Exchange of links. We are getting my revised website near finish and I would like to make an offer to other authors and organizations and businesses.

If you send me a link to your website I will add it to my newly expanded site in exchange for a return link on your site back to one of my urls. Please drop me a note if you are interested ASAP because I want my revised site up soon.

Please note this is not an exchange of ads or graphics, simply links.

(my work is far to long to post on Collarme so here is some info in case you are interested -- note the layout is messed by my this journal but the LJ version is very readable)

Here is a small sample, to read the rest go to: http://thetammyjo.livejournal.com/ and then "friend" me to it and the previous 7 stories for my next book.

"Dangerous Education"

Chavi finishes looking at our temporary home as I take the latest book out. Cornelius has been a good friend to me, though my need to lie to him is not a commentary on him but on my own coven. If they only knew these summaries and recommendations are made after discussions with my wardum, I shudder to think how they might torture her to death, though I can’t say I’m fond of the idea of being staked out for daylight with my skin stripped from the muscle.

My Beauty looks a little tired from our trip. The constant demands of various border lords and their servants to confirm she is my property as we’ve traveled this week has worn on her emotions. I’ve felt it all as it happened through our spiritual connection. Normally other Akhkharu are frightened of us, but a lone witch and her slave can also be targets for younger vampires attempting to prove their worth to their Shi or to frighten others who might be thinking of entering their territory. Our very semi-nomadic nature makes us targets, and if I want to keep the rights I’ve been given to travel to various libraries, I need to keep my temper in check.

My Beauty kneels before me and smiles, signaling that the room is free from any device or ward that might allow another to spy upon us. There was a time when this was not necessary, but laws coming from the Ummum’s Council are strict about what wardum can and cannot do. We are about to break several of these as I open the book.

Chavi shifts after several minutes of my reading and her “hearing” me so that she can focus for several hours. She must remain focused on the text at hand, though she cannot touch it beyond carrying it for me, or another of our family may discover she has read forbidden material. I cannot even risk showing her the diagrams or pictures this text on eastern magic and philosophy contains, for fear someone may see it in her mind. Our power has made us paranoid, and spies arise among my sisters. How I wish it were two centuries past, when it was much simpler to live in the shadows.

Doesn’t that passage contradict a book we read last year, Mistress?

I smile and close the book as I consider my wardum’s question. This is where my praised insights into the value of texts comes from. Chavi’s memory is amazing; my Bu only enhanced her natural gifts. Explain further.

There was a text, several in fact, where the male’s role was called forceful or commanding. Here it portrays it as servicing the inner goddess of the woman, worshipping at her temple. Are these not contradictory?

Who is active in each of these rituals?

Now she smiles and nods her head slightly. I see. In each case it is the male who does the act of sex to the female; only the motivation or interpretation changes. Thus this claim of matriarchal reclamation is a lie.

Should we not also consider the motivation of this author and his goals for the book?

He is merely lying to himself. He does not see that his new interpretation is merely phallus worship of another form.

I set the book aside and raise my skirt just enough to reveal my ankles and sandaled feet. Are you suggesting that a phallus is not worthy of worship?

Chavi arches an eyebrow as she lowers herself to the floor to begin kissing my flesh between the leather straps, then starts to untie them. I do not need it, nor do you, Mistress. Her thoughts are tinged with anger from the unnecessary fondling several of the border guards indulged in while we traveled. I am about to comment or offer comfort when she bites down hard enough on my inseam to draw bloods which she laps at as her dark eyes watch me.

My Beauty has learned much, which reduces me to the status of her slave in terms of passion, as she is mine in all other things. Soon the text is forgotten as we work to make the journey’s unpleasantness fade in our minds.