The creativity of some people simply amazes me, but I like it so much better leavened with a dash of sly humour. Get a load of these unbelievable shopping bags.  Aren’t they clever?

Which do you like the best? Or, more to the point, which would you be prepared to carry around in public? LOL

This is amazing - so amazing it makes me a little suspicious. But hey, that’s just me. Get a load of this woofer, that’s a helluva lot of Pal right there.

Dog  For Sale
 Free  to good home. Excellent guard dog.  Owner  cannot afford to feed him anymore, as there are no more  drug pushers, thieves, murderers, or molesters left in the  neighborhood for him to eat.   Most  of them knew Jethro only by his Oriental  street name,   Ho Lee Schitt.

I’ll post about the Romance Writers of Australia Conference later, when I’ve recovered properly and got the photos organised. Geez, I had a good time.*grin*

On his 65th birthday, a man received gift certificate from his wife. The certificate paid for a visit to a medicine man living on a nearby reservation who was rumoured to have a wonderful cure for erectile dysfunction.

After being persuaded, he drove to the reservation, handed his ticket to the medicine man and wondered what he was in for.

The medicine man slowly, methodically produced a potion, handed it to him, and with a grip on his shoulder, warned, “This is powerful medicine and it must be respected. You take only a teaspoonful and then say 1-2-3. When you do that, you will become more manly than you have ever been in your life and you can perform as long as you want.”

The man was encouraged. As he walked away, he turned and asked, “How do I stop the medicine from working?”

“Your partner must say ‘1-2-3-4,’ ” the medicine man responded. “But when she does, the medicine will not work again until the next full moon.”

He was very eager to see if it worked so he went home, showered, shaved, took a spoonful of the medicine, and then invited his wife to join him in the bedroom. When she came in, he took off his clothes and said, “1-2-3!” Immediately, he was the manliest of men.

His wife was excited and began throwing off her clothes. And then she asked, “What was the 1-2-3 for?”

And that, folks, is why we should never end our sentences with a preposition because we could end up with a dangling participle.

Boom, boom!

New Drugs for Women (tee hee!)

DAMNITOL

Take 2 and the rest of the world can go to hell for up to 8 full hours.

EMPTYNESTROGEN

Suppository that eliminates melancholy and loneliness by reminding you of how awful they were as teenagers and how you couldn’t wait till they moved out!

ST. MOMMA’S WORT

Plant extract that treats mom’s depression by rendering preschoolers unconscious for up to two days.

PEPTOBIMBO

Liquid silicone drink for single women. Two full cups swallowed before an evening out increases breast size, decreases intelligence, and prevents conception.

DUMBEROL

When taken with Peptobimbo, can cause dangerously low IQ, resulting in enjoyment of country music and pickup trucks.

FLIPITOR

Increases life expectancy of commuters by controlling road rage and the urge to flip off other drivers.

MENICILLIN

Potent anti-boy-otic for older women. Increases resistance to such lethal lines as, ‘You make me want to be a better person. ‘

BUYAGRA

Injectable stimulant taken prior to shopping. Increases potency, duration, and credit limit of spending spree.

JACKASSPIRIN

Relieves headache caused by a man who can’t remember your birthday, anniversary, phone number, or to lift the toilet seat.

ANTI-TALKSIDENT

A spray carried in a purse or wallet to be used on anyone too eager to share their life stories with total strangers in elevators.

NAGAMENT

When administered to a boyfriend or husband, provides the same irritation level as nagging him, without opening your mouth.

Thanks, Jules!

An era is over. Yes, Rackety Kate and the Pirates has finally come to an end. I know, I can’t believe it either. Kate has been with us since September 2007. More than two years. Wow! That’s a while to wait for your HEA and Kate was never exactly the patient type. *grin*

This last one is a bumper chapter - much longer than normal. I found that once I started I felt even meaner than usual about breaking off on a cliff-hanger. Especially for poor Jack. He’s had a rough time. Aw…

But before you dive in…

THANKS!

Thanks for your taking this journey with Kate and Jack and I, and for challenging my imagination by voting on what happens next. You’ve kept me on my toes! Lord, it’s been fun. *smile*

All the chapters are up on my website, but the complete ebook of Rackety Kate and the Pirates comes in at more than 55,000 words, 29 chapters in all. Not bad for free, hmm? It’s my exclusive gift to newsletter subscribers. Sign up here.

So what will I be doing instead? Writing my socks off, that’s what! Not being tied to a regular episode of Kate frees me up wonderfully. I’m about halfway through Book #3, the ‘Earth” book, in the Four-Sided Pentacle series and having a seriously good time. Mehcredi is currently driving Walker slowly but surely out of his mind. *heh heh*

Plus, I’ll be creating vignettes for you, glimpses of characters you already know, not every month, but about every quarter. I already have half of a Griff and Fort scene, in which Griff is trying to decide how best to celebrate Fort’s natal day - if they can work out when it is. Lots of scope for Griff-type wickedness there. *chuckle* I’ll let you know.

Here you go, my dears. Read on with my love…

Rackety Kate and the Pirates

Chapter 29

Endings and Beginnings

The story so far:
Kate is a surprised but delighted witness to the Comte’s Happy Ending with the Hormone Harlots. Tearing herself away, she rushes back to the boardroom to find…

You can read all of Kate here – http://www.deniserossetti.com/kate.html

From inside the boardroom came the rumble of masculine voices. A man laughed. It wasn’t Jack. God, she wasn’t ready for this. Kate tugged at the jacket of her nicely fitted lawyer suit. She glanced down. Buttons buttoned, shirt points still crisp, skirt smooth over her hips. She was even wearing matching bra and panties - she hoped.

You’re not mad, she told herself. The Comte is real, the Hormone Harlots are real. Her breath caught. Boy, are they ever! Taking a firm grip on her case folder and notebook, she straightened her spine. Therefore, Jack must…

Oh, shit.

Tap, tap, tap. The sound echoed softly down the corridor. Shazelle, of course. Had to be. Tap, tap, tappity…TAP! Or possibly not.

A little reassured, Kate gripped the door handle in sweaty fingers. Now.

She threw the door open and took a single step into the room.

Five heads turned toward her, five pairs of eyes surveyed her trim form with deep masculine appreciation.

Kate stared back, frozen.

Her eyes met Jack’s. He was seated in a large leather chair at the far end of the table, his hands resting on its arms, every inch a corporate pirate. He was clean-shaven now, but the russet brown hair was just the same, expertly cut to showcase its thickness and health. The gold shot hazel of his eyes still reminded her of a tiger’s gaze, intent and predatory. His suit jacket had been tossed aside, his sleeves rolled up to show strong forearms, an expensive looking gold watch on one wrist. His tie was little askew, as if he’d been tugging at it.

 It’s newsletter time, which means…

Rackety Kate and the Pirates

Chapter 28

Firm Hands

The story so far:
To Kate’s astonished relief, the Hormone Harlots step in and take control of the entire situation. In fact, they seem to wield an extraordinary degree of control over the wicked Comte de Nothos. Talk about a firm hand!

You can read all of Kate here – http://www.deniserossetti.com

Kate gripped the phone so hard, the plastic creaked. Her head spun. “Jack,” she croaked at the Hormone Harlots. “Jack’s in my office, he’s—”

Ess turned her pretty head. “Do you trust us, Kate?”

Gulping, Kate nodded.

“This won’t take long.” She shot a sideways glance at the Comte’s pale, brutally handsome face and sighed. “Unless we’ve miscalculated. It’ll all be fine, I promise. Tell them you’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

“I’m with…with the client, Shazelle,” said Kate into the phone. “Just finishing him off. I mean— Hell, say to Mr Cavanagh, another half hour, okay? Don’t let him leave.”

“I’ll try,” said Shazelle doubtfully. “Hope you know what you’re doing, Kate.” She rang off.

Tess’s grin it looked a little ragged ’round the edges. “So we’re cool. We got our witness. Do it,” she said to her sister.

Ess pushed a stray wisp of hair off her forehead. Her fingers trembled.

What the—?

The Comte frowned down at her, his dark brows knitted.

***

Want more? You can read all of Kate and see more pirates on the Rackety Kate page. Want even more than that? Join my newsletter - see below.

Tell me, does this flip your switch? It passed the Rossetti giggle-out-loud test. Not many do.

But wait, there’s more. The rest of the joke goes like this -

I e-mailed it to my Chinese doctor friend. He e-mailed back: “If the light stays on for more than 4 hours, call your erectrician.”

Boom, boom!

 It’s newsletter time, which means…

Rackety Kate and the Pirates

Chapter 27

Punishment Is its Own Reward

The story so far:
To her astonishment, Kate discovers that she’s been retained as counsel by the Comte de Nothos — in an action against Cavanagh Enterprises. Legally, The Comte’s position is untenable, but he’s refusing to budge. If he won’t listen to Kate, who will he listen to?

You can read all of Kate here – http://www.deniserossetti.com/kate.html

Kate leaned back in her chair, putting on her poker face. “You know who,” she said. “The Hormone Harlots.”

The Comte glared. His face, already pale, went the colour of finest alabaster. “I have no idea who or what you’re talking about,” he said in a voice like ice. “I’m instructing you to pursue the action against Jack Cavanagh, Ms O’Reilly.”

Shit, it wasn’t working. Come on, Rossetti, thought Kate. You can write smut for the discerning anytime. I need you right now.

“You don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell,” she said. If she hadn’t been watching him so closely, she might have missed it, but the Comte’s lashes flickered. Kate leaned forward, intent. “I like to win, Comte,” she said. “Not piss off the judge and waste the court’s time.”

Very faintly, she heard a sound from somewhere deep in the building, or was it in her head? Tap, tap, tap.

Holding the Comte’s fathomless gaze, Kate licked her lips. Her heart hammered. “Did you hear that?”

The Comte shifted slightly in his high-backed chair. “This is an office, people work here.” he said.

In the distance, an elevator made a swooshing sound, then a bright ding! The low murmur of female voices drifted through the door, accompanied by the tap of heels, drawing closer.

A slow flush climbed out of the Comte’s collar, reaching his cheeks. Apart from that, however, he’d gone so still he could have sat for a portrait entitled Sex in a Suit.

“I’ll let them in, shall I?”

“No,” croaked the Comte. “I haven’t… They’ll…”

Ignoring him, Kate rose and flung the door open wide.

Arm in arm, Tess and Ess beamed at her. They looked just as she remembered them, except that Tess had purple and red streaks in her hair and a nose stud, while Ess was tricked out in a silk suit the colour of a dove’s breast, with a cream silk blouse and pearls.

“Heya, babe,” beamed Tess.

“Kate, dear,” smiled Ess.

***

Want more? You can read all of Kate and see more pirates on the Rackety Kate page. Want even more than that? Join my newsletter - see below.

 It’s newsletter time, which means…

Rackety Kate and the Pirates

Chapter 26

Devious Plans

The knock came again. Kate glared at the door as if she could eviscerate the idiot on the other side. “For crying out loud, come in!” But all she could produce was a strained whisper, as if she’d been sobbing in her sleep. Which was ridiculous. Really.

Footsteps moved away, a voice murmuring something to the receptionist.

With a muttered oath, she sprang to her feet, knocked her hip on the corner of the desk and cursed even louder. Rubbing the sore spot, she wrenched the door open. At the far end of the corridor, the receptionist was reaching forward to take a pile of documents from a man with long blond hair, confined in a neat pony tail. He wore an elegantly tailored suit in a charcoal gray. Shazelle’s upturned face was a study in feminine appreciation.

Peter had had hair like that.

Ruthlessly, Kate slammed the lid down before the thought could take on a life of its own. She made a mental note to do a background check on the Rossetti woman. There had to be some dirt somewhere. Everyone had a dirty little secret.

“No problem,” Shazelle was saying, heavily mascaraed eyelashes fluttering like centipedes on speed. “I’ll see she gets them.”

The man murmured something in response that made the girl flush with pleasure. Straightening, he turned toward the foyer and the elevators, his lean body moving with compact grace. Fine, very fine, thought Kate, enjoying the scenery. Of course, Armani did tend to have that effect. The elevator swished open, the man entered, pressed the button and about-faced.

Holy shit.

Designer spectacles that magnified glorious sea-blue eyes, a straight nose, sexy mouth.

“Peter.” She thought she’d shouted, but the word got strangled in her throat.

He gave her a quick appreciative glance up and down, all male. But after a second, his grin stalled, a crease appearing between his brows. The doors of the elevator slid closed on his puzzled face.

“No, no!” She pounded at the `up’ button, almost sobbing with frustration. “Come back, come back!”

***

Want more? You can read all of Kate and see more pirates on the Rackety Kate page. Want even more than that? Join my newsletter - see below.

I thought that you folks Over There might like to experience the flavour of an Aussie Christmas, so here’s a ’seasonal’ poem. High literature it ain’t - enjoy!

BTW, as I write this, I’m sitting at my desk in a sarong, looking out the window at the mangoes beginning to blush on our big old tree. Meanwhile, it’s raining - steady subtropical wet stuff, with a sauna to follow when the sun comes out and sucks all the moisture out of the ground. I’m finally considering air conditioning. *sigh*

‘Twas the night before Christmas; there wasn’t a sound.
Not a possum was stirring; no-one was around.
We’d left on the table some tucker and beer,
Hoping that Santa Claus soon would be here;
We children were snuggled up safe in our beds,
While dreams of pavlova danced ’round in our heads;

And Mum in her nightie, and Dad in his shorts,
Had just settled down to watch TV sports.
When outside the house a mad ruckus arose;
Loud squeaking and banging woke us from our doze.

We ran to the screen door, peeked cautiously out,
snuck onto the deck, then let out a shout.
Guess what had woken us up from our snooze,
But a rusty old Ute pulled by eight mighty ‘roos.
The cheerful man driving was giggling with glee,
And we both knew at once who this plump bloke must be.

Now, I’m telling the truth it’s all dinki-di,
Those eight kangaroos fairly soared through the sky.
Santa leaned out the window to pull at the reins,
And encouraged the ‘roos, by calling their names.

‘ Now , Kylie ! Now, Kirsty! Now, Shazza and Shane !
On Kipper! On, Skipper! On, Bazza and Wayne !
Park up on that water tank. Grab a quick drink,
I’ll scoot down the gum tree. Be back in a wink!’

So up to the tank those eight kangaroos flew,
With the Ute full of toys, and Santa Claus too.
He slid down the gum tree and jumped to the ground,
Then in through the window he sprang with a bound.

He had bright sunburned cheeks and a milky white beard.
A jolly old joker was how he appeared.
He wore red stubby shorts and old thongs on his feet,
And a hat of deep crimson as shade from the heat.
His eyes - bright as opals - Oh! How they twinkled!
And, like a goanna, his skin was quite wrinkled!
His shirt was stretched over a round bulging belly
Which shook when he moved, like a plate full of jelly.

A fat stack of prezzies he flung from his back,
And he looked like a swaggie unfastening his pack.
He spoke not a word, but bent down on one knee,
To position our goodies beneath the yule tree.

Surfboard and footy-ball shapes for us two.
And for Dad, tongs to use on the new barbeque.
A mysterious package he left for our Mum,

Then he turned and he winked and he held up his thumb;
He strolled out on deck and his ‘roos came on cue;
Flung his sack in the back and prepared to shoot through.

He bellowed out loud as they swooped past the gates -

‘MERRY CHRISTMAS to all, and goodonya, MATES!’

Let me know if there’s something you’re curious about.For example, Shazza and Bazza are the nicknames for Sharon and Barry, respectively. Not something a foreigner might intuit!

Hope your Christmas was simply wonderful, full of love and ease. Mine wasn’t too damn bad at all! I know I’m blessed and I’m infinitely grateful.