My guess is that she’s reading Pride and Prejudice…

Keira-knightly-as-elizabeth-bennett

 

Or maybe "The Housewife Assassin's Handbook."

I'll go with the latter.

–Josie

From "Pride and Prejudice, the Musical"

Music and Lyrics by Rita Abrams; Libretto by Josie Brown

The song: 

Bingley_2#3: IT IS A TRUTH (Complete Song)
(Sung by Bingley, Darcy and Caroline)

 Darcy and Bingley banter about the pressures on single men–particularly wealthy single men–to marry.  But while Darcy is disgusted by it, Bingley's attitude is more benign–perhaps because he is already in the throes of enchantment with one of the local beauties, Jane Bennet.

 

_________________________________

 

 


HA1 Handbook 768x1024

THE HOUSEWIFE ASSASSIN'S HANDBOOK
978-0-9740214-0-9

FREE! 
ORDER NOW,  from

Amazon.com (US)  / Amazon.UK 
Also in all Amazon countries!

BN.com (99 cents)

Apple iTunes Bookstore  / Apple iTunes Bookstore (UK) 
In all iTunes countries!

KoboBooks

 

 

Love this version of Andree Belle singing “Go Go Gadget Heart”…

 

Soft Glow of Electric Sex
Here's one of my fave songtresses and her band, Andree Belle,  doing their thing!  

The song is "Go Go Gadget Heart, which you'll find on her digital album, "The Soft Glow of Electric Sex." Obviously the little techie had his effect on her! Only $7? Such a steal!

In fact, I featured this song in my novel,The Housewife Assassin's Guide to Gracious Killing. 

You can read the excerpt, below.

Josie


 

 

Book 2: The Housewife Assassin's Guide To Gracious Killing – Excerpt


Guide-to-Gracious-Killing-Final
Only $3.99

 Signal Press / In bookstores now!

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 978-0-9740214-4-7  / Digital eBook 

Donna and Jack are in the kind of hot mess that can cause an  international incident:

A nuclear arms summit, hosted by a politically-connected American billionaire industrialist, provides the perfect opportunity for a rogue operative to assassinate of the newly-elected Russian president on US soil. Acme operative Donna Stone's mission:

Seek and exterminate the shooter, before all hell–and World War III–break loose.

Not to mention what happens when Donna files for divorce.

Throw in a couple killer play dates and a few naughty neighbors, you've got a whole lot of fun.

 

Chapter 1: Breaking Bad Hostessing Habits

Every woman wants to be the perfect hostess, and frets over her inadequacies when it comes to the gracious art of entertaining.  Pshaw! A little forethought and a few hours of  planning makes it easy as cherry pie!

There is, however, one ironclad rule that every hostess must follow: make all your guests wish they’d never have to leave.

Especially in a coffin. With a bullet lodged in their heads.

 

Harry Happy Hour“You’re quite a saucy minx!” Prince Harry’s  ale-slurred come-on can barely be heard over the techno-vibe emanating from a starship-worthy console of  the Ivy Lounge rooftop’s head-bobbing deejay.  “What say you give me a peek as to where that tattoo ends?”

His head is cocked downward, as if it might give him the ex-ray vision he’ll need in order to see the rattle on the faux-tatt’ed snake drawn from my belly, which ends somewhere  in the nether regions that lay under my thong bikini.

“You’re a cheeky sod. I do have a face, you know.” I snap my fingers in front of his nose in order to draw his eyes northward.

I’ve succeeded, sort of.  But come on, already: the diplomacy born and bred into the Prince of Wales can’t beat two millennia of innate urges and four pints of Guinness.

His eyes linger below my neck, albeit above my abdomen.

When, finally, our eyes meet, I lean in and whisper, “You show me yours, and I’ll show you mine.”

I’m lying, even if he doesn’t know it—yet.

His outright laugh is accompanied with a shake of his head, and a tug at the waistline of his briefs. “Nothing under these trollies, I’m afraid. Sorry to disappoint.”

I finger his briefs longingly, then sigh. “I’m sure you’ll make it up to me somehow.”

His smile is his vow not to disappoint.

God save the queen…

It’s no secret the prince has been stateside with his Royal Air Force unit, learning the latest tricks and treats of the AH-64D Apache helicopter: his vehicle of choice for his upcoming tour of duty in Afghanistan. Tomorrow the soldiers complete their training and head home. To celebrate, the soldiers are here, in San Diego, which is just a couple of hours west of their training base, the Naval Air Facility at El Centro.

Seems some chatter, intercepted by MI-6, has led the Cousins to deduce that the prince is the latest target of “the Leprechaun,” a notorious assassin affiliated with the Irish terrorist cell known as 32CSM. If the Leprechaun succeeds in picking off the spare to the throne, then once again the always thin strand of peace between Ireland and Great Britain will be ripped to shreds.

If it happens on our side of the pond, the U.S. will have mud on its face, not to mention the bluest of blood on its hands.

So yep, I have to stop the Leprechaun before he gets lucky.

My employer, the freelance black ops agency known in the field as Acme Corporation, paid big bucks to the club owners so that I could be up close and personal with the prince. My goal is not to shag, let alone snag, Harry the Hottie. It’s to save his adorable hide from a possible assassination attempt.

The prince leans in, close enough to ask in a seductive albeit ale-sodden growl, “Want me to sign your bikini?”

I look down between my breasts. “Oops, forgot my pen. But you seem to be carrying one, in your pants pocket. Or maybe you’re just happy to see me.”

He’s laughing so hard his last gulp of Guinness goes down the wrong way.

“Prince Charming has a one-track mind.” Jack Craig’s snarl comes in loud and clear through the tiny microphone in my ear. As the team leader for this Acme Industries mission, he is close by, but far enough away that no potential assassin can spot him.

Trust me, there is an assassin lurking nearby.

Jack is also my main squeeze, which is why he’s growling about my having to play the coquette while under deep cover (in this bikini, I’m talking figuratively if not literally) as one of the nightclub’s VIP bottle girls, and more specifically, the world’s most eligible prince ’s pick-up du jour.

Needless to say, the club’s real bottle girls are pea green with envy. They can’t figure out how this newbie became Cinderella of this Century.

If I told them that my aim and my 1st degree black belt status had something to do with it, would they believe me? Probably not. All they see is that I’m just this side of Cougarville, which means Harry is less discriminating than they had hoped.

For once I’m glad Jack is not here with us, in the cordoned-off VIP section. One involuntary muscle flex and prince’s all too obvious brawny goon squad—three of his Royal Air Force mates—would be on top of him, like suds on ale. 

At MI-6’s behest, we’ve kept that a secret from Harry, for now anyway. Which, I’m sure, is why he feels so cocksure. This mission wouldn’t have been so hard if the prince weren’t so insistent about partying “like an ordinary surfer bloke,” is how he so preciously puts it. 

Thus far the natives have been awed as much by his title as his regular dude  personality.

Just as the deejay ratchets up the hip hop club mix, six drunken sorority sisters stroll our way. One of the girls, a Kate Middleton lookalike, pierces me with a jealous glare.

I stare back and smile, as if to say Take the hint. Get lost.

Her eyes shift from me to one of Harry’s RAF buds. She waves coyly at him, and he’s smitten. Smirking back, he nods her over. She squeals and grabs the hand of one of her girlfriends.

Harry's haremIn no time at all, she and her besties have jumped the red velvet rope. They toss themselves onto the prince’s entourage, who don’t seem to be fighting them off too hard.

In fact, they’re snapping their fingers at me with drink orders for their new arm charms.

“Not good.” Jack’s warning in my ear is just loud enough for me to here.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” I mutter back.

“How about this?” Jack is now shouting into my earpiece. “You’ve lost Prince Harry.”

He’s right.

The prince seems captivated by a petite, busty blond beauty. Even in heels, she barely reaches his chest. She had pulled him out onto the dance floor for a throbbing sex-drenched hip grinder, Andree Belle’s Go Go Gadget Heart.

The strobe lights and smoke machine make it hard to follow them in the crowd. Then I see them, against one wall. The buxom little tart has draped her arms around his shoulders and hugs him close, as if she’ll never let him go.

Apparently too close. I shove my way through the crowd until I’m close enough to I hear Harry’s woozy cry: “Blimey, you’re no bird! You’ve got a wanker!”

Before I can pull him away, the prince is pricked on the neck with something  his partner has pulled from her cleavage. Harry’s groan is loud—

Then the smell of smoke, and the lights go out—

But not before the last strobe catches the triumphant look on his partner’s face.

 “Oh my God, Jack! The woman with Harry—she’s—not a she! She’s—”

“I know, I saw it, too! The Leprechaun!”

Proof it pays to hit the M.A.C. counter before a night on the town.

 And to hang out where the lights are always low.

Everyone is screaming and shoving their way to the exits, leaving me room to follow the Leprechaun, who was shoving Harry in the opposite direction, up against a wall.

“It’s too dark to see where they went. Does anything show up on the club’s security cams?”

“I’m looking now. In the meantime, check the wall for a hidden pocket door. The schematic of this club shows a few of them on every level. I’m sure the Leprechaun had his exit scoped out in advance.”

While he scans the feeds from the security cameras, I skim the walls with my hands. Finally I find it: a tiny catch, waist high.

I pull it open it just in time to see the Leprechaun heaving Harry down a long corridor.

He may not be used to running in heels, but I am. If only I wasn’t running in a bikini, too.

“Too many wobbly bits,” I mutter under my breath.

It is inappropriate for Jack to be laughing now, but he can’t help it. “Just two. And they’re a sight to behold. Prince Charming will be upset he slept through it.”

The thought of Harry in the French-manicured hands of an assassin who can start the United Kingdom and Ireland down another bloody path of un-neighborly relations has me picking up my pace. Unlike the Leprechaun, I’m smart enough to ditch my high heels—

But I’m still not fast enough to reach them before the Leprechaun rolls him into the backseat of a dark BMW and screeches off.

I can hear Jack slapping the wall with his fist. “Aw, damn! We lost them!”

“Nope, I slipped a GPS tracker in the prince’s trollies.”

“You did what?…In his—what?”

“Oh, don’t worry, I didn’t peek. I’ll meet you around the corner.”

What’s a little white lie between fake husband and wife?

Before he can say another word, I snap off my earpiece and run down the block.

(c) 2012 Josie Brown. All rights reserved. This excerpt may not be resold or redistributed without prior written permission from Josie Brown or Signal Press Books (info@signaleditorial.com).

_______________________

Guide-to-Gracious-Killing-Final

In Amazon Now!

Signal Press / 978-0-9740214-4-7 
Digital eBook 

 

 

Love this opening number, in SMASH

Smash-1-02-katharine-mcphee-channels-marilyn-monroe-performs-original-song

I know it's de riguer to diss SMASH this season, but I've got to tell you, I loved the opening musical number on SMASH (week of March 3, 2013).

Tell me if you don't agree that it was a blast. It's called "Public Relations."

Yeah, I can picture this on Broadway…

–Josie




 

Nashville’s “Pour Me Something Stronger” has lyrics that hit a high note.

I unabashedly love the ABC TV show, Nashville.

I love that the personalities are big, voices are great, the songs have heart, and the writing has soul.

An example: in the latest episode (February 27, 2013) pop tart Juliette Barnes (Hayden Panettiere) throws a suprise birthday party for her lead guitarist, Deacon Claybourne (Charles Eston, and  former lover of her rival, Rayna Jaymes, played by Connie Britton).

It's to be Nashville's party of the year.

It's also an emotional make-good: on a party her mother was to throw for Juliette's nineth birthday, but was too coked up to do so. Her mother's relapse into addiction at the party is a bittersweet reminder to Juliette that all of life's events is the equivialent to a game of Chutes and Ladders. 

No matter who you are, or how far you've come, you can always slip back into failure.

True friends and caring family prop you up again.

The video above is of Connie Britton singing a song that is all about that.

It all starts with the writing,

— Josie

 

PS: In regard to true love and family, I've just released Book 3, the latest in my Totlandia series. But you'll want to try Book 1 first. And lucky you! It's now priced at 99 cents!

Here's a synopsis:

 

Totlandia5_2

Friendship. Lies. Seduction. Betrayal. 
Welcome to Totlandia.

Book 1: The Onesies/Fall

Coliloquy Books / 978-0-9740214-0-9 / eBook

Buy it now…

Amazon.com (eBook)

Amazon.com (App)

BN.com (eBook)

 BN.com (App)

Read a synopsis here…

The Pacific
Heights Moms & Tots Club is the most exclusive children’s playgroup in all
of San Francisco. For the city’s ultra-competitive elite, the club’s ten annual
spots are the ultimate parenting prize.

In a world of power and prestige, no one has more the club’s founder, Bettina
Connaught Cross. And as every mom in Pacific
Heights knows, you simply
cannot cross her
.

Bettina adheres
to strict membership rules: Moms only. No single parents or working mothers
allowed. Membership is an arduous commitment. And there’s no room in the club
for scandal, bad behavior, or imperfection…from tots or their moms.

Not everyone
is PHM&TC
material, which is why this year the admissions process for the Pacific Heights
Moms & Tots Club is more rigorous than ever, pitting prospective members
against each other to prove their mettle.

But four of
the six candidates vying for the remaining four slots have secrets that would
knock them out of the running. Jade is a former stripper and porn actress, who
has been absent for most of her son’s life. Jillian’s husband cleaned out their
joint accounts and left her for his pregnant assistant. Ally never even had a
husband—just a sperm donor—and she has a high-ranking corporate job. And Lorna
fears that her son may have special needs… just the excuse her sister-in-law,
Bettina, needs to deny her entry to the club.

Can these
hopeful moms keep up appearances long enough to outlast the competition? Or
will their chances—and their private lives—go up in flames?

Totlandia is a five-book series that follows our heroines starting in “The
Onesies,” their inaugural year in the club. Upcoming books—to be released in
four episodes each year—will follow subsequent years: the Twosies, Threesies,
Foursies, and Fivesies.

Blast from the Past:

The_swimming_pool_qs-world_war_two_point_five

While Googling any information I could find regarding an Alexander Calder mobile that used to hang in Atlanta's Colony Square building on West Peachtree (Hey! Got any info on it? If so, email me...) I ran across this blog from another artistic Calder: Jeff Calder, guitarist/vocalist with the Swimming Pool Q's, (a band that married  eloquent lyrics with elegant albeit esoteric album covers) who does a great job in retelling the history of Atlanta's New Wave music scene of the late 1970s through the 1990s.

My role in the Atlanta music scene at the time was infintisimal at best: in my late teens, I  worked at some of the local radio stations. So of course I saw the Q's perform, as well as  Daryl Rhodes and the HaHavishnu Orchestra. And let's not forget Thermos Greenwood and the Colored People (they painted their faces in rainbow hues…trust me, you had to be there…) 

Oh! And then there's the B-52s….

Jeff lived it so much harder than me, and has certainly written about it this well-played piece of Atlanta history in a way that does it justice. You can read it here.

Just goes to show you that there's always more to Atlanta than moonlight and magnolias.  Like, a rockin' downbeat.

— Josie

   

HAH Hanging Man V2

The Housewife Asassin's Handbook

Buy it today on
AmazonKindleButton  

 "This is a super sex and fun read that you shouldn't miss! How do I love this book, let me count the ways: (1) a kick ass woman who can literally kick ass as well as cook and clean. Donna gives a whole new meaning to "taking out the trash". (2) The book is set around Los Angeles, mostly in a gated community suspiciously like Coto de Caza, full of housewives that could be "real" and for the setting along, a big giant WIN! (3) Super sarcasm, snarky dialogue and making fun of all that is wrong in the OC, politics, as well as current world affairs." — Mary Jacobs, Book Hounds Reviews

Oh Lord, won’t you buy me a Joplin memory…

  JanisJoplin+Porsche

The trails around Marin County California's Mount Tam take you on wonderous journeys through vast groves of redwood trees, climbing higher and higher until panoramic views of San Francisco, its bay, and the turbulent Pacific Ocean beyond the Marin Headlands come into view.

One of these trails starts in Larkspur's Baltimore Canyon, on the estate where, in 1970, legendary rocker Janis Joplin lived before dying of a drug overdose at the age of twenty-seven, in some nondescript Los Angeles hotel room.

The wood nymphs cried that day.

Had she been at home instead, maybe they could have saved her.

A couple of years, ago, the subsequent owner of Joplin's creekside home sold off the half-acre portion that included an already-established trail head. Now hikers enjoy the trek up to Blithedale Ridge without tresspassing.

It is appreciated by all. Once again, Janis gives joy to the world.

Mike Lessin was just ten when he moved into the house after Joplin passed away. He remembers the walls at deep purple, and "trippy."

But of course.

He'd lived elsewhere on the street before his dad purchased the home, so he also remembers the parties that were held there, attended by  and Joplin's infamous psychdelically painted Porche.

Lessin remembers hearing about sightings of Doors' lead singer Jim Morrison, and rocker Kris Kristofferson, who wrote Joplin's posthumus hit "Me and Bobby McGee".

Kristofferson  has a home on the Hawaiian island of Maui, near Hana.

Some of Joplin's decor still exists in the house. Who would have the nerve to lose the redwood burl bar, or its custom woodwork? If you've visited Horizons Restaurant (formerly the Trident, back in that era) on the Sausalito waterfront, you'll recognize the style, since it was the same carpenter worked on both.

The later owners also held onto Joplin's pool table, and kept the sunken bath and shower, below a skylight that allows one to look up at the redwood trees doing a lazy wave overhead.

Good to see that her legacy lives on in yet another way.

*Photo: Janis and her psychedelic Porsche,
at one of my fave hangs: San Franciso's Palace of Fine Arts.

 

— Josie

   

HAH Hanging Man V2

The Housewife Asassin's Handbook

Buy it today on
AmazonKindleButton  

 "This is a super sex and fun read that you shouldn't miss! How do I love this book, let me count the ways: (1) a kick ass woman who can literally kick ass as well as cook and clean. Donna gives a whole new meaning to "taking out the trash". (2) The book is set around Los Angeles, mostly in a gated community suspiciously like Coto de Caza, full of housewives that could be "real" and for the setting along, a big giant WIN! (3) Super sarcasm, snarky dialogue and making fun of all that is wrong in the OC, politics, as well as current world affairs." — Mary Jacobs, Book Hounds Reviews

Seriously, I wasn’t in a holiday mood until I heard Andree Belle sing SANTA BABY…

Andree BelleIt's been a bah-humbug week. If the weather weren't so beautiful, I think I'd be even further down in the dumps. My Grinchy demeanor was even getting on The Hub's nerves: he who is the Cheeriest Man Alive, the mayor of all personkind, as it were.

His attempts to play holiday cuts by Ella Fitzgerald, Ray Charles, and James Taylor were all vetoed by me. Then he begged me to hear just one. "Trust me, you'll love it."

He was right.

And you will, too:

Santa Baby, by Andree Belle, is my little gift to you.

You can hear more of this sultry songtress here…

Enjoy!

With love,

— Josie

 

HAH Hanging Man V2
 Read an excerpt of
THE HOUSEWIFE ASSASSIN'S HANDBOOK 
 Today, on

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GLEE Girls Gone Wild : Is the Sexy GQ Photo Shoot a Sour Note?

Gleeksters gone wild GLEE may be corny, but that's part of the fun: a bunch of high school dorks find their inner Britneys, and in the process, show the rest of the school that their too cool to be crammed into lockers.

Part of its corniness is the fact that the actors who play GLEE's leads are cute, not to mention great singers and dancers.

Oh yeah, and for the most part, they're all over twenty-one.

But do the millions of tweens and teens who watch the show realize this?

Parents have to decide that quickly–at least, before the next issue of GQ magazine hits the newstands. A media malestrom has broken out over whether GLEE castmembers Lea Michelle, Corey Monteith and Dianna Agron have the right to be on it, posing suggestively.

GQ is getting a lot of mileage out of the sensual pics. News organizations have been fed the photos and a video of the photo shoot (see below). But the response of parents–and organizations like the Parents Television Council–has run the gamut from dismay to outrage.

Although I'm a parent, I guess I should consider myself lucky. My kids are already young adults, so I can breathe a sigh of relief that the TV idols of their teen years–the gang of the original 90210–waited until they were off the show before breaking character and embarrassing producer Aaron Spelling. (Well, most of them: COUGHSHANNENDOHERTYCOUGH).

 Here's a video on the GLEE girls gone wild:

Now, take my Sunday poll and tell me what you think:

 

 Hitting a low note,

–Josie


(ISBN: 9781439173176)

In bookstores June 1, 2010. Order it TODAY!

"Hollywood's got nothing on the cast of characters living in the bedroom community of Paradise Heights, who have the secrets, sex, money and scandal of an OK! Magazine cover story. Josie Brown is a skilled observer whose clever dialogue and feisty style make for truly entertaining reading." –Jackie Collins, Hollywood Wives

I Hope Our Pride and Prejudice Musical Sings to You…

ThdauofcolhardyOne of my labors of love for the past three years has been a musical adaptation of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. I wrote the libretto, and the music and lyrics are the renowned multiple EMMY and ASCAP award-winning composer, Rita Abrams. This work is being represented by the theatrical agent Susan Schulman.  Click on the link above to hear snippets of the various songs. Austenites will agree that Rita captured the essence of Jane Austen's most lovable characters—€”and so will you.

Andree Belle Sings “Variety Pack”

Andree_belle_in_whiteOne of the best jazz singer/composers residing in LA happens to be Andree Belle. Her latest creation is this sultry piece called "Variety Pack".  Men want variety, eh?  Well, this gal delivers….

Check it out here:
Download andree_belle_variety_pack_mastered.mp3

Oh yeah, and I'm her VERY PROUD Aunt….

No CoCo Puff,

Josie