Knickers to you…

Underwear or undies or underaks as we call them in Oz…why am I talking about them? Because I can? Yes, but more that I have been writing away at my latest book and I have been trying to come up with different ways to say pants, panties or knickers. Yes, what a strange life we romance writers lead. Not only do we have common, life threatening ailments – see yesterday’s blog – but we also have to have a stream of words to describe different things like underwear. Why? Because you cannot keep using the same word over and over again as it gets boring, especially if that word is mentioned within a couple of sentences of the last time you said it. Invariably, my editor will cyber slap me and put the comment ‘repetition’ in margin when it comes to editing. So to save my Editor some the aggro, I give her much, I try and think of different ways to say things like underwear. So, if you have any, feel free to put them, the words, not your undies, in the comments section of the blog.

*Underdaks = underwear under trousers. Trousers = daks…no, it doesn’t have to make sense but we like it

Have you ever been to one of those online chats were the author pretends to be one of the characters from their book? It’s quite a refreshing change from the actual author spruiking about the book as you hear, or in this case read, what the character thinks. However, I have been to a couple of these to support fellow authors and one of the first questions people will ask the male ‘character’ is what underwear do they wear? Now I find this odd. I would have thought knowing his motivation for this or that or what he felt about the heroine would be more important than if we wore boxers or went commando? What do you think? Sure, you may look at some men and think…hmmm…tighty whities or au naturel but unless he is about to drop his strides and get down to business with you, it’s really not that important is it? So why do perfectly sane-ish people ask that question first? Is it the titillation of being able to? Is it even rational knowing you’re probably on-line with a female author who is pretending to be her male character? Does his underwear have anything to do with the story at all? Just my opinion but I think it’s an weird thing to ask.

It always fascinates me how people rush out to buy things like underwear that a celebrity has put their name to. It’s not like the celebrity has actually designed them is it? She or he has just been given a bucket load of money to endorse the underdaks. Let’s face it if Beryl, your next door neighbour, was handed a wad of dough to endorse Beryl’s Bras she would take it, but would everyone look at Beryl with her plump, unfamous body and rush out to buy her bras even if she is just as good or better than a celebrity? No of course they wouldn’t so why do people get sucked into buying underwear with a ‘star’ label on it? It’s not like it’s going to hydraulically lift your boobs any higher or make a man look more endowed is it? Why would you waste you money on a ‘name’ when something unnamed and cheaper is just as good? Though in saying that, many moons ago my mother and I used to buy the same style bra. It was for the – er – top heavy who
need the extra hydraulics. The bra style was called ‘Dolores’, Mum would often ring and say do you know they have ‘Dolores’ on sale and we would scarper off to buy at a discounted rate. No, Dolores was no one famous. We often used to picture her as a placid yet sturdy sort. The Dolores name bra is no longer is available in case you were going to search for one.

Are you are thinking what the hell is the point of this blog - that is if you are still reading it. Well, it could be that underwear is something that we take for granted and we never think about – or it could be that I have spent the whole day writing and trying think up alternative words for undies and I am slowly losing my mind. The obvious answer is of course not to have my characters wear underwear at all but then I would have to come up with alternative words to describe their non-underwearing state. It’s enough to drive

me to chocolate…and I have none in the house. I see a road trip to the local shops momentarily. So underwear - ponder on it for a moment and then move on to maybe contemplate socks.

Okay – so on to non underwear related topics…Anny is talking sex on www.annycook.blogspot.com – okay maybe undies related - and Kelly – well – I have no idea what she is talking about on www.kkirch.blogspot.com so it will be a surprise for us all.

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

Pain in the bum….

Are you aware that writers live life constantly on the edge? They are under great threat of debilitating medical conditions....

Numb bum syndrome – this happens when you have spent extended hours sitting in the one place pounding out a story on the keyboard. You feel nothing in your rear end.

Danger – Fat settles in one place and instead of having a rounded backside, you have a flat backside.

Cure – Chocolate and or alcohol to rearrange the fat globules – though if drinking a dry wine then may I suggest switch to chips.

Bum = fleshy bit you sit on

Dead foot Syndrome – you feel a tingling in your foot that becomes a numbness. What does that mean? No, you are not going to win the lotto or it’s going to snow. It means you have been stationary for too bloody long and you have to stand up and do the Mexican hat dance to get your foot working again.

Danger – stand up too quickly and you fall down

Cure – don’t stand up too quickly and you won’t fall down. Medicinal chocolate can be applied as there is calcium in it and it helps your bones and dancing burns up calories.

Limp wrist syndrome – this occurs due to incessant pounding away at the keyboard trying to finish writing that last 1000 words, of your best story ever, before you go to bed.

Danger – People may think your wrist hanging limply by your side means you are weak and they may pick a fight with you.

Cure – Carry a notebook so you can immediately write down all the action of the fight to use in another book.

Cheese lipstick syndrome – this is an eating disorder when you have trouble finding your mouth when eating things like Cheetos because you are concentrating on the keyboard and screen and not on making sure said Cheeto goes straight into your mouth without hitting your lips or chin first.

Danger – going out into public in search of more Cheetos or Twisties (Aussie) and people making fun of your orange lips. Please note especially bad, it you are still wearing your pj’s.

Cure – switch to chips or popcorn as they leave no visible trace of snack food debauchery. I would not recommend chocolate in this instance as it has the potential to smear and no milk drinking unless you want a moustache.


Zombie eyes syndrome – is the glazed look writers get when they have spent hours in front to the computer. It is a frightening and vacant stare that can make grown men shiver.

Danger – people may try to pour salt in your mouth and sew up your lips to rid themselves of a zombie

Cure – wear sunglasses around normal people. You are only safe amongst other writers.


Greta Garbo syndrome – wanting to be alone to write and ignoring the phone, the doorbell, your friends, your family, whatever it was you were cooking the stove and is now on fire all because of too much writing.

Danger – becoming an anti-social git or enjoying the tag ‘shut-in’ so much you have t-shirts made advertising the fact so you don’t have to explain yourself.

Cure – try and pretend you care as much as you care about getting X together with Y without A trying to kill them from your book. If that fails, learn to nod and smile vaguely saying ‘a-ha' a lot while you type while.

Anny and Kelly – what are they up to you ask? My understanding is that Anny planned to climb on her apartment roof and howl at the moon while Kelly was thinking of climbing on her roof and mooning the Howells next door. I could be wrong of course but check out www.annycook.blogspot.com and www.kkirch.blogspot.com.

May I suggest you go to http://sandracox.blogspot.com/ to see what your choice of dessert says about you? Then to http://www.mjdaniels.blogspot.com/ as it’s the last days of Molly’s contest as well as Anny’s on www.annycook.com – and Ms Rebel has a contest as well on http://vampsmut.blogspot.com/ - how can you lose? And just when you think the excitement ends there go and check out the blog rookie Mona on http://monarisk.blogspot.com/ - seek, read, win and buy. It’s all out there you just have to look.

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

What’s the goss?

If you have nothing nice to say, come sit beside me -- Dolly Parton in Steel Magnolias

“The only gossip I'm interested in is things from the Weekly World News - 'Woman's bra bursts, 11 injured'. That kind of thing.” --Johnny Depp

Gossip – what is it really?

1. Rumor or talk of a personal, sensational, or intimate nature.
2. A person who habitually spreads intimate or private rumors or facts.
3. Trivial, chatty talk or writing.
4. A close friend or companion.
5. Chiefly British A godparent.

http://www.thefreedictionary.com/gossip

Number 5 on that list is interesting. If you are a godparent are you aware you are a gossip? Apparently it’s old English. Anyway, why I am talking about gossip? Well because I got a stream of emails from a place I used to work at today about someone doing something to someone else and how shocking it all was. It amused me as I had not worked there for a year or more. While I knew the people involved, it made me laugh that the senders thought I would care. I will admit, being the impure person that I am, I will listen to gossip. Quel surprise. I generally believe anyone who says they won’t is fibbing. Just my impure opinion of course.

I don't at all like knowing what people say of me behind my back. It makes me far too conceited.-- Oscar Wilde

Gossip is what no one claims to like, but everybody enjoys --Joseph Conrad

Don’t tell anyone but the next five people but…--Ethel

So why do you reckon we, those that admit to it, listen to gossip? I tend to think it’s because we are human beings and we like to hear interesting stuff about other people especially in the work place or in group – in person or online – situations. Maybe it makes our boring lives a little bit more interesting. When I wrote Because I Can it was set in a call centre where everyone knew everything or thought they did about everyone else. Call centres are the breeding grounds for gossip as everyone is bored as hell and gossip is the only thing that keeps you from banging you head against the keyboard until you mercifully black out. Feedback from reviewers and readers of Because I Can indicated people identified with that.

Justin was amused as the heads popped up over partitions to watch his progress through the office. It was like meerkats scoping out an intruder. Instead these were Promptel call centre operators, predominantly female and definitely wanting to know why he was there and what was going on. It was only natural everyone would look at him. Justin was new to the office. He knew he would be perfect gossip fodder in an unhappy environment full of red-blooded women. And he knew walking deliberately up to Miranda’s desk would fuel some flames. But he did not care. He wanted to see her. When she left his office yesterday afternoon, Justin had not been able to think of anything but Miranda Marshall.

Miranda felt eyes burning into her back. She swiveled around in her chair and saw the reason why. Bloody hell! What was Justin Hale doing here and why was he coming directly toward her? After their torrid day yesterday, part of Miranda had hoped he had gone back to Melbourne. Another part had prayed he had stayed and it seemed praying actually worked. Who knew? Miranda could feel her face flushing brightly at the downright sexy look Justin Hale gave her and she knew it would be impossible to expect her fellow colleagues not to draw their own conclusions. If situations were reversed, she would have. After all, gossip, rumor and innuendo were the only things that kept the office interesting. The last thing she needed was everyone knowing she had fallen for the boss. And she especially did not need the man in question to know. How pathetic and sex starved would she look falling hard for a man she had known for only a day? Who would even believe that?

http://www.ellorascave.com/productpage.asp?ISBN=9781419910418

Have I been gossiped about? Sure. Do I care? Nope, it gives people something to do. I do not believe in malicious gossip – keep that to yourself but gossip like did you know that X caught Y and Z outside in a car in the car park shagging? Or, L got mad at Q and spread around the office that he had a small penis - that livens an office or a dreary moment up. As for celebrity gossip - I don’t care for it. I don’t know them so why would I care one way or the other?

I emailed back my ex-co-workers ‘thanks for the goss.’ It was amusing and irrelevant but sometimes its stuff like that they keeps us from going insane at out jobs or in our lives. Call it a break in the madness if you like. So what do you think? Do you listen to gossip or not? Are you pure of heart or bad to the bone?

Has Anny got gossip on www.annycook.blogspot.com/? No, she is too Zen. While Kelly on www.kkirch.blospot.com/ is too pure to indulge in rumour.

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

Oh bucket…..

So there is a movie out called The Bucket List – you’ve no doubt heard about it. It’s all about having a list of things to do before you kick the proverbial bucket. It got me thinking about my own bucket list. I don’t have one and I think this is because, other than having to work, I pretty much do what I want to now. I am very lucky. I have no restrictions placed on me by anyone. It’s my choice of course to be single and free of complications as it is another’s choice to marry etc. Life, as we know, is all about choices and there is no point whining over ones you have made. I also don’t have to worry about religious beliefs, family disapproval or what others think of me. Most people expect me to do something that is out of the norm. I suspect they would be disappointed if I didn’t. So, other than going back to travelling the world in style as opposed to living in armpit-like hotels with dodgy people as I did in my wild youth, there’s not a lot I feel I must do. That doesn’t mean I lack ambition, it means I do stuff as the opportunity presents itself. So – don’t I say ‘so’ and ‘anyway’ a lot – anyway, tell me what is on your bucket list? What do you have a burning desire to do if you could just break free and do it? Go on – scandalize us – it’s the first step to starting a bucket list.

Oh bucket…I had a bird fly in through the window today. I have a feeling it had a look through the window and thought I must investigate all the crap I can see inside. Remember the Addams Family home on TV? The inside of my house has been likened to that. So, said birdie flew in and said writer, me, swore as I did not want to be dealing with nature so up close and personal. This is why birds have trees. It’s their domain as my home is mine. I don’t go climbing their trees. So the little bugger circled around and around while I explained to it that it had to leave. It kept circling with what I believe was a maniacal grin on its beak. The thing is I could have ignored it but it kept smacking into things like my King
Kong Doll, my Batman car and Alphonse my four foot, plaster Nubian slave that holds the phone. So, not being the slightest bit at one with nature, I tried to usher it out the door by waving a tea towel at it . It flew into my bedroom and smacked into the cheval mirror then went and hid in a one of my shoes. Dumb bird. I picked the shoe up and started to walk outside with it. The bird decided it wanted to visit a bit longer so it shot out and decided to fly over and perch in the wig of Dolores, my 1960‘s gold dress makers dummy. That was okay as I managed to grab said bird and hair and flip both out the window. Time wasted - 40 mins and the wig has to be washed for I managed to throw it in a garden bed. I am sure that bird is now relating its theme park adventure to its mates.

Oh bucket….chain letters…do you believe people still do that crap? I got one in the mail today. Some dipstick of an acquaintance decided to add me to this nitwit chain. Correct – I think chain letters are stupid - and yes I continuously break the chain and – no, all the horrible curses that are supposed to be heaped upon your head for – gasp – breaking the chain have not touched me. Funny about that. A chain letter is considered by some to be something you could place great trust and belief in – I am sure that's true if you are stoned. Anyway, it was the usual letter – send everyone on the chain $20 and then send the letter on to five other people and soon masses of $20 notes would arrive in your mailbox. If you don’t the world will end, bread will not rise and toilet paper will cost more. Uh huh…funnily enough the dipstick acquaintance of mine did not attach $20 to her letter. She sticky taped a 5 cent piece. Yes, what an intellectual.

Oh bucket…rain poured down south in Sydney again. A relative’s home was damaged in a storm before Christmas. Her roof still has a tarp on it until the insurance company gets their finger out to fix it. So rain is the last thing she needs. Yesterday a news helicopter flew over all the still damaged houses and she got her grandchildren to run and out scream ‘help!’ She said was only sorry she wasn’t quick enough to get them to lie on the ground and spell out the word. Insurance companies…wankers.

That was my Wednesday…what will Thursday bring? Someone asked me how I write the blogs I do. Look around you – weird stuff happens all the time…write it down and tell us about it. Life is never static and there is always some strange thing happening that makes you shake your head in wonder. Look at Anny on www.annycook.blogspot.com and Kelly on www.kkirch.blogspot.com you can’t get any stranger than those girls.

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

Tuesday Trivia...

Okay, so I don‘t think I’d make a very good junkie. Why? Well I have to use this syringe thing to suck up this certain amount of progesterone cream (hormone stuff) and spread it on a fleshy part of my body. Now I have fleshy parts to burn, real women do, but that’s not that the problem. For the life of me I cannot suck this cream up in the teeny weeny, frigging syringe that is supplied. I ask you, why give a clearly hormonal woman a challenge like this? Are they mad? So I made executive decision #12638 and chucked the syringe and I am now dabbing my finger in the jar to get the cream. Sshh…don’t tell anyone. Is it the right amount I am using? Who knows? I look at it this way, on the odd, very odd, occasion I cook something from scratch I never follow the recipe because to me it’s only a guideline. I am applying the same logic here. If it kills me, I’ll let you know.

Madnaduk invited me to join the Armitage Army – what is it? It’s a group that is dedicated to all things Richard Armitage. See picture to the right and check out my blog from a couple of days ago - or go to http://thearmitagearmy.co.uk/main/ Did I join? Hell yes, the man has the ability make even the strongest knees wobble.

Naming…

As a writer, I collect names – the odder the better. If I hear a strange name I instantly write it down because I like my characters to have unique names – that’s not to say every day
names are not perfectly good but I like odd. I want people to wonder how the hell did she come up with that name? Being a writer means you are nosy – okay, some purists won’t agree with that but that’s my opinion and I don’t shy from it, as you know. I think you have to be a good snoop to be a writer. Why? Because writers need to observe stuff around them. How can you relate to your readers if your words have no basis in reality? How many times have you read a book I thought – crikey that was boring…okay maybe you wouldn’t say crikey unless you were an Aussie but you know what I mean.

I also check with fellow authors/friends (parts of whose works in progress I am lucky enough to read before they gets published) to make sure I have not inadvertently nicked one of their character names. No it’s not against the rules. It’s more of a courtesy. Writer Anny Cook and I both came up with the name Zipporah and I noticed author Bronwyn Green http://bronwyngreenblog.blogspot.com/ and I have had characters with similar names. It happens. It’s not a hair pulling event, it’s more that we tend to think a like. Writers are not
drama queens - most of the time. I will myself admit to the odd dramatic stamping of feet but I ask you what are Doc Martens double strapped Mary Janes for if not to stomp?

So what’s in a name? Depends. It can make a character sound tough or exotic. Maybe the character is intriguing enough on their own that they don’t need an odd name. It depends on the writer. Sometimes an odd name is better than the plethora of Jakes and Lukes that are constantly found in the pages of romance books. I used Nick in Seducing Celestine and I agreed with my wise Editor it was a name that romantically was done to death yet I wanted a plain name to balance out Celestine. See? Writers do tend to spend time on names.

Speaking of great names….Dakota Rebel’s story 'Kit and Mouse' is part of Bound Brits a great new anthology out now from Total-E-Bound. Dakota kindly agreed, after my email barrage to her, to give me an excerpt for your reading pleasure. Remember it’s just a click on the cover to buy.

Kit and Mouse – by Dakota Rebel - the blurb

Kit is a vampire who had been planning on a quiet evening out at the local pub. But that plan becomes null when Mouse walks in. As soon as Kit meets him she knows that this quiet, shy man is not really what he seems. She instantly knows that she has to have him.
Mouse plays into her hands perfectly, agreeing to accompany her home. But Kit is in for quite a surprise when the nervous veneer fades and this mortal becomes the demanding and dominating man Kit never realised she had been needing.

Excerpt – warning contains adult content

He reached up to softly caress my cheek. I leaned into his palm but he moved it to wrap behind my neck. He grabbed a handful of my hair, snapping my head back and staring into my eyes.

“Are you going to be a good girl and do what you’re told tonight?”

“I’ll try.” It was barely a whisper, but he nodded.

Then his mouth was on mine, our teeth and tongues crashing violently together. I wanted to wrap my arms around him, to hold myself tighter against his body, but I hadn’t been given permission. So I stood with my hands clenched into fists at my side, waiting for his next command.

“Touch me,” he said against my lips.

Immediately, I ran my hands up his back and over his shoulders. He kissed me again, slightly softer but still full of passion and heat. His hand tightened in my hair and he pulled me back again.

“No biting, and you do what I tell you to do,” he said. “Do you want a safe word?”

“No,” I said quickly. Probably too quickly. I wasn’t really thinking about anything but fucking him at that point.

“Just in case,” he said with a small smile.

“Okay, you pick. I don’t care.” The words tumbled out of my mouth, still without any real thought attached to them.

He kissed my ear and inhaled deeply before whispering, “Peaches.”

Then his mouth covered mine again. I ran my hands up his neck and wound my fingers in his hair, not as tightly as he held mine, but enough that he knew they were there. He pulled away to look at me again.

“Can you let a man dominate you, Kit? How long has it been since you weren’t in charge?”

“Years. I don’t know how long exactly.”

“Can you do it? Will you do it for me?”

“Yes.”

“Where’s your bedroom?”

Anny has the continuing saga of dragon romance and sex on www.annycook.blogspot.com – whoa before you hare off over there to see how dragons have sex - I would suggest carefully – Kelly has dragons of a different kind on www.kkirch.blogspot.com – then check out http://sandracox.blogspot.com/ and have a knowing laugh at Murphy’s Law. Yes, how bossy am I? Go - seek -buy - read.

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

Monday...uh huh...

After my very early morning walk I went and sat on the back steps with my coffee – very cosmopolitan – and thought about the following...
- a coffee cup will smash if you drop it down the back steps
(Take 2 with the coffee/steps/thought thing)
- The only person you can really rely on is yourself so invest in independence
- Wishes aren’t going to get the job done – only reality does
- There really is no rhyme for orange despite author Anny Cook’s valiant attempt with the word florange…what does that mean again?
- A book does not write itself
- Some people are always going to dislike you – whatever – let ‘em
- Trust yourself before contemplating trust in anyone else
- No matter how much emerald green nail polish you put on a deformed big toe, it’s still going to look odd
- Birds are really frigging noisy in the early morning
- I truly believe the best person to win any award, including an Oscar, is an Aussie...I could be a bit biased there.
- Silly voices on breakfast radio are just that. What talent is required?
- Horoscopes are only believable when they’re positive
- No matter how many stomach crunches I do, I am never going to have a flat stomach
- Talking to yourself is habit forming
- That which does not kill me really just annoys the crap out of me
- To err is human to forgive is optional depending on the level of pissed-offed-ness
- Making up words should become a recognized sport

So, I had to go see Fairy Floss again – my doctor – to do with some stuff. She always makes me pick three flower cards out of a card deck when I arrive. Gambling? No. Magic trick? No. It’s to do with my general well being. I would say a good indicator of that would be if I have a grocery bag stuffed full of Tim Tams or not. Anyway, flower cards picked. All sorts of cosmic stuff going on that is affecting my chi apparently. Also the crystal she spun indicated my hormones were stupid…okay stupid is my word. She did normal doctor stuff as well. I like going to her, it’s an event - better that the circus. No, it’s not menopause but I bloody wish it was. Bring it on now!!! Apparently that’s not going to happen for a while. What a bitch Mother Nature can be. No wonder I am driven to buy Tim Tams.

Author and good mate of the Amarinda blog, Barbara Huffert’s new book – All Roads Lead to Ripon is released today as part of the Bound Brits Anthology from Total-E-Bound. She gave in to my badgering and gave me this excerpt from All Roads Lead to Ripon. Remember – it’s just a click on the cover to buy.

All Roads Lead to Ripon – the blurb

Sometimes is pays to revisit the past.

Jane runs from a smothering ex who won’t take no for an answer right into the last thing she’s looking for – a mysterious stranger who appears wherever she is, watching her.

Simon knows they’re meant for each other the first time he sees her. Why she can’t just do as he says and accept that is almost beyond him.

Can some help from an interested observer be what they need to have a forever together?

Excerpt – warning adult content

“Enough,” he snapped. “Lower your voice or I’ll give you the spanking you deserve right here.”
She balked. “As if. You don’t have the balls…”
“Bloody hell.” In a flash, he had his foot propped up on the nearest ledge and Jane bent over his thigh. Her arms were twisted behind her back, her wrists clamped in one hand. “Silence, Miss Templeton.” His flattened palm landed on her curved cheek.
“Hey, ow.” She struggled to get free.
“I said silence. Hold still,” he commanded with a flurry of swats. His hand was beginning to sting. Even though she was protected by a layer of denim and presumably some sort of knickers her arse probably was too. He wished he were able to watch her cheeks turn that spectacular shade of red and feel the heat radiating from her smarting flesh. That she’d pushed him to administer her first spanking today, here, prematurely, instead of as he’d planned infuriated him even more than her childish disregard of common sense. He clipped her harder.
“Stop. Oh God, stop or I’ll scream,” she gasped, squirming in a futile attempt to avoid the blows.
“No. You won’t. You know that as well as I do because you would have already done so were you going to.” His hand flew ceaselessly.
“Please,” she whimpered, crying openly. “Please. Don’t.”
The haze of anger faded enough for him to realise that her reaction was changing. At first, Jane had fought to escape and to shift away from his hand. She had been rigid with fear and demanding he release her. Now however, her entire demeanour was altered. He became more methodical with his slaps and was thrilled with how her hips shifted as if seeking more. Moans interrupted her sobs. She continued to beg, softly now, but for him to continue instead of to stop.
“Are you ready to be reasonable?” he asked, pausing the spanking to caress her curves.
His voice seemed to draw her from the trance and Jane stiffened immediately. “You bastard! Let me go.”
Renewed fury surged through him and he resumed her punishment. “Language, Miss Templeton,” he repeated. “I won’t tolerate it.” He emphasised his words with a few strategically placed smacks. “If I need to remind you again, I’ll thrash your bare arse no matter where we are.” His thumb grazed the seam of her jeans covering her slit. “I can feel your wetness through your trousers. I can’t wait to witness it unhindered.”

Tomorrow an excerpt from Dakota Rebel’s book Kit and Mouse – it’s also one of the great stories in Bound Brits Anthology.

Excellent books to buy…another click on the cover moment

American Beauty by Ashley Ladd

Admittedly the cover drew me in when I had it on the blog last week – however, this is such a funny, sweet and sexy story. I loved the character of Brad – he’s all man placed in a less than masculine situation. As for Kirsty – I love it when an author writes about real women with real curves who are not perfect but are instantly identifiable. I read this in one hit I enjoyed it so much. It’s a story of misconceptions and wonderful possibilities.

The Mating Stone by Elyssa Edwards

…what’s it about? I had heard quite a bit about this book so being the nosy person I am I had to have a read. I won’t spoil if for you but what I really enjoyed about this story is the lead up to finding out about the truth of who the hero actually is and how the heroine deals with it. This is a book about true love and what you would do to be with the one you love.

What are dynamic duo Anny and Kelly up to? I suspect much writing and probably dreaming of Tim Tams. Check our www.annycook.blogspot.com and www.kkirch.blogspot.com Remember it's also the closing days on Anny's contest so go to www.annycook.com - and Molly has a contest on www.mjdaniels.blogspot.com/. See? Great reading, contests and blogs abound...seek, read and win.

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

Sunday once more...

Sex…what’s it all about in romance writing? Is it all that central to the plot when it comes to the relationship between the characters? I think we can all agree that the romance between the characters has to be the most important thing. If these are not people that you want to see get together then all the most imaginative, swinging from chandelier sex in the world is not going to make it happen. You have to believe they love each other even through she swears she can’t stand him or they are in peril as they fight the bad guy.

So, how much sex is too much sex? I have no idea. It depends on your own personal moral code. Some people consider any sex in a romance book pornographic while others like to read about the characters falling into bed - or wherever they have sex – together. I personally believe it depends on the style of writing. For example, in Honeysuckle author Anny Cook writes eye-popping sex. To me it’s funny, crazy and hot and it fits totally in with the story. While in Time For Love, author Kelly Kirch allows us a brief

glimpse of what is going to happen before she shuts the door on the characters moment together. That makes me want to read more as I want to know what the characters think the next day. In my own books, I try and write sex that is crazy, off-the wall and real. I personally don’t believe in writing soap opera perfect sex where the hero sweeps the perfectly formed heroine into his arms and over to the bed, where rose petals have been scattered and subtle candlelight highlights her porcelain skin. If you love that, then that’s great and I respect that. I just don’t believe sex is ever that perfect. Things happen that make you laugh.

So, what do you think? How much sex is too much sex? Do you cringe when you read it or do you smile and think I must try that out later tonight? Do you want the full blown fantasy of soap opera style sex or do you want real sex in your books? Feel free to comment.

Changing the subject completely…


I am completely pathetic at checking television guides as I don’t watch much television other then certain set programs. But today was different. Why? Because I knew the new series of Robin Hood was coming back to television. Why Robin Hood? It’s very historical. It marks a time in English history when the people were oppressed by cruel, greedy tyrants. Yes, I am a student of history. Okay and maybe, I really, really like to watch Richard Armitage who plays Sir Guy of Gisborne. Yes, it’s true, Sir Guy and Tim Tams are my weaknesses. I’ll admit I am quite pathetic over that man but I know I am not alone. There is a whole Armitage Army out there. So tonight I answer no phones or doorbells. I will be gazing wistfully at the dark and deadly sexy Sir Guy.

A big hello to fellow Steve Seagal aficionado Jane…the lucky woman got to watch a Steven marathon today. See? He really can save the world. Jane and I know the power of Steven.

I heard on the radio this morning that Aussies are more interested in saving money when they go to do the grocery shopping than worrying about the way something is packaged. Well duh. I totally understand what the environmentalists are saying. I get that they want less waste and therefore less impact on the environment but Mr, Mrs or Ms Citizen also has to think about their budget. It cannot be a shock that people will buy cheaper stuff in order to get by in life as opposed to analysing the packaging and buying more expensive stuff. That’s just the way life is. I also find the debate over plastic bags at supermarkets interesting. Yes, I have cloth bags that I use when I go shopping. I recycle and I compost stuff. What I don’t understand is if we get rid of plastic bags what do we put our rubbish in? One genius suggested
buying plastic bags to use for rubbish. Now, I ask you, doesn’t that defeat the purpose of less plastic bags if we go out and buy more to stop using the ones we shouldn’t be using now? Why manufacture more when they are the problem? I agree we are screwing up the planet but really unless someone can come up with a viable solution and not add to the problem shouldn’t we just continue to try to do our best and be careful?

Just quickly, I read the biggest load of racist crap on another blog today. Why would anyone print such rubbish for all to see? I know it takes all kinds to populate the world but you have to wonder what the grand plan was to have these idiots on the planet.

So, from sex to Robin Hood to saving the environment to idiots…that was my Sunday. Go check out Anny – www.annycook.blogspot.com and Kelly on www.kkirch.blogspot.com to see what they are thinking. I’m sure it will be memorable.

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

Saturday stuff...

So, I had an acquaintance call me today. By the way it was as hot as hell here in Brizzie and because of that I was not in the mood to suffer fools willingly…okay? Got the picture? Hot, sweaty writer wearing shorts and a bra and staggering from fan to fan… trust me, not a pretty sight. I had to avoid looking in mirrors as I am sure my screaming was affecting the neighbours. Anyway, the acquaintance, let’s call her – Myrtle - she rang to find out the gossip on my books. Acquaintances are scandalized that I write what I do – while friends don’t bat an eyelid – hence why they are friends and not just acquaintances. So Myrtle said she had bought a couple of my books and she was ringing to tell me how ‘shocked’ she was. When I say ‘shocked’ I mean in that-I-can’t-believe-I-know-someone-who-writes-erotica-shocked. Anyway she wanted to know was I writing this type of book because I was not married or involved with anyone at that moment? Huh?What the? This was probably
the best dumb question I’ve heard in a long time. Naturally I did ask her what she meant as something as inane as that cannot possibly pass me by unnoticed. Her answer – “Well, you know, a married woman wouldn’t write about this sort of stuff because they have sex available to them at any time.” Yes, head spin. According to Myrtle, this means single people are so frustrated that they write about sex as some sort of release and if they weren’t frustrated then they would write ‘normal’ romance. Hmm…takes all kinds to populate the world doesn’t it?

I explained to Myrtle that many married women write these books and that it wasn’t just pathetic single women on the shelf (joking). She said she was sure I could find a man if I applied myself and then I would not need to write these books (she was deadly serious). Applied myself? Find a man and then not write sex because I no longer had the need to because in theory I would have no interest in sex as it was on tap so to speak? Most amusing – frigging, starched knickered nutcase. Her – not me, I’m just your average nutcase. Anyway I asked her how does that explain married women writing or buying erotica - like yourself Myrtle? She had no definitive answer for this other than to suggest maybe they were not in happy marriages, though she reassured me hastily that her marriage was perfect. Huh uh. Interesting, so what about the men that write under female names I asked? Do they have the same problem? Myrtle’s answer? Men are just like that. So, it appears men are oversexed and can write erotica because that are ‘like that' but women only write it if they are single or in an unhappy marriage because in theory there is no sex in their lives. Uh huh…thanks for the feedback Myrtle…I hope you find your way back to the dark ages okay.

So, I mentioned it was hot. We have had a very mild summer until now. As it is wont to do at the end of February, our Summer, the temperatures have shot up. Last night was horrible. You know that sort of heat that just makes it unbearable sleep in? And because I had all the windows open the mozzies (mosquitoes) thought it was an opportune time to visit as there was a lot of the flabby Jones flesh on display. Don’t you just hate it when you lie in bed and you hear the whine of an killer mozzies making their final approach to attack? There was no way I was shutting the windows so I lay spreadeagled – no not some exciting sexual thing – too hot for that – and clutched a can of fly spray to squirt the buggers as they descended. How I did not end up poisoning myself I do not know as the spray floats back down on top of you and you cough a lot. Suffice to say I got up this morning as cranky as all get out. Please don’t be surprised but I am not a placid creature. Shocking…I know.

Speaking of creatures, Waldo, the neighbour across the road – no not his real name – is walking around without his shirt on today. Yes, it is bloody hot but the thing is Waldo never wears a shirt. It can be freezing and he’s bare-
chested. I’m not sure why. Maybe he is trying to attract attention. I can’t imagine it would be mine as a man has to have something more than a chest to interest me. So the he-man look is lost on me. So why does he do it? I really want to ask him but I suspect a man that does this may have a fragile ego and the display of bare chest is to do with other inadequacies. Maybe he has an allergy to shirts? Maybe he wants to be a cover model? He does have that strange 90’s Fabio long hair. I know I’ll have to ask one day as it will get the better of me.

As always Anny has many wise things to say on www.annycook.blogspot.com and Kelly is still on the road on www.kkirch.blogspot.com. Safe trip home, Grasshopper.

Author Ashley Ladd - http://ashleyladd.blogspot.com/ - asked me what the Frogspond is. It is a group of writers that all have the one Editor. This Editor, who is wise
beyond her years – who me suck up? - has a fascination with frogs – hence the name of Frogspond and not that we all look like frogs. No, we’re all completely normal-ish. A lot of the writers in the Frogspond are listed to the left on the blogs and websites. Check ‘em out. While you are checking stuff out Dakota Rebel asks many interesting questions today on http://vampsmut.blogspot.com/. Please see if you can put her enquiring mind to rest.

Thanks to everyone who turned up to the Ellora’s Cave chat today – we appreciated it. I know many of you are freezing your arses off as I sweat and moan…stay warm and safe.

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?

Thursday Thoughts...

I was out walking this morning as I do every morning - except on the weekend as I believe exercise on the weekend is just bloody wrong. Anyway it is still dark at 5am – no, I’m not worried about walking in the dark as I am not the sort of cranky person you’d want to attack – I walked up the hill and saw the moon. It was enormous and golden. Quite amazing. Now, I’m not the dawn breaking or sun setting type watching person as I don’t see anything romantic in them. Dawn means get up and exercise and sunset means thank god I can go home from work. But that’s just me. However the moon is different. There’s something wonderful about a full moon. Maybe it’s that huge sudden presence letting us know we are not alone in the universe. Maybe it’s some mystical/spiritual thing. Or maybe it’s because you can blame the full moon on whatever madness you are caught up it – it’s not my fault – the full moon made me do it.

As I was walking, I passed some homes that had SOLD signs on them. In Brisbane they have adopted this strange habit of putting
the sales persons face on the sign instead of the house and the features of the house. I find that odd. Most house buyers and snoops like myself want to know what’s in a house, the cost etc. While I’m sure the real estate person is probably a very nice person, I don’t need to know what he looks like as I’m only interesting in judging the value of my property against the one that’s for sale or just sold. Do we need to see the face of Darren McLarren from Sharon Baron’s Real Estate and Pottery Emporium on the billboard? Are we buying Darren? Is this some new racket where real estate agents are being sold? You think you’re buying a house but when you sign the papers you discover you've really bought a smarmy sales person? If you are in the throes of buying a house now, check the fine print to make sure you are getting an actual house and not a Darren McLarren.

We have had a bit of rain here -not enough to break the drought but the damns have steadily risen from 15% to 38% so everyone is pretty relieved. I have to admit we were in deep shite there for a while. When people start talking Armageddon plans you tend to wake up to reality. Anyway, the powers that be have decided that next month some time for 1 hour on 1 specific day (no more) everyone in the Brisbane area can used water on

whatever they want without restriction. And you know what? I have no idea what to use the water on. We have been under water restrictions so long I can’t remember what I used to do with water when it was plentiful. I am so programmed to turn taps off and shower for no more than 4 minutes while trying not to trip on the bucket in the shower that catches excess water that I use on the garden. I did ponder that I could wash the house windows because there is a school of thought that indicates you should be able to see out of them. But I’m wondering should I be wasting what water we have considering what we have been through? You never know how precious something is until you were threatened by the loss of it. I think I’ll forgo the hour and chalk it up under hard lessons learned.

Have you ever stood at the check out waiting to pay for your groceries and when the total is finally tallied up you think holy snapping ducks! What the hell did I buy that cost that much? That happened to me today. I looked at the grocery trolley and could not see the gold bars and diamonds I had bought. It was just the usual stuff…maybe a couple of extra jars of coffee…and wax strips – youch – but hardly luxuries. Just amazing Grace….

Well, you think you know someone….I was shocked today to discover that Ethel, best friend, is becoming all conscientious in her job. “Who are you and what have you done to Ethel?’ I immediately demanded. But apparently she likes this job. We never use the ‘l’ word when it comes to working but Ethel did today. I feel terribly disappointed in her. She said she could not understand it herself as her work ethic was usually crap. I’m going to keep an eye on her as I believe this is not really Ethel. I think it’s a cunning replica and the real could-not-give-a-rat’s-arse-about-work Ethel is being held by body snatchers who are trying to replace all the half arsed workers with conscientious clones. Rest assured, I will not be taken.

Want to check out the latest books available from Ellora’s Cave and Cerridwen Press? Then please come join our chat this Friday between 7 – 10pm on http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ellorascavechat/ - you never know what we may do…

Not sure what Anny has on www.annycook.blogspot.com today as she has been pounding the keyboard in the pursuit of literary excellence. And remember her contest on http://www.annycook.com/ finishes soon. Have you entered it yet?? As for Kelly, sad events take her to Texas but she’s a tough one and she’ll rebound back. Check out www.kkirch.blogspot.com for her latest insights.

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