My husband, Martin, isn't one of those men who must have the latest/greatest in technology. Nor must he demonstrate his manliness with boy toys that are always the biggest, and therefore presumed the best (phallically speaking). Which brings me to the death of Scotty--an appropriate topic, now that the latest Star Trek Movie ("Into Darkness") is in movie theaters. No, I don't mean Scotty, the good ship Enterprise's engineer (thank goodness, because I really really love love love Simon Pegg in the role). I mean Martin's cell phone, a relic he calls "Scotty," as a quaint reference to the phasers carried by the Star Trek crew. You see, his phone is that tiny. And it ispossibly as old as the original TV show itself. Okay, certainly it's not THAT old. Besides, back then there were no cell phones, not to mention the first ones were attached to suitcases, so that would defeat his purpose of carrying the tiniest phone he could find. In fact, his current cell is so tiny that texting on it (yes, at least it allows him to text, but only predictively) is a tribulation, despite his opposable-thumb dexterity. (He's right up there with the apes and chimps, so my mother was wrong about him.) And the darn thing certainly ain't "smart." He can't get The Internets, and the pictures it takes look like they were pulled out of an elephant's ass. Bottom line: Scotty is dying. It's showing its wonkiness by asking to "Please Insert Sim Card" when it already has one. Or sometimes the screen goes white (yes, at least, originally it was in color). Other times, the message shows appears upside down. "Honey, Scotty is dying," I tell him in a soothing tone. "But I hate the new phones! They're too big," he whines "Much too bulky for a man to carry in his pocket." "Too bad," I respond. "It's dying. That's okay. It lived long and prospered. But if you're waiting for another cell the size of a Star Trek phaser gun, youve got another thing coming. If you need something to carry it in, I'll lend you one of my purses." Needless to say, this is not the answer he's looking for. If he could, he'd wait it out, until cells got small again. Until then, he's still got to reach out and touch someone with something that receives messages that aren't... Continue reading

If she had been expecting his kiss, it would have landed on her lips, as opposed to her eye. Or maybe not. If she'd been expecting it, she might have pushed him away. Or run in the opposite direction. Or come up with a million excuses as to why she ducked and dodged him. "I haven't brushed my teeth," she might have said. Or, "Stop! Someone might be watching!" Or "Not now... not here... not me." But he took away her option to say no. Instead, he gave her the option to fall in love. Then he let her go. He learned this while fishing. "Catch and release," it's called. But women aren't fish. They love the chase. They imagine the possibilities. They anticipate his next kiss. -- Josie Free! The Housewife Assassin's Handbook! FREE! FREE! 99 cents! FREE! Apple iTunes Bookstore Read an excerpt... - EVERY DESPERATE HOUSEWIFE WANTS AN ALIAS: Donna Stone has one...and it happens to be government-sanctioned. - BUT DONNA EARNED IT THE HARD WAY: Her husband was killed the day she delivered their third child. - TO AVENGE HER HUSBAND'S MURDER: Donna leads a secret life: as an assassin. - BUT ESPIONAGE MAKES FOR STRANGE BEDFELLOWS: And brings new meaning to that old adage, "Honey, I'm home..." Continue reading

"It won't last," they said. "We'll prove them wrong," he promised. Hold your breath. Dive in. --Josie Free right now! The Housewife Assassin's Handbook FREE! FREE! 99 cents! FREE! Apple iTunes Bookstore Read an excerpt... - EVERY DESPERATE HOUSEWIFE WANTS AN ALIAS: Donna Stone has one...and it happens to be government-sanctioned. - BUT DONNA EARNED IT THE HARD WAY: Her husband was killed the day she delivered their third child. - TO AVENGE HER HUSBAND'S MURDER: Donna leads a secret life: as an assassin. - BUT ESPIONAGE MAKES FOR STRANGE BEDFELLOWS: And brings new meaning to that old adage, "Honey, I'm home..." Continue reading

I've been told that the verbal sparring between Donna Stone, the heroine in The Housewife Assassin's Handbook, and Jack Craig, the hero of the series, is hot enough to steam an ice cube. Works for me. For my TGIF except, I've chosen their first meet-up, which has Jack on his back with Donna's heel at his throat. But not for long. Enjoy! And if you do so, download from Amazon, Kobo, or Apple, where it's free. It's 99 cents in BN.com. I've put links below the exerpt. Josie EXCERPT “You know, you’re kind of cute when you’re angry.” When, finally, he can speak, his words come out in a husky mutter. I’m guessing that’s because I’ve got my kitten heel on his jugular. He’s lucky I’m not wearing my six-inch fuck-me stilettos. “You think so? You should ask around about that…Oh, sorry, you can’t—because anyone who’s seen me really angry has never lived to tell about it.” Despite my chokehold, he’s able to mumble out, “I love it when you talk dirty to me.” “Oh yeah? Tell, me, do you love it when I do this?” I press his arm to the breaking point. “And how about this?” I lean down on my heel again, but just enough. I’m enjoying the sound of him rasping for air when, from the other side of the door, I hear Mary ask, “Mom, is everything okay in there?” That breaks my concentration, enough for him to grab my ankle. Next thing I know it’s me who’s facedown, on the bed. I can feel his knee in the center of my back. The pressure he’s putting on me is excruciating, but I’m not going to let him know that. “If you don’t answer her, she’ll walk in here and find us… like this.” This is murmured more as a promise than a threat. I don’t know what makes me angrier: the thought that he thinks he’s scaring me, or the realization that the warmth of his breath on my cheek is turning me on. Either way, I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing it. I resist the urge to spit in his face. Instead I collect myself, and then in my best sing-song mommy voice, I answer, “Yes, honey, everything is fine! We’re just moving a few boxes in the closet. Why don’t you go downstairs and check on the chicken? If it’s... Continue reading

His words hit, like stones. I pummel him with my tears. Yes, it's true. Love hurts -- Josie 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... Continue reading

As we head into summer, I'm both surprised and proud of the fact that the third book in the Housewife Assassin series, Killer Christmas Tips, is still selling strong. Despite the title, this book less to do with the season it was set in, and more to do with the fact that readers who love the series don't want to miss any of the consecutive plot points that deal with the series' overriding story arc: - Will Acme operatives, Donna Stone and Jack Craig, finally take down the world's best financed international terrorist group known as the Quorum? - Will Donna ever be able to love and trust again, despite the betrayal she felt over Carl's lies and deception? - And will she and Jadk find the missing intel on its agents and assets before the Quorum gets it? As these two scenes in particular demonstrate, setting Book 3 during the holiday season allowed me to test Donna's faith: in herself, in her core values, and in her fellow beings. Enjoy, -- Josie EXCERPT “So, how old were you when you had your first kiss?” Jack’s question almost has me swerving off the road. The decision to take his car was probably a smart one because we may need a quick getaway, and my mommy-mobile doesn’t have the same zero-to-sixty pick-up as Jack’s Lamborghini. The decision for me to drive also makes sense, since he may have to be running like hell carrying a shoulder-launched missile, and won’t have time to fumble for his keys. His decision to play Twenty-one Questions may be one he regrets, should we crash. To ensure we don’t, I hold tight to the steering wheel and keep my eyes straight ahead. Not because he’s shocked me, but because I’d hate for him to see that my face has turned candy apple red. “Let’s just say I was old enough.” “Come on, answer the question honestly.” “Will you do the same?” “Absolutely. Cross my heart.” I sigh. “Okay. I was fifteen. And yes, the boy broke my heart.” He laughs. “What’s so funny?” “I was worried you hadn’t been kissed until college.” “You take too much stock in what Aunt Phyllis says. She’s under the impression I was as pure as driven snow until Carl and I… well, until I was married.” “So Carl wasn’t your first either?” He’s trying so hard to act nonchalant. “To... Continue reading

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 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... And click here to get a FREE COPY of The Housewife Assassin's Handbook (Book 1) FREE! FREE! FREE! Apple iTunes Bookstore 99 cents! Continue reading

Here's my Friday treat for you: a fun excerpt from The Housewife Assassin's Handbook. Donna is still annoyed with having been paired with Jack on this latest mission. It doesn't help that he has an opinion on her sex appeal. Chapter 7 Be the Life of the Party Socializing is a big part of a housewife’s life. Lots of friends mean lots of invitations! To keep abreast of all the activity, be sure to post a calendar prominently—perhaps on the refrigerator. That way, your hubby has no excuse to “forget” your social obligations. (Hint: Another gentle reminder that works very well is a cattle prod. Don’t worry, the burn marks heal quickly…) *** “We’ve got the Crichtons’ shindig tonight. Then the Simpsons’ on Friday. And from the look of the calendar next week, another three lined up… Jeez, you folks sure know how to party! How many bugs do we have left?” Jack sounds grumpy. Can’t say that I blame him. It’s the third night this week that we’ve had a social engagement. Since his quote-unquote return, we’ve been inundated with cocktail and cookout invitations. My neighbors are nosy about “the mysterious Carl Stone.” It’s hard for me to forget all those years in which they ignored me while Carl was supposedly on the road. But I’ll save my pity for later. Considering our mission, I guess this sudden burst of popularity is a blessing in disguise since it allows us into their homes in order to plant bugs that sweep the neighbor’s computers and their phones for any evidence that they are fronting for the Quorum. Unfortunately, the bugs we’ve planted have yielded nothing. We’re having a mission update in the one place I know we won’t be interrupted by the children: my bedroom. I pull open my underwear drawer, where I keep all the tracking devices. It gives new meaning to the brand Agent Provocateur. I do a quick count. “We’ve got enough for the next six parties. I’ll ask Abu for refills.” Before I can shut the drawer, Jack grabs a red lace thong and holds it up to the light. “You mean to tell me that you actually fit into this tiny thing?” How dare he! I’ve learn to ignore his teasing. This time, though, it’s a little too close for comfort. I plant a supreme smile on my face. “But of course. In fact, I’m... Continue reading

We say the same thing But we don't hear each other Let's not speak. Just...touch. -- Josie Guess what's free right now? Free! FREE! FREE! Apple iTunes Bookstore 99 cents! Read an excerpt... Continue reading

So, what exactly was his reaction when he felt her in the shower behind him? He didn't turn around. Instead he murmured, "I'll scrub your back, if you scrub mine." Done deal. But first a little, a little foreplay. There is no bigger turn-on than your lover's gentle fingers shampooing your scalp. Nothing is sexier than suds cascading down your lover's back. The droplets rolling from the tip of your lover's nose and onto your lips leaves you thirsty for more. Wet kisses are the best. Shower power, -- Josie Read an excerpt from Josie's lastest novel, The Housewife Assassin's Relationship Survival Guide for a chance to win a $100 gift card from your favorite bookstore! Continue reading

This was my birthday month. I'm one year younger, and one year wiser. (Think "Benjamin Button." Um... Yeah right, sure.) As do most wise people, I don't celebrate myself, but those I appreciate. That's where you come in. This excerpt is for you, folks. As the seconds count down on in thislast day of this beautiful Spring month, I've put up a new excerpt from Book 2 of the Housewife Assassin series, Guide to Gracious Killing. I put so much of myself into my books, which is why I want to share with you. This ones got a real hot button: a host behaving badly, to the point where he almost rapes my heroine, Donna Stone. Don't fret. She can hold her own against anyone, including this well-connected manslut. If you enjoy it, I'm glad I put a smile on your face. Hopefully, you'll go ahead and purchase it, which will add to my birthday joy. (And your joy, too, since it's cheaper than one of those fancy cups of java down at your local Starbucks). Enjoy! -- Josie EXCERPT The dining room isn’t one at all, but a library, which is supposed to be “cozy,” despite its football-field-length, wall-to-ceiling books, two-story-high ceilings, and a fireplace large enough to hold three men and a little Bentley. The table is round, which allows for optimum placement of the eight guests between the host and hostess. I’m seated to the right of Breck, and Franz is next to me. On his right is Felicity, with Rutherford beside her. That puts Babette to his right and directly across the table from Breck. Jack sits to Babette’s right, and Edwina on the other side of him, with Garrett on her right. Hans is sandwiched between Garrett and Breck. Franz and Hans, who sit opposite each other, speak perfect English to everyone else, but hold side discussions in their native language. My earrings are embedded with an audio feed that allows Ryan to whisper sweet nothings into my ear. He promises to do so, should the bugs Arnie has planted in the flowers that adorn the table and the rest of the room pick up anything Jack and I should be warned about. It will be interesting to hear the translation between Franz and Hans. Even if their phrases are seemingly innocuous, I wonder if any codes will be detected. For the most part, the... Continue reading

Having your characters grow -- and fall in love -- is a delicate choreography for an novelist. I enjoyed putting Donna Stone, the heroine of The Housewife Assassin's Handbook, into the arms of Jack Craig, her black ops mission partner. He truly is the spy who loves her. A lot that happens in this scene hints as to what is to come in the other books in the series. Right now, it's also #7 on Amazon Kindle's Romantic Suspense/Mystery list, as well as #15 under Mysteries & Thrillers/Women Sleuths. To see why, go ahead and download it. The book is free right now, in the online bookstores listed below. -- Josie EXCERPT No, not that table… But yes, the hostess at the Sand Dollar seats Jack and me at the last table on the deck: the one closest to the surf. The one that was Carl’s favorite. To cover up my jitters, I order a mojito along with the seared ahi. “Double that order,” Jack tells our waitress. We are silent as we stare out at the ocean. Our drinks don’t come until the sun is melting into the horizon. As the last rays of the day splay across the waves, the rum warms me and loosens my tongue. Still, I’m lucid enough to keep the topic on him. “You have no accent. Where are you from?” “I grew up in Washington state.” He crushes the mint in the bottom of his drink with a swizzle stick. “The Orcas Islands.” “I hear it’s beautiful there.” “It is. But I don’t see myself going back.” “Why not?” He stares out at the ocean. “There is no one to go home to.” Ah. For some reason I’m glad to hear it. That makes me a bitch, I guess. And yet, I’ve got to ask, “You never married?” “What is this, an interrogation? Am I about to be snatched?” To mock me, he glances over his shoulder. “We’re getting to know each other, remember? Besides, if I wanted to make you talk, there are easier ways than extraordinary rendition.” This mojito is strong. I can’t tell if I’m charming him with a Mona Lisa smile or leering like some sort of mad clown. He leans back. “Okay, yeah, sure. You get a question, and then I get one.” “Fair enough.” “So, you want to know about any attachments, right?” He chews on his... Continue reading

Whenever I re-read a book I've written, invariably I'll run across a scene that made me laugh, cry, or shiver with delight as I wrote it. This scene, in The Housewife Assassin's Guide to Gracious Killing (Book 2 of the series) is one of those. And it rated a "shiver with delight." Read it, and then you'll know what I mean. -- Josie Excerpt Chapter 4 How to Choose a Party Dress When you’re a guest at someone else’s soirée, your first impression should be also be a lasting one—and certainly not because you either overdressed, or underdressed, for the occasion. When in doubt, keep it simple and elegant: black, with pearls. If the dress code is not in the invitation, take the time to query your host regarding the proper attire. Note of caution: should your host’s recommendation include, say, crotchless panties, a naughty schoolgirl plaid skirt, brocade ankle restraints and a head harness with a muzzle gag, be sure to bring along something you’ll know he deserves, for getting on your bad side. A cement overcoat will do nicely. **** “Go with the backless one. You’ve got the shoulders to carry it off.” I turn around to see who’s offering an opinion on my hunt for the right gown to the Breck shindig tonight. My advisor is a man who sits on a settee in a darkened corner of the Bergdorf-Goodman couture suite, just off to the side of the circular bank of mirrors. While I’ve been scrutinizing my profile, he’s been admiring my shoulders, supposedly. But only now does he lift his eyes—from somewhere far below my shoulders—to meet mine. From the look of his suit (made to measure for a man whose fit physique would look great in a gunnysack, let alone a fifteen-thousand-dollar charcoal gray Brioni) he has great taste. He should. He is Jonah Stanford Breck IV, one of the wealthiest men in the world. Sweetly, I smile at him through the mirror. “You like it better than the blue one?” His eyes sweep over me, appraisingly. “Much more so. Albeit the blue sets off your… eyes.” I laugh at his ridiculous attempt to avoid the obvious. My eyes are brown. What looks great in the blue dress is my ass. We both know it. “Great, then. The blue one’s the charm.” “You’ll be the belle of the ball.” “Not a ball, really. Just... Continue reading

This article in the New York Times spells it out succinctly. Having a mother who died of the blood disease Myelodysplasia, this truly breaks my heart. If she hadn't been old enough for Medicare, it would have bankrupted her. Almost ten years ago, TIME magazine pointed out that "The prices Americans pay for prescription drugs, which are far higher than those paid by citizens of any other developed country, help explain why the pharmaceutical industry is — and has been for years — the most profitable of all businesses in the U.S. In the annual Fortune 500 survey, the pharmaceutical industry topped the list of the most profitable industries, with a return of 17% on revenue."[1]National expenditures on pharmaceuticals accounted for 12.9% of total health care costs, compared to an OECD average of 17.7% (2003 figures)..." Not much has changed. Like locusts, 12,389 Big Pharma lobbyists hover around our lawmakers. In fact, according to the Center for Responsive Politics, the pharmaceutical industry spent $18,530,000 in 2012 -- and $232,583,920 between 1998-2012 -- ensuring that the laws created protect their clients while decimating the health and wellbeing (and bank accounts) of the American people. I guess a few hundred million over a span of fourteen years is a small price to pay for the tens of billions they net in revenue each year. These companies are profiting on our lives. -- Josie Doctors Denounce Cancer Drug Prices of $100,000 a Year By ANDREW POLLACK / New York Times Published: April 25, 2013 (c) 2013 New York Times With the cost of some lifesaving cancer drugs exceeding $100,000 a year, more than 100 influential cancer specialists from around the world have taken the unusual step of banding together in hopes of persuading some leading pharmaceutical companies to bring prices down. Prices for cancer drugs have been part of the debate over health care costs for several years — and recently led to a public protest from doctors at a major cancer center in New York. But the decision by so many specialists, from more than 15 countries on five continents, to join the effort is a sign that doctors, who are on the front lines of caring for patients, are now taking a more active role in resisting high prices. In this case, some of the specialists even include researchers with close ties to the pharmaceutical industry. The doctors and researchers, who... Continue reading

I hope you enjoy this excerpt. It's one of my favorites from The Housewife Assassin's Killer Christmas Tips, because it shows a mother's concern about her children, even over her own safety. -- Josie EXCERPT Zoran is a chatterbox. He hasn’t quit talking since we pulled out of the garage. Having dropped his fake British accent, his sentences slip and slide over Slavic pronouns and badass claims. I make it easy for him. I can’t talk, let alone move. In other words, I’m a captive audience, both literally and figuratively. Lucky me. “I would have liked to have given you a truth serum first, to find out who sent you. The Muslims? The Croats? Surely it wasn’t my old friends, the Serbs? And it can’t be the Mexican government. They have bigger worries than the disappearance of a few grape pickers. If only the injection I gave you allowed you to nod at my questions, but it won’t wear off for a couple of hours.” Nod? I wish I could reach up and pull the tongue out of his head. We’ve been in the car for at least an hour now, and he’s been giving me a science lesson on what to expect while on his operating table. He describes his favorite instrument: a Blue Max eighteen-inch 45 cc Heavy Duty gas chainsaw. He uses it to chop up the bodies after cutting open his victims and removing vital organs, while they’re still alive of course. He explains that, like me, they were first given a neuromuscular block to paralyze them. But he’s such a sicko that he skips the anesthesia that would block their pain. “We should be at my ranch in another hour.” As if reading my mind, he adds, “The drug won’t wear off before we get there. And by the way, any friends who may come looking for you will be disappointed. You see, the cabin is not in my name. It belonged to a now-deceased fellow whom I met while fishing on Big Bear Lake. The lonely old hermit died of a sudden heart attack while feeding his hogs! They ate him too. Can you imagine that? You see, to those animals, human flesh is a delicacy, compared to the garbage they ate before I came along. As you can imagine, I keep them well fed. Tonight they will be feasting, ecstatically I might add,... Continue reading

Flashing by, then gone/ Life as we'd like to know it / Look up! Is that one? Continue reading

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... Continue reading

He asked for a little sugar with his coffee. _________________________________________ The Housewife Assassin's Handbook (Book 1) /Signal Press NOW FREE! Buy it from Apple iTunes Bookstore Read an excerpt... Continue reading

Put yourself out there/ Take a walk on the wild side/ No regrets, just...fun. Continue reading

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 Continue reading

(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".) Continue reading

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 Only $3.99 Signal Press / In bookstores now! 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. “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... Continue reading

He said turn left here / He sounded so confident / He sold you stock, too? -- Josie Brown (c) 2013 Josie Brown. All rights reserved. Continue reading

Okay, 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... Continue reading