Yes, we have a winner in the HOUSEWIFE ASSASSIN’S RELATIONSHIP SURVIVAL GUIDE contest!

Woman-with-ereader
Nothing is more fun than contacting someone to tell them, "You've won a prize!"

No joke. I truly feel that way.

Okay, unless it's to say, "You're the sweetest person in the world, and I want you to know I'm thinking about you today."

My contest for The Housewife Assassin's Relationship Survival Guide Contest just ended, and yes, I have reached the winner for the $100 giftcard, to the bookstore of the winner's choice:

She is ConnieVB.

From the bottom of my heart, I'd like to thank her, as well as everyone who entered.

Here's the part where I say, to each and every one of you,  "You're the sweetest person in the world, and I want you to know I'm thinking about you today."

If I could, I would have picked each and every one of you as winners. (Wouldn't that be cool? Note to self: buy more Lotto tickets...)

But to my mind, you're more than that. You're  kind and generous people who have gifted me your time in order to learn about, and appreciate, my stories.

I also want to tell those of you who went for the bonus points that I truly appreciate the fact that you too the time to write  reviews for my Housewife Assassin series.  In fact, it was ConnieVB's sixth entry that was chosen, via RandomResult.com

I've attached the screenshot of her winning entery, here:


HARSG Winner Screenshot
So you see? When a contest invites you to enter as often as possible, go for it, because you never know when it pays off. 

I'm always in awe of those who take the time to post reviews, even when I'm not running a contest. They do so, just because they enjoyed one of my novels. 

I've put it this message in my books, and I mean it: we authors live and die by our reviews. It is the best way of encouraging other readers to try us, to sample us, to buy us, to read us, and hopefully to love us.  

You see, the more you express you love, the more likely it is that we can keep writing books. Every novelist I know works very hard at his or her craft, not as a hobby, but because it pays the rent and puts food on his or her family's table. Would we quit writing if it didn't? 

I hope I never find out the answer to that question. The Housewife Assassin novels and other books in which I can control the prices are only $3.99 for a reason: Not only do I want to write them, I want to make them affordable enough for you to buy them. Some coffee drinks at Starbucks cost more. Here's hoping the enjoyment you get from my books last longer.

It may take you a few days to read a book, but it takes us months–sometimes years–to write them.We do so because our art and craft  drives us.

 At the same time, it is our hope that it also entertains you. 


HA-Vacation-to-Die-For-v2The fifth book in the Housewife Assassin series, The Housewife Assassin's Vacation to Die For, will be out by August 15, 2013
. The moment it launches in the online bookstores, I'll send out my eLetter. If you aren't already on it, please feel free to sign up for it here.

I'll also be launching a redesigned and updated version of my very first novel, True Hollywood Lies. You'll read about my contests for both books in my eLetter, and here on my blog as well as on my website.

 When I wrote ConnieVB to tell her that she'd won, I also asked her to tell me a little about herself, so that I can share it with you. I've done this with each of my contests because, dear readers, when I hear back from you, I can lift my head from my computer screen and know that I've touched someone, in some small way.

Here's how ConnieVB puts it:

"Okay, so when I read the subject of your email my first thought was not me. Then when I read the note it was shut the front door!  LOL

I have loved talking about your books, all of them, not just the housewife series.  They are so much fun to read!  It makes me glad that I finally broke down and bought a kindle and loaded it with free books. :)  I adore books and swore I'd never go electronic.  There is just something about the feeling of a book and turning the pages.  I have a ton of books that I've read but if someone were to open one up now the spine would still crack, I was that careful with them. :)  I'm especially glad that in turn I got to know you.  You're such a sweetheart!

As far as including something about me in your blog…..well, now I'm speechless lol

I love to read but I also enjoy cooking, baking, and stitching.  All the domestic stuff that no one expects from an opinionated feminist like myself. 🙂

In my free time I'm a domestic goddess taking care of my awesome husband, two children, and our two furry kids.

I enjoy theatre, music, movies and hope to see the world one day."

True-Hollywood-Lies-Cover-FinalThere is a lot about ConnieVB that is just like me (except for the domestic goddess part. I've let that be Donna's role. It's easier to write about it than to be it.)

And I'm sure there is a lot about ConnieVB that is like you, too.

If Donna and her stories have done anything for me, it is that it's created a wonderful community of those of us who share a sense of humor, a sense of books, and a sense of life.

I couldn't be happier than to welcome all of you to my world.

Thank you for making me a part of yours, too.

— Josie

Bonus Book Excerpt! The Housewife Assassin’s Relationship Survival Guide

MG_4331
“Does
champagne make you tipsy?” Sugar CEO Number Two sounds hopeful as he holds a
bottle of Tattinger’s over my glass.

I
reward him with a shy smile. “It’s fun to lose control every now and then,
don’t you agree…Robert?”

As if. I’m beginning
to believe that “control” is this guy’s middle name. It’s anyone’s guess as to
his last name, or any other clue as to his identity.

On
the hour ride from San Francisco to Woodside I had very little success getting
him to talk about what he did for a living. And no matter how many ways I tried
to get him to reveal his last name or his job, he played it coy. “All that
corporate bullshit will bore you to tears, sweetheart. Let’s just keep things
friendly.”

 By “friendly,” he means allowing his hands to
cup my breasts while he probes my molars with his tongue.

I’ve
no doubt he presumes I’m the dessert after the gourmet meal of filet mignon,
broccoli stir-fry and mashed potatoes, which we ate in a private tent
overlooking Woodside California’s polo fields. But now our little picnic is
almost over. I’ve only got another half hour before Robert leaves me for a
white Arabian mare named Pure as Driven Snow.

 To keep him here, I’ll have to be anything
but.

Even
now Arnie whines, “He’s much too close for our facial recognition software to
get a good fix on his features. Can’t you get him to back off?”

“Sure
she can,” Jack, mutters, “By putting her heel in his groin.”

Wishful
thinking on both our parts. Alas, that would defeat the purpose.

Since I got into the car, Emma and
Arnie have been working furiously to place him. But who knew San Francisco had
so many steely-eyed mid-fortysomething corporate bigwigs named “Robert,” who are six feet tall, just-gray-enough-around-the-edges, and own a polo
team?

As
if reading my mind, Emma murmurs into my diamond-studded audio feed, “We’ve
narrowed down the list of potential suspects to five.”

Really?
That many?

Time’s
a’wasting. I toss back the flute of bubbly. Then slowly I run my tongue over my
lips and murmur, “Aren’t you going to join me?”

Robert
sighs. “Believe me, I wish I could. But if I’m going to ride without falling
off my horse, I should hold off until after the match.”

I
give him a playful pout. “It’s no fun getting tipsy all by myself.” I brush
against him when I reach into the picnic hamper. Pulling up another champagne
flute, I whisper, “One tiny little sip won’t knock you off your horse, will
it?”

He
eyes both the glass and me longingly. Finally he nods. “I guess you’re
right.” 

I
take the bottle from his hand. “Let me do the honors. As much as I love being
treated like a queen, today I’d prefer to play handmaiden. ”

That
raises a smile on his face, not to mention a tent in his polo breeches. 

I’m
sure it also helps that, when I pour the champagne into his glass, I arch my
back in such a way that my vee-neck blouse drops between my breasts.

While
his eyes are otherwise occupied, I watch his face for Arnie’s sake, praying now
that I’m just close enough for him to get a lead on the guy. At the same time,
I slide the jade stone on my ring and tilt it so that a dose of SP-117 pours
into his glass.

He
gulps down the champagne. Good, because the sooner his opens up, the better. I
keep up the small talk, complimenting him on topics he’s already deemed safe:
the filet mignon; his Bentley; his polo skills; the size of his biceps beneath
his polo shirt; the size of the tent in his breeches—

Until,
finally, his eyes glaze over. That’s when I know it’s safe to ask, “So, tell me
Robert, what’s your last name?”

“Higginbotham.”
The word comes out in a drowsy whisper.

“Nailed
him,” Arnie and Emma yell into my ear at the same time. She adds, “That name
was on one of my possible five—” at the same time in which Arnie declares, “The
face recognition analysis came through, finally—”

I
close my eyes and shake my head. “One at a time, children, please!”

“He’s
CEO of Catalyst Industries!” Emma’s answer comes out in a rush. “It’s a
conglomerate that owns—”

“—A
variety of biotech companies,” Arnie interjects, “including, Human-A-Sphere, a
chain of bio-genetic profiling labs; Inject-A-Life, a firm that invents
non-invasive surgical procedures; and PharmFarm, the largest agribusiness of
genetically enhanced crops.”

“Any
one of those could provide a terrorist organization with the means to cripple a
nation.” Jack’s voice is emotionless as he states this simple fact.

It’s
time for some answers from the man in question. “Robert Higginbotham, are you a
member of the Quorum?”

He
nods. Whereas that gives visual affirmation, I want to hear it from his lips.
“Answer the question out loud,” I prod him.

 “Yes, I am one of the Quorum Thirteen…well,
now we are eleven…Um, ten.” By his frown, I can tell he’s surprised to hear
himself say this out loud, and to a perfect stranger.

“And
what do your companies do for the Quorum?”

“Each
of them is developing a component for an ethnic bioweapon.”

“What
the hell is that?” Emma asks.

“The
theory is that ethno-bombs can be used to target specific genetic or cultural
anomalies recognized in certain ethnic groups,” Arnie explains. “An organic
example is how white settlers in the US almost wiped out a tribe of indigenous
natives with small pox.”

Emma
lets loose with a piercing whistle. “I can only imagine how the Quorum plans on
using this. Sell it to the highest bidder? Blackmail a government?”

“Try
all of the above,” Jack says.

“How
soon before this project reaches completion?” I ask.

Robert
smiles up at me. “We’re beta-testing now. I’ll be presenting my findings   to
my Quorum brethren at our next meeting. If it is chosen for implementation,
I’ll be poised to be the Quorum’s next leader.”

“Where and when is the
meeting?”

“We’ve yet to receive
that information.”

 “Who are your fellow Quorum members?”

He
shrugs. “We never meet without masks. Anonymity allows us to contribute freely,
without threat of exposure. ”

 “Robert, why are you doing this, even when you
know it’s illegal, unethical, and inhumane?” I have to ask, and not just
because I’m incredulous at his despicable behavior, but to get it on record.

He
stares at me, as if I’m crazy or something. “For the money, of course! Not just
for the fees to our companies, but because of the dividends to thirteen
stockholders of Quorum Ltd.” He chuckles. “Well, for the ten who are left.”

“Donna,
unfortunately you don’t have time to read him the riot act,” Jack says. “So
give Sleeping Beauty his wake-up potion and promise you’ll rendezvous with him
after his match.”

“Will
do.” I pocket Robert’s phone. Then I mix the SP-117 antidote into Robert’s
champagne flute with a pinky finger and hand it to him. “Here, drink this.”

He
gulps it down.

When
Robert comes to, he’s pleasantly surprised to find me straddling him. As I
rise, smoothing the skirt of my dress back into place. “Was it as good for you
as it was for me?”

To
bring him to the right conclusion that we’re both satisfied with our little
picnic hank-panky, I guide his hand to the clasps on the front of my bra.

He
gets the hint, and hooks them into place. “Um….yeah…great!” He smiles, but he
shakes his head, confused. 

After
a long kiss, I help him buckle his breeches. He groans ecstatically as I pat
Bobby Junior back into position and shove him toward the tent door. “Why don’t
we have another go-round, after the match? But only if you’re the victor! I’ll
be cheering from the sidelines, so make Mama proud!”

Robert
stumbles out of the tent like a man with the world at his feet. Still, I have
no doubt that, presented with his own confession, he’ll turn on his Quorum brethren.
If not, those feet will be in shackles for the rest of his life.

And
I know for a fact that they don’t have a polo team in Gitmo.

© 2013 Josie Brown. All rights reserved. This work is protected under copyright laws and reproduction is strictly prohibited. Permission to reproduce the material in any manner or medium must be secured from the Author.

___________________________________

The Housewife Assassin's 
HA-RSG-Final-V2

Relationship Survival Guide
(Book 4) Only $3.99!

 Signal Press

In Online Bookstores Now!

 Buy it on Amazon!  
 

Nook-button

Logo_kobo

 Apple iTunes Bookstore 

Ibooks

 

 

 

 

Read an excerpt...
London. Paris. Guantanamo Bay. 
Donna Stone is looking for love
— and terrorists — in all the wrong places.

In this fourth full-length novel of The Housewife Assassin series, Donna Stone finds out that breaking up is hard to do. 

Then again, so is dating a terrorist, let alone eleven of them! Does this make Donna a serial dater, or a serial killer?

Worse yet, an old flame gets in the way of Donna's chance for true love. 

But she doesn't cry…She gets even.
 

Enter My Contest to win a $100 Gift Card!

(A small portion of this book appeared as a novella in 
"Guns and Roses: A Murder She Writes Anthology".)

Hump Day Haiku: “Beach Umbrella”

BeachUmbrella

We won't get too wet.
We'll walk with an umbrella.
Or  I'll carry you.


HA-RSG-Final-V2
To celebrate the launch of 
The Housewife Assassin's Relationship Survival Guide
I'm giving away a $100 gift card
 to the bookstore of your choice!

Click here for details…

 

 

Hump Day Haiku: “Verbal Smackdown”

Crying

 

His words hit, like stones.

I pummel him with my tears.

 Yes, it's true. Love hurts

– Josie

 

 


HA-RSG-Final-V2
To celebrate the launch of 
The Housewife Assassin's Relationship Survival Guide
I'm giving away a $100 gift card
 to the bookstore of your choice!

Click here for details…

 

 

 


Mad Housewife Monday: Kelly Reemtsen’s Flower Power

ReemtsenFlower_Power
One of my all-time favorite artists is Kelly Reemtsen. She so aptly captures the desperation of the ladies who lunch — especially when they get a bee under their bonnet about something.

Take this painting, called "Flower Power."  The way this wifey in the retro shift holds her hedge clippers implies self-emmolation. And yet, her cocked knee implies a dark streak for dangerous flirtation. Perhaps she's saying, "Approach at your own risk."

Truly a thorny situation.

Ms. Reemtsen's paintings can be found in the Skidmore ContemporaryArt (Los Angeles) and the David Klein Gallery (Birmingham, MI). If you're close by, they are worth the visit.

— Josie

 


HA-RSG-Final-V2
To celebrate the launch of 
The Housewife Assassin's
Relationship Survival Guide
 (Book 4), 
I'm giving away a $100 gift card
 
to the bookstore of your choice!

Click here for details…

 

 

 

 

HAH-Hanging-Man-Oct-5-2012And click here to get a FREE COPY of

The Housewife Assassin's Handbook (Book 1)  

 

FREE!  AmazonKindleButton

FREE!  Logo_kobo

FREE! Apple iTunes Bookstore

 99 cents! Nook-button

 

The Housewife Assassin’s Relationship Survival Guide has a Mother-Daughter talk about (Yep, you guessed it) S-E-X!

Nails1

I love this scene because it says a lot about my heroine, Donna's, relationship with her oldest child, twelve-year-old Mary. And since this book is all about the cause and effect of trust and love, it's a perfect scene to share with you.

I hope you enjoy it!

— Josie

 

EXCERPT

“When
did you first start having sex?” Mary asks.

Her
question causes me to swipe the nail polish brush over her pinky toe, and the
one beside it.

It’s
Day Eight of my lockdown. I was wrong to presume that time would pass quicker
if I painted my nails a different color each day. Initially I was able to
coerce both Mary and Trisha to join me for my daily pampering session, but
yesterday Trisha dropped out, despite the fact that the colour de jour was Disney Villain’s Cruella De Vil.

Her
excuse: “Mommy, Cruella is a meanie. Besides, my toes miss being plain old
pink.” That was her way of telling me I need a new hobby.

Don’t
I know it.

Considering
the subject at hand, I’m okay that today it’s just Mary and me. But let’s face
it, she’s asked a loaded question. Girls have sex so much earlier than we did.
(Well, than I did…) If I answer honestly, she may think I was a slut. Or a
desperate spinster.

 Either way, I come off as a loser.

The
GPS security bracelet on my ankle, coupled with freshly painted toes on my left
foot, hobble me as I stumble over to the French doors that separate the sunroom
from the media room. I lied and told the kids the bracelet was from my doctor,
to strengthen my ankle against some imaginary tendonitis.

Now
I have a bigger issue to fib about: Sex.

I’m
closing the doors so that my ten-year-old son, Jeff, and his pals, Cheever Bing
and Morton Smith, can’t listen in on our discussion. If anything can tear them
away from Minecraft, it’s a discussion about S-E-X by two people of the
opposite sex, especially if one is Jeff’s older sister.

I
settle back down onto the couch and try to collect my thoughts before speaking.
“I waited until I knew I was with ‘the one’.”

I’m
lying, of course. Who the hell knows a guy is “the one” when they’re seventeen?
Or twenty-seven, for that matter.

I
guess the proof I guessed wrong was when Carl left me with three kids.

But
yes, I presumed he was “the one.” What I didn’t count on was his also being Public Enemy Number One.

While
Mary tries to find meaning in my dodge, I add, “Why exactly do you want to
know?”

“Because—”
she pauses. “No reason. I was just wondering.”

Ah,
I see.

Mary
is twelve going on twenty, and that freaks me out. Her quote-unquote steady is
a cute kid named Trevor Smith, the captain of the Hilldale Middle School
varsity basketball team. Right now, I want to break both his arms before he
does something to Mary that he’ll regret, and she will, too.

“Sex
is different from love, Mary.”

“Oh,
Mom!” Mary rolls her eyes. “I know that!”

“Okay,
I’ll take your word for it. So, tell me: why are they different?”

She
stops to think about it. Then: “When you date, some guys only want to see how
far they can get with you. You know…they don’t really treat you as a person.”
She shakes her head sadly. “I don’t want to be that kind of girl.”

I
nod, but say nothing. Inside I’m doing a happy dance because she actually knows
the difference.

“But
I think it’s exciting when a boy—a guy—is
just as sweet on you as you are on him.”

“I
can see that.” I try to keep my tone nonchalant as I drench a cotton ball in
polish remover and wipe off yesterday’s sparkly turquoise from Mary’s left
foot. “But love is different, at different ages and stages of life. And so is
dating. That’s why it’s smart to date more than one guy, so you have some other
experiences for comparison. The good guys always show respect, and never push you
to—to do anything that doesn’t seem right.”

“Did
you date a lot, before you met Dad?”

“Yes,
I’d dated some, but I wasn’t that experienced.” I’m sure the color of my cheeks
is almost as dark and purple as the polish I’m applying to her nails. “I was
twenty when we met, and I was in college. We married within a year, after I
turned twenty-one.”

“Did
you feel you should have waited?”

“No.
At least, not at the time.”

“But
in hindsight, would you have liked to have had more experiences?”

“Yes,
I wish I had. It’s hard to know what’s right for you if you’ve had too few
experiences, or have only experienced one relationship that is not really
working for you.”

Mary
looks up sharply. “But Dad wasn’t wrong for you, was he?”

Ah,
yet another trick question. “Dad has changed a lot over the years. Then again,
I have, too. “You see, Mary, not only must you both grow, you can’t have grown
apart.”

“When
Dad was gone all that time, did you grow apart?”

Her
question rips a tiny tear in my heart. Does she suspect that Jack isn’t Carl
Stone, her father?

I
search her face for the answer. What I see is innocence and curiosity.

And
trust.

It’s
why I can answer her from the bottom of my heart. “To stay in love, you need
respect, and passion, and above all, trust. All the time I waited for him, I
trusted he would come home again.”

Carl
never really came home.

On
the other hand, Jack has proven to me he is worth the wait.

Mary’s
comprehension comes with a slow nod. “Mom, I think Trevor likes me as much as I
like him, but sometimes I catch him looking at other girls, and that makes me
jealous. So I don’t know about the ‘trust’ part. At least, not yet.”

“To
find true love at such a young age is a rare thing. If it’s real, he’ll wait
until you grow into the woman you were meant to be, and he’ll grow up, too.
You’ll stay friends, but have other friends as well: people who make you laugh,
and who you can count on to be there for you, and who will prove their
friendship through trust.  If he stays
your friend, he will be all that, and more.”

Mary
waits until her toes dry, then she kisses me on the cheek and murmurs, “Don’t
worry, Mom. I’m not ready for ‘that’ yet. I’m only asking because I know you’ll
always tell me the truth.”

The truth. Yes, it’s what
we strive to know.

I
pray she never learns the truth about her father.

“Besides,”
she adds, “when the time comes, you’ll be the first to know.”

She
kisses me on the forehead then runs upstairs to do her homework.

Lucky
me.

And no matter
where that first boy hides, I will track him down.

HA-RSG-Final-V2

© 2013 Josie Brown. All rights reserved. This work is protected under copyright laws and reproduction is strictly prohibited. Permission to reproduce the material in any manner or medium must be secured from the Author.

The Housewife Assassin's
Relationship Survival Guide

(Book 4 of The Housewife Assassin series) 

Buy it on

Amazon.com  BN.com  KoboBooks.com

 Read other excerpts at HousewifeAssassinsHandbook.com

Andree Belle’s “Serial Monogamist” has a Mad Men feel to it, dontcha think?


MadMenWomen
Of course, none of the women of
Mad Men (January Jones' Betty, Christina Hendricks' Joan, and Elisabeth Moss' Peggy) are serial monogamists. They may have started out that way, but life and loss made them jaded, when it came to love.

The chords — and the percussion, too — of the song "Serial Monogamist," by Andree Belle, reminds me of the kind of music coming out of the 1960s, with that smoky vamp-and-dance jazz-salsa feel to it. Don't you agree?

 

Enjoy, 

— Josie

 

 

The Housewife Assassin’s Relationship Survival Guide is now on sale!

HA-RSG-Final-V2

 

                                                       Buy it on Amazon!  Nook-button

(Soon on Kobo and Apple iTunes Bookstore, too)

 

Worth the wait? I think so! Hopefully, you will too. Here are the deets:

London. Paris. Guantanamo Bay. Donna Stone is looking for love — and terrorists — in all the wrong places.

In this fourth full-length novel of  The Housewife Assassin series, Donna Stone finds out that breaking up is hard to do.  Then again, so is dating a terrorist,  let alone eleven of them! 

Does this make Donna a serial dater,  or a serial killer?

Worse yet, an old flame gets in the way of Donna's chance for true love. But she doesn't cry…She gets even.

 Read an excerpt..
 

Then enter My Contest to win a $100 Gift Card!


(A small portion of this book appeared as a novella in "Guns and Roses: A Murder She Writes Anthology".)

 

It’s a’comin’, by golly…

HA-RSG-Final-V2Okay, try hard not to hate me, or to think that I've played the worst ever April Fool's joke on you (Tiffy, that one's for you, lol!) but I have to say upfront that we've had some tech issues with launching The Housewife Assassin's Relationship Survival Guide.

The SECOND the glitch is taken care of, we will submit it to Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Apple iTunes Bookstore. And the NANO-SECOND it's up in the online bookstores, if you sign up for my eLetter you'll get a notice from me…

So thank you in advance for your patience (Billie, that's my tip o' the hat to you).

There are a lot of twists and turns in store for Donna and Jack. And one very important character dies (yes, dies!) but you'll have to read the book to find out who.

In the meantime, to celebrate the release sometime this week (from now on I'm putting it that way, until I personally see it up on the screen)the first book in the series, THE HOUSEWIFE ASSASSIN'S HANDBOOK, is now FREE.  Please tell your friends, so that they too may come to love the series as much as we do.

And if you're looking for a little taste of what's to come in Book 4, read this excerpt from it , as well as the one below.

 

Thanks for your patience,

— Josie

How to Dress for Successful Dates

Great first impressions start with good
grooming! Before you open your door to your date, wash and style your hair.
Indulge in a mani-pedi. Put on your face paint, but don’t overdo it. The goal
is to cover up, not to lay it on thick. Wear a flattering dress. And certainly
put on a pair of heels, since they always make a woman’s legs look great, and
give her a slimming silhouette.

A bit of jewelry is like feathers on a
peacock, drawing a man’s eye to the most flattering places: your neck, your
wrists, your waist, your hair, and your face.

Surprise! The best accessory of all: a
Baby Browning .22 caliber semi automatic. Less than three inches and not even
ten ounces, this little gun fits in the palm of your hand (not to mention in a
purse, up a sleeve, or in your bra).

With Baby onboard, any gentleman caller
who turns out to be no gentleman at all but a slob who likes playing impromptu
game of slap-and-tickle will listen when you warn him to move his hand.

Or else lose an eye. Have Fun!

**********

“What’s your weight?” Jack murmurs.

That’s the wrong question to ask a woman as she’s wiggling
into a Spanx Slim Cognito shape slip. “Um…one-o-nine.” I answer him.

Jack’s head whips around so fast, you’d think he needs an
exorcist. He closes an eye and cocks his head to one side. “For real?”

“Yes, of course!” I turn my back to him, so he doesn’t see
that my face is as red as a tomato: not because my circulation has been cut
off, but from my indignation that he’d have the nerve to question me. “My God,
I’ve been answering these silly questions all night! What does it really
matter? According to Arnie, the minute my profile goes live, it will
automatically simulate the desired characteristics reflected in the suspects’
accounts.”

“You know the drill. We still have to fill out the profile
fields, or else Sugar CEO won’t accept your application. There are just a few
more questions, so bear with me. Of course, if you want me to do it without
you—”

“Ha! Don’t you dare.”

“Have a little faith! I promise to follow your lead and fill
in a bunch of lies.”

While he taps away on the computer keyboard, I rummage
through my collection of wigs to see what I can salvage from Trisha’s last play
date with her best friend, Janie Breck. Thanks to the girls’ mutual addiction
to sweet pink cotton candy-flavored Bubble Yum, so far three of them need to be
shortened or tossed. I hope I have a few left over so that Jack can take
pictures of me in them. That way, Arnie’s software algorithm will upload the
one that best corresponds with the target’s sugar baby wish list.

 “You’re going to have
to answer some true/false, comment and multiple choice questions. Okay,
question number one: If you had a porn name, what would it be?”

“Ha! I’ll just bet they don’t ask the sugar daddies the same
thing.”

“Good supposition. Let me see.” He opens another screen and
scrolls through the website. “You’re right, they don’t. But they do ask the
dude’s net worth, starting at 25 million and going up from there.”

“Cha-ching! Okay,
that evens the playing field somewhat. If I’m going to be someone’s fantasy,
he’s got to make it worth my while. In that case, type in ‘Mila Johannson’ as
my porn name.”

“Not fair. All you did is combine the names of two very
capable actresses.”

“It’s perfectly fair. Tell me, what were they’re last
roles?”

“All I remember is that both were squeezed into something
sexy.”

 “You’ve just proven
my point. You noticed nothing about these women, either above their lips or
below their knees.”

“And the most desirable feature on your sugar daddies will
be their bank accounts.” Jack snickers as he clicks away furiously on the
computer keyboard. Whatever merde he’s
writing, no doubt he’s laying it on thick.

 “We all play to our
strengths. Other than money and temporary security, what else do these jerks
have to offer?” I put down the scissors with a sigh. They’re useless anyway.
Now that I’ve chopped my favorite auburn wig to shreds, it looks worse than
Anne Hathaway’s in her Les Miserable death
scene. “Besides, this mission is quick and dirty, in and out. Prick them with
truth serum, which allows Emma to record their answers. Then use the info they
give me to turn them, and leave.” 

He catches my eye in the mirror. “These guys aren’t dummies.
If they get suspicious, they’ll make sure you won’t leave their little love
nests alive. Their battalion of bodyguards will be right outside the bedroom
door.”

“Jack, you know I appreciate your concern. I realize I have
eleven chances to screw things up. On the other hand, I have eleven
opportunities to put the Quorum out of business once and for all.”

“It would have been easier with Carl still behind bars.”

“Well, he isn’t, and now it’s make-up time. And besides, you
and Abu will be close by.”

He shrugs. “All I’m saying is be careful, okay?”

I nod. “Okay, I promise. Cross my heart. Now, hit me with
another question.”

“Are you a cat person, or a dog person, and why?”

“Put down ‘I love it doggy style.’”

“Don’t I know it,” he murmurs. “Now, this next question is
true or false: I want a relationship with no strings attached.”

“Click true.”

“Sure,” he says, but at the same time he winces. For us,
role-playing is a way of life.

And of death.

“Next, another multiple choice: I’d rather be (a) at a
disco, (b) at the opera. (c) cheering courtside at a Lakers game, or (d)
sunning myself naked on a beach.” 

Now it’s my turn to frown. “Choose anything but the beach!”

He laughs out loud. “I would have guessed that. Okay, now:
If you were a tree, what kind would you be? The choices are (a) Redwood (b)
Dogwood (c) Oak, or (d) Japanese Maple.”

“Make me a Dogwood.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s small and the flowers are either pink or
white. Subliminally, the message here is ‘virginal and girly.’”

“But you’re really an Oak, right?”

“Nah. A Redwood. I’m in it for the long run.”

He knows exactly what I mean.

“Okay, next up: Would you rather date (a) an artist (b) a
banker (c) an entrepreneur or (d) a corporate industrialist?”

“I guess we both know the answer to that one.” My eyes seek
his out. “I only have eyes for you.”

This earns me a knowing smile. “Last question: Where would
you prefer to be kissed, and why?”

“Seriously? They ask something that personal?” I slip behind
him so that I can read over his shoulder. “They make it quite clear what this
is all about, don’t they?….Wait! I don’t see that question here.”

“My bad. It’s my question, not theirs.” He pulls me into his
lap.

Sure, I’ll play along. “Want to take a guess?”

He chuckles. “I’m a hands-on kind of guy. How else can I
gauge your true enthusiasm?”

He’s got a point there.

He hits the SUBMIT button, then forwards Arnie my User ID
and password. The photos can wait until our little survey is completed.

We’ve only tested six possible kissing locations when
Arnie’s email pings Jack’s computer. We let out with a mutual groan, then
disentangle ourselves in order to read it:

You’re live,
sugar babe!

What Arnie lacks in subtlety, he makes up for with
enthusiasm.

“But how can that be?” I ask, “We never sent photos!”

“Heck if I know. Let me test your submission with a fake CEO
profile.” He opens one, and types in a wish list with the exact profile I
submitted.

In no time at all, my profile falls into his email box.

Except that my head now sports long blond hair in coiling
tendrils, has been superimposed onto a body that looks suspiciously like
Scarlett Johansson’s.

Jack gives a low whistle. “I’m not saying Arnie can improve
on perfection, but he’s has sure as hell comes damn close.”

I pelt Jack with a pillow.

The next thing we hear is a few bars of “Easy Street” as a
Sugar CEO meeting request drops into my Sugar Babe account.

My very first gentlemen caller has come a’knocking.

 “It’s the bewitching
hour,” Jack mutters with a sigh.

The rest of the kissable positions on my must-do list will
have to wait.

I brace myself before clicking onto it.

© 2013 Josie Brown. All rights reserved. This work is protected under copyright laws and reproduction is strictly prohibited. Permission to reproduce the material in any manner or medium must be secured from the Author.

 

Squeeee! Want a free sneak peek of the cover for HOUSEWIFE ASSASSIN’S VACATION TO DIE FOR?

Okay, here it is.

And here's the deets on the fine mess Donna and Jack will be getting into:


HA-Vacation-to-Die-For-Final (1)The Housewife Assassin's 
Vacation to Die For
(Book 5) 
 

In Online Bookstores August 2, 2013

A nude sunbathing serial killer, rabid (literally) eco-terrorists, mafia hit men…
Talk about a fantasy (nightmare?) island!

Breck Industry's former getaway, Misfit Quay, as redeveloped into  three resorts. 
There's something for everyone:

Like Kamp KidStuff, where families frolic among dolphins, cartoon characters, and (due to a major booking glitch) warring Cosa Nostra families having separate reunions; 

And Eden Key, a nude singles sanctuary where tiki-hut treehouses provide the perfect setting for rum-fueled romances and casual hook-ups—not to mention the occasional swinger slashing…

Finally, there's Hunters Paradise, an exclusive club which caters to big game hunters seeking a most unusual quarry:
humans who are political prisoners of countries doing business with the Quorum. 

And you call this a vacation?

 

And in case you missed it…

 

The Housewife Assassin's 
HA-RSG-Final-V2

Relationship Survival Guide
(Book 4)

Signal Press

In Online Bookstores March 21, 2013!

Read an excerpt..

In this fourth full-length novel of 
The Housewife Assassin series, 
Donna Stone finds out that
breaking up is hard to do. 
Then again, so is dating a terrorist, 
let alone eleven of them!
Does this make Donna a serial dater, 
or a serial killer?

Worse yet, an old love gets in the way of Donna's chance for true love. 
But she doesn't cry…She gets even.
 

 

(A small portion of this book appeared as a novella in 
"Guns and Roses: A Murder She Writes Anthology".)

 

In the meantime, catch up on previous books in The Housewife Assassin series.

 

— Josie