Back from the hairdresser. I had a long discussion with a tattooed guy about how he has large discs in his earlobes and how they do it and the best way to do it. His advice to me - "Don't use a hole punch on your earlobe" - words to live by really...

Maid For Death

Cassandra Kent has a problem. Two men want her. Fantasy is great, reality can kill you.

One would be lover is a pissed off ghost. Once a year Miles returns on Halloween to kill a maid as an act of vengeance. The other is a dark, sexy Scot who is hunting the ghost. Sebastian plans to make sure the ghost stays dead and buried. Cassandra is the means to do it.Cassandra is under threat from both men.

Both want to have sex with her and both could be the death of her. What's s girl to do?

Isn’t this cover pretty? It’s a collection of Halloween sexy, spooky stories available from Ellora’s Cave. My story Maid for Death is in there. It’s based on a real period of my life and a ghost I knew of. Was the hot Scottish ghost hunter in my story real? Well, he was certainly Scottish and awfully nice ….ah, memories…head slap…move on.

So – we don’t do the Halloween thing in Oz….well I guess some people cave in to the American tradition but we do tend to hold to our own beliefs. As small as the world has become, living down under keeps us true to who we are. Other cultures – I love ‘em - they’re fascinating but not to the point that I want to emulate them. I like that we all retain individuality. In the end you are who you are. To thine own self be fair dinkum and spooky stuff happens all the time.

And yes – dressing up for Halloween is fun – it’s stress relief – we all need that – but just think for a moment if we put all the money spent on Halloween into real scary things like - feeding hungry children, helping endangered children, funding crisis centres for teens and abused women, schools, the homeless, medical research, transport, substance abuse programs, treatment for depression, planning for the world’s aging population …you know I could go on and on. No, you don’t have to agree with me and call me what you want. The fact is donations are tax deductible and they also make you feel good and I think the world would be a little less scary all the time for those in need. Just a thought…

That’s it – I will settle back tonight with a glass of the old amber liquid and contemplate my navel – how the heck did my gall bladder come out of there?

….hoping you are the same….

Heard about The Picton Belcher? No? Check it out here - http://www.goldcoast.com.au/article/2008/10/29/18535_bizarre-news.html
Uh huh….takes all kinds…

www.amarindajones.com
www.amarindajones.blogspot.com
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/AmarindaJonesNewsletter/
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Maid For Death - Review

Amarinda Jones knows what erotic romance readers want in a story, and this resourceful writer delivers. Ms. Jones turns up the hotness in this story, where flames can almost be felt coming from the pages. As one of the Tricks and Treats books, this story deals with Halloween. However, its imaginative originality makes the story one which can be enjoyed anytime of the year, as the holiday takes a backseat to the sensual plus fascinating plot. The lusty carnality is very descriptive, making something cold a must while reading every pleasurable second. With sex being the primary focus of numerous scenes, many of the pages feature continuously combustible heat in some form and leave you wanting even more. The story itself is absolutely delightful with not only intriguing circumstances but also three particularly energetic characters. From the opening paragraph to the last compelling word, MAID FOR DEATH is engaging with innovativeness plus an abundance of steamy sex. Each of the characters is colorful in their own way, and their lively personalities shine all through the book. Their witty conversations and thoughts will frequently make you grin and even laugh-out-loud, while their suggestive innuendoes may even leave you gasping. MAID FOR DEATH is red-hot on every level, as the spirited characters enjoy a rousing adventure packed with genuine feelings and rampant desires

http://sensual.ecataromance.com/index.php?p=584

Random Friday stuff….

I had to deal with someone called Jethro Thistlethwaite today. Who is he? No one important. Why do I mention it? I cannot, without thinking before I speak, say ‘th’ words properly. The minute I have to deal with someone with a ‘th’ name I am screwed. I just cannot get my name around it. I am all ‘ff’’ instead of ‘th.’ When I had to call him back, I did contemplate not ringing but it was an important call. When I had to ask for him by name I thought crap – 'crap' I can say but all those ‘th’ sounds in a row like that? It’s just wrong. I can’t whistle either. There goes my plans to go into show business – all ruined.

Got lost several times on the way to somewhere. I am someone who gets in the car, has a quick look at a map and then just drives. I quite like not knowing where I’m going. It’s the ‘I am mistress of my own destiny’ thing and normally this is not an issue as I get where I am supposed to. However I have a habit of rat running. What is that? It's going off the beaten track and shooting through neighbourhoods to find a quicker route. I always think if I go down this street that’s bound to get me there quicker. I did that today and ended up getting lost and having to go over the Gateway Bridge two times paying four lots of tolls. Head slap. Did I learn anything from it? Hmm…other than having more change in the car ashtray - no.

Vitamins – every so often I go through this vitamin junkie faze. I generally eat healthy and do pukeable exercise but I go through this “I must have more vitamins” thing. I always have vitamin e and c but I have these moments where I think – I should have more. Do I want to live forever? Hell no. I want to live as long as I can carry the plonk bottle from the fridge to the sofa without dropping it – two handed if necessary. When I am too doddery to do that – game over.

'Absolutely obsessed with playing Matchbox Twenty's Greatest hits CD in the car at the moment…over and over. Passengers get in and go – “Oh for god sake – again?” My response - “You want a ride or not?” Why Matchbox Twenty other than I like them? Well, every time I get fixated on writing/finishing a book I always seem to play a particular CD over and over. When the book is done I think – I cannot listen to that again. Anyone else do that? Nah, you’re probably all too normal.

I am an extremely lucky person. I had two friends lie their arses off for me today to help me out. How fortunate am I? You cannot buy friendship like that. Of course, it has always been a reciprocal deal. We lie for each other. It is truly a gift to have someone to rely on or to be relied upon. May you all be as fortunate.

There is a new Tim Tam biscuit out! Woo hoo! I saw it on TV. Tim Tam Crush…mmm…I will be buying myself some of those tomorrow…for research purposes of course…

Entries close at midnight EST on February 16 for the Eternally Yours contest. Have you collected all the lines for "My darling I could spend eternity…" yet? More importantly have you emailed anny@annycook.com the answers? If not hurry and be in the running for some great 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

My line - "My darling I could spend an eternity with you doing the laundry, cooking and the cleaning."

Anny has a great excerpt on www.annycook.blogspot.com while Kelly has the next episode in her blog serial on 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?

Quote for today –
“You’re writing sex and I’m putting the Christmas tree up…where have I gone wrong in my life?” - good friend, Katie

Maid For Death – review

A ghost, a hunter and anonymous sex are only a couple of reasons I found this Halloween morsel just right for a star filled autumn evening. Maid for Death was another example of why Amarinda Jones is fast becoming a force to be reckoned with. Her ability to design characters with a sense of humor, a bit of sass and tons of raging lust has ensured her latest quickie is just the right sized treat for the erotic reader. Cassandra and Sebastian’s banter left me with a permanent smile, taking your everyday individual in an out of this world situation and making it seems as if it happens daily. Even without the wow factors this story had a plot that was captivating from go. Ms. Jones is definitely earning herself a spot on my must have list. Can’t wait to see what delicious treat she has in store for us next.
http://www.fallenangelreviews.com/2007/November/Rachelle-TricksAndTreats_MaidForDeath.htm Thanks Rachelle


Did you know…

….that worms do not like onions or citrus peel? How do I know? Well I went and bought 3,000 worms today. Why? They’re delicious on toast. Okay, that’s a lie. I prefer them without toast. But seriously, I bought the little buggers as they are very good if you have a compost bin. Yep, I have one of them. Vegetable scraps and paper go in and fabulous rich dirt comes out. That’s about as close to Mother Nature as I get. Though I did talk a big spider off the clothesline this morning. He wasn’t about to move and make way for clothes so I had to bring in the big guns – a mop – and persuade him down. I don’t think he was particularly grateful for me not killing him as I’m sure I heard him mutter ‘home wrecking bitch’ as he scrambled away. That was my good deed today for Mother Nature.

Anyway, back to worms. They are very good in compost bins for breaking up matter. The problem is they are finicky eaters. The box they come in lists the things they will and will not eat. The first lot of worms I bought two months ago all escaped. How do I know? Well I would see then slithering down the outside of the bin trying to get away. Why? Because me being me, ignored the instructions on the side of the box regarding what worms ate. Okay, to be honest, I did glance at it and decided I was not about to be dictated to by worms about what they would eat. I would have gotten married if I wanted to do that. So I just chucked them in and proceeded to dump scraps, including lemon and onions, on them. That’s when they started to execute the great escape. One by one they fled until none were left. Ungrateful little buggers. The man at the local garden centre was appalled that I did not treat them correctly and I received a lecture on the ‘care and maintenance of worms.’ Fascinating (not). If it comes out on DVD make sure you get it.

Anyway, the new lot is in the compost bin. There has been no escape attempt mounted yet. I will be good and refrain from chucking in things worms do not eat. Yes, this is what my life has come down to – dealing with finicky worms. No different to work really.

Tell me…what is the fascination of worms in bottles of Tequila? Never understood it or why you would want to eat the worm, other than you are pissed to the gills, after drinking the Tequila. Please explain someone…Anny – you’ve done it all – what’s the word on worm eating? And for Kelly, please refer below, something of a religious nature to let you know I am not a complete heathen.


A minister decided that a visual demonstration would add emphasis to his Sunday sermon.Four worms were placed into four separate jars. The first worm was put into a container of alcohol. The second worm was put into a container of cigarette smoke. The third worm was put into a container of chocolate syrup. The fourth worm was put into a container of good clean soil.
At the conclusion of the sermon, the Minister reported the following results:The first worm in alcohol - Dead. The second worm in cigarette smoke - Dead. Third worm in chocolate syrup - Dead. Fourth worm in good clean soil - Alive.
So the Minister asked the congregation - What can you learn from this demonstration?A little old woman in the back quickly raised her hand and said, "As long as you drink, smoke and eat chocolate, you won't have worms!"

So there it is…I cannot agree with the smoking bit, but clearly alcohol and chocolate are good for you. Speaking of good things…go check at www.annycook.blogspot.com for a cute picture of Anny. She’s not blue. Amazing, Grace. What is the all-singing, all-dancing Kelly doing on www.kkirch.blogspot.com? I have no idea but I am sure it will be dazzling, informative whilst making you wonder about her sanity.


Last Man Standing - reviews

I highly enjoyed this story. There is nothing bad to be said about Last Man Standing. Alex is a scarred, battle hardened, warrior who isn’t looking for happily ever after. He’s honest and everything he does is for a reason, he is not one to play around for the fun of it. Amy is strong and independent. She knows how to take care of herself, and she does it in a smart way. The chemistry between these two is hard to miss, and their scenes together flowed in the perfect way. Janet Davies has written another great story with Last Man Standing. With great supporting characters, this story was spot on all the way through. I would love to learn more about the world she has created.

http://www.fallenangelreviews.com/2007/November/Ashley-LastManStanding.htm

Much appreciated Ashley

I loved it the whole story for it had it all. There was suspense, fighting and the truth behind Alex’s past history. All in all it was great and definitely rated a top 5 and can’t wait for more from this talented author.

http://www.nightowlromance.com/nightowlromance/reviews/Review.asp?ReviewId=988
Thanks Tammie

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

While I was out walking at lunchtime I stopped at the local McDonald’s. I am not a fan of Maccas. There is nothing wrong with it – it just does not appeal to me. I worked at Maccas as a teenager and later as an adult in London. I believe I have had my fill of McDonald’s. Anyway, I stopped to get a large lemonade as it was hot as hell outside. I placed my order and the women behind the counter said do you want fries with that – as they do. I myself have uttered those words because it’s something you have to do. Though, to be honest, I only ever said them if management were watching and I was already in deep shite for ‘not being a team player.’

I looked at the woman today and thought I have bought a drink only. No burger or anything else. Is it likely I am going to say ‘oh yeah, what the hell two Big Mac’s, a caramel sundae and a large fries.’ Suggestive sell always amuses me. Do they did we are that dumb that we are going to go ‘sure, load me up with crap I don’t want and did not ask for.’ When I first worked for Promptel, not it’s real name, they shoved me into the new phone connections area. You had to sell, sell, sell. Oh hard, as Ethel would say. I sucked at upselling as I did not care. I did not believe their threats that they would sack me if I did not make 20 sales an hour. Others did. They worked their arses off and got rewarded with pretend money that they could used to buy things like Promptel hats, beer coasters and key rings. Yes I, the bolshie militant woman that I am, missed out on getting a “I took the Promptel sales challenge and won t-shirt.” Yes, how foolish of me. My idea of selling was –

A - Do you want call waiting?
Customer - Is it any good?
A – Got any friends that you need to desperately speak to?
C – No, not really
A – I wouldn't bother then. You like to ignore the phone when it rings?
C – Yeah
A – Well, get messagebank then
C – Is it good?
A – So I am told to tell you
C – What else can I have?
A – There’s a bunch of useless crap I can whack on your service that will then tie you to Promptel for life.
C- Nah, not interested.
A – So any other questions? (Just get off the line. It's my break)
C – No
A – Swell.

See, quite the sales woman. I was actually made to go to a Sales training course with Ethel. It was a three day thing. We were asked to leave after two hours as we were not taking it seriously. Fancy. Actually I never went back to it or attended the training for the Ethics Course I flunked. That would have been a hoot.

So why am I prattling on about fries? Or as we would call them in Australia - chips. It could be that I have not had chips since Billy was a pup (a long time) due to doing the boring health thing or it comes back to selling which leads me to customer service. The driveway – a thing of beauty and a joy forever – got put in today. Yes, hallelujah and pass the gin. They did such a great job and they even laid all the bark and dirt that I had piled up to do on the weekend in the garden bed beside the driveway. I did not ask them to do it but that’s excellent customer service. It’s the small, unasked touches that count.



At work….

I heard the words today…”Ask Amarinda, I don’t want to override anything she had said.” Excellent. I rule the office. But I knew that. We have a new manager type person. I have him completely bluffed. He said to me “You work so hard” and “you are time poor in this job.” Perfect. Just the look I was going for. I am a great believer in smoke and mirrors. I like to leave my desk as messy as possible as people think “Boy, she is busy.” I am. I am busy writing books and chatting online. How I fit in work is anyone’s guess. So, the new guy is under my thumb and the others are too scared to go against my judgements. I rock.

When I read Kelly’s version of the blog serial on www.kkirch.blogspot.com, I believe I said ‘what the’ and ‘sigh’ and ‘I am completely blank.’ She likes to do that to me. I plan to get her roaring drunk when I meet her as payback. So check out what she has written and tell me she’s not insane. Anny, slightly saner- if you overlook her need to write about blue people with fangs – has great words of wisdom on www.annycook.blogspot.com. Anny to me is a cross between Mary Ellen Walton, Mata Hari and Marilyn Monroe – wise, deceptive and a wild sex goddess – as all women are. She is talking about Thanksgiving and exploding turkeys…well of course, anything else would not be an Anny blog.

So tell me? What have you done today to drive someone insane?

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

This is my second day off sick – cough, sniffle - okay enough acting. I’m not sick. My day today –

- got woken up at 5:00am by a phone call. Someone just wanted to say ‘hi’ as they knew I wouldn’t be at work today. Gee, couldn’t you have waited another hour so I could have my standard 4 hours sleep? I can barely speak before 7:00 am, let alone say ‘hi’ – especially after writing until 2am. I grunted back responses and they seemed happy.
- Walked into a huge spider web on the way to the compost bin. Got the spider entangled in my hair. I was shrieking and shaking my hair out frantically while all the time dressed in a faded purple night shirt that has a giant frog and the words ‘kiss me’ on it. Fairly certain I heard giggling from next door.
- Got email from Ethel advising she had decided not to go to work as she was ‘sick’ too. She’s such a copy cat.
- Went and did some retail therapy at the local bigger than Ben Hur shopping centre. I ran into two acquaintances who were shocked that I was writing ‘soft porn’ as they called my books (so shocked that they have bought all my books so far) and what did my family think of that? I said if Mum was alive she would be selling them and my father’s only concern is to make sure I can claim stuff on tax. Most family members unshockable.
- Yelled at the mad drummer to shut up after two more hours of bang, bang, bang. Drummer stopped. Thank god or whomever. Unless a herd of wild elephants are about to charge down my street I don’t need to hear jungle drums.
- Mail came. Cringed at size of credit card bill – though happy with the amount of ‘reward’ points I got. I can probably get half a new toaster.
- Received a bucket load of text messages on my mobile. I think one day we are all going to simply stop talking and texting will become the universal language.
- Tried fake, gradual tanning solution on my legs as they are blindingly pale and people need sunnies to look at them. It takes 3 days to work. Is it a load of hype to make the fair skinned buy it or does it work? I will let you know.
- Now sitting with bottle of fizzy plonk and contemplating going back to work tomorrow. The men have been alone for two days. Scary. God knows what happened. They probably spent two whole days running with scissors. I also expect the wall of wankerdom to be up. Oh dear, someone will get their bottom kicked.

True lies….
I asked a group of writers to tell me about a lie that they told that everyone believed. I only got three responses. Apparently writers are honest people…

Hmmm. I told my father I was a virgin when I got married. Back then that was a BIG deal... Of course, he still thinks I am... what was that about four kids, you say? www.annycook.com

That would have to be when I ran for local political office (Township Clerk) as a Republican—and won.
Now, I’m not trashing Republicans, not exclusively at any rate. I actually have no fondness for the big players in either political party. For the most part I consider professional politicians as slightly below banana slugs on the evolutionary ladder. But I was a young mother. My husband was in graduate school, and this was a job I knew I could handle and it came with paid health insurance. The only other person running was a Republican, so if I ran on that ticket, then the race would be determined at the primary, in August. If I ran as an independent or Democrat, I’d have to campaign (which is expensive!) until November. So I ran on the Republican ballot, won, worked my tail off for four years, and left the office in better shape than I found it, so no guilt. But identifying myself with the organized party? Yeah, that was a whopper.
www.cindyspencerpape.com/

It was a very small lie for which my mother gave me and my brother a licking. Not so much for lying but for taking our sleighs out after school on a cold wintry day and walking to a hilly place about a half mile out of town. It was dark when we decided to come home and Mom was frantic. She said she'd been up and down the street calling our names .We were not supposed to go sleigh riding after school. It got dark quickly. I lied. "We didn't hear you." but that didn't pass muster so we confessed our sins, we both got a licking and were supposed to go to bed without supper. But ... when Mom was back at her typewriter penning her Maxie books our grandmother made us warm, yummy bread and milk. I still remember how lovely that tasted. Harry and I were good and cold from sleigh riding even though we were warmly dressed. I told another little lie about a year later and gave up lying after that because it made me feel sick. www.anitabirt.com

On the serial, Kelly- on www.kkirch.blogspot.com thought she had me cornered with…

Zoltan fainted, but Emmeline was hard pressed to tell if it was from fear of the goliath or from the creatures bad fashion sense. For one half of the twin wore sheer harem pants and the other, miniscule hot pants unable to contain its manly parts which seemed determined to leap out and bite her.

Manly parts and miniscule hot pants…I know where Kelly got that from but my lips are sealed, unless Tim Tams are involved. My turn…

“Yaaawaaaaa!” The monster charged blindly forward, arms thrashing menacingly.

Emmeline looked at the creature in amazement. “Cyril?”

The monster stopped in his tracks. “Emmeline?” He pushed the wild mane of hair from his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Just zapped in – going to zap out as soon.” She smiled at the creature. Oh, the mischief they had been in together on Beta Nine. “Still got the teddy bear tattoo?”

“Yeah, wanna’ look?” He started to pull down his harem pants.

Emmeline threw her hands up to cover her eyes. “No, one look at your hairy arse is enough.”

Cyril kicked Zoltan’s boot. “Who’s he?”

“My husband.” Big sissy fainting like that.

“Oh yeah, I got the invite. I’m sorry I missed the wedding.”

“I got the toaster – thanks.”

“I never know what to buy.” Cyril replied sheepishly.

Emmeline pulled off her emerald ring. There was just enough power in it to get her out of there. “So I guess I had better be going.”

“What about him?”

“Do me a favour, terrorize him a bit and hold him here.” The further she could get away from Zoltan the better.

“Sure Em.” Cyril nodded happily.

“And Cyril?’

“Yeah?”

“Do something about your pants will you?” Emmeline kissed the ring and wished for the most peaceful place on earth. She departed in a whirl of colours, her mind focused on the future. A minute later she landed with a thump. “Crap that hurt.” Stood up and rubbed her arse. “Where am I and why is everything blue?”

Where indeed? However I am sure the Queen Anny of the blue people will be able to give, Emmeline direction. Check out www.annycook.blogspot.com tomorrow.

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

Mad About Mirabelle - released 19th December 2007

Mad about Mirabelle…a man, a woman and a limo…one night of wild, naughty sex. They’ll never see each other again – or will they?

1:30am in the frigging morning and the phone rings. I have a policy – after 9pm at night I do not answer phones or emails. Yes, I can be an anti-social bitch but if you really have to talk to me you would have rung me at a reasonable time and not when I am in switch off and relax mode. The people I know understand this. They also know I will answer the phone if the secret phone signal is given – a certain series of rings – if it’s really important like burning gossip needs to be imparted or ‘oh my god, I need you to lie for me’ stuff. Yes, possibly I am odd but I love me so being odd is irrelevant. I will also answer the phone if it’s a ghastly time like at 1:30am as it’s usually some emergency where you need to wear inside out clothes to go to the police station or hospital.

Was my 1:30am call this morning an emergency? No. It was from Rambo, no not the movie character, but a woman I used to work with many moons ago. She was as drunk as a skunk and she had ‘vital information’ for me. This is basically how the conversation went…please note I have translated it into English from drunk speak.

R – I need to speak to you. It’s very, very, very, very important – very big..hic…stuff.
A – WTF?? Are you on fire? Kidnapped by aliens and this is your one phone call?
R – You are not to tell anyone what I am going to tell you...hic
A – Great, you’re pissed…
R – No, I don’t know him but don’t tell him.
A – (What? Eye roll) What do you want?
R – I’ll put Bucky on
**I loathe her boyfriend Bucky – he is an arrogant prick.
B – This is very important Amajindra…draminda….adimda…only you can know this, dimadandra
**great two drunks…

A – Listen dweeb-brain put Rambo back on now or I’ll hang up.
R – Well what do you think of that?
A – What?
R – Yes, I thought so too
A – (Uh huh…) I would go for it.
R – You agree with me?
A – Absolutely and I would make sure I bought it in red as yellow would be wrong.
R – Yes, you’re right. I knew you’d understand.
A – Go away and fall down somewhere Rambo, okay?
R – Okay

Drunken friends – what can you do? Well you ring them at 4am, 5am, 6am, 7am and 8am as payback as they recover.

Speaking of drunken friends – Anny and Kelly – from what they tell me they are what Aussies call two pot screamers – 2 drinks and they are under the table. I am looking forward to seeing that. Today on Anny’s blog on www.annycook.blogspot.com she is as wise and as Zen like as ever pointing out the bleeding obvious with a velvet covered brick. Kelly on www.kkirch.blogspot.com has the blog serial. What can I say? She is truly – ah unique, yes that’s it – in the way she thinks. Check it out and try and convince me she is not crazy. I dare you.

The Crystal – Sandra Cox - out now from Cerridwen Press – click on the cover and buy if you want a fabulous read you cannot put down.

The wind keened and rain blew down in liquid sheets. Gabriella Bell clapped her hands over her ears and blinked as thunder boomed and lightning lit the sky.
She had forgotten her umbrella, again. Head down, she turned the corner and ran full tilt into the arms of a stranger.
“Im sorry,” Gabby mumbled into an expensive, camel-colored raincoat, her nose pressed against a hard chest.
She felt long arms wrap around her, steadying her. For a brief moment the clean smell of rain mingled with the scent of expensive aftershave and crisp cotton, before the man gripped Gabby’s upper arms and thrust her away, holding her at arms length.
Icy green eyes, colder than the wind whipping her hair about, stared into her own. His rain-darkened hair was drawn back in a ponytail and beads of water glistened on his coat.
“May I suggest you watch where you are going?” The stranger stared down his nose at her, his voice brusque, his manner arrogant. Letting her go, he walked away.
Gabby stared after him, as he wove through the throng of pedestrians with the lithe grace of a cat. Still feeling the heat of his hands, Gabby rubbed her forearms as she watched him disappear into a sea of umbrellas.
Determined to forget the whole unsettling encounter, she wiped the rain out of her eyes and looked around. A small store with a purple awning was just a few yards away.
Seeking shelter, she made a dash for it.
Reaching the awning, Gabby pushed past a couple standing under it waiting out the storm. She grasped the cool brass door handle and stepped inside.
As she took a step forward, her sandals squished. Gabby grimaced at the puddle forming at her feet, stepped back onto a black mat and shook one foot then the other as she glanced around. She’d stepped into one of the popular little novelty shops that lined Main Street. Crystals glittered and winked. Pewter moons hung from the ceiling on silver chains.
Bags of dried plants and herbs lined one wall. She picked up a little plastic bag and sniffed lavender. Gabby put it back and glanced at the jewelry counter. Stars and pentagrams gleamed against black velvet.
Starting toward the counter to get a closer look at the jewelry, Gabby paused as she caught a glint of color out of the corner of her eye. Shifting, she craned her neck to see, but the shimmer of color disappeared. Curious, she walked in the direction the flash of green came from.
A row of black capes blocked her view. She pushed them aside and stared into the shadowy corner. Hidden in the gloom, was a sea-green crystal ball. It stood in solitary splendor on an antique claw-footed stand.
She took a step forward and ran her index finger along its smooth surface. The globe felt toasty warm against her damp skin.
Drawn, she splayed her fingers until her palms nestled around it. A delicious wave of heat ran through her, like sitting in front of a crackling fire on a cold winter night. Ecstasy coursed through her body.
Transfixed, she watched the glowing green crystal change to blue, its hues dancing and sparking like moonbeams on the water.
The crystal pulsed beneath her hand.
By degrees, the feeling of warmth disappeared . . . and fear crept in.
Her breath hitched in her throat as the color in the crystal fell away and a face formed. Its blurred outline moved back and forth, wraithlike and then sprang into sharp focus.
She felt the color drain from her face, as her nerveless fingers dropped from the ball. The face in the globe belonged to the hard-eyed stranger she’d bumped into outside the shop, only moments before.


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

Let the pigeons - er, vampire bats loose! Maid for Death is released today! Click on the cover and buy the book!

Maid For Death – the blurb

Cassandra Kent has a problem. Two men want her. Fantasy is great, reality can kill you.
One would be lover is a pissed off ghost. Once a year Miles returns on Halloween to kill a maid as an act of vengeance. The other is a dark, sexy Scot who is hunting the ghost. Sebastian plans to make sure the ghost stays dead and buried.
Cassandra is the means to do it.Cassandra is under threat from both men. Both want to have sex with her and both could be the death of her. What's s girl to do?

Maid For Death….the excerpt…

“Miles is a ghost lass. He died in this room in 1924.”
Cassandra looked at him in a mixture of shock and relief. Not gay …excellent. Having sex with a supposed ghost…what?
“Are you out of your mind?” Could it be possible someone so sexy looking was insane?
Sebastian did not look surprised at her response.
“He’s a ghost hell bent on revenge and he plans to kill a chambermaid this evening.”
“He’s a vengeful ghost from 1924?” Cassandra looked at the man incredulously. “Okay you’re not insane, you’re drunk.” Drunks she could handle. She had been working at The Philbeach Manor Hotel, in the London suburb of Earls Court, for the past four weeks and she had seen and heard a lot doing the chambermaid gig. People having sex in every bizarre way imaginable, vast sums of money offered for her to slide on down over the cocks of desperate and delusional men and more drugs and alcohol than she thought imaginable. Nothing behind any of these doors scared or surprised Cassandra anymore. She was an Aussie working in London and she had pretty much seen and done it all. But a ghost? Come on.
“I assure you I am completely sober, Cassandra. Every year on Halloween Miles Copeland takes a chambermaid in this room and she is never seen again.”

Vengeful ghosts and sex with a Scottish Ghost hunter – what more could you ask for?


We Aussies don’t do the whole Halloween thing. We’re too laid back or lazy – either one. But I did ask some of the Cerridwen Press and Ellora’s Cave authors who have appeared on my Wednesday interview a burning question - WHAT IS THE SCARIEST THING IN LIFE?

Anny Cook - The scariest thing in life is watching a loved one dying and not be able, or know how, to save them

Cindy Spencer Pape - A teenager (especially one of mine!) with a driver’s license.

Charlene Leatherman - My scariest thing is losing my soul mate

Vicky Burkholder - Anything worrisome happening to my family.

Sandra Cox - The little demons and beasties we carry around inside that play on our fears and insecurities.

Elaine Lowe - To face your true self, with every artifice and delusion ripped away.

Terri Beckett: Being left alone. Forever.

Chris Power: Being unable to read and write through disability

Molly Daniels–The scariest thing in the world would be to be caught in a situation similar to 9/11

Carol Lynne - Dying with regrets.

Rita Sable - Losing the ones I love - that scares the crapola out of me!

Rena Marks - Depends. For an erotica writer, I think it would be an unexplained pregnancy.


Solange Ayre - The scariest thing in life is to be alone on a holiday.

Anh Leod The scariest thing in life is seeing what old age and ill health does to people.

Ashlyn Chase - I’m not scared of much, but I’d probably shiver a little if I was around a pissed-off giant alien with supernatural powers that decided a little torture would make him feel better.

Bronwyn Green- CLOWNS!!!!!! They're freaking terrifying and should be shot on sight!!!!!!!!

Jean Hart Stewart-that you'll love someone deeply and who'll not love you

Kelly Kirch - I once saw a movie where a girl laying on a couch screamed and a giant tarantula fell into her mouth; that would be mine.

Katie Blu - Grown men who think baby talk is foreplay

Brynn Paulin - Children who like expresso

Jacqueline Roth A gymnasium full of 900 middle schoolers

Judith Rochelle - This may sound stupid, but driving on the highways as every nut in the world seems to have a driver’s license but not the brain to go with it.

Amarinda Jones – Wedding photos in the newspaper where the bride and groom look freakishly alike…scary stuff that.

**click on the names and check out some great reading

My mother always told the Jones kids that we were swans. What she meant was that misguided others may see us as ducks but we weren’t and that there was nothing we could not do if we wanted to do it. We carry a belief and confidence in ourselves when others don’t believe in us. I am confident. I have never believed that I could not do things. But others, through whatever circumstance, doubt their swan-like capacities. I would like to share with you this poignant, true story by author Barbara Huffert, a good mate of the Amarinda blog. I believe many of you will identify with it, either by being in the same situation or knowing someone else that is. You can change your circumstance if you believe you can. Barbara had the courage to do so.


I Am a Swan – by Barbara Huffert

Something I’ve always known but have forgotten much too often during the last few years. Why? Because I let the man who professed to love me whittle away at my self-confidence until there was so little of the real me remaining that I barely recognized myself. Instead of putting an end to what I knew was a failed relationship, beyond hope, I deluded myself into thinking I could make it better if only I tried hard enough, was good enough, transformed myself into what he claimed to want. Sure, I knew it wouldn’t work. Or I would have if I’d been at all honest with myself. Somewhere inside I knew nothing other than permanent separation would put an end to our mutual misery, that that was the only way to prevent us from inflicting more hurt.

So why didn’t I do something sooner? Why did I let myself go on thinking I couldn’t make it on my own when, in reality, I was the one carrying us both and had been for quite some time? Why was I so willing to keep pouring more effort into something that was already long debunked? Why wouldn’t I let myself admit that I was the only one still trying? And why was he willing to live like that too?

I could answer those questions in many ways. One, because I hate to acknowledge that I’ve failed at anything even though it wasn’t solely my failure. Two, because I’d grown so adept at playing the game that I’d begun to believe my own propaganda. Three, because I’d fallen for all his verbal abuse and had started to accept that I was as useless, worthless, undesirable as he insisted I was. Four, because I fooled myself into thinking that being truly alone was worse than being alone and lonely with another person in the house. Five, because I would rather live with the private humiliation of how bad things were between us than risk the public humiliation that might result if anyone else knew. Six, why wouldn’t he stay and be supported by someone who did everything for him without needing to give anything in return?

We may have gone on like this indefinitely since he was as unwilling to reveal what our relationship had become as I was had I not woken up one day two weeks ago and decided enough was enough. In three days, I went out and found myself a reliable car because making me drive something guaranteed to let me sit was one method he used to control me, went to a lawyer for an official eviction notice, purchased new locks for the doors, arranged to have the master code for the alarm system reprogrammed, separated a selection of tools necessary for any standard home repair since mine had been incorporated into his way back at the beginning, and prepared myself for whatever scene might develop.

I waited until what I thought an appropriate moment and then attempted one last time to discuss the situation. As expected, I got his typical response which was first to yell and berate me and then to ignore me after declaring he had nothing to say. (He never had anything to say unless it was hateful and mean and eliminated more of my dwindling self-esteem.) I presented him with the eviction notice which was immediately thrown on the floor. Calmly, I handed it to him again, stating he had to read it or I was calling the police. Yes, I had the phone in my hand. After a you’re-less-than-dirt glare, he read it. And then he threw it again as he reached for the TV remote. If any of you have ever been dismissed by a remote you’ll know how I reacted. Having that to spur me on, I told him in no uncertain terms that he was leaving at that exact moment. And, without another word, he did.

In my case I was very fortunate. We’d gotten engaged the year after we met but for some unknown reason I never let myself take the next step and actually marry him. Also, the house was mine long before he showed up. Luckily, I have a place to live but, thanks to him, that’s all I have. In the week since I tossed him out, I’ve discovered many things missing, mostly of sentimental value, and I’ve accepted I’ll never see them again. It hurts as much as it makes me angry but I do have the memories associated with them and, most importantly, I have me again. Or I will as soon as I can coax the deeply hidden parts of me back out from where I stashed them for safekeeping.

I’d like to say something to anyone who’s feeling trapped and all alone in the world. You’re not really alone and you’re only trapped if you let yourself stay that way. If I can do this, anyone can. I’ve discovered friends I didn’t realize I had from all corners of the world and all aspects of life. I have moral support of the best kind from the most amazing group of women any time I can manage to let myself ask for it and also when I can’t. They know I’m valuable even when I forget and don’t hesitate to remind me whenever they sense I need it. I bet, if you take a good look around you, whether in person or in the vastness of cyberspace, you’ll find that you have friends like them too.

So yes, it would be very nice to have someone to share my life with but I really don’t need a man around, especially one that’s not good for me. Not having one is much better than having one who acts like an anchor with a too-short rope and is trying to drag me under with him. I will survive this and be better for doing it. I am a strong, intelligent, resilient woman who is more than capable of taking care of myself. I am a swan and I have the friends to prove it. Thank you, my friends. I couldn’t do this without you.

www.barbarahuffert.com

The definition of manipulation…"exerting shrewd or devious influence especially for one's own advantage.”

The definition of management. .. “is the organizational process that includes strategic planning, setting; objectives…”

As you may know, or if you don’t know, I work in a male dominated office. There are no other women there. Of late stuff has been happening that I am not being kept in the loop about. Why? Well, I don’t have a penis – which is good as it would not match any of my clothes. Anyway something is up and everyone is denying it and they are all doing that dumb arsed male look that only a man can do. I do, however, know we are getting another male in the office and that this has pissed some of the other males off. So in lieu of being told what is going on I have begun subtly turning them against the other. Yes, naturally, I do plan to feel terrible about doing this at some stage. Anyway, I have discovered many testosterone based insecurities about another penis coming into the office. So I have been quietly, in a very caring Lady Macbeth way, started using it against them. Basically they have all decided the new bloke is gay because if he is then is he the equivalent of a woman and therefore no threat. But if he’s not, they have been telling me ways they are going to undermine him. I have filed these away in my mind and as each tells me something. I may slip out, by mistake of course, what another – “No, it would not be right to name him” – has said. It would have been simpler for them to keep me in the loop but this is more fun for me. Watch this space.


I see manipulation as more of a form of managing my personal development and goals. Manipulation sounds so hard. So I manage situations to suit myself. A while ago my best friend Ethel and I worked for a company called Promptel, no, not its real name. But it is a real company and they were mongrels to work for. Anyway, something bad happened to Ethel at work. I used to do peer support. This was basically going in as a witness for the employee, taking notes and holding someone’s hand if they needed it. That’s the theory. In reality it as really making sure every word gets put on paper and that you stop the employee who is in trouble saying something dumb that will get them into further trouble. In this situation, we had planned it for Ethel to cry and look pathetic and let me talk. She was very good at that but occasionally she would say something and the hard arsed managers would pounce and try to use against her. I would shoot her a shut up look and then talk around in circles until they forgot what she had said. I am very good at this. The thing was we were there to get Ethel what she needed as her rights as an employee. They were there to do the opposite. We managed the situation so Ethel got what she needed even at the expense of driving management dribbling-mad insane. One of the head honchos said to me after I had scored something that he had been reluctant to give Ethel -

You’re very manipulative Amarinda

Why thank you. I was going for cunning or shrewd.


So I don’t see managing as a bad thing if it is used to help yourself and someone else. If no one gets hurt then I say use it. The other day Lola, no, not her real name, rang in a panic.

“I reckon I can get this job but I don’t have a second manager referee for the reference check.”

“Put me down as a referee.” I said.

“You weren’t my manager.”

“Yeah but they don’t need to know that.”

“It would be a lie, A” She said, followed swiftly by, “Do you think you can you get away with it?”

“You insult me Lola.” Of course I could get away with it if I managed the situation correctly.

Lola got the job. Why? Because we managed the situation to her benefit. No one got hurt. Let’s be realistic, reference checks are just to confirm in the interview's mind they are right. It’s not like they are going to ring unless they had made up their minds. In fact, by lying I am really just doing them a favour.

So I ask you is it a case of manipulation or is it more that I manage to the situation for an effective personal outcome?

I am sure you have already checked out the blog serial on www.kkirch.blogspot.com. Kelly thinks she has painted me into a corner but I can always paint myself a door. Anny is interviewing a book reviewer from Night Owl Reviews on www.annycook.blospot.com so check it out.

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