Don’t sleep in a subway darling….

Things we’re not supposed to do…

-don’t pull a face as the wind will change and you’ll stay that way
So if you continually pull faces and the wind continually changes, you could have a new look all the time. That's better than a makeover.
- Don’t speak your mind to those in authority or disagree with the general consensus
Yep, this is dangerous but very liberating. Try it.
- Don’t eat dessert first as you’ll spoil the main course
I think if you are calorie counting (boring) and you look at the dessert then the main and the dessert is more appealing then I say use the calorie count on the dessert
- Don’t drink, swear, smoke etc
Any thing to excess will kill you – not sure about swearing though unless you swear at the wrong people – anyway I think everyone should have a least one vice as it makes us human – Amarinda philosophy only.
- Don’t throw the job in, the man away etc as it/he may never come again
No, it/he may not but is there any point doing something you hate or being with someone you don’t like because you are scared of taking a risk?
- Don’t ask – wait until someone offers.
What if you’re never offered what you want? I believe in asking politely first as people are usually as so amazed they will give you whatever it is.
- Don’t be an individual in a group situation – be part of the team
If I hear one more there is no ‘I’ in team speech I will puke. As I have said before if I made up the English language I would have put an ‘I’ in team. The sheep mentality is overrated.
- Don’t lie
I think this depends on the situation. Arse saving – yours or a friend’s – lies are okay.
- Don’t have sex on the first date
Now, I’m not telling you to or not to – that’s up to the individual – but who comes up with these rules?
- Don’t waste you time writing e-books – write a real book.
Someone told me I should write a 600 page proper book. I said they should they should climb Mt Everest. They said they did not want to. I said exactly.

What rules don’t you follow? What rules to you go out of your way to break? I’m not advocating total anarchy but do you always follow the rules?

Hillary…

Okay, no surprise - I would like to see Hillary Clinton as President of the USA. I watched this kick arse speech she gave the other night about oil prices. Confidence is everything. We need more Hillarys for women to be inspired by. Agree or disagree as you will but I admire the woman.

Mea Culpa…

Quote - People are ‘who’ and not ‘that’ -- my editor
I have to repeat this 100 times. I am such a nuisance – and don’t get me started on my formatting technique. All I will say it sucks badly and my editor wants me to do penance by not eating Tim Tams. I have promised, of course, no Tims Tams will touch my lips. I’ll just swallow them whole. But really, I have no idea how editors put the airy fairy, half-arsed writing of their emotional writers into any form or shape at all without copious amounts of gin. I think I may have given my editor concussion last night as I know she was banging her head on the desk at my inability to ‘get’ formatting. Thank you H for persevering.

Anny is putting her characters under the microscope once more on www.annycook.blogspot.com. Kelly will no doubt have some dazzling quote for us all to ponder on www.kkirch.blogspot.com

I leave you with this peak from Silverhills by Sandra Cox. It is a damn good book. Check it out by clicking on the link below

A stubble-faced cowboy looked at the horse and then its young rider. He spit a brown stream of tobacco out of the corner of his mouth and guffawed, “Why, it ain’t nothing but a damn kid. Hey, sonny,” he bellowed, “better get off that stallion before you fall off. That’s a man’s horse if I ever saw one. Let a man show you how to ride him.”
The drover swaggered towards the stallion then took a hasty step back as Alexandria drew her six-gun. A loud click sounded as she pulled back the trigger. “I wouldn’t, mister.” Her voice was low and husky like that of the boy she was dressed to resemble in her four-button brown shirt and Duckins.
http://www.cerridwenpress.com/productpage.asp?ISBN=9781419912900

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

Shameless Plug Friday….

Knock Three Times – the cover – isn’t it purty? I love it…ok, yes, I love him. Thanks Ellora’s Cave Cover Gods, I lay Tim Tams at your feet in worship.

The blurb – not official so don’t commit it to memory

In a case of mistaken identity, Montgomery French thinks security expert Ballantyne Teague is the local bad boy. He turns her boring life upside down and she likes it.

Ballantyne has every intention of confessing the truth to Montie when the time is right. He has two objectives. The first is to make Montie fall hopelessly in love with him. The second is to catch the real burglar Montie thinks he is.

But Ballantyne is not the only one caught up in Montie’s life. Her ex-boyfriend has a secret that will shock her and a real bad boy lusts after her for revenge.

So…

What do you reckon makes a good writer? I just finished reading three books – three different authors, genres and styles. All three were excellent but they couldn’t have been more different. So what is it about one writer that makes them stand out from another? Is it their style or their voice? Have the slotted neatly into a niche market? Do you think it’s all to do with heart and passion? Are they a good observer who is able to record the times so people can smile and say ‘yes, that happened to me.’ Is it controversy that makes someone recognized or is it the ability to write thigh sweating sex? I’m not really sure. I read books and I think there is no way I could ever write as good as that - or my god, that was a boring book. What is it that touches one reader deeply but turns another cold?

Romance writing is hard. You have to get it right as you can’t just put crap out there as readers deserve better. Love and romance is a fundamental part of who we are as human beings. People want love or to be in love. They know in their mind how love should be or how it should read. Do readers determine who is a good or bad writer then? Maybe but every reader has a different opinion on what’s good or bad so who's right or wrong? Is it editors and publishers that determine quality? To a large degree yes because they know what the market is but then they’re individuals too that have values, likes and dislikes. Think of all the great writers that never get published.

Why am I rabbiting on about this? Because people’s opinions – good, bad or ugly interest me. So, go ahead give an opinion…what makes a good writer? Or are you an expert on what makes a bad writer? You can respond anonymously if you like. There are no rules on this blog.


Shameless plugging…because I can…

Time For Love by Kelly Kirch (Cerridwen Press) – at the end of this book I went ‘awww, that’s so sweet’ – yes completely unlike me but good romance books give me that reaction. Time For Love is true romance with a time travel twist. It’s an excellent story about wanting to be with someone and knowing that maybe it can never be.

Silverhills – by Sandra Cox (Cerridwen Press) – I finished this book and I thought ‘I wish I could write like that.’ This is rollicking adventure with two strong people who need each other but they’re not about to admit that. I flat out loved it – I can see it as a mini series.

Honeysuckle – by Anny Cook (Ellora's Cave) – I was alternatively laughing and gobsmacked throughout this book. The characters are wild, the dialogue is priceless and the sex was eye opening. Yep it’s gobsmackable...my new word.

Click on any of these covers to buy these books. You will not be disappointed.

I will leave you with an excerpt from Anny’s book - guaranteed to give you the thigh sweats but before I do – two bits of general business

1. Tomorrow, Friday, between 7 – 10pm on http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ellorascavechat/ authors from Ellora’s Cave and Cerridwen Press will be talking about their books. Please come and stick your head in and say hello or whatever you like - we’ll talk about anything so don’t be shy to have an opinion.

2. Check out Anny on www.annycook.blogspot.com and Kelly on www.kirch.blogspot.com to be dazzled, amused and shocked...they're never boring

Honeysuckle by Anny Cook – excerpt – warning adult excerpt.

When they arrived at last at the Flying Fuck Inn, they were too tired to care about eating the cold skimpy meal, though Florian warned them that the early start the next morning would probably preclude more than a hasty breakfast. Daffodil, still mourning for Raulf and Chrysanthemum, irritated and impatient with her younger sister’s never ending tears tromped up the narrow stairs to the room they shared and crawled into the cold lumpy bed after hasty, sketchy sponge baths.
Honeysuckle chose to sacrifice a little sleep and take a bath. The bathroom was freezing with gray-green mold in the corners but the water was hot and plentiful. She scrubbed out the tub and filled it with steaming water before scanning the skimpy selection of soaps, salts, and oils the inn provided. Finally making her choice she dropped in most of a jar of rose scented bath salts and climbed in. In five ecstatic minutes she was as limp as a noodle and whimpering with relief as her stiff muscles slowly relaxed from riding all day on a jerky vibrating power bike.
Once the girls were settled, Florian stumbled down the steep stairs to the tap room for a comforting flagon or two of ale to bury his growing suspicions that he was in far more trouble that he had anticipated. The girls were not going to fit into his plans as neatly as he hoped. Of course, he hadn’t seen his girls since he had shaken the dust of his crumbling estate from his aching feet and traveled to the capitol at Came-a-lot seeking work. As he sat swigging his ale he realized that the last time he’d seen the girls Daffodil had only been six. And the last memory he had of Honeysuckle was her standing forlornly in the driveway, crying as if her heart was broken while he walked away. Edgily, he pushed that uncomfortable memory away and gulped another healthy swallow.
Preoccupied with dark plans of how best to rid himself of the responsibility of three marriageable daughters, he was so busy drowning his sorrows that he failed to notice the two distinctive men lounging in a dimly lit corner over a desultory game of cards. If he had not been so distracted by his frantic scramble to rescue his ruined plans, things might have turned out differently.
As Florian perched on the high stool at the bar drinking, the young men speculated about the women upstairs who had arrived with him. As members of the royal family, they instantly recognized Florian when he shoved the wide inn door open and entered, trailed by the three weary young women. Most of the royal household was aware of Florian’s intentions to arrange marriages for his daughters as soon as possible so the young men studied the girls with idle interest. They instantly rejected the tall dark haired one who had whipped out her horn-rimmed spectacles to consult the heavy book she carried. Nor did the young blonde with the endless supply of tears attract them. But the goddess with the flaming red-gold hair brought their cocks to immediate rigid attention.
That was rare enough that they took a second—and then a third—look. She was breathtaking. From the time they were old enough to understand the differences between women and men, their futures as husbands of a shared wife was simply something they accepted. Finding her had proved to be an entirely different matter. But finally what their bodies and minds were screaming in unison told them she was the one.
Mine! Mine! Mine!
She was the one they determined to claim for their own. She was the one who would bear their children. Eventually they finished their own drinks and silently stalked up the narrow stairs in search of the curvy little lady who moved like sin and gave them insistent uncomfortable hard-ons that bulged the fronts of their tight dark zipsuits.
On the second floor, they found themselves facing six blank doors with no hint of their goddess’s location. Short of knocking on each door they saw no easy way to find their lady. Then they heard feminine whimpering and groaning behind door number five. With a sharp nod at each other, they softly paced down the hall and tried the door, pleased to discover that she had neglected to lock it in her rush to take her bath.
Dick eased the door open far enough for them to peek inside and to their delight they found their fiery haired nymph moaning and sighing through a bout of bathtub pleasure. It seemed to them that it would be rude to leave her lonely and unfulfilled when they were so ready and available so they quietly went inside to join her, shutting and silently locking the door securely behind them.
With her eyes squeezed shut, Honeysuckle squirmed in frustration in the slippery tub. She didn’t have enough fingers to touch all the places she needed to be touched and her toys were packed away in her bag in the bedroom. She had two fingers stuffed in her slick pussy while her thumb slithered around her clit but try as she might she couldn’t quite reach the sensitive little entrance to her ass. With her other hand she frantically strummed and pinched her tight nipples. As another little moan escaped, a hard warm male body with an exceedingly rigid cock slid into the tub between her legs. She let out a shriek which was cut off abruptly by a firm set of lips covering her mouth and a possessive tongue filling her mouth.
Behind her, another hard body gently shifted her forward and slipped into the tub, dragging his equally stiff cock down her back. Her eyes flew open and she stared into the intent dark glittering eyes of the man exploring her mouth with devastating thoroughness. Whoa, was he a god or what? Sharp high cheekbones and slightly tilted almond shaped eyes gave him a decidedly exotic look. A wealth of silky black hair tumbled down past his wide shoulders and smooth dusky cinnamon skin covered a muscled chest and strong arms.
With a last lingering taste, he sat back on his heels, holding her glance with compelling eyes as his hand slipped down over her mound gently nudging her fingers away from the red-gold curls until he found her swollen pussy. Two thick fingers plunged inside, firm and deep.
Her head fell back on the warm shoulder of the man behind her and she moaned as her pussy clutched those hard fingers steadily moving in and out. The man behind her embraced her, cupping her breasts in his huge hands. He firmly pinched her nipples between his long fingers and tugged rhythmically in time to the fingers working her pussy. With a gasp and a short cry, her climax arrived as a searing sharp wave. Her lovers rode it out with her until at last she relaxed in a slack bundle of satisfied woman.
Her breasts still trembling with her struggle for air she opened her eyes and demanded, “Who are you? And why are you in my bath?”
The man in front of her smiled tenderly as he slid his hand beneath her hips and pulled her forward until his thick cock was seated at the entrance of her still pulsing pussy. “I am Peter,” he replied as he thrust his cock inside her, “and he is my brother, Dick. We are here to claim you as our woman.”
Instinctively, she tried to wriggle away but he held her close in his strong arms, filling her until she didn’t know where he ended and she began as he whispered close to her ear, “You’re exactly the woman we’ve been searching for our entire lives. Don’t worry about a thing. We will spend our lives making you a happy, happy woman.”

Hmm….you can never be too happy….

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

Excellent Question…

I did an interview with cover artist Lyn Taylor a couple of days ago and I showed off some of Lyn’s covers. Anyway a reader left a really good question in the comments section of the blog. The reader said –

“Enjoyed the interview but wonder why ebooks need covers?”

What a bloody good question! I like people who ask stuff because it makes you think. I guess the main answer, to me, is that e-books will become paperbacks hence the need for a cover. Then there is also the fact that if you go to one of the many on-line publishing houses to buy a book you naturally will want to look at a couple of things before you buy. The first, do I like this author? I received a great letter from a fan who said that she loved Mad About Mirabelle but she did not like the cover models hair because he had a mullet. I loved this comment. It was so out of the box and honest. It made me go and have a look at his hair. But she bought the book because I wrote it which is something every writer wants to here. So name recognition is important. Next, you want to buy an e-book, regardless what anyone says, we all judge a book
by its cover. You like a cover, so you’ll click on it and read the blurb and an excerpt. If you are turned off by a cover you are less inclined to buy.

I asked some smart authors I knew to give me their thoughts on the whole why does an e-book need a cover question….

Because unlike Hollywood, we like to keep our artists happy and getting them to color inside the lines keeps them busy.
Because all those words confuse people.
Because a diagram is always the best way to show how part A fits into part B
www.kellykirch.com and www.kkirch.blogspot.com

Because we like looking at pictures of pretty half or mostly naked men too?
Jacquéline Roth -www.jacquelineroth.com



Because buyers like them. They look pretty on the web page? Makes the whole point and click thing easier.
Cindy Spence Pape - www.cindyspencerpape.com

Once I realized my books with hunky, gorgeous guys on the covers were selling better than the books with only females on the covers, I posed the question on a readers loop.

If you ask nicely, readers will admit they DO buy a book by its cover. At least they'll give it a longer look and are more apt to read the blurb. If they like that, they'll read the excerpt. If they like all of it, they'll buy the book.
Ashlyn Chase - www.ashlynchase.com

It's very important to have a bookcover. Psychologically, it helps the author feel like a normal author: a bookcover, an aknowledgment, a title page. Otherwise the ebook may look like an unpublished manuscript. It's all of that that made me realize that

an ebook author is as much an AUTHOR as the printed one. It helps the reader realize the same. In a way the bookcover is the validation of an author, whether the book is printed or electronically released
Mona Risk - www.monarisk.com

Because covers give readers a visual image and an instant idea of what the book's about.
Kathy Kulig - www.kathykulig.com

Thanks for the question. It gave us something to think about. And, check out some of the great covers for e-book that are available now to buy – you know the drill - click and buy and read. Shopping is easy and good for you on the Amarinda Blog. Would I lie?

Quote for Today...

"Whatever I believed, I did; and whatever I did, I did with my whole heart and mind as far as possible to do so..." -- Jean Toomer

Anny is discussing the madness of being a writer on www.annycook.blogspot.com and Kelly is in Cheeseland or leaving it on www.kkirch.blogspot.com. As always the blogs to the left are excellent reading.

***Sneak peak of Silverhills by Sandra Cox released January 10 at Cerridwen Press. Click on the cover to find out more.

Silver Hills - the blurb

Set in the 1870’s, Silverhills is the epic saga of tough, handsome Brandon Wade and lovely tempestuous Alexandria O’Malley.

Brandon is driving a herd of longhorns over the Chisholm Trail when a youth appears out of nowhere riding a magnificent black stallion and packing a deadly-looking six gun. In need of trail hands, Brandon hires the young man on. Not till weeks later during the middle of a terrible stampede does Brandon learn that his young sharp shooter is a beautiful woman. A woman, full of fire and passion, that he burns to possess. A woman steeped in mystery who refuses to disclose her past.

Alexandria is on the run and must be able to disappear at a moments notice. When she hires on to the cattle drive, she doesn’t expect the powerful attraction between herself and her trail boss or the response of her treacherous body. Will love and desire cost Alexandria her life. . .or save it?

The excerpt....

Brandon squatted down in front of her, the brown blanket partially covering his arms and exposing his hard chest and flat stomach. “And now, Alex O’Malley, I think its time we had a little talk.”
Alexandria gave him an uneasy look.
He stared at her, his eyes hard and searching. “Who the hell are you?”
“What kind of fool question is that?” Alexandria scoffed trying to brazen it out.
“If you have any sense at all, you won’t push me, O’Malley, not tonight,” he warned quietly.
Her chin came up and she looked him in the eye. “My name is Alex O’Malley.”
Before Alex could react, Brandon reached out and grabbed the front of her poncho and ripped it from top to bottom. The poncho slipped from her shoulders, leaving her bare to the waist, except for her bound breasts. He grabbed a fistful of material, his fingers pressed against her bosom.
She clenched her hand and swung. “Bastard,” Alexandria spat, as she hit him in the jaw.
Brandon barely registered the blow, aware only of the rise and fall of her breasts against his fingers. His grip on the cloth tightened.
“Let go of me,” she groundout, rubbing her aching knuckles.
“Who are you?” His voice was ragged.
Alex spat out, “Alexandria O’Malley.”
He abruptly removed his hand.
Alex grabbed the torn poncho and wrapped it around her.
“How old are you, Alexandria O’Malley?”
“Nineteen.”
Brandon’s face registered relief.
“Why the masquerade and why my trail drive,” he asked in a grim voice.

“If I had realized those four-hoofed horrors were your particular longhorns Mr. Wade,” she snarled, “you can be damn sure I would have kept riding.”
“And the masquerade?” he demanded.
Alexandra glared mutely at him then turned away.
As the silence between them grew, the foreman watched his wrangler. He bit back a grin as the light from the moon revealed the determined jut of her jaw.
Studying her, Brandon wondered yet again how he could have ever mistaken her for a boy. The days in the sun had tinted her skin a warm apricot. Raven-winged brows sat above glittering amber eyes, now hidden by heavily fringed lashes. Her cheekbones were high and stained with color and she smelled of rain.
He removed Alexandria’s soggy hat that she usually wore pulled down on her forehead. Short, auburn curls fell about her face. His gaze moved to Alex’s full mouth and lingered.
“Okay, forget it for now. But make no mistake, O’Malley, someday you will tell me and of your own free will.” He dropped the subject. “We’d better turn in. It’s been a long day. Lay down and I’ll share my blanket with you. You’re chilled to the bone.”
“Not in this lifetime or the next,” Alex said grimly, trying to ignore his bare chest.
Wade’s eyes traveled over her. “You’re perfectly safe with me, O’Malley. To me you are just one of the boys.” And I’m hell bound for lying.

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