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The last thing this rough-around-the-edges guy wants to be is a Dom…until she calls him sir.
August 29th 2017

It’s A Bird, A Plane, A Giant’s Q-Tip???

December 11, 2017

I figured I’d put that disclaimer out there because I love Santa Claus…and after he reads this I know I’ll be on his naughty list. Which isn’t so bad. I’m sure if I buy myself the right kind of gifts, the big guy will come around. *Wink, wink*

*Drum roll please*

And now without further ado, here is that post I promised. Read it and weep. Yes, weep. Seriously, you should be shedding tears of joy that you didn’t get these delivered to your house the way I did.

Check out this slice of Riley’s life…if you dare. 😉

Exhibit A

Not impressed? Take a gander.

Um, yeah. Anyways, here’s the conversation I had with my daughter about it. Please keep in mind that I ordered certain items in two separate occasions from a particular female friendly – as in very friendly online store – and the Giant’s swab was the first “Free gift” I received with purchase.

And, no, I’m not going to mention that I lucked out getting a “free gift” on account of the size of my order. BUT if I was going to share that info I would be compelled to add that it’s all for story research.

*Crosses fingers*

So, phew, good thing I don’t have to tell you that – because I’m already in enough trouble with Santie- ’nuff said, right?

Now for Exhibit B

Stunned I was…

But, wait, there’s more…

In case you haven’t guessed, this was the *Free gift* with my second order. *curls fingers and examines my fingernails, while I give you a chance to digest this*


Well, for starters, if you’re anything like me, you should be having a
Goldilocks moment here. As in, “Oh, dear me, the first vibrating phallic is too big, and the second is too small…”

*Looks right at you and lifts a dubious brow* Don’t assume there’s a happily ever after here, because there ain’t. I haven’t placed a third order. But now that I think about it? Maybe I should. You know, just for the “free gift” and to see if it’s just right.

Alright, alright, I promise to post what I get when I order.

*Looks away and that looks back at you*

You guys know me too well. Heheheh.

But back to the conversation I had with my daughter. I’m laughing right now even before I get this down. Ah, good times…

I’ll set this up, but don’t ask me what the Q-Tip was doing under the spare bed in the guest room. I think I put it there when we were renovating my closet. I SO did not want Honey to see the beast – but, yeah, you know, that didn’t work out. Especially after my daughter got involved.

*Cries laughing thinking about that*

So imagine one day, when my daughter and I are looking for the suitcases that I have a tendency to shove under beds because I love my closet space. There I am on one side of the guest bed and she’s on the other. We are both on our hands and knees scanning under  the bed when…? Yep, our eyes lock on the monster at the same time.

Seriously, I’ve never seen the girl move so fast as she did that day. She had the beast (in a box – a very clear box that made it seem more daunting) in hand so quickly I was left staring at the swinging bed skirt for a full 30 count before I unbent and our gazes locked across the width of the mattress.

She didn’t blink. “What. Is. This?”

I didn’t blink either. “A dildo.”

She did a double take and then scowled. “I know what it is, mom.”

She looked so adorable getting ready to read me the riot act, I had to say something to deflate what was sure to be another one of those, “Oh, mom” conversations. “It looks like a giant’s ear swab. His big honking Q-Tip. An audio bottle-brush, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah it does. Where did you get it?”

I wasn’t going to have that conversation with her, because she might want to see the other stuff I ordered…and that wasn’t happening.

Did I mention that I think fast on my feet? No? I do. So I stood up and said, “Oh, you wait right there. You haven’t seen the best yet. This will kill you.”

Of course, I rushed to my room and dug out none other that the Mr. Sad. This was sure to stop her from digging, you know what I’m saying?

When I returned she was sitting on the bed and I did the old “Ta-da!”

She gave me a look that said, “Oh, please,” and then she followed that up with. “Womp-womp.”

I pretended like I was offended. “What? You don’t find him attractive?”

To which she said, “No wonder the giant sprung for this.” She held up the bottle-brush monster. “He’d need it because little finger there, isn’t going to cut it when he gets wax build up.”

And you know? She had a point. To this day, I still call the sad guy, little finger. Hahaha!

There, now you know my secret. Honey still hasn’t seen Little Finger. He’d probably laugh his ass off if he did.

Such is life around Riley’s house.

You guys have anything happen like this to you before?

Share please.

Ooooh. Maybe it’s time I pass on the joy. Yeah, maybe I should wrap the bottle-brush monster and send it to my brother in-law for Christmas. That way I could be sure there’d be some awkward situation going on at their house over the holidays. If I sent it to my sis, she’d trash it and tell me it wasn’t funny — but, think about it. If I sent it to her husband to surprise her? He’d be all over that idea.

Oh, boy. Santie Clause is going to be steaming despite the cold when he hears me cooking up these kinds of ideas…

But hey, it’s not my fault. I love to spread the joy. Can I help it if I’m the one who sometimes experiences the most of it? Nope. It just happens that way. 😀

As always, thanks for stopping by.

Tomorrow? It’s back to our build-a giveaway!

Stay tuned. I’m decidedly cheerful going into the Christmas count down so anything could happen. Don’t tell Honey! 😀



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Deck The Balls With Hows Of Folly?

December 10, 2017


I’d say, “Ho, Ho, Ho”, but it’s more like Bah, ha, ha, ha!

*Pulls down my readers to look at you over the rim*

Honey is in fine form this Xmas season. Check it out.

Place: Our dining room

Time: This morning

Occasion: Computer tutoring 101

Imagine him staring at the new laptop as if it’s a rabid alien suffering from a dual case of horrific malaises. *Narrows eyes while I think about an appropriate analogy*

Got it.

In this scenario, the alien is not only suffering from the plague, but a very contagious skin hive-rash type deal that is transferred instantaneously once contact is made.


Imagine me rolling my eyes at the silly man for keeping his distance. 😉

Here’s the conversation.

Me, “It’s not going to start itself. Push the button.”

He pops his brows as he scans the open beastie. “I would if I could find it. Maybe you need a fob.”

*Looks right at you* Seriously?

“Nope. It’s right where the other one was, only smaller.”

“Yeah,” like that’s going to help.”

I didn’t say anything to that because, quite frankly, I happened to agree with him. I mean who are the people designing these new electronics? Rabbits? Which, you know, does beg the question, how many carrots must one consume to keep up with the 20/20 vision required to use the new equipment?

*Shakes head*

He must have seen me do this because he sighed and said in that voice that makes me laugh, “You promised to be patient.”

I was being patient. “I am being more than patient.”

Did I mention that I’m not a big fan of doing computer stuff with him at anytime – let alone on a Sunday? No? Well, suffice it to say that I’d rather do laundry in between raking the lawn and emptying the garbage.

*Cups hand behind ear and leans towards you* What’s that you ask?



I’ll tell you why. The man is a study of contradictions when it comes to being taught the dos and don’ts of online security etiquette.

I know I’ve mentioned how everyone becomes Honey’s friend once they meet him. Remember the guys going golfing and me getting stuck with the wives I’d never met before?

*Leans in to whisper* That did not not end well…

Anyways, it’s no different with the computer, and it should be. I mean, you don’t tell the person on the phone helping you with your online difficulties with getting into – or signing up to – a new account on you-name-it website that

A: You don’t know what your doing.

B: That your old password is _______ (fill in the blank because he did) and would it be okay to use the same one again.

OR, my personal favorite

C: My wife is staring daggers at me right now and I have no idea why, so thank you very much for being patient with me as she clearly isn’t.

Imagine me with an absolutely shocked expression here.


Because I was being patient.

But…I digress. The whole reason I decided to blog about this came when he told the girl  (by the girl, I mean the person on the line that has a million calls lined up with people looking for her expertise and help) to hold on a moment.


Then the frigging guy points at me with the index finger on his other hand and says something ridiculous.

Truthfully, I don’t even know what he said. All I saw was his finger wagging in front of my nose.

Right then I decided to stop trying to figure out if he deserved to be on my naughty list.

*Looks away and then looks back*

Come on! You guys know me. I had no choice but to jump on that happy naughty-list bandwagon with…

“Careful, babe, I’ll bite it. No, I’ll lick it. Actually, I might suck it, and then what are you going to do?”

He didn’t even hug his cell closer against him – so we both knew the girl “put on unofficial hold” could hear what we was being said – the bugger!

Then he gets this smarmy expression on his face, and says, “Riley! In the work place environment this could be construed as sexual harassment. What will HR have to say about it?”

I folded my arms over my chest and shrugged. “I’d say, ‘You go girl!’ and then I’d tell you to grow a pair.”


You see? These conversations never work out between Honey and I, because there he was trying to figure out whether he was going to deal with me, or the computer crap we both hated, and there I was, daring him with a look that screamed, “Oh-oh- Pick me!”

In the end? Neither one of us made the naughty list. But Honey? He managed to do what he needed to on the new device. So…yay, him!

Speaking of devices. *raises a brow in your direction* Tomorrow, being that it’s close to the end of the year and I’ve lived with the shock of this secret since spring, I’m going to share like I’ve never shared before!

Be afraid guys.

Very afraid.

It involves the ordering of certain “feminine entertainment” devices. I shall explain all in my post – but for now I want you to think of two things.

  1. A giant with potatoes growing in his ears
  2. And his little finger

As always, thanks for stopping by!








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Tell Me Some Lies…& More of Our Build-a-Giveaway!

October 9, 2017


I had to post this one since I was laughing my butt off over it.

There I am driving home from the store, mulling over what to blog about and I think: SEX.

Oh, don’t look at me like. It’s fun to write about, at least for me. 😀 But I digress, because my second thought was, you’re always writing about sex on account of your books.

*Insert me tapping my front tooth here as I ponder*

What to write about…?

And that’s when I had one of those crazy-eight kind of thought streams. I started thinking about the heroine in my story, Permit Me. About how she was always trying to do the right thing and after about twenty random other thoughts this came to me.

Always tell the truth.

And there I was sitting at the red light waiting for the green, thinking. I always tell the truth. I’m a good person. I—

Yes, my thoughts did a double-take. Haha! They went back to “I always tell the truth.”

There’s me thinking. OMG, if I always told the truth – if we always told the truth, what would happen?

*Looks right at you*

We’d wind up killing each other.

*Leans in to whisper for clarity*

That would be figuratively, not literally.

And, of course, I’m talking exclusively about Honey and me. But walk with me a second and let me explain about the levels of truth.

Level one is the smile you maintain while you tell your host that dinner was wonderful even though you stuffed half of your meal in your pocket because you couldn’t stomach a bite of it – but you didn’t want to hurt his/her feelings.

Level two lie, I’ll call the look away. It’s the one where you pin the ding on the new car on a runaway grocery cart, instead of on the pillar you hit when you opened the door because you couldn’t reach the container when you were at the drive-thru bank that day.

Level three? Let’s call this the red zone. It encompasses everything from coveting thy neighbor’s wife and way beyond.

Don’t know about you, but I always assume the best of people. Seriously, I’m always shocked when I find out negative things about people I know because it never occurs to me, you know?

Anyways, the point is, level one is lying to protect someone’s feelings. You don’t want the host to know you detested what they made, right? Level two is lying to protect your feelings. You already feel bad about hitting the pillar and making the mark on your new shiny baby, so no need to feel worse by telling your significant other who – will no doubt, harp about it, right?

And then there’s level three.

That’s the level I’m always referring to when I say I tell the truth.

So there’s me, driving down the street heading home, and laughing. Why? Because I started running those first two level scenarios over in my head. If we all told the truth in those moments, this is what it would look like.

Scenario One

The wife. “Honey, do you like my new top?”

The husband. “No, it makes you like old and fat.”

The wife. “Yeah, well you’re no spring chicken, and speaking of chicken, I’m not making dinner tonight.”

The husband. “Why? Because I told you the truth?”

The wife. “Yes, you idiot. The least you could have done is lie. But back to why I’m not making dinner for you. Do you want to know?

She glares at him as he nods and then she says, “Because I’m fat and old! We’ll be eating a lot of salads from now on and going to bed early – being the ancient person I am. Deal with it.”


Scenario Two

The husband. “Babe, did you see there’s a big ding in the driver side door of the car.”

The wife. “Oh yes.”

The husband. “Do you know how it got there?”

The wife. “I do.”

The husband. “Do you mind telling me?”

The wife. “I bashed the door against one of those cement pillars at the bank.”

The husband. “How many times have I told you to watch those?”

The wife. “At least twenty times.”

The husband. “Is that all you have to say?”

The wife nods.

The husband. “That’s a bad ding.”

The husband. “It’s going to cost a fortune to get it fixed.”

The husband. “It won’t be worth going through insurance with the deductible and all.”

The husband. “Didn’t I tell you to use the outside lane? It doesn’t have a pillar.”

The husband. “I wonder if I can touch it up myself.”

The husband. “When did you do it?”

The husband. “Never mind. I’m already depressed. You weren’t hiding this from me, were you?”

The husband. “Didn’t you say that your new friend’s husband is a mechanic. Maybe we can get a discount.”

The husband stops at the front door before he goes to recheck the damage. “You didn’t answer. When did this happen?”

The husband turns and is shocked to see his wife isn’t in the room.

Now why did she leave the room?

She told a level two truth and that’s *points at the above text* is the thanks she gets for it! Talk about depressed!


Scenario Three


For this one, we need some props. Like…a spiky strident, an equally spiky tail, and a devil to go along with the ensemble. We also need a handsome older man with thick, flowing white hair, blue eyes, and a robe that any fashionista would die to own.

I say this, because there’s no husband and wife in this scenario. Why? Level three lies require the deft hand of divinity as it’s a battle for the soul.

I see this playing out like a boxing match. A, he said, she did, type thing with a few “Oh, yeah, wells” thrown in.

*Wags a finger at you* I know what you’re thinking. If it’s really bad stuff that’s been done at the level three all the souls are going to hell, right?


You can’t just say, “Hey, you there with the green jacket on, step away from the pearly gates. You committed murder, so you are going to ashes and cinders territory.”

Did I mention that the man in the green jacket was military?

Or, maybe, it was worn by a man who lost control of his vehicle when he had a survivable heart attack and ran someone over.

Or, maybe, it belonged to a woman who administered the wrong dosage of medicine to a patient on her nightly rounds.

You see? What the ancient law defines as “murder” comes in many different forms, so, the way I see it? Divine intervention is a must in these kinds of cases. And, in these kinds of cases there’s bound to be surprises. Especially if I’m writing it.

What if, the military man saved more lives than he took? Wouldn’t God call dibs on his soul?

What about the man in the car who had a true and uncontrollable accident. God might be ready to duke it out with Satan over him, but then it comes to light that the driver kicked his dog, beat his wife regularly, and cheated every chance he got when he gambled.

Hm…I’d be thinking Satan would be rubbing his hands together, no?

And what about the woman?

*Hikes a brow at you* My bet is, her own guilt would cement her path to cinders and ashes territory before God and Satan even got a chance to get in the ring over her.

A shame, really, because out of the three scenarios hers was the most heart breaking because she’d dedicated her life to saving and helping lives, and with the event of one mistake, all that joy was taken away from her.

So, what do you think God would say about this? Or Satan for that matter?

Heheheh. I bet you guys are wishing right about now that I’d taken a short cut home. This seems to be taking forever, no? 😉

I’ll tell you what I think. I think they’d both want her. One would lay claim because she’s given more than she’s taken in life, and the other would lay claim to her, because she broke the rules, and he’d have a chance to steal an angel without breaking the law the way it’s written.

It was at this point that I realized it all comes down to guilt and association. The two men who went before the woman let their fates be decided by higher powers, while a woman?

Yeah, she can’t seem to keep her trap shut long enough to be let off the hook.

That’s why we need level one and two on the scale of lies. Without them, there wouldn’t be any women in heaven.

Wow. When you look it like that – heaven is hell and hell is heaven because all the bad doers don’t feel any guilt and waltz through the gates.

Seriously, think about it. I watched a movie a while back. And in it the bad king had to sacrifice those he loved to get power. There I was watching his beautiful wife being thrown into the pool of water and this snake-type person surface to take her down. Then later, his beautiful and virtuous daughter gets thrown into the pool and is taken down.

It didn’t take me a minute to realize that the underworld is filled with some beautiful people, you know what I mean? Think about it.

I told Honey my thought while we were watching that flick, and after he stared at me for a full thirty seconds he said, “You’re determined to wreck every movie I watch, aren’t you?”

I didn’t blink, when I replied, “Absolutely not.”

You see? That right there was a level two, because I am SO going to bust his balls when he makes me watch movies only he enjoys. >:)

Do you agree with my lie-o-meter? Disagree? Or are you going to pull a level one in comments and not hurt my feelings?

Hey, now…I’m made of tougher stuff. You can tell me. 😊

Okay. Now, onto our giveaway.

We already have an Amazon gift card, so why don’t we do some chocolate covered strawberries delivered to your home (if you live in the US) – if not, and you win, I will purchase a gift card in the amount of the prize that will be included with the other stuff we’re going to be adding in the coming weeks.

Here’s what they will look like.

How’s everyone doing? Good, I hope! You guys know the drill. If you are a subscriber you’re already entered for one chance to win. With each new comment you post on the posts during the giveaway weeks your name will be added again for every comment for more chances to win.

Yay! I love reading comments.

And, as always, thanks for stopping by.






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August 29, 2017



It’s release day!!!

So happy that Genevieve and Caleb are meeting the world! I love these guys!

I also love my gang, some of whom I spent the day with yesterday. Since my mom is visiting my sister for a couple of weeks, it was nice to hang out with my daughter and Honey for lunch. This is when we had the most interesting discussion…and by interesting, I mean hilarious.

It went something like this.

My daughter says, “Although it’s kind of nice to have a bit of a break, I miss nanny.”

Honey nods. and I say, “Yep, but she’ll be home soon enough for your weekly lunch dates.”

I say, “Yep, but she’ll be home soon enough for you guys to do your weekly lunch dates.”

(My daughter and her husband take grandma out to lunch once a week. Sometimes together and sometimes they switch off doing separately)

“We all can’t wait for that,” Honey said.The translation being. When

The translation being. When nanny is home it is a Godsend when the kids come up and take her out for the afternoon. Gives all of us some time to chill, you know? Not that my mom is tough to deal with, she’s just intense about whatever she’s doing. Right down to Judge Judy. If she can’t get that woman on TV – there is hell to pay, people! I swear. But I digress.

My daughter laughed. “You know? We were just talking about nanny last night and I decided that she’s Benjamin Buttoning it.”

There’s Honey and I doing the old big *blink, blink*.

Doesn’t faze her. “Seriously. Don’t you think she looks better today than she did first of the year?”

And there’s Me and Honey. Nodding. Thinking. Considering. Suspiciously going over the idea that had some merit now that the topic was put out there. But how was this possible?

It was as if my girl read my thoughts. “It could happen. I just finished Stephen Kings book about this old dude who gets younger living off the steam of the young.”

Honey sits back in such a way we both know she’s lost him. “Here we go.”

My daughter laughed again. “No, really, follow me here. You know those soul-crushers that nanny zings out on a regular basis?”

I should pause here for a moment. Have I mentioned my mother’s penchant for the left – and by left I mean extreme left-hand compliment with a big a side of a full nose sucker punch?


*Shakes head* Don’t know how I missed telling y’all about this talent of hers. She doesn’t do it to me because she knows I’m immune, but to the kids? Oh, hell yeah! She wields that tricky elder card with a precision that would impress The Divine.

Example: She once said to my son-in-law. “You have nice hands. Can I see them?” When the poor guy held one out to her she turned it over, pursed her lips, and then said, “They don’t look like they’ve worked a day in this life.”


When we call her on it – because we always do – she backtracks like the pro she is.

*Le sigh* You see? I do miss miss her…

But back to the conversation.

My daughter is practically crying laughing as she explains how her guy is convinced his lunches with nanny are literally sucking the fountain of youth steam out of him. Making nanny younger and causing him to reevaluate his world view while he shops for a fashionable walker.

I say, “Poor guy.”

And what does Honey say? “Jesus H. How long has he known? Don’t you think he could have told me?”

Both my girl and I stare at Honey, and that’s when he looks between us with this – I’d say serious, but it was more like a stricken expression before he growls. “That’s where these lines are coming from.”

I didn’t know about my girl, but I was pretty sure the laugh lines around his eyes definitely weren’t caused by my mom. I doubted they were even caused by age.


Those suckers were totally me. One hundred percent.

My daughter? She wisely changed the subject and in no time at all we were on the safer topic of where we should go when we had a double date with her guy and her. The second she brought up this new studio down by her place that taught Salsa dancing? That’s when I knew the truth.

I may be working on etching those laugh lines on Honey’s face in this lifetime – but she had definitely claimed ownership of the worry ones across his forehead.


Honey would dance all night with me providing the songs were slow and he knew them. (He likes to sing along) But fast and up-tempo tunes? Yeah, I’m on my own. Literally, because he was never one to let me dance with other guys.

Moral of this story? Appreciate the little stuff. Even a silly conversation about soul sucking and salsa dancing. ;D

Oh, and we’ve started a next big giveaway!

Here’s what we’re opening with. An Amazon 25.00 gift card!






There will be five items in total in the giveaway. Remember the rules. If you’re a subscriber you are already entered, but with each comment you leave on posts during the giveaway build your name gets entered again for more chances to win.


As always, thanks for stopping by!


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