Monday mumblings...

So I got this review today from this person. They classified Knock Three Times as a ‘c’ because the romance happened too quickly and there was too much sex. See yesterday’s blog observation on erotic romance. Was I upset at the ‘c’? Nah. Any publicity is good publicity. How is that? Well because people read the review and think – who is this Amarinda Jones chick who allows romance to happen straight away and lets her characters have sex on pool tables? What is that about? Let me go to her half-arsed website and see what other ‘c’ books she has. Okay, so maybe they do, maybe they don’t. The thing is getting your name out there one way or the other is a good thing and words only wound if you allow them to and bullets bounce off me, sunshine.

And while I don’t agree with the person’s words, I admire that she had the honesty to give her opinion. Too few people do that any more. As much as a writer wants every person to love their book, it doesn’t happen. That’s rule number one in writing. Develop a thick skin and take nothing personally. No one is going to continuously rate your books as a 5 out of 5 or even an A. If they did I would begin to wonder. Why? Because no one is continuously perfect. No one is not flawed. I would start to wonder if they were actually reading the book or just seeing a particular name and slapping a 5/5 on the review because everyone else was. I used to review books years ago. I know it happens. And we all know there is a huge compulsion for people to fit in and follow the herd. It’s completely understandable. Most people don’t want to stand alone. So yeah, a ‘C’ review? Sure, why not? It’s that person’s opinion and it cannot be dismissed. However, it doesn’t mean that I believe them.

Twenty years ago…

Author Barbara Huffert sent me a photo of herself 20 years ago. It was in relation to do with her blog. Click here to read her blog and see the photo. I sent her one of me 20 years ago – eyes left and then below right. I figure everyone is on holidays so it’s a good time to post them. I also sent her a vague, fuzzy one of me today. My father took it it’s a terrible picture. I don’t have a face as I am squinting into the sun and I am saying ‘I’m not bloody ready yet.’ Picture a blurry Mrs Potato head . Ah yes, those Kodak moments. Anyway, I was looking at the kid in the photo and I thought, I haven’t change much. Oh sure, there are wrinkles and things are dropping and spreading but essentially it’s the same face, same thighs, arse and attitude. My thoughts, the things that make me who I am remain. So why, if we remain the same people, do we worry about aging? I was not and am still not a beauty queen yet I like me a lot. Twenty years later the kid with the cheesy grin still lives. Would I have cared about getting a ‘c’ book review then? No, because I would have laughed at you. Me? Write books? Get real? Mind you 20 years ago I had no idea what I was going to do with my life…nothing changes.

Observation for today…

A man glassed his girlfriend in the face. Glassing, if you don’t know, is when someone attacks your face with a broken bottle or drinking glass. It’s a vicious crime. I just heard on the radio that the couple are ‘madly in love’ and want to be together after the whole police charges thing is cleared up. What the? Huh? What the hell is this woman on? I would make sure his arse was slammed behind bars. No one who attacks you loves you.

Want a good laugh and some jaw dropping sex? No, I don’t have the man for you but I do have the book for you - Traveller’s Refuge by Anny Cook is hot, hot and scorching hot. Wanna’ buy it? Click on the cover and while you are their check out the rest of the series. Why deny yourself any longer? What’s a credit card for anyway?

Two weeks after Traveller’s narrow escape from Vietnam he checked the nearly invisible threads along the apartment door jamb. As far as he could tell everything was as it should be, so he unlocked the door and gun in hand, went in fast and low. Nothing. Softly he retrieved his bag and shut the door, locking it securely before padding down the short hall to the living room of one of several apartments he and Dancer had rented under other names. All were shabby studio or one bedroom apartments located in shabby run down neighborhoods in shabby medium sized towns. No big cities. No small villages. Anonymity was easiest in middle town America. Since Dancer’s face had become too recognizable, Trav was mostly the one who rented them, casually mentioning that he was an independent trucker, on the road a lot.
He moved silently from room to room, checking out the kitchen and bedroom before slipping into the bathroom to take a quick leak. There was nothing more embarrassing than getting caught by the bad guys with your dick hanging out. He shook off, tucked in and zipped back up without ever putting the gun down. Some creeping premonition had the short hairs on his neck bristling. His pursuers weren’t far away. They’d been on his tail for the last two weeks, just inches from catching him at least twice that he knew of.
Returning to the living room, he slowly slumped down on the dusty, sagging couch and studied the violin and guitar cases resting on the battered trunk that did double-duty as a coffee table. Marco had mentioned that Dancer walked away with his guitar and violin, so clearly Dancer had made a stop at this apartment. Trav sighed and then ran his fingernail along the outside seam on the guitar case until he found the hidden latch for the secret compartment. There was a tiny snick before the back popped up about an inch. Sliding his fingers into the opening, he retrieved a sheaf of papers and flipped through them carefully. Will, portfolio, bank papers, a map, several keys and an envelope with his name on it. Setting all but the envelope aside, he opened it and slipped a single sheet out, unfolding it with mixed feelings—hope and relief.

Trav—
If you’re reading this, then I’ll have to assume that my plans were at least partially successful. Enclosed are keys for some spare vehicles, a map, the key to another place in case you need it and personal papers, (will, portfolio, banking stuff, etc.)
Knowing exactly what an ass Free is, I’m going to guess that he will eventually make you part of his vendetta. On the enclosed CD you’ll also find the evidence I’ve accumulated so far that points to him as the man behind our family’s murders. It wouldn’t stand up in court but then I don’t plan to take him to court!
Don’t go off half-cocked and try to get him. I want to know WHY they were murdered and he can’t tell us if he’s dead. If you decide to follow me, be very careful. I don’t plan ever to return to work for him. Know now that I’ll die first. In case I don’t see you again, I release you from your vow not to cut your hair. You may need to cut it short to change your appearance. A floor safe is located under the dresser in the back room. It has a few things you might need if Free’s declared open season. Feel free to use any of it (no pun intended!)
I love you. Until we meet again—
Dance
So. There it was in black and white. He examined the map carefully. Actually, it wasn’t so much a map as a series of symbols and letters. There wasn’t a single landmark on it that anyone outside of his family would recognize. Written and drawn in their private language, it revealed Dancer’s target destination and a list of supplies that Trav needed to bring with him. The location was just one of several they had set up since the death of their parents.
Dancer had gone to the cave on Bright Shadows Mountain—which meant that he was pursuing his long-term goal to find the woman who communicated with him telepathically. Trav shrugged. If that was what would make Dance happy, then he was all for it.
Setting the papers down on the trunk, he went to locate the safe. Its contents convinced him as nothing else would have that Dancer had spent considerable time and thought planning his escape. He whistled softly through his teeth as he counted the money, stacked tidily in mixed bricks of $1000. Thirty five bricks. No bills bigger than a twenty. No new bills. No sequential bills. That required a lot of patience and planning.
Arranged neatly next to the money were a variety of weapons, with ample ammunition, blank passports waiting for pictures and a lone key to an anonymous storage unit. As he sat on his heels, contemplating the contents of the safe, the itchy feeling that warned him of danger dramatically increased. Without further thought, he retrieved a battered brown leather pack from the closet and emptied the safe before closing it and pushing the dresser back into place.
Moving swiftly, he gathered Dance’s papers except for the map, shoved them back into the hidden compartment in the guitar case and locked it. Then, pocketing the map and keys, he silently raised the bedroom window, stepped on the fire escape with his packs and the instrument cases and quietly mounted the stairs to the roof.
From there, he patiently checked his back trail and observed the neighborhood. Within moments he had pinpointed the strangers working their way from cover to cover and building to building. Flowing quietly across the roofs, he moved down the block until he reached a building containing a dry cleaner. He flipped up the trapdoor to the attic and dropped lightly inside with his baggage. Very softly, he closed and latched the door before settling down to wait for his host.
In a country very far away on a nasty, rainy night in a muddy alley, he had saved Chuin’s daughter’s life and prevented her rape. He was safer in Chuin’s attic than anywhere in the world. Stuffing his backpack beneath his head for a pillow, he stretched out for a long overdue nap before he worked out the details of his plan. That would be after he actually thought of a plan. So far, he’d been winging it and clearly, that wasn’t going to get the job done.

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

International Women's Day....

Its International Women’s Day – no, I’m not going to get all rad fem and burn a bra and denounce men. I like men and hydraulic support is a must. International Woman’s Day is about equality. Think back to the Suffragettes who campaigned for the right to vote. Think of all the women you know who have changed the world for the better and not just because they are famous. There are still so many things that need to be changed – the barbarity of female genital mutilation, women in some countries who are punished, not their rapists, for being attacked, women who have no rights and are but chattels to their husbands and women who have no access to education, the law or proper medicine. Want to know more? Check out http://www.internationalwomensday.com/about.asp

Instead of me prattling on as usual, I asked some strong women I know to post some positive excerpts about strong women in control. Read, enjoy and click on the links to buy.

Measure of Healing – Jacqueline Roth

“What?!” Alejandro erupted. “Are you crazy, lady?” His voice roared out of him and echoed through the room, popping hard against her eardrums. The sound brought his Mama to the doorway, eyes filled with anxiety. She’d not heard Alejandro raise his voice in more years than most of the people in this house had been alive.
“Mr. Ramirez,” Brie started to explain.
“Someone he doesn’t know is going to take a traumatized child a thousand miles from home to someplace he doesn’t know?” He shook his head. “No way. Not happening. Just in case you don’t get it, lady, that kid is terrified. He’s half starved and getting weaker every hour.” Alejandro ran his hand through his hair pushing it back. “You need to leave. Just get out, I don’t know what I was thinking. A Wolf and a human. Yeah, that’s gonna be a lot of help.”
“You need to stop talking and listen,” the voice that snarled out of the young woman snapped his head back in surprise. “In case you don’t get it, that boy is getting weaker by the hour under your care. You have no idea how to handle something like this and you can’t bully your way through it.” She drew a deep breath and she stayed seated. She’d learned long ago that if you couldn’t physically intimidate, your best bet was to make the other person’s physical posturing look foolish. Brie calmed herself and continued. “I have no intention of making things worse for the child but one thing is certain, if we don’t do something we end up doing exactly that. If he doesn’t start eating regularly soon, we’ll have to sedate him and feed him intravenously or he will die.”
http://www.cerridwenpress.com/productpage.asp?ISBN=9781419912634

Curses – Cindy Spencer Pape

“I don’t like you, Sean.” Mel kept her voice surprisingly level. She tapped the pipe wrench against the palm of her hand. “And I really don’t like threats. Now whether you like it or not, this is still my property, and it’s going to remain that way. Nobody is putting up a four-story hotel and a golf course on MacRae land.”
He’d backed her into a corner of the kitchen area, but he hesitated when she lifted the wrench.
“Now.” She poked him with the wrench, pushing him backward, toward the door. “Get your fancy butt into your fancy SUV, and get the hell off my land.” She gave him the nastiest grin she could manage. “Then go tell your daddy to back the hell off. Remind him just who he’s been threatening. You really don’t want to piss me off, do you Sean?”
Sudden comprehension dawned on his sculpted features, and he backed up all the way to the door, then took one hasty step out over the threshold, but he kept his sneer in place and managed a rude little snort. “Fairy tales, Melissa. Nobody with half a brain really believes you have any magical powers.”
“But then, nobody ever accused you of having half a brain, did they Sean? Just tell your father that if either of you ever wants to have sex again in this lifetime, you’d better leave me and my property alone.” She walked forward to stand in the doorway, then leaned against the sturdy pine trim for support. She was shaking in her boots, but she couldn’t let him see it. What was the use of being called the town witch if you couldn’t use the occasional threat to defend yourself? “Because if you keep harassing me, there won’t be enough Viagra on the planet to help either of you get it up.”
http://www.thewildrosepress.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=602&zenid=80060d1da8ddfcbbfca5f4c122de68b1

To Love a Hero - Mona Risk

It's all settled, General." She placed her hand on his arm in a soothing gesture. "I know it's difficult for the Major General of Belarus to ask for help from a woman." With male chauvinism ingrained in his culture, Sergei had probably never worked with a woman as an equal. Cecile hitched her chin to hide her disappointment.
"Oh Cecile, you are not any woman. You are the Program Manager who brought hope back to two million Belarussians." A devastating smile replaced his bitter expression and banished the business conversation. He stepped closer and added, "A generous and beautiful woman."
His deep blue eyes glittered with unbearable intensity. She breathed in the scent of his aftershave and felt almost dizzy with need. A deep quiver slithered to her stomach. Her skin heated. His voice, his touch, his smell created a sensual ambiance that sent her world into a tailspin.Outside the window, snowflakes twirled in a happy dance. Cecile wished she could walk out and cool off in the snow before she totally combusted. For the life of her, she couldn't move away.
"Once the project starts, it will last for a few months," Sergei reminded her.
She nodded blankly. "Yes, I know."
"Will anyone miss you there, in Boston?" He stilled, fixing her with a strange look.
"Maybe the chemists, if they have problems."
"No, I mean…" He rubbed a finger over her hand. "You are not wearing a ring. You are not married?"
"I broke my engagement three months ago."
"You gave him back his ring?"She glanced at her bare hand and tried not to think of the horrible day Rob had stolen her promotion."Not exactly. I dropped it in the flask of nitric acid sitting on the laboratory bench."
Sergei burst out laughing. "In the acid? Hmm…excuse me. It is inappropriate on my part." He cleared his throat and stared at her with obvious interest.
http://www.cerridwenpress.com/productpage.asp?ISBN=9781419913686

Traveller's Refuge – Anny Cook

Llyon sent Hawke to find Wrenna. She came running, clay splattered all over the smock covering her meerlim. Llyon peeled her out of the smock and hoisted her onto the swinging bed with Trav and Dance. As soon as she was close enough, she wrapped her arms around Trav and Dance let go and slid off the bed.
She rocked with him while she shifted around until she was in his lap. Then wrapping her legs around him, she held him and kissed him until he quit shaking. "Shh. Its okay, Trav." While they sat rocking on the bed, Dance directed the sorting of the stuff.
"I'm crazy!" Traveller declared angrily. "I can't bond with you, Wrenna! Who knows what crazy thing I might do to you or our children?"
She hugged him harder and shook her head. "You're not getting away from me that easily, Trav. You're my man. The father of my children. My mate. I won't let you go."
"Don't you understand? I don't even remember packing this stuff!" He shook her gently. "What else have I done?"
"Whatever else you've done doesn't matter, Trav. It's finished. Our lives start from now on."
http://www.ellorascave.com/productpage.asp?ISBN=9781419910593


Thief of Mine - by the Jones girl

“Why am I sick?” Stella answered back into the phone. Honest to God her manager was anal. It was seven twenty in the morning. The fact that she was doing the right thing calling in, allowing plenty of time for her manager to run around like a wet hen looking for a replacement for her, should be enough. Why did he have to demand an explanation? Sick was sick, it needed no further discussion. How hard could it be for someone else to do her job? It was not like you had to be a genius to file, photocopy and maintain spreadsheets all day. “I prefer not to discuss it over the phone.” Wanker. As he continued dribbling on with the whiny questions, Stella decided she had listened to him long enough. “Fine. I had wild passionate sex with a thief and it was so damn good that I can barely walk. Is that a good enough reason? If I’m not having earth shattering sex with the thief again tomorrow then I’ll be in.” She hung the phone up. Stella looked up to see Kit’s amused gaze her. “I hate that frigging job and now I have a reason to leave.”
“Before you get fired.” Kit had never heard any one use sex as an excuse. It was certainly different. But then, so was Stella Rowallan.
“Something like that.” Stella knew there was every likelihood that she was going get the sack but she would cross that bridge and blow it up behind her if and when that happened.
http://www.ellorascave.com/productpage.asp?ISBN=9781419911064

See? There are plenty of good books out there to buy.

Remember to take a squiz at www.annycook.blogspot.com and www.kkirch.blogspot.com to see what mischief Anny and Kelly are up to. I'll be back tomorrow with the usual amazingness of nothing to share with you

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

Go ahead, read a book...you know you want to...

I will give you a break from the world according to Amarinda. That’s right, no pontificating today. Monday I will be back to waffle on as usual. It’s Sunday and a good day to relax and read a book. What’s that? Nothing to read? Come on. There are heaps of great books on either the Ellora’s Cave, Cerridwen Press or the Total-e-Bound sites. I have three fabulous ones listed below. Yes, one of them belongs to me. If I do not love myself, how can others? So sit back and relax and read three hot excerpts. Be warned, these excerpts contain French (swearing) and gymnastic contortions (sex). If you don’t like being multi-lingual and if exercise isn’t your thing then check out my Saturday blog for more books. And remember, when you are looking for something to read, check out all the great blogs on the left-hand side of this page. The blog serial returns to http://www.kkirch.blogspot.com/ Monday with Kelly. For the last toothy installment, go check out http://www.annycook.blogspot.com/ with Anny.

Warning – language and sexual references…take your heart pills if you need ‘em.

Thief of Mine – by the Jones girl – what happens in the photo booth stays in the photo booth. Click on the cover to buy the book

“You were turned on by that?” His fingers tugging in her nipple were certainly increasing the pool of moisture between her legs.
“Yeah I was.” He stopped, leant down and licked one of her nipples. Stella moaned out loud. “I want you.”
Stella pulled Kit’s head to his breasts and urged him to suck her.
“Here? Now? Where?” Forget modesty and pretence. She wanted him.
Kit took his mouth off one of her pink wet nipples with a pop, making it bounce. He looked around him. He saw the sign for the ladies rest room. “Come on, princess.” He spied a male cleaner nearby. “I’ll give you a hundred dollars cash to close the restroom down now.”
The male, forty-year-old cleaner locked eyes on Stella’s swollen naked breasts.
“You want a place to fuck her?”
“Well?” At that moment, Kit would happily give a thousand dollars to be wet, hot and tight inside Stella for five minutes.
The man’s eyes remained on Stella’s breasts.
“No money man, I just want to watch.”
The thought of someone watching them made Stella hotter than she could imagine possible. She licked her lips and looked at Kit.
Kit looked at her and smiled. She was turned on. Kit didn’t care who watched him.
“Do you want him to watch as I fuck you, princess?” He caressed her breasts softly.
Stella licked her lips in thought. She should say no and be ashamed for even thinking of the possibility of another watching them. It was not right. A good girl would say no and be appalled that man would even ask her. It was immoral and wrong. But the overwhelming urge to be bad and have red hot sex with Kit in front of a stranger was overwhelming.
“Yes…” Stella hissed softly, her eyes locked with Kit’s.
Kit pulled her close and kissed her thoroughly. He would have done anything for Stella at that moment.
The cleaner excitedly grabbed a nearby yellow safety cone and pushed open the door to the ladies room.
“She’s got to be completely naked.” He pushed his trolley inside.
“Done, “Kit told the man. “This is going to be good, princess.” He pushed Stella into the ladies room. The sign went up and all three people were inside the generic white tiled bathroom.
“You heard the man he wants you naked and so do I.”
There was so much that was morally wrong about this but so much that was carnally right. Stella unbuckled her jeans and slid them to the floor. The two men watching drank in the pale beauty of her legs.
“I want her underwear,” the man said hoarsely his attention riveted to the red scrap of lace between her legs.
“Give it to him.” Kit watched as Stella kicked off her shoes and slid out of her panties. She bent down to remove them.
Stella walked over to the man and handed the scrap of lace to him. She felt wild and out of control but she did not care.
“I want her to touch herself.” The man ordered his voice hoarse.
Stella felt like she was going to explode. This was one of the most erotic things she had ever done. She was under the control and orders of two men. It was like one of her fantasies coming to life. She wanted to be out of control and being told what to do. Stella looked at Kit. She could see the definite bulge in his trousers. She wanted him to order her to do it. She would do anything for him at that moment.
Kit sensed that Stella wanted to be under anyone’s control but her own. The though of ordering her to be bad made his cock harder than he thought it possible be.
“Touch that sweet clit of yours, princess. We want to see how much pleasure you can give yourself. Let yourself go.”
…..and then they either all sit down and play a round of cards or other stuff happens….
http://www.ellorascave.com/productpage.asp?ISBN=9781419911064

Between a Rock and a Hard-on – by Cindy Spencer Page (I love this title and cover) Click on the cover to buy

He couldn’t fucking believe it!
One of the most sacred nights of the pagan calendar and his boss was making him hang out at a party. Not that he was particularly religious, but his sister Dana was going to tear a strip off his hide if he missed her coven’s ritual tonight, after he’d promised to be there. Besides, this was a children’s party and Bram wasn’t all that comfortable around children. And let’s not even think about the fact that if any of his brethren saw him standing here in a hotel ballroom, passing out candy in a black acetate cape and cheesy plastic fangs, he’d never hear the end of it.
“You’re not Dracula!” One tow headed boy of about six, who smelled strongly of sugar and candy-maker’s wax tugged hard on Bram’s cloak.
“No, I’m not.” Bram’s voice was slurred by the fake fangs. “He gets invited to much better parties on Halloween. I’m the low-budget version. A second-cousin on his mother’s side.” He pushed just enough genuine power into his words to make the boy’s eyes go wide. Nodding as if that answer made perfect sense, the kid took the candy bar Bram held out to him, then scuttled off to the next station.
“That wasn’t very nice.” The voice in Bram’s ear didn’t have a body to go with it, so Bram knew who it had to be. There was only one ghost on the team of paranormal enforcers the mayor had put together.
“Hey, Frank.” Bram gave a grim smile to another group of approaching youngsters. “How come his honor doesn’t have you doling out goodies?”
“There’s the small matter of my hands—not to mention the rest of me—being incorporeal,” Frank reminded him. “Actually he had me stationed in his pathetic excuse for a haunted house. Fortuitously all of the urchins have now completed that portion of the entertainment.”
Bram laughed. Trust Mayor Pendleton to have a real ghost working the haunted house at his Halloween party for underprivileged kids. He passed out treats to the three kids in the next batch, then spoke to Frank again. “Yeah, well this part better finish up pretty quickly. I’ve got places to be tonight.”
“Ooh, a hot date? Do tell?” He could hear the envy in the ghost’s disembodied voice. “I remember those.”
Poor Frank. Bram decided to take pity on him and tell him the truth. “Nah, not a date. I’ve got a Samhain ritual I promised to attend.” His tongue tripped over the plastic fangs and he damn near drooled. Uggh! Enough! He surreptitiously spat the stupid things out into his hand and shoved them in the back pocket of his black chinos, then allowed his own canine teeth to lengthen. To hell with the mayor’s better ideas!
Another group approached, made up of a bunch of littler kids this time, shepherded around by a grown-up. Bram had to look twice to figure that out, she wasn’t much taller than the kids, but judging by the generous rack that filled the front of her cheap black witch’s outfit, she was an adult. One more look had Bram adjusting the damn cape to hide the sudden hard-on that had sprung up in his pants. Oh, yeah, definitely a grown-up! But the mayor had screwed up when he’d dressed her as a witch instead of a fairy princess. Long platinum-blonde curls tumbled out from the pointed cardboard hat. She had big, slightly tilted green eyes and plump, glossy lips that would look just right wrapped around his cock. He only hoped none of the kids she was wrangling were hers.
“Trick or treat!” Five of the kids chorused the refrain, but one small one began to whimper and point at Bram. He felt a frisson of power and cursed mentally. That kid was a damn wizard, or would be one day. Unfortunately His Honor seemed to have forgotten that kids with magic could usually see through the façade of humanity that Bram wore on a daily basis.
“Don’t cry, sweetie, he’s just a pretend vampire.” The ersatz witch picked up the sniffling toddler and cuddled him close, while Bram passed out goodies to the others.
“Here’s one for the little guy.” He held out a lollipop to the woman, as the teary-eyed urchin hid his face in her generous cleavage. Lucky kid! Privately, Bram thought the tyke had already gotten the best treat in the place. Bram would happily trade every last piece of candy in Philadelphia for the chance to bury his face between those breasts.
“Thanks.” Her voice was soft and breathy and her bright green eyes twinkled as she grinned at Bram. A human wouldn’t have been able to discern color in this half-light, but Bram had excellent dark vision. “Sorry about Kevin.”
She reached up to pluck the candy from his hand and just for a second, their fingers touched. And where they did, they burned. Just a momentary flare of heat, but it was like nothing Bram had ever felt before. If he’d thought he had a hard-on before, now he was going to have trouble walking, his body was so stiff. He actually felt dizzy for an instant as all the blood left his brain. She pulled her hand away like it was burning, so she must have felt it too. It wasn’t just a shock of static electricity, it was magic…
http://www.ellorascave.com/productpage.asp?ISBN=9781419912306

Traveller’s Refuge – by Anny Cook – what’s not to love about blue people? Click on the cover to buy the book.

For several days, Trav apathetically accepted whatever his caretakers offered. His bones were beginning to knit together and they no longer ached like fire. Llyon had healed his internal injuries to the point that he was no longer in danger of dying. But he barely cared whether he lived or died. These people were strange beyond comprehension. They fed him odd food, offered strange treatments and refused to answer his questions. He’d kind of gotten used to the company of Wrenna who turned out to be a tiny red haired woman but she’d been gone for a week without even saying good-bye. When he asked about her, somebody just mumbled something about mid-summer. He closed his eyes to shut out the alien surroundings.

Just as he was drifting into the more comfortable landscape of his dreams, his petite companion came in and began removing his bedding. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked angrily as she whipped off the sheet he clutched in his weak grasp, leaving him naked.

Wrenna fought back a smile. “Dai and Llyon say it’s time to start exercising those muscles,” she replied briskly, completely ignoring his state of undress.

“Get out! Leave me alone! Can’t you see I don’t have any clothes on?”

She stopped what she was doing and gave him a very slow, thorough inspection from head to toe. He’d lost some weight but he still had a fine set of muscles, especially that thick cock between his legs. “Very nice. Too bad it doesn’t work,” she lamented, ignoring the slow wet curl of heat centered between her damp thighs. He certainly was a beautiful man.

He rolled over, turning away from her gaze, unmindful that he now presented her with an interesting new vista for inspection. “Get out now!”

She watched his taut butt clench and twitch. Oh, yeah, he needed to get well in a hurry! “When you can get out of that bed and make me leave, you will be able to make the decisions. Until then, we will have the exercises,” she stated firmly. “Do you wish to start on your stomach or your back?” Her fingers were itching to touch him anywhere at all.

Like a small sulky child, he refused to answer, so she decided to begin just as he was. After gathering up his beautiful light auburn hair in a single braid, she pulled it to the side, resolving to wash it for him later in the week. Removing her meerlim to keep it from getting stained by the quoltania oil, she climbed up on the gently swinging bed and carefully straddled his waist. Pouring a small amount of warm oil in the palm of her hand, she proceeded to smooth it over his back, massaging it in slow soothing motions. Touching him almost became a hypnotic exercise. Her breasts swelled and ached for his touch as her nipples crinkled into tight little nubs. When she was done with his back, she moved on down his body, rubbing her wet pussy over the rise of his ass until she straddled his hard legs. Her breasts brushed against him as she bent over him, working the oil into the curves of his butt, smoothing the long tight muscles in his legs, one taut section at a time, until she finished at his feet. Drawing a deep breath in preparation, she patted his butt and directed, “Time to turn over now.”

Traveller had been slowly realizing that all this slow, sensual rubbing of his body by a naked woman was giving him the hard-on from hell. Her damp pussy slithering down his back had nearly given him a heart attack. Damned if he was going to roll over, waving his cock in the air! “I don’t think so sweetheart. Just leave me like this!”

“I told you the rules. Until you can enforce what you want, we will do things my way. Turn over!” Sternly, she controlled her expression, well aware of his state.

Alright! He thought. Let’s see how she deals with a hard cock! Rolling onto his back, he sprawled with his legs spread out and his cock and balls on clear display. He was unprepared for what he saw. Wrenna knelt at his feet stark naked and obviously aroused by her ministrations.

Wrenna! Are you trying to kill me? he demanded soundlessly.

She tilted her head and stared back at him with a slight smile. Just remember it goes both ways. Completely ignoring his bobbing erection with heroic will power, Wrenna crawled up next to his ribcage. She straddled his waist and began massaging his chest, lingering over the smooth muscles and savoring touching his skin. Skating lightly over his hard pointed nipples, resisting the urge to take them in her mouth, she moved down to his belly, and allowed the soft silky petals of her pussy to close around his velvety cock. He groaned and reached for her taut pert nipples and gently tweaked them. After a few minutes she sighed regretfully and moved on down his sore legs carefully massaging the tight muscles all the way to his feet. By the time she finished, he was drowsily sliding toward sleep, even though his cock was as hard as rock. She stared at his cock with longing, her mouth watering with desire. Silky cream slid from her pussy, dampening her thighs.

He heard the rustle of the sheet, then the soft sensation of it sliding up his legs. Suddenly, he felt a warm wet mouth engulf his penis, suckling it gently and he was shocked wide awake. Her tongue curled around the sensitive crown and then with agonizing slowness, she released him, placed a soft kiss on the head, covered him, slipped down from the high bed, grabbed her meerlim and walked away.

“What the hell was that?” he yelled after her.

She poked her bright head around the door, gave him a sweet smile and said, “A reward for cooperating. I’ll be back to see you tomorrow.” And then she wondered if she was going to die from frustration before he was on his feet. There was no question in her mind or body. He was her bond-mate.
http://www.ellorascave.com/productpage.asp?ISBN=9781419910593

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

all the goss...

Did you read what Kelly did to the blog serial on http://www.kkirch.blogspot.com/?? I may have said a few descriptive words after reading it and maybe I called her a daughter of a motherless goat but I am okay now. A glass or 17 of wine can mellow me out. So my turn tomorrow. What will I do? Who knows? Whatever havoc I create the Zen Queen Anny will calmly respond to on Wednesday on http://www.annycook.blogspot.com/.

So who are Anny Cook and Kelly Kirch really? I wanted to know so I went and asked the hard, investigative questions of Anny’s famous friend and neighbour Jane, whom, you would know from Anny’s blog and Kelly’s brother Quinn – he’s the one we saw half naked on her blog. No, don’t go rushing over to look just yet. Read their answers, then rush off and see the half naked man.

The goss on Anny by Jane....

Okay, Anny comes across all Zen like but is she really that calm and placid in real life?
Unbelievably so. Few things get her worked up—mostly people that don’t respect her writing as her “job” and think of it as a hobby they can just interrupt at will. Those people soon find out that the door no longer opens to their knocks and the phone does not answer when they call.

Give us the gossip on Anny. What is the most annoying habit she has?
The gossip on Anny would be that she is never predictable. Her most annoying habit would be her leaving a particular “toy” out in plain sight (enough said on that one).
*Amarinda - isn't that nice that Anny revisits her childhood and play with toys?

Anny Cook and steamy sex are synonymous. Is it true she has hot male subjects trailing in and out of her apartment all day?
Not all day; she spends the morning catching up on blogs and emails. Mid-day she makes time for visitors – the hot male subjects – but they are always limited to the long haired, often blue variety. She quickly gets rid of them by the time her husband comes home.
* Amarinda – I knew it.

What song would best describe Anny?
I would have to take an old one and adapt it – originally “Once In Love With Amy” would become “Once In Love With Anny” and go on with the original words: Always in love with Anny, Ever and ever fascinated by her, Sets your heart afire…..

Romance novelists are dramatic. Is Anny a diva? Does she flounce around?
A diva in the most earthy way. Anny flounces when she completes a new book, receives a new contract or is headed to the book store. On a normal day, Anny meanders.

What’s it like having a world famous novelist as a friend?
Wow, that’s a hard one: exciting, challenging, entertaining and, most certainly, educational (I had no idea how much I hadn’t learned at 54). I live a great fulfilling life vicariously through my friend Anny and thank her for sharing it with me and reading me excerpts when I’m having my morning coffee – by the time she’s done you hardly need the caffeine to get the blood circulating.

The goss on Kelly by brother Quinn....

Has your sister always been dramatic? Did she flounce around a lot as a child?
Google: Define flounce.... hmm "the act of walking with exaggerated jerky motions". Well, she wasn't a Varsity athlete or anything, so not super coordinated or per se. I wouldn't say she was impaired to the point of flouncing though. On the coordination note, she is in fact the only person I know that has lost, not one, but TWO thumb tips due to "oopsy-daisy" type self inflicted accidents. Probably only her manicurist would notice that on the under side of her thumbs there are square nubs where the top of the nail bed used to be.

Her characters on the blog serial are – well – slightly odd. Did Kelly have imaginary friends with orange nipples as a child?
That last part, I actually didn't read that last part okay. Remember, I'm her brother. So then the question, imaginary friends. YES. I can't remember her name but I think it was when she was around 5-7 somewhere in there. We were living in Georgia at the time. I think there was one that mom couldn't figure out who to send the overnight invitation to. She wanted to contact the girls parents. It took about a day or two for mom to gather clues that (A) she was invisible, and (B) she pretty much was sleeping over all the time anyway. Kelly also personified dolls a lot. One time she asked me to guest lecture her dolls "class". I was like whatever, and started going through times tables. Kelly cut in, "Quinn! come on, they already know that!" Slump.

What is Kelly's worst habit? Give us the goss.

"goss", seriously? Who talks like this? I'm guessing my interviewer is an Aussie, East Coast f'shure. Its okay, I will recalibrate my vocab accordingly. Alright, worst habit. I would say its something like: You cannot tell Kell what to do. CAN NOT. NO CAN. Ya jess kent do it mate! My parents have been trying to do it for years. Its absolutely pointless. Kelly is Kelly, get out of the way. Maybe the reason why Kell and I have such a good relationship is I figured that out at an early age. I think that was the same year I started mumbling.

*Amarinda - I say goss...get over it....seriously who says recalibrate?

What three words describe Kelly best?
Strawberry birth^mark.
There that's kind of 3. Why? That's easy. She has this little birthmark the size of a quarter right between and above her eyebrows. BUT, you can only see it when she is really fired up or emotional. Like if she was a marine drill instructor you could write a character like that his jugular pulsed in his forehead when he was really ticked off. With Kelly its like, uh-oh, I must have accidentally told her what to do, that thing is lit up again. Oh no the red eye of DOOM! Take your children, HEAD FOR THE HILLS....quick before she gets really mad and lobs off another finger tip and throws it at me!!!!!

How do you feel about being featured half naked on Kelly's world famous blog?
Not to be dramatic, but I have spent a lot of my life (more than) half naked. I was a collegiate swimmer, long distance butterflier. I am really proud of that. Its the stroke you do if you REALLY, REALLY want to get on the team. Sh'yeah?! Who else wants to be a distance flyer for state U. Yes, yes I know all the jokes, he's wearing a Speedo-torpedo, banana-hammock, fag-rag. Whatever! Get over it, I did. I'm wearing "the required uniform".

*Amarinda - you forgot 'budgie smuggler"

Please finish this sentence. My sister is…
Absolutely going to kill me when she reads my response to your interview. Please know that I was a loving husband, good father, and lucky brother. Lucky to have Kell as a sister...before she killed me of course.

www.freewebs.com/janetdavies

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