hawk. "Amy, honey, " he said, his voice carrying over the backyard. "I missed you!" He hugged her, and she caught Matt's angry glare.
"Uh-oh," she thought. "Now I'm gonna get it. But so what? He's not paying any attention to me; let him know I'm not his personal property!"
But, she was wrong. Matt came over and said he wanted to show her something, so they left the backyard and went to the driveway.
"Of course! Your new Lebaron!"
Matt held the door for her, and she sat in the plush-covered bucket seat. Matt sat in the driver's seat and adjusted the seat.
"This is really nice!" Amy exclaimed. "Power windows, nice stereo, bucket seats...Matthew! Automatic transmission!"
"Yeah, well, my mom bought it," was the reply as he recalled his three previous stick-shift vehicles. "Come here."
She leaned towards him and he held her close. "You're not mad at me?" she asked.
"Hell no."She kissed him, then touched her lips to his sensitive neck. Matt led her hand downwards, then tried to pull her across.
"Wait...the gearshift...You know, this would be a heck of a lot more comfortable up on your waterbed," she said gently.
"You want to?"
"Yes."
"Is it safe?"
"Definitely," Amy smiled.“Okay."They climbed out of the car and walked hand-in-hand into the house."Go on up and get naked," he ordered. "I'll be up in a minute."
"I will not," she declared. "I will, however, be waiting for you."
She turned and went upstairs. Turning on the light, she discovered a suitcase and clothes spilled on the unmade bed. She sighed, kicked off her shoes, and took off her belt, earrings, watch, and ring. She had just placed the suitcase on the floor, along with the wrinkled clothing, and was making the bed when Matt waltzed into the room, locking the door behind him. He flicked off the lights and took the slender girl in his arms. They kissed, then Matt gently lowered her onto the bed. Carefully he peeled away her clothes and explored her body. Amy sighed, giving into the sensual feelings of his caresses. She undressed him, then heard him fumbling with something in the dark.
"Matt? What is it?""A rubber. Different brand."
"We don't need it."
"Why not?"
"If you'd read my last letter, you would know." Amy shook her head. "I...went on the Pill."
Matt stopped. "What for?"
"For my own benefit, and yours. Now, we're already protected."
Matt reached for her. "Then let's try it out."
Go to the lovely Molly’s website to check out her books www.mollydaniels.citymax.com and www.mjdaniels.blogspot.com to have a chat.
And Because I Can…here is an excerpt from Because I Can – by the Jones girl – out now through Ellora’s Cave. Warning – this is an adult excerpt.
Miranda flashed her blue and yellow employee badge importantly like it was the key to her automatic entrance to anything Promptel. “Look important and you become important.” Or maybe that was, “Be pushy and get what you want.” Either one worked. She looked at the woman’s name plate on her desk.
“It’s okay Ellen. Justin is expecting me. You won’t get into trouble. I am well aware he is on a conference call.” Miranda pushed inside the Executive Suite. It was as she expected. Large, plush and it had Justin Hale pacing around an expensive looking desk. He looked pissed off and not in the mood to be distracted. Too bad for him. She was going to distract the hell out of the man.
“I don’t care what the profit margin is. Do it now or suffer the consequences,” he snapped out over the hands-free phone. Several disembodied voices in Melbourne immediately agreed with him. He hated dealing with people over the phone. He preferred looking them in the eye so he could see what they were thinking. He didn’t need “yes” men or women he needed people who could think for themselves and come up with logical solutions to problems.
Miranda shut the door and turned the lock. It had taken her an hour to work up the courage to come and see him. She had a plan. It was something she had never done before but she was ready to do now. Justin Hale was going to lose control. She was going to see to it. Vengeance thy name is Miranda.
* * * * *
Justin looked up to see Miranda. He was both delighted to see her and irritated to be stuck on the call. To have this woman come to him willingly was a surprise. Or was it? And why had she locked the door? That indicated something was about to happen that did not invite an audience to watch. He was intrigued as he watched her approach. She was still dressed in the same clothes. Yet by the look in her eyes Justin knew something was decidedly different about her. Attitude? Confidence? He tried to concentrate of what the people in Melbourne were telling him and not on the woman who approached but that was damn near impossible. He put the conference call on mute.
“Now is not the time Miranda.”
“Oh but it’s the perfect time for me.” Miranda ran a hand lightly down his chest. “I dare you to keep talking.” She reached up and with both hands ripped open his cool crisp white shirt sending buttons flying off in all directions. “I dare you not to move.” She ran her tongue down his bare chest, smiling as he tensed at her touch. She looked him in the eyes. “I dare you not to lose control, Justin Hale.”
Justin’s eyes widened in surprise and anticipation. This was the last thing he had expected from this woman and he loved it.
“Are you there, Justin?”
Justin snapped off the mute button as Miranda licked the hot skin on his chest. She pushed his hands away from her indicating she was in control.
“Yes, I’m here.”
“Well what do you think?” the voices asked.
“I have no idea what to think,” Justin murmured as he watched with fascination as Miranda’s hands moved down to his waistband and caressingly over his groin. He felt his cock stand instantly to attention.
Miranda reached down and pulled down his zipper freeing a mischievous penis who wanted to come out and play. The skin was smooth and soft and stretched to the limit. Perfect. He would not last long.
“I…ah…” Justin had no idea what he was saying as Miranda had hold of his cock. His eyes widened as she dropped to her knees and roughly pulled down his trousers to his ankles. She wouldn’t, would she? Here? Now? In the middle of an important conference call? He both prayed she would and hoped she wouldn’t.
“Don’t loose control now, Justin.” Miranda leaned forward and licked the tip of his cock.
“Oh god… I mean…ah…well yes, this, ah…financial year has seen some major challenges and…” Justin groaned as Miranda’s tongue flicked lightly over his hot, hard flesh. “We have to be prepared for…” Justin could not think straight. What did they have to be prepared for? How could any man prepare for a beautiful woman dropping to her knees and covering their cock in red lipstick?
“We missed the last bit, Justin. We must have a bad connection,” a disembodied voice said through the speaker.
Click on the cover and buy the book....go on, you know you want to...
www.freewebs.com/amarindajones/
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?
Posts
All Comments
