WHAT WOULD YOU DO?

 

Okay, so Honey and I were having one of our infamous chats about the universe and something interesting came up. Actually, *Looks right at you* several interesting things came to my attention, but I am going to focus in on just one.

An EMP attack of global proportions.

I know, deep, right?

For those of you who aren’t familiar with the term, it’s an Electromagnetic pulse attack that would basically wipe out our infrastructure. No electronics, no sewer, no electric, no water…yeah, no nuthin’ we’d be living like the cavemen in no time. *sigh* I hate to ponder about these things, but sometimes you have to.

*Thinks for a second* Then? *Points at you*

This doesn’t mean you can’t make the solution be one that is fun and uplifting to think about.

Honey calls this “my making Lemon meringue pie out of a watermelon moment”, but whatever.

So here’s the conversation:

I say, “You know I was thinking about imminent global threats today and this one came to me.”

“Oh boy.” He sat down and lifted a brow at me. “Am I going to need a drink, or will this just have me buying more life insurance?”

Haha! The latter was always a good idea. “No seriously. I was thinking about an EMP attack and it made very, very sad.”

Now both his brows went up. “I’d be devastated. No electronics? I’m the one who watches TV.”

Yeah, yeah, that was true, but for this conversation, I didn’t want to focus in on the fallout details. Hollywood and every Debbie downer on the planet had those things covered. I wanted to envision an upside to the end game of this kind of attack – any kind of attack actually. So I said this to him and funny enough – he was interested.

“An upside to societal breakdown? I gotta hear this and don’t tell me Batman arrives to save the day or that aliens land and stop the war.” He shook his head. “And don’t frown. I know you too well so I know how your writer’s mind works.”

*Raises my hand to you and acknowledges, guilty! I’m always inventing possible plot scenarios that cover just about any outlandish or fanciful thing* NOT that I was going to admit this to him. 😉 “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Pay attention. Imagine if you will—”

“Here we go,” he interrupted. *Le sigh* He’s such a guy.

“As I was saying. You know that stuff about Free Will I’ve been talking about? Well, suppose that’s the cosmic key to the universe? That earth is a Free Will zone and every life on earth only needs to claim it. I mean we give our will up to the government, banks, doctors, attorneys, lawyers, judges, police, military and don’t get me started on the IRS—”

“No fear of that. I want dinner tonight and we know what happens to those plans when you start talking about their 20 million dollar Star Wars extravaganza.”

“Great! Thanks for reminding me about that. It ties in with what I would do if an EMP attacked happened or was going to happen.”

He sat forward and tilted his head. “Happened? Are you going to shoot that BS about multi-dimensional universes and time travel and pirates and outer worldly vultures who you think have preyed on mankind long enough?”

“Abso-freaking-lutely!”

“I should have poured myself a drink.”

I waved him off and then launched into my brilliant and yet simple plan for the world. “Imagine this.” I have to become animated here or he stares at me like he’s watching paint peel. “There’s those in power who know how the game works – they’ve reached the end of the deck, they’ve played the Trump card and they still don’t like where this is going so they decide to do the EMP attack on America because it’s the world economy really—”

“No, it’s not.”

You see what he does? He cuts into my roll.

I scowl at him. “It’s the biggest consumer economy. Is that better?”

“I’m listening.”

“Well, being that it’s a game, and all have to participate to make it work, the power brokers have decided to jump start things with this kind of attack because their default position is always to create fear. BUT and this is a big but, there are too many people who are onto them. Ten years ago they may have pulled it off easily, but not so well now. Why? Because the swell of THE PEOPLE who are onto them decide to hold them financially responsible for what they’ve done to not only our country – but the entire world. We put our foot down and say that’s enough you have to pay up. We put such an astronomical number on the fine that they will all be broke for the rest of eternity.”

“That sounds pretty predictable to me. Wouldn’t they ignore you?”

“Us you mean. It’s a big collective and no. You see when you claim your FREE WILL they have no power over you in your past lives or future lives. You are no longer an earning product for them so they are without a means to make and attract tradable things of value for the rest of time. But you didn’t let me finish. What if we as a collective say to all those that disrupt and corrupt our planet that they can keep what they so far have collected – providing they didn’t steal or misappropriate those things of value – only if they leave this planet for good without any war, EMP attacks or nuclear attacks. Then THE PEOPLE would be free to live the way they were meant to live on this planet.”

He was silent for a second or two and then he whispered, “I don’t know how you do it.”

There’s me basking in the compliment thinking that I’d just come up with a plausible way to save the planet from the negative energy that is dragging our society down when he added.

“How do you sleep at night with all that crap rolling around in your head?”

Crap?

Rolling?

Nothing rolls around in my head, there’s no room. Every square inch is taken up by random and not so random thoughts – I assure you. To him, I said, “It’s easy. I figure somewhere out there in this sky or the galaxy above, the Creator of Souls is listening to me. And, being that he’s the gifter of FREE WILL he will see the sense in this plan. The only fly in the proverbial “Save the Universe” oil?”

“What?”

“Is that stubborn people like you will look at me like you are now when I tell them.”

That’s when he smiled. A big, bright, smile that reached his eyes. “If I thought something like this was possible, you know I’d be all over it.”

“Sometimes you have to rely on faith alone.”

“I prefer reality.”

And I would have preferred to toss one of the envelopes on the table at him, but, *insert a deep breath here* I smiled back at him instead. Talking through my teeth I told him, “I choose to believe. This is why you and I make such a great pair. The more you deny the possibility of such a thing happening, the more I believe it will happen.”

His eyes widened and he smacked the table. “Unreal. You take the possibility of averting a dramatic fictional cosmic catastrophe and turn it into a husband smack down in the turn of one sentence.”

“Thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment because doing so requires finesse and talent, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.” His smile eased and he sat back. “What would happen if I had taken what you said and embraced it as being possible from the get-go?”

I took a millisecond to think that over and then I didn’t even blink. “I’d suggest you head over to the doctor’s for a check-up. Clearly you’d be sick. I thought we’d already decided decades ago that I was here to save your soul? If you agreed at face value I would consider my job here done.”

“Meaning?”

“I’m glad you’re not the average Joe. I want more people like me to see that this world has some phenomenal secrets. There’s a special kind of magic and right now most of it is being corrupted by people who don’t have the heart or soul to wield it with grace and goodness.”

“Now.” He pointed at me as he nodded. “That I believe.”

You see? Honey does come around. It just takes a special way to deliver the message to him.

*Thinks about that for less than a millisecond when the epiphany comes to me*

Damn, he would have listened to me proclaiming to be the Virgin Mary if I delivered the message sans clothes. *Insert the action of a finger snap here* I wish I had thought of that tactic sooner. It would have saved me some grief. I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell him this without stressing him out too much. 😀

So…Anyone else have any great ideas on how to save the planet? The caveat has to be that we get rid of the bad guys who have screwed things up to a fair thee well AND whatever attack they were planning in the first place has to be adverted.

Heheheh. Here’s me with my author mind thinking, if we missed averting the catastrophe we could always bend time and put us back to the moment it happened and stop it from happening. I didn’t mention this to Honey because he has enough to worry about. Did I mention that I’ve got the poor guy fixing the electric/cable stuff in our house? Doesn’t sound so bad, but you have to remember our stuff is in the attic and it’s a cabillion degrees here. I sent him up there a few days ago and forgot to stick around the ladder to make sure he didn’t expire up there.

My bad!

Actually, I felt terrible when he came into the nice cool kitchen looking like he’d just gone for a swim. Poor guy.

As always, thanks for stopping by! And don’t forget to give me a great solution to our save the world challenge – Remember, the key is FREE WILL – Start there and then the person who comes up with the funniest or most creative method to banish the negative and criminal energy from the planet will get their name added three additional times to the big drawing we still haven’t done.

Geez…Caleb and Genevieve are a year older. Boy, do I need to get their story finished!!!!

Riley

Ménage à trois, HONEY, AND A CUCUMBER…

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A Valentine for Two: Contemporary Menage Box Set by [Davis, Lia, Dawson, Angelica, Skye, Auriella, Wylde, Sara, Reeve, TL, Carr, Cassandra, Morgan, Nicole, Kuhn, N, Brent, Amy, Quinn, Dylan]

 

A little 2017 surprise! This is my smoking hot ménage story that is set to release on Valentine’s Day. I’m in this anthology with a whole bunch of talented authors! Lia Davis
Angelica Dawson, Auriella Skye, Sara Wylde, TL Reeve, Cassandra Carr, Dylan Quinn, Nicole Morgan, N Kuhn, Amy Brent.

The collection is up for preorder on Amazon – just click the picture above if you want to nab this while it’s on sale for 0.99 cents! What a deal!

Honey taking down the tree

 

Now For Honey who was home for the holidays. *Looks right at you* Home. With. Me. *Shakes head* Here’s how that went…

Man, I couldn’t let this one go. Seriously. You’ll see why in a minute. Let us call this little Honeyism, “The Way Things Were!”

Why you may ask? Simple. Life has changed for me in a big way.

How you may ask? Easy. I have learned how to use the text to speech application on my phone.

*Deadpans* If you don’t have this ability ask Santie Claus to bring you a new phone with this magic on it as a post-holiday present. Holy moly! Life changing is understating what this new feature has done for me (not really new – but much like the car navigation system that I never learned how to use correctly) this speech thing is awesome!!!

Example? Honey had to visit a couple of job sites over the holidays, so one particular time I suggested that he stop at the grocery store on his way home. Only? I discovered he forgot the grocery list I’d written for him on the counter.

No problem.

I did my nifty microphone text magic but, um, *cough, cough* It occurred to me whilst I was doing it that I could have some fun here. Heheheheh.

The list went something like this:

Milk

Eggs

Sour cream

(I listed a few more various general items here)

Then I get to the vegetables:

Tomatoes

One thick, long, devoid of any prickly nubs, cucumber. Make sure it’s weighty in your palm, and for heaven’s sake, when you get home don’t put it in the fridge. I like my darling vegetable to be warm to the touch.

Spring onions

Oh, and PLEASE don’t forget the paper towels

*Insert an hour going by and then Honey calls me*

“Hey, babe. Got your text.”

I can barely contain myself with glee. “Yeah.”

“And I was a little confused about one of the items so I asked George.”

My glee started to fade. “George?”

“The produce manager. Hang on…”

I hear Honey talking to some guy about…about…??? Nubs! OMG, right?

He gets back on the cell to talk to me. “Yeah, George assured me the nubby cukes are for pickling and not very big. After I showed him your text he helped me find the perfect one only…”

Only? Only I was going to brain Honey when he got home for traumatizing the poor grocery guy. “What?” Yeah, no glee now. Glee was all gone.

“He suggested you might like an English cucumber. The skin is thin and he says his chick digs those.”

His chick??? Digs? You notice how you can jumble those words around – as in take the ‘D’ off of digs and replace the ‘ch’ in chick with it? Unbelievable. Without missing a beat I said, “No thanks. They’re too skinny. I like length and girth, but don’t tell your new buddy that because he might be offended if his woman is into the skinny ones.”

Honey’s voice drops to a very intimate tone. “Riley, Riley, Riley. What am I going to do with?”

I knew what I was going to do with him. I was planning on smacking him over the head with the cucumber once he got it home. The gigantic rat.

“George’s girl is a vegan chef. That’s why she prefers the English version. Easier to cut. What did you have in mind, babe?”

What indeed? Dammit. Foiled again. 😉 *Thinks for a moment* Wait. I did get back at him over this on New Year’s. We had a few neighbors and family over to our place for dinner. Haha! I asked Honey to smoke some hot Italian sausages on the smoker for one reason only. Whenever I heard anyone comment on how great they were (I served them sliced as an appetizer before dinner with a really great sauce) I’d call to that person and say, “Oh, yes! I love, love, LOVE, Honey’s sausage.” Bah, ha, haaaa…! Drove him crazy for a time. Gotta love that.

 

Then we had our year end garage battle royale! This is a game we play that well…it goes something like this.

Honey is bored while he’s on holiday. He goes out to the garage and then comes in from said garage and pleasantly breezes, “Babe. I’m going to throw out those lamps that have been—”

Me not even looking up from kindle. “No.”

“But.”

“Nope.”

“Do we need to revisit the sunglass debacle?”

If you’d like to do that, here’s the link. Me not so much.

“Nope. I like those lamps.”

He usually huffs out an aggravated breath at this point and then starts growling. “Which ones? There’s twelve or more out there.”

*Cue my kindle lowering and me looking at him over my reading glasses* “I like all of them. Everyone. Why else would I have bought them?”

Ah…good times. He runs through every reason he believes I’m a hoarder who is trespassing on his domain. Who knew men get the exclusive use of the garage? Not me. Hence me using it to store my purchases. And then what do I do? Yeah, I get to tell him I’ll be saving him thousands of dollars when we one day use those lamps in rooms I shall light up with my thrifty purchases from yester-year.

*Looks right at you* I don’t know what I’d do if a year came and went without this annual showdown between us. I probably miss it…NOT!

And then there were a few surprises like…

The night I walked into the family room and found him watching Wheel Of Fortune on the tube. Honey doesn’t do shows like that so I asked him, “What gives with the game show?”

Without looking at me he shrugged. “Maybe tonight’s the night poor Pat blows his brains out from the never ending monotony. I wouldn’t want to miss that.”

I had to chuckle. “What about Vanna.”

“If she hasn’t had a slip and fall from those ghastly gowns by now, I’m pretty sure she’s got an angel watching over her.”

Of course there’s the opportunity for Honey to solve age old problems because he now has the time to do it being home for the holidays.

“Babe, I think I’m going to get up on the roof and…”

Me thinking we have company coming in less than an hour. “Nope.”

Next day.

“Babe, I thought I’d change the oil in your car…”

Me thinking to save what? 49 bucks, as opposed to a potential oil spill on our very expensive, interlocking bricked patio? “Nope.”

Next day.

“Babe, your mom wants another birdhouse and I thought…”

*Looks right at you and raises a dubious brow* The woman has three of them and not one feeds the birds. The fruit rats and squirrels? Oh yeah.

I sigh. “That’s sweet of you, but no.”

Next day.

“Babe, did you notice the dryer making a funny squeaking noise? I thought I’d take it apart and use some WD40…”

At this point, I was like, what the hell am I going to do with this man so I can get my story done? Then it came to me. “No I did not notice that, but funny you should say. Our girl was complaining about her dryer just last week. She also mentioned something about some loose shingles on her roof.”

“Really?”

And that was the end of that. Honey drove down to her place and all I got was a text. Not from Honey, but from our girl. This is the conversation.

“Thanks, Mom.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

Me. “I know you were.”

“Dad’s made me go to Home Depot twice.”

“I’m sure he has.”

“Okay. How long do I have to babysit him for you? Just tell me and I’ll plan accordingly.”

I thought about this and then texted back. “Until I finish this threesome.”

“You do know if anyone read our text conversations they’d think we were bad people.”

“No, they’d think I was a sexual deviant and you were being abused.”

“I am being abused. Dad’s talking about changing the front windows!!! How long is dad off work?”

“Mom?”

“MOM???”

*Insert a dreamy sigh here* Again. Good times.

Which brings me to the holiday itself. We had a fab time. Lots of visiting, gifts, and making merry. Normally, I don’t talk about this kind of stuff, but Honey got me something very special this year.

Although I loved seeing the Tiffany boxes under the tree because how can you go wrong with jewelry from there, right? It was this that made me cry.

The WTF snow globe he found for me! Look! Yay!

photo-2-72

 

He bought it from someone. Whether it was a client or from an auction site I don’t know, but the fact that he remembered and went out of his way, means a lot to me. Later on, Christmas night when I told him that I knew he spent a lot on the jewelry, but the snow globe was my favorite present this year, he gave me a big hug and whispered, “That f*cking globe was just as costly, believe me.”

Haha! Poor guy. Meh, not so poor because I spoiled him this year, too.

So? *props chin in palm, and looks right at you* Did you have a great holiday and New year? Are you guys ready for 2017?I know I am. I’ve got a boat load of books to write!

I know I am. I’ve got a boat load of books to write! Can’t wait!

As always, thanks for stopping by!

Riley

***New Release News***, a build-a-giveaway, and Honey…

 

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Ben and Daisy’s story is part of the fabulous Desiree Holt’s Bestselling Team Omega series!

The Wild One will release the 2nd of August!!! This is Daisy and Ben’s story and if you want to read an excerpt of some of the first chapter *leans in to whisper* it’s pretty funny, I’ve posted it below. You’ll also see that I posted a link to a Facebook page that you can click on if you’d like to read more of the excerpt and be entered into a giveaway there as well. I will be inviting the people following that thread on Facebook to join us here too, since I’m doing these two build-a-giveaways at the same time.

Now, for the first item to put into our build-a-giveaway on the blog.

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I love this! It’s a 16 X 16 pillow!  Actually, I adore Romeo who is the heroine’s naughty Chihuahua. Let’s just say, he’s the boss until Ben…Okay, here’s the back of the pillow. Enough said, right? Hahaha!

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As usual, if you’re a subscriber you are automatically entered in for one chance to win, but if you leave comments during our giveaway building blog posts your name gets added into the hat each time for numerous chances to win. The drawing(s) will come to a close at the end of August. That way, we’ll have plenty of awesome items for the winner(s), right? Goes without saying, but I will. When I post in the group on Facebook you’ll need to leave comments there for more chances too. The items will be different in both giveaways – and it is possible that one winner could win both giveaways because I checked the rule book and there is nothing that says this can’t happen.

About The Wild One. This book is filled with a lot of sexy fun. There’s a mystery that gets fully resolved and a big happily ever after because I think we all need one this summer. Ben and Daisy are so much fun. They steam up the pages and made me laugh more than once. I hope you guys enjoy their story!

Speaking of stories…

Honey, Honey, HONEY!

As most of you know, I hate doing laundry. I don’t know why I just do. And who knows this fact probably better than me? Honey. So here’s a random conversation over coffee the other morning.

I was thinking about the walk-in closet remodel that we are close to finishing up, so I asked him, “Did you get a chance to go through those clothes I put out for you in the spare room?”

He nodded “I did. And there’s a strange thing about those dress shirts.”

Now I must pause here in the telling of this little tête-à-tête because Honey doesn’t like dress shirts. I happen to love them on him with the sleeves rolled up when he’s wearing jeans.

Him? He likes his T-shirts and golf shirts. Which are okay too, but not as okay as the dress shirts and jeans are to me sometimes. *sigh* Anyways, this is important to know because…

I lift a brow and stare at him querying, “Oh?”

“Yeah. They all fit me great everywhere but in the arms. Either they’re too tight or too short.” He does a chopping motion to indicate the middle of his forearm and says, “Most of them were up to here.”

By now I already know where he’s going with this. He’s bagged all the dress shirts he never liked. The black and white paisley one I absolute love on him. The deep purple one he says he looks like an asshole in. The—yeah, I could go on, but I’m sure you don’t want to hear all my domestic fashion trials with him, so suffice it to say, Honey has found the perfect time to get what he wants without pissing me off.

Or so he thinks…

“Wow.” I shook my head as if he’d just shared the worst tragedy. “Short sleeves, huh? Maybe it’s not the sleeves being short. Maybe it’s your arms being freakishly long.”

The bugger didn’t even blink when he drawled, “And here I was trying to take the heat off the situation when we both know what the problem really is.”

I tilted my head and said in a voice that I hoped conveyed how careful he should be going forward. “And what would be this real problem you speak of?”

“Your, ah, less than stellar laundry ethics.”

Ethics? LMAO! I think he means efforts.

OMG! I nearly fell off the couch. If you guys knew how long I’ve waited to hear those words *insert me counting on my finger and toes here only, drat! There’s not enough of them* just so I could finally say, “I’m not going to argue with you about that, babe. I fully concede. You’d do a much better job than me, so have at it.”

How did he respond? He laughed.

*Looks right at you* I wonder if he’ll be laughing when he realizes I’m dead serious. 😀

Speaking of serious, this one freaked me out. Last night I came into the family room and Honey was flicking the TV channels around. After he stopped on some cooking show and I watched what one of the contestants was doing to a cake, I said, “The cake is too hot that’s why the frosting is melting. Surely to God there’s a better way for him to remove it, than dragging it off with a paper towel.”

“Agreed. When that happens to me I use a spoon, that way I can eat it.”

There’s me, blink, blink, because…well, Honey has been known to make a cake or two. Actually, he used to do this all the time for my birthday and our Anniversary when the kids were small.

“Tell me you did not let the kids use spoons to slurp the liquid frosting off those cakes you guys used to make me.” Did I mention I’m a little OCD about germs?

“Sure I did. That’s why I always bought two cans of frosting. It’s a tradition.”

Aaaaand, we have another OMG moment, people. I’ve always wondered why the guy needed two cans of the good stuff for one cake, and now I know.

*Shakes head*

Reminded me of the time I left him to make the kids lunches for a couple of days. Years later the kids told me about what they’d dubbed their dad “Caveman meals”. Whole pieces of chicken, slabs of leftover roast beef, and hunks of cheddar cheese, to name just a few. There I was, listening to the children – now adults – regaling me with those long ago lunch-bagged items in total shock, when both of them finished by saying, “They were the best!”

So, you see? There’s hope after all. Maybe now that my caveman will pulling laundry duty he’ll do it the same way he did the kids lunches and you’ll hear me shouting from the rooftops, “This freshly laundered shirt is the best!”

*Pulls down my reading glasses and looks at you over the rims* That is so what I’m shouting, even if I find my clothes, wrinkled, stained, and still wet. Mum’s the word, ok?

Thanks for stopping by!

Don’t forget to leave a comment for additional chances. Oh, and you may want to follow the link and sign up on Facebook. That giveaway is going to be fun too!

Click here for the link

Here’s the excerpt. A little bit of chapter one.

Chapter One

She had a T-shaped scar on her forehead. It was barely visible. A ghost of a mark, and yet he couldn’t stop staring at it. The imperfection bothered him on several levels. The most important being a sign of carelessness.

Maybe he should have listened to his gut and turned this mission down. But when he’d heard the words, “Trust me. This is the opportunity you’ve been waiting for,” from one of the team leaders at the Omega headquarters yesterday, he found he couldn’t say no.

So here he was.

With her.

He glared while she continued to ignore him, and slid her stylish brushed nickel-rimmed frames up on the bridge of her nose. This was the third time she’d done it in as many minutes. What the hell was she reading? His glare intensified. “Are those real glasses?”

A stupid question to ask, he supposed, but one that cut through the echoing silence.

Finally. She looked up from her cell and her gaze pinned him. He’d been wrong about the color of her eyes. She didn’t have green eyes like him. Hers were blue.

“Is that a real gun, Mr. Montgomery?”

Ben’s hand automatically went to his Glock holstered just under his left arm and he stroked the 9mm. She wanted to play twenty questions? He didn’t have a problem with that. “Are you serious, Ms. Keller?”

Her brows lifted and that thread-like T over her left one got shorter. “Are you?”

Damn. She was a veritable glacier. “Look.” He sat forward and clasped his hands together, resting them on the metal table. He’d always thought the interrogation rooms at Omega Team’s head office were big, but today he was feeling cramped in the space. All because of her. Screw the irritating surname BS. “Daisy, is it? I’m trying to make polite conversation while we wait for the details.”

She copied him by sitting forward and arranging her hands. She even angled her head the way he’d positioned his, only in the opposite direction. It would have been funny if he thought she was teasing him. Somehow he doubted the woman knew what humor was. “Ben, is it? Polite how? By asking me about my glasses? The least you could have done is ask about my scar that you’ve been staring at for the last five minutes.”

He didn’t blink. “Four.”

“Four what?”

“Minutes. And it would have been rude of me to ask you about that.”

She sat back with a sigh. “Yes.”

It took him a second to realize she was answering him about the glasses. “Well, they don’t look it.”

“Neither does your gun.”

He did a double-take. “Maybe you need new glasses.” He eased back in the seat and gave his iron buddy a pet. “It doesn’t get any realer than this.”

“Shouldn’t we be talking about my brother-in-law?”

Although he didn’t know squat about her relative at the moment, Ben didn’t like wasting time. Once the lead on this mission arrived they’d discuss the man in full details, he was sure. “Not yet.”

She raked a hand through her hair and it caught him off guard. Most women in Florida’s humid climate wore a shit-load of hairspray. He hated that because it made things difficult when a guy wanted to sink his hand into the silk. Wouldn’t be any trouble gaining a grip on her strands. They were glossy and bounced when she finished the irritated action.

But then, didn’t ice burn to touch just as bad as flame?

“What about the house? I could tell you about that.”

No need until he was told about the ultimate purpose of the weekend. “Too soon.”

Her eyes narrowed and that’s when he realized they were big, because even half closed they shined. “How about we discuss this aspect of our time together?”

He saw the book that skidded across the table toward him in a series of spinning circles. No sooner did he catch it and read the title, The Story of O, than another book shot over the metal surface, A Submissive Mindset. Then another, A Dom’s Dream. Then what he hoped would be the last one arrived, An Amateur’s Detective Story, and he snagged it, looking up. “This we can talk about.”

Now that he’d scoped her out? She needed a Dom for the weekend and he was up for the job.

One look at her and he noted she seemed surprised he’d agreed so readily to chat, but why wouldn’t he? It was interesting reading material. O was one of his favorites for more than just the obvious reasons too.

Inclining her head toward the books he’d begun stacking, she said, “As you can see, I’ve prepared myself.”

With that comment, his hand stilled at neatening the pile. Prepared herself? Granted, he hadn’t read any of these books, aside from the one, but that one was enough to get his Dom blood flowing. A dark thrill went through him and he decided to test her mettle here. Was she committed to pulling this off? Putting some steel into his tone, he responded, “I certainly hope so.” His gaze rested on the rise and fall of her chest. No rapid breathing. No unnecessary shift in body position. Hm. She was made of ice. He looked up. “I don’t like to be disappointed.”

In the wake of that statement, she swallowed. He saw it. It was such a small action, and yet very telling. He held her gaze more intensely.

After all. Ice cracked. Sometimes in two and sometimes in a million pieces. How would she fracture?

“I’m sure you have a particular preference. I know I have mine, but I wanted to make this as natural for you as possible.”

She had a preference? By the look of her it was having intercourse in a dark room under some very neat, most likely starched covers. Oh yeah. He could have fun with this.

“Rope.” He wasn’t a rigger by any means, but if he was going to have to control her to protect her, a woman being tied to his bed usually precluded any late night wandering and getting into trouble while he was catching some shut-eye. “And dark, mussed up sheets are required.”

The last topic mentioned seemed to interest her. She sat forward. “Sheets?”

(end)

Have fun and good luck!!!!

Riley

 

 

Woo-Hoo! STARE HIM DOWN IS ON AMAZON’S TOP 100 LIST FOR ROMANTIC EROTICA!!!! And We have a winner!

AmazonBestSeller

 

Congrats to Amber M. !!! I have emailed our winner and she’s gotten back to me! Yay!

I’d like to thank all you guys for playing along and I’m already working ideas for a build-a-story and a giveaway at the same time so keep a lookout!

Are any of you guys on Facebook? I’m going to do a flash giveaway within the next week of a signed print copy of Stare Him Down and some *leans in to whisper* Balls of Steel! Follow me on Facebook so you can play. 🙂

Have a great weekend! Mine has already started off with a bang. I love completing a giveaway. What I don’t love is having to do the morning meeting with Honey about the remodeling details. Check this out. You have to envision Honey and me in the master bathroom. He’s standing in the roughed-in shower stall and I’m just inside the door standing still in the only spot he told me I could stand on account of the tile on the floor. He’s got his readers on so I know this means business.

He doesn’t look at me as he draws a straight line down the wall on one side of the shower stall. “This is where the wall tile will end.” Then he taps a different spot and says, “This is where the glass will finish to.” And then he points to another spot and adds, “The ledge will finish here.”

There’s me thinking, “Sure, okay.” And then I see this spot on the floor that’s missing tile (*think* squirrel moment here) and I ask, “Why is there a square missing in the floor?”

Okay, so I KNOW the question had nothing to do with what he wanted to discuss, but still…

Honey drops his chin to his chest and closes his eyes. I’m sure he’s counting to three before he looks at me. “That’s where the drain goes, but we’re discussing the wall tile. Now, the Schluter strip will go on the cut edge of the tile on the other side of the glass.”

*Looks right at you* The what strip? Maybe I needed more coffee. I did get the whole gist of what he was saying though so I nodded. “All right. The most important thing about the tile location as opposed to the glass, is I don’t want a shelf inside the shower up against the glass because we know you’d be putting your shaver or soap there and I don’t want to be looking at that, you know?”

That comment made him stand straight up. “No, I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me about it?”

So I did.

*Side-eyes you* Annnnd, it didn’t go over well. I do believe that Honey actually accused me of being nitpicky. Which I emphatically denied. I told him instead, what I was being, was smart. After all, if the shower tile decision didn’t work out once I made the choices I could always fall-back on blaming him because I made the decisions based on not wanting to see his shaving paraphernalia.

LMAO! The look on his face? Priceless. In the end? I have no idea what we decided to do. I was too afraid to ask. >.<

Honey told me it will be a surprise. O.o I can’t wait!

Thanks for stopping by!

Riley

 

A NEVER DO THIS STORY! AND ADDING TO OUR GIVEAWAY!

 

domestic dispute

Yesterday morning started off harmless enough. I had coffee with Honey and we discussed what we both had planned for the day. But then somehow his plans of going to pick up the furniture I bought at the auction turned into me going with him and then…? Disaster!

*Holds up right hand and solemnly swears*

I so did not know that those cabinets, chests, and wardrobes I purchased were all oversized! But you can bet your sweet *ss the second the three men wheeled the first one onto the loading dock I knew. Not because I got a better look at the pieces in question, but because I got a load of the smoldering fury in Honey’s eyes.

*Looks right at you* It was bad, guys. Very, very, bad.

I could bore you with all the traveling home details surrounding the epic domestic dispute we had, but I’d rather not think about it ever again. Honey was like a broken record with his, “Are you crazy? Where is all this going to go?”

*Leans in to whisper* Just in case you’re wondering, I planned to put all the pieces in my closet. *Scowls as I straighten* Aw, don’t look at me like that. I have faith it will all fit in there. Man, you guys are as pessimistic as Honey. But then that’s not the point of this post today, so I’m going to leave this right here and get to what is.

*Scowls at you as I straighten*

Aw, don’t look at me like that. I have faith it will all fit in there. Man, you guys are as pessimistic as Honey. But then that’s not the point of this post today, so I’m going to leave this right here and get to what is.

DON’T CUT YOUR NOSE OFF TO SPITE YOUR FACE!

That is the theme of today’s post and exactly what I did yesterday. After arguing about the furniture and what I wanted to do with it, Honey said, “I haven’t even painted the room yet. Where do you expect me to put all this until I do?”

I did have some interesting ideas about where he could stick it but don’t ask. I’m sure I’ve mentioned before how I come up with these plans that he calls “crazy”, and then has to apologize to me in the end because they usually turn out be wonderful…well, this is going to be one of those times, but he really wasn’t seeing it. So what did I do? I challenged him. I said I’d paint the closet myself and the furniture that was going into it (because that was the plan for the furniture).

Normally, when we reached an impasse like this he’d sigh and say he’d take care of it, but he wasn’t going to be happy about it. Yesterday? Nothing. Nada. He may have remained silent all right – too bad I saw the “You paint anything? Ha! Oh sure you will.” look written in his still-smoldering eyes which lit a fire under my butt to paint that room and start on the furniture before he got home from work.

*Pulls up a chair and turns it so I have to straddle it backward before I give you the skinny about what kind of mayhem ensued*

If this was a Hollywood movie script I’d be able to say the painting went off without a hitch.

*Sigh*

It didn’t. I got paint on the floor, the walls that weren’t supposed to have this color on them, and paint all over me, and Honey’s favorite brush. Heck, the outside of the paint can had more paint on it than the can had in it by the time I was done.

*Shakes head*

The point here is that I had to finish painting the closet fast, so that I could concentrate on scrubbing the floor, the walls that weren’t supposed to be that color, the can, Honey’s brush, and then myself before he came home. I wanted everything to be perfect and come off appearing to have happened effortlessly.

*Looks right at you*

It was like cleaning up after a crime scene. I could not believe it. Seriously. Two hours to paint, and six to clean up? I’m pretty sure that is not how this is supposed to work.

But there I am when he got home yesterday. I was all clean and shiny with a newly painted closet. Everything was in perfect order. Really. I may have been exhausted and silently swearing to every God that would listen about how I would never – ever challenge Honey over painting, or furniture – again when I see him eyeing his favorite paint brush. The one I’d used and had set across the top of the super clean can of paint I’d meticulously scrubbed clean of all pig-pen evidence.

I was getting a bad feeling when I asked, “What? Why are you smiling?” I feared I’d missed something.

Nothing but his eyes moved when he looked at me. “You made a mess, didn’t you?”

*Side-eyes you* How the hell did he find out? I hope none of you told him. 😉

I narrowed a look at him. “Do you see a mess anywhere? I defy you to find one speck of paint – one drip or drop on the tile. Go look.”

“Don’t need to do that. My brush told me all I needed to know about what went on in this closet today.”

“Oh really?” I figured he was screwing with me so I waved him off. “Is the bristly one an oracle or something?”

“No, but it is the cleanest it’s ever been in the last two years.”

*Stares right at you* Okay, who keeps a brush for two years? And…? &*&%$!! I’d over done it. I overplayed the cleanup hand.

Fantastic.

Moral of the story? If you want to have a “So There!” moment with your significant other over painting a room in the house just so you can rub the paint in his face? Hire a professional to do it and pay them cash so there’s no paper trail, that’s all I’m saying. 😉

Meh, in the end, I had Honey in stitches when I told him about how my painting extravaganza went. When I got to the part where I explained how I could barely hoist the roller up because it was too heavy from all the paint I’d loaded on it, he was chuckling. But then when I got to the part where I’d put that weighty beast on an extension he burst out laughing. I do have to pause here to say, when Honey does this it looks easy so I thought why not, right?

Wrong.

The thing was, the roller end was terribly heavy that when it hit the top of the wall by the ceiling – the idea was for me to gently guide it down, but instead it kind of slid and then before I knew what happened there was a huge paint smear, NOT a roll – down the length of the wall. In fact, the roller hit the floor so hard paint splattered on the tile, me, and the ceiling. That’s what took me so long to clean up.

*Insert a Homer Simpson shudder of remembrance here*

The area where that happened looked like I’d used the paint can as a pinata and blugeoned it with a sharp knife. >.<

What am I doing today? Not painting, I can tell you that! 😀

*Clears throat*

Now, onto better things…

sheep counting

This is the next item to go into the giveaway. We’re less than a week away for my release and drawing! Yay!

Now I know a stuffed little lamb/sheep is an odd thing to add, but there’s a reason I was thinking about this adorable little guy. It’s the same reason I was thinking about the toe ring. It’s pertinent to the story, but before I get to that, here’s a reminder of the other items in the giveaway:

toe ring

Toe ringphoto 2 (61)

Mystery box (you find out what’s inside on drawing day)

002

003

Silver and turquoise cuff bracelet

preview

And a mug with a 25.00 Amazon Gift Card inside

 

Below is a scene in the story that happens after Michaela and James’ story actually starts. The previous scenes I posted dealt with their history together – so this one is in the thick of things in their adult relationship together. Poor James…

TOP

(Excerpt)

 

Michaela closed her bedroom door and fell back against it. Her heart pounded and her adrenaline was high. His desire had been a tangible thing, filling the room and surrounding her at certain points, but he still held back. Why?

She closed her eyes and softly banged her head against the door. If she didn’t get the romantic ball rolling with him soon, her every chance with him could disappear. She hated having to throw Logan in the ring every time to get a reaction from James, but damn, how else could she…?

Suddenly another idea came to her.

She opened her eyes and looked down at the package. Did she dare?

The sounds of James moving around in the room next door cemented her decision. Absolutely. She’d do it.

In fact, by the time she’d washed up, unpacked the box of toys, and had given them a thorough going over, she’d convinced herself that James had really left her with no choice in the matter.

 

 

James got into bed and was determined to push thoughts of his in-name-only wife out of his mind. He was ready to count imaginary sheep, pennies, bouncing balls, real balls—fuck—a picture of himself stationed quite happily between Michaela’s legs as he slammed into her over and over materialized—no.

“Think sheep. Count sheep. Sheep, sheep, sheep,” he whispered. Hoping to use this power of suggestion technique to his advantage. And it was working. He was slowly drifting off to sleep watching the…mechanical sheep? He tried to sink deeper into oblivion by overlooking the gears and metal parts that made the robotic animals leap effortlessly across the starlit landscape in his mind until…

He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. Why was he dreaming about mechanical—?

“Oooh…”

That soft moan woke him right up, and when he snapped into a sitting position he knew why he’d been dreaming about machines. Mickey had opened her package and if he didn’t miss his guess, that was a Hitachi humming away.

“Unfucking believable.” He fell back in a sprawl and blinked through the darkness. One upside? She wouldn’t last long. That monster had some serious power.

“Ummm…”

Her deep and elongated purr got him instantly hard, but he ignored the inconvenience and enjoyed the ensuing silence for a second or two before he shifted onto his side and punched his pillow a few times. Finally satisfied, he muttered under his breath, “Called it.” That whole pleasuring session had barely lasted a minute, thank Christ. For once he was praising a woman who liked to rush things.

Bzzzzzzzz…

He was in hell. He had to be. The second time took longer than the first, but her moans were shorter and more breathy.

Not good.

He rolled over onto his back when everything went silent again. Seriously ready to put the last hour behind him when…?

Bzzzzzzz…

He sat up and raked a hand through his hair. This was worse than hell and she needed a spanking for putting him through it. He tore off his covers and was just about to get up and march to the door when the sight of his hardened cock stopped him.

He couldn’t go chase her down sporting an erection with her name on it.

Brilliant.

He fell back onto the mattress for the second time tonight and—what was he doing? Why was he fighting this? How long had been since he’d jerked off without help from an accommodating sub? Too long, and that dry spell was going to break pronto.

He did a little brush-over meet and greet, after all, it had been a while, and then he took hold of his shaft with a firm grip.

Not too bad.

“Oh. Oh. Oh.”

Yeah, he’d take her lust-fueled whispers and use them to their best advantage as he tightly fisted himself and pumped.

The speed of the vibrator was kicked up a notch, he could tell. The increased speed elicited another “Hmmm…” out of her.

He pumped harder.

And then harder.

And when she huskily cried out this time he came so hard his cock pulsed in his palm as if it was trying to escape his grip, while white-hot shots of come jetted out of him.

He paid less attention to the end result than he did to examining the beginning, or middle as it were, and didn’t like what he saw there.

Him, having rough sex with himself.

If that didn’t beat all.

Bzzzzzzz…

“Oh, fuck no,” he whispered. He shifted his head on the pillow and stared at the door that separated their rooms. Her light was on and then…?

“Yes, yes, yes.”

He heard her soft little whispers and knew it was game-on for her again. That’s when he shrugged and readjusted. Why the hell not? At least he wouldn’t be stuck counting mechanical sheep for the rest of the night.

This time when he got himself off, all his thoughts were focused on an image of Michaela. Her, in those red stilettos, bending over for him while he slowly took down her pretty lingerie and spanked her ass for touching what was his. For abusing his property with the Hitachi.

Only he was allowed to do that.

The last image he had of her, just before he ferociously came a second time, was her on her knees, between his legs, begging him for forgiveness, and sucking him off while she worked hard to maintain eye contact with him because he didn’t make it easy for her.

“Damn…”

“James? Did you say something?”

He opened his eyes and shot a look to the door. Wholly relieved when he saw the door was still closed. She must have called to him.

“No. Good night, Mickey,” he called back.

“Mike.”

“Beauty.”

He thought he heard her mutter, “Jackass,” but he was too tired to argue the point. Maybe he’d bring it up tomorrow.

Maybe…

(End)

So you guys know the drill. If you’re a subscriber, you are already entered for a chance to win, but every time you post a comment to one of the giveaway posts your name gets added to the hat again. Good luck! I can’t wait for you to meet James and Michaela!

In other news stuff: If you’re a blogger and want to sign up for a tour you can click here. If you are on

If you’re a blogger and want to post this on release day, see details and sign up here

If you’re a blogger who would like to sign up for a review tour of Stare Him Down you can find details and sign up click here.

If you are a reader on Goodreads and want to add this one to your “to read” pile you can click here.

And, if you’d like to enter for a chance to win a first edition autographed print copy of this book, click here.

As always, thanks for stopping by!

Riley