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This is a reverse amnesia story.
January 21 2018

I’m often asked about this. I write about it. I blog about it. Well, mostly I blog about my honey, but it counts, right? So it got me to thinking. I usually share the broader side of our life with you guys because I’m such a private introverted person. *dodges massive lightning bolts* 😀 Anyway, I’m going to share a typical negotiation between Honey and I when he gets a smutastick idea. And trust me on this, he gets a lot of them. 0_o

To set the scene he has just pulled out the directions, diagrams, aerial photos complete with testimonials and the FBI surveillance tapes. Okay, I might be joking on the last because the Federal Bureau has a tendency to frown on leaked videos, ya know? 😉 So there I am peering down at the blanket of “educational material” through my suddenly steamed up readers and I’m wondering if he’s for real.

I wait for my glasses to defog and glare up at him over their rims, “You’re serious about this?”


The second that comes out I know he’s totally invested in getting me to agree as he didn’t so much say the word as he breezed it. He never breezes about the topic of sex. I do a double take at the materials and shake my head. “No.”

“Oh, don’t be so quick to shoot it down.”

Easy for him to say. “No.”

It’s at this point he starts pacing. I think he does this to distract me, but in this instance I’m focused in on the material so I’m basically ignoring him until he offers.

“We can do it in stages.”


“On the bed.”


“On the floor.”


“Up against the door.”

Freaking hell. Now I have this Dr. Seuss erotic rhyme thing going on in my head and before I know it I’m mentally working out how I can parlay a sexy short poetic book into the marketplace, when I hear him.

“In the swimming pool.”

This is when I know he’s just making shit up. So I call his bluff.


He stops pacing and nearly trips over the ottoman. “Okay?”

“Yeah, but…” I snatch up a Post It Note and write down three words. When I stood up I stuck the yellow square on his chest and patted it down saying, “You have to buy these three items at the triple X store first. No cheating by ordering online. I want to see the receipt—” my wheels are spinning a mile a minute here, “—with the manager’s signature on it. In fact I want you to get the manager to put a smiley face right beside the dotted line.” Meh, that last was the equivalent of a cherry-on-top.


I walked away thinking now he’s calling my bluff, but two days later when I found the three items on my dresser with that receipt, signed and stamped with not only a smiley face, but what I’m assuming was a sloppy thumbs up, all I could do was LMAO!

The silly man was so focused in on winning and getting his way I highly doubt he gave those three items a second thought. Because, HELLO! If he had he probably shouldn’t have bought them. *Dusts off palms with a sense of heady satisfaction* At least now I have a few things to use as leverage when we revisit his smutastick plans. Heheheh. Poor guy he has no idea what he’s in for. *twirls my invisible handlebar mustache before I get ready to tie him to the tracks* I’ll keep you Post It. 😉


Valentine’s Day got me to thinking. For me it’s the little things, but before I get to those I wanted to share something else.

When I first started my blog, I always referred to Honey as The Boy. I did so because my dad was alive at the time, and well…from the first day Honey arrived at our door to pick me up for a date my dad called him ‘the boy’. It kind of stuck after hearing it over decades. In fact, even after we were married, had two children who grew up and went off to college, my dad would always ask, “When’s the boy going to be home?” He loved to shoot the breeze with the boy.

So when dad passed in 2011 I had a hard time calling Honey, The Boy. Doing so always reminded me of my dad. Which wasn’t such a bad thing, only that it was painful. I mention this and bring up my dad because in terms of what makes a guy a man, Honey being called ‘The Boy’ for most of a lifetime – immortalized even in my blog – has to qualify as one of the little things he did for me. Actually, it’s kind of big if you weren’t man enough to take it, you know what I mean? Never did Honey complain about the title. Not when dad said it and not when I wrote it over and over week after week on this site.

Other little things that make my guy a man to me? Well, he makes sure my car is all filled with gas. My tire pressure is always perfect. The car is backed into the garage so all I have to do is drive out. I suspect that last one is for both of us as it’s illegal to drive without taillights AND there wouldn’t be any. Heck there’d be no backend as I totally SUCK <- seriously I SUCK big-time at backing up. Helen Keller, directed by Stevie Wonder could do a better job I’m sure. 😉

Honey makes sure that the flowers I love in the garden always get watered. Yeah, I suck at remembering to sprinkle most days. He cuts himself nearly every week on the deadly thorns of the bougainvillea bush that has to be tamed and yet, I still insist we keep anyway, in the backyard. And speaking of our circle-of-life backyard, he’s saved our pain in the ass resident squirrel, Steven King, from death by hawk once and then secretly nursed him back to health. So yeah, I could continue to add the little’s that make my guy a man to me, but after yesterday even those things seemed insignificant in light of what he did. Again, it wasn’t big and it was only important to those I love. So yeah, for me this gesture trumped all the little’s he’s done for me over the years.

After spending a very hectic day with clients I was just wrapping up my work when Honey called me. Here’s the conversation.

How’s your Valentine’s day going?


Okay, I’ll go to the store. Did you think of anything else we needed?

No, I’ll see you at home in an hour or so.

It was more an hour and half and when I got there Honey wasn’t home. I got changed, took the Red Devil out for a walk and started dinner when he came through the door. Of course he had beautiful gladiolus for me. They’re my favorites, but he also had a huge bouquet of Daylilies. Those are my mother’s favorites and when I saw them I blinked. In all the busy life stuff I had going on I’d forgotten that this was Valentine’s Day for her too.

Honey hadn’t forgotten. And when I heard him deliver those flowers to my mom and say, “Pretty flowers for a pretty lady” exactly the way my dad used to bring those lilies to mom on Valentine’s day? I knew then that where ever daddy was at that moment The Boy was now The Man.

I can’t explain how much this meant to me. All I can say is this was the best Valentine’s Day present Honey ever got me! My mom was walking on air for the rest of the night and I know somewhere up there daddy was smiling because of it.



Okay, before I get to the striped guy I have to say, thank you to the readers who reached out to me over the weekend when they couldn’t find Required Surrender on Amazon. It took a little longer to show up than expected, but it’s all good now. Made for a hectic weekend though and this would explain the guy above. Okay, here goes.

So there I am yesterday getting ready for the day. I do have other than writing work to do – I know, shocking isn’t it? 😉 Anyway, when I’m not doing that “other” work I’m sitting doing my writing, so in order to fit into my office chair I have to exercise at some point, right? With that in mind, Honey turned our son’s old room into a casual gym for me. Yay! I call it my torture chamber (but don’t tell him because he really worked hard on it, okay?) Anyway, yesterday I went in to do my run and there on the top of the treadmill Honey had left the stuffed animal with the caption, “Go get ‘em, tiger!” He’s very supportive of my writing career. In fact, I think he loves release days more than I do. There I was grinning from ear-to-ear reading the rest of his note (and no, I’m not going to tell you what he promised in it, but I will say he delivered on that promise last night! He delivered good! :D) Erm, where was I again? Oh, yeah, reading the last of the not that said, “Squeeze him.” So I scooped up the tiger and when I squeezed, he roared. It was a really fake and totally lame kind of a growl that had me LMAO! I don’t know why, but a guy like Honey picking out such a silly thing for me at this stage in our lives really tickled my funny-bone. I just keep squeezing him to hear it. I just did it again. Crap, it’s addictive. But isn’t he cute? And I don’t mean the tiger. Although he’s cute too. 😉










This is pretty straight forward but to set this excerpt up, Ted and Jo are finally clashing in a battle of wills. Someone is going to win. I bet you can’t guess who comes out on top. No seriously. Think about that because it may not be the hero. 😉 

“So leave.”


“Go before I change my mind.” He wrapped his hands around hers and forced her to let go of him. When she did he gave her a gentle shove creating a distance between them. He had to. She smelled of apples. Fresh, crisp and tart Macintosh apples. His favorite. Too bad he couldn’t take a bite out of her. The thought that he wanted to prompted him to step back. She noticed because she immediately latched onto his retreat.

“Just like that?” Coming forward, she snapped her fingers under his nose and he had to muster all the strength he had not to grab that hand and use it to pull her and her belligerent ass across his lap for the spanking she so richly deserved. “I’ll go when I’m damn good and ready to go. Right after you apologize to me.”

This time there was no turning the other cheek. The challenge had to be met. “You sacrifice much. Take now for instance. I’m offering you the chance to simply leave and instead you’re hoping to save face by seeking an apology from me?”

“Yeah, well,” She wasn’t paying him any mind as she adjusted her blouse sleeve in a totally dismissive manner. “You sound like Yoda on steroids. Sacrifice much,” she mocked. “What a stupid thing to say.”

“Did you really hear the words?”

Now she looked at him. “Of course, I just repeated them, didn’t I?”

He took a deep breath and clasped his hands behind his back. With his hands in this position, it lessened the chance he’d do what he had a hankering to do and wring her lovely neck. “Yes, you did repeat them, but did you understand them?”

She glared and crossed her arms. “Are you going to apologize to me or what?”

“Or what.”

She frowned and tapped her foot several times. “Or what, what?”

“Nothing,” he said. Unclasping his hands, he walked forward and forward some more, until she was walking backward. Banging into a chair, bumping her knee against a table just before her ass met the wainscoting which made her yelp. When she quieted he added, “Just.” He brought his arms up caging her in. “Or.” He curled down over her. “What.”

“Move.” She tried to slide right, he wouldn’t let her. “I said move.” She attempted an escape going left, but he stopped her.

“You asked me a question and I answered it. Since I’m not going to apologize there’s only ‘or what’ left for me to do.”

She flattened herself against the wall trim and when she looked up he hissed in a breath. There wasn’t a drop of fear to be found in her large eyes. They shone with a confidence that nearly undid him. Hell, he was trying to intimidate her, he should be pissed she was resisting his every attempt and yet, oddly he was emphatically turned on by her coolness. Somewhere in the back of his mind the voice of reason that always stood him in good stead, warned. “Back off. Let her go. Apologize even.”

Him apologize to her? Yeah, he would. Right after he single handedly negotiated world peace and then stopped to collect his pot of gold from the little green guy at the end of the rainbow.

“So do it.”

His heartbeat sped and that wave of adrenaline once again, pulsed to life inside him. Dom mode was revving. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do, but I’m warning you, I don’t fight fair. Especially when my opponent has a huge size advantage over me.”

He waited for her to blink and when she did he scooped her up, cradling her as he pinned her arms and legs against him.

“You rotten mother-fucker. Put me down.”

“No.” He stalked to the door and called, “Decklan?”

The door swung open, “Yes sir?”

“I’ve had a look at the signed release and since there have been no other takers, I’ll be bringing Ms. Nehr to the rodeo suite myself. Please let her friends know she’s in good hands.”

“You Goddamn, mother-fucking, asshole, dickwad with half a brain. Put me down.”

She was quite a handful. Stronger than he expected and her language? “Before I take her upstairs do you mind?” He caught Decklan’s attention and nodded toward his desk.


“My tie’s in the top right-hand drawer. Gag her for me.”

(end of excerpt)



So, there I was the other night doing something I never do. I was watching television. I mean, seriously, who needs the squawk box when you have a TBR pile as tall as a person, but there I was just the same. Anyway, I was flicking it around, and when Honey came into the room, I’d stopped on the Millionaire Match Maker thinking that these bachelorettes had it made. This wasn’t such a bad gig. All they had to do is suffer through Patti Stanger’s “tough love” when she cuts up your hair, clothes and breath. There I am thinking, annoying, but I could deal with it. That’s when Honey saunters over, bends down and whispers, “Don’t get any ideas.” And me being the absolute peach that I am? I whisper back, “Too late.” That was of course, until I proceeded to follow these millionaire-mate wannabes through their dates. All I can say is, yikes! And I thought the suffering ended with the Stanger self-esteem slap down? *gulps twice* After following the progress of one brutal date I was ready to turn it off, but I couldn’t. It was like watching a plane going down. Horrifying and mesmerizing at the same time.

Anyway, when Honey returns after the show is over, here’s the conversation.

“How was it?”

*insert deplorable attempt at a British accent here* “Oh, my darling, it was ghastly.”

“You should have watched the history channel. Learn while you’re being entertained.”

“Yeah, no.” I didn’t add that I’d rather slam my fingers in a car door. Let’s face it, if I’m going to watch T.V. I want to come away from the process feeling superior and better off than those poor slobs on the set. So the triple “M” did the trick.

“What was the ex-husband doing on the show?”

“Oh you saw that part did you? That guy went on there to pick his ex’s next beau.” I look up and Honey is scowling. I love when he scowls because it means two things. Number one, he’s bothered by something and two? This is the perfect time to mess with him and bother him some more. Poor guy. “So, when I go on there to catch my next victim are you going to help me pick him out?”

His scowl deepens. “The only thing I’ll be picking out is his coffin.”

I laugh until I hear him say, “And yours too.”

Now I’m the one scowling. “Hey, that’s not nice.”

“It wasn’t meant to be nice. I never joke about that kind of stuff and neither should you.”

I wanted to stick my tongue out at him because I REALLY *drags hands down sides of face here* HATE IT when he tosses the wet blanket at my attempt to be funny. And then when I see that superior look in his eyes I realize he’s stolen all my wanting-to-be-superior-and-feeling-better-about-myself-at-others-expense mojo away! I couldn’t let that happen. *Insert me drumming my fingers on the arm of the chair until he has almost exited the family room* But just before he does I have something of my own to toss.

“Hey Mr. I’m-ready-to-go-postal, I think the economical way to go with your double homicide would be to buy one coffin big enough for me and my chosen new beau. This would make all kinds of sense. It would be a “bury two stiffs for the price of one”, type deal and in the end? I’d get to spend all of eternity with that new-to-me stiff one.”

I was in the middle of snorting over my own hilarity when Honey pounced. Man, for a guy built like a linebacker he moves sleek and fast. He yanked me out of the chair and before I got the chance to protest I was out of breath from laughing so hard. He had my back hugged up to his front and he was tickling me as he growled things in my ear. Bad, bad…erm, actually they weren’t that bad, but yeah, those same words could have qualified for horrific if my mom or children had heard them…just saying. And, no, I’m not going to share what he said other than to say that there was mention about him showing me a stiff one. *wink, wink* There was also a mention of me dying for it, I think he said, but when he said the only place I’d be dying that night was in his arms…well, I’m not going to lie, I did melt a little.


Who knew when I decided to watch the triple “M” it would translate into a double “O” for me? Score!



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