Arsenic and Oh, What A Case!

 

First things first. I’ll get the bad…or, in my case, sad over with before we get to the happy. A Honey story. Yay!

For those of you who’ve been following my blog for a while you know I’m fairly consistent when it comes to publishing books and doing posts, right? So you were probably wondering why I’ve been a little lax with both those endeavors over the past several months.

The short answer?

Arsenic poisoning.

*Looks right at you* It’s no joke. Here I am wondering why I was feeling so unlike myself and boom! One hair test later I find out I have a rather large problem. I nearly flipped when I got my very expensive and independent panel done. I was convinced that everything would check out. It’s no wonder when the lab called right away to tell me (that’s law by the way) I nearly passed out.

Honey, of course is freaking out. I haven’t seen the poor guy this distraught since I went into labor with our son. 😀

After I get all this figured out I will post the findings because I wouldn’t want anyone to through what I’ve been through over the last several months. *Raises a brow at you* But don’t worry. I have everything documented, just in case I need to write a big book about it someday. *Twirls that big mustache up there and releases a dirty laugh*

Here’s the family’s reaction:

Honey? He swore and then paced around like a caged lion. He went from being mad, upset, worried, to being mad all over again. We tested the water, and have done more research on the topic than you can imagine. So his answer? He’s going to brood about it until we have an answer.

My son? He simply said pack your bags you’re coming to live with us. <- Haha! I bet my daughter in-law would love that. Not! And I didn’t want to burst his bubble or anything, but nothing in our house has changed in 17 years – nothing major at any rate – so it’s not that. Meh, I’ll let him figure that out on his own.

My daughter? After she gave me a thousand different instructions…did I mention she’s a chip off the old Riley block? She’s been on a campaign to cheer me up. I don’t really know why or when she decided I needed cheering – because I don’t need any. Seriously, I’m still delightful. 😉 Anyways, it was one of her many attempts at making happy times for us that has prompted me to share this Honey conversation. This was last night.

Honey and I are watching a show and my cell sounds with a text.

Would you and dad like to go on a date night with us and do this?

I look at the image and it’s a mason jar filled with some amber colored liquid. Of course I take the time to read the info about it being a craft project of making one’s own body scrub, before I hold the phone out for Honey and say, “Girlie-girl wants us to double date. We’d be doing this.”

Honey’s eyes narrowed as he stared at my cell. Then his look narrowed even more when he said, “No thank you.”

My cell went off again and I knew who it was. Did I mention that my girl has the patience of a starving four-year-old in a candy store filled with everything she loves? No? True story.

Tell dad to stop frowning. If he does this with us, we’ll do this with him next time.

I look at the image attached and silently laughed my butt off. My girl knows her dad. It was a picture of a helicopter taking off for a joy ride. What a great bribe! I made sure to enlarge the image before I showed it to him.

“Alrighty. She says if you do the first one with us we’ll do this one with you next time.”

He leers at it, but even though he made like he wasn’t, I could tell he was interested. Before I could comment though, my phone sounded again.

Or, we could do this?

It was an image of some Kung-fu guys doing their thing. So I showed it to him, saying, “Third option.”

He made a face and then said, “Okay, I’ll agree to the first option, but I’m not drinking that slop.”

*Looks right at you* Swill back body scrub? DEE-LISH! NOT! Me thinks someone didn’t bother reading the info beneath the mason jar.

I laughed. “You don’t drink it. It’s a homemade body scrub.”

He gives me the side-eye and says, “You want me to scrub this temple with that slop?” He waved his hand down the length of his torso, and to say that I was gob smacked would have been an understatement.

What did I do?

I immediately texted my daughter to convey his snob-like conceit. Because, you know, it was funny. My daughter typed back, Haha, but her significant other laughed his butt off and texted:

Haha, Yeah, tell him it cleans from the inside out!

Aww, poor Honey. He really looks wiped. He’s so worried about this other situation, I guess mostly because we don’t know where it’s coming from – that he’s ready to set up cameras and hire a security detail.

I was like, “Hm, let’s not. I highly doubt the environment needs to be watched. Maybe I should just start wearing shoes when I hang out in the lanai.”

Nah…that would be too easy. 😉

So, I think we should call this the last post before Permit Me releases! How about we do our giveaway this coming Friday? Post comments and I’ll tally. We’ll have a winner announced then! Can’t wait!!!

Oh, and I might add something mid-week so make sure you check back if you’re not a subscriber – although I don’t know why you wouldn’t be because you get an extra change to win the epic giveaways!

As always thanks for stopping by!

Riley…who’s looking for some old lace to go with my current problem. 0.0

Crap, I forgot to tell you what my mom said when I gave her the news. She waved me off and did the big tsk, tsk, tsk before she said, “You’ve been eating too many apple seeds.”

Me? Oh, hell yes, I was blinking. Blinking so fast I nearly passed out. Who eats apple

seeds? Not this girl. Hence the big mystery. 

Cheers! to me finding the cause.

 

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

Holy Batman’s Under Amour! This IS A Drill!!!



Okay, I want a show of hands. How many people have heard of Operation Gotham Shield?

Yeah, me neither until a few days ago when someone on my twitter feed dropped a link. Love my Twitter friends! Anyway, for those of you who don’t know – this is a USA military drill exercise where they are going to pretend that a nuclear threat of 4 bombs have been discovered in 4 different locations across America. Two of these bombs will be terminated by our crack military people and two will -unfortunately (pretend) to explode. One over NYC and the other near the Canadian border.

Here’s the link: https://youtu.be/sz8gHF1kxYc

And here’s the conversation I had with Honey about it:

Imagine me pacing back and forth and frowning as I try to come up with a good “break the ice” intro into this one. *leans in to whisper* If you’re new to my blog and Honey stories, I should tell you the man doesn’t like to talk about covert operations, anything to do with ghosts, and nothing to do with our military doing training exercises after 911. Did I mention that they were doing a drill exercise – on the very day that the planes hit the towers? They were. Even more stunning is that the drill focused on hijacked planes hitting the twin towers. This is why Honey doesn’t like to think about that.

Me?

I think about everything. Yeah, I’m probably that person who would sit next to you during a scene from a scary movie and explain how they could have made the images scarier. Drives Honey nuts.

Yay! I live to make Honey bonkers! Poor Honey.

Let me set the scene. Honey and I sit down to have our afternoon chat and I decide on the old “ripping the band aid off” strategy about broaching the subject.

“I can tell you had a great day. You’re home early.” <- See what I did there? I killed all the birds with two observations. Now we could talk about what was on my mind instead miring through his work day. Brilliant, right? “My day was interesting. You know what I learned? The military are getting set to do Operation Gotham Shield.”

As expected he took a deep breath in and then let it out as if he was kind of deflated. “Do I want to know what that is? Remember I told you that I’m trying to destress? I stopped listening to the radio during the day and you know I watch my how-to videos and documentaries at night.”

And there’s me blinking not at all. “Yeah, yeah. I know. You want to know what Gotham Shield is. Trust me.”

After he agreed to listen, and I explain it to him, he shook his head and said, “This is right up there with Jade Helm.”

Hm. I probably should have asked if you’ve heard of that military project. Not that Honey and I discuss these things at lengths. We don’t. But we do shoot the breeze about the weird stuff going on in the world once in a while that has no basis in regular old common sense.

Here’s the link on Jade Helm. Reader’s Digest version? The military played war games for two months during 2015 in a few states. Some people weren’t happy about it either…but back to our conversation.

Thinking about the other military drill, in 2001 I said, “I’m praying that this Gotham Shield doesn’t have any reality thrown in. It better not.”

We’re both silent for a few seconds and then Honey nods. “Me too. Maybe we should insist all of Congress fly to New York at the beginning of the week and hold hands around the statue of Liberty while singing Kumbaya repeatedly.”

I would have laughed, but seriously, I was still mulling over the idea because maybe we should do that, 😉 when Honey says, “You never did answer me when we spoke about the Jade Helm project. Do you think it’s possible?”

Okay, I have to say here, that as it turns out some believe that Jade Helm is a super (Sky Net) computer in space that is learning how to program itself by watching humans. Actually, most people into the theory believe that she’s capable of figuring out how a person thinks and feel, and one day will be able to gauge how each person on the planet will react when put under stress or angst.

I think Tom Cruise did a movie about being arrested before he actually committed the crime type deal. (Asked Honey and he said it was called Minority Report) And being that this kind of future is so pessimistic for humans (I hate dystopia) I probably didn’t answer Honey the last time because it broke my heart to do so. Even still that didn’t mean I hadn’t given the topic a lot of thought since then and that’s why I had an answer for him now.

“I think it’s possible. Man is the most egotistical, arrogant and aggressive creature in the universe.”

“Here we go.” Honey did the big eye roll. “I’m guessing you’re going to be going full extraterrestrial on me.”

I sure was. “Yep. So, if, as I believe there are other beings out there in the cosmos, I have to think they are waaaay smarter than us.”

He lifted a brow. “Your point?”

“They’d meet Sky Net Jade and have a talk with her. Or better yet? She’d figure out all by her “genius lonesomeness”, what as*holes some on this planet are, and how the people have been led astray by said A-holes. If so I’d think she’d make the bad actors pay and let The People who desire peace and not war – live on this planet as they were intended to and not as slaves to commercialism and—”

“Whoa. I get it.” He sat forward and patted my knee.

Now I hiked a brow at him. “Do you?”

That’s when he gave me that smile and talked right through it. “Men are easily tricked, but duping a smart woman? Not good. Me thinks the bad actors will be frying their as*hole, a-holes off.”

I shook my head and that’s when he frowned, saying, “You don’t think Jade would make them suffer?”

“Of course she would. She’d be the perfect woman, once she finished programming herself, and do you know what a perfect woman would do to those who tricked The People?”

“I said. Fry them.”

“No, she’d reprogram the war mongers to be peaceniks. Think daisies in their hair and long flowing skirts.”

“For the women,” he said.

It was my turn to talk through my smile. “No. I was referring specifically to the men. Oh, and the liars of all genders would suffer for the rest of their miserable lives unable to tell a lie.”

“Saw that Jim Carrey flick. Man, that would be awful.”

Yeah, he said that with such conviction I was given to wonder what the heck he’s lying to me about…but then I’ll leave that discussion for another blog post. 😀

So, given that I’m taking my time with this next release. Caleb and Genevieve have a soul-touching relationship *sniffle, sniffle* I thought I’d add to our giveaway. This is what we have so far:

 

And this is what we’re going to add:

This smells great and since we’re talking about the Big Apple and James and Genevieve are planting an apple orchard in Vermont on the property that Caleb bought – I thought this would be great!

Here’s a chapter for you to get to know Genevieve and Caleb. And, just to be clear, when I say soul-touching, I mean that in a great way. They are two people who need each other and they really don’t know why until the very end of their story. Maybe that’s why it’s so hard for me to finally write that part. As you all know a happy ending is always guaranteed, so no worries – it’s just that they have shared so much with me, and reminded me of some very special things that Honey and I have shared over the years – I don’t want to let go.

The truth? These guys have captured a piece of my heart and I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave that part of me on the page with them when I finish their story. That kind of break-up is killer for me…but I’ll manage. This should be ready for release soon.

PERMIT ME

Chapter Nine

“I don’t blame you. Hate me all you want. I did what I had to do.”

Caleb stared at his brother as he continued to rub the knotted muscles that had begun to spasm on his upper thigh. “I don’t believe it.”

“It’s true. She didn’t want the reward money.”

“She’s French.” He had no idea why he said that.

“She speaks beautiful English. More precisely and better than you.”

Caleb glared. “She dresses better than me too. What does any of that have to do with you selling me out?”

Ethan tossed him a towel and a bar of soap. “I didn’t sell you out. You smell like shit. And what’s with the Joe Manganiello look? You need to shave.”

Caleb shifted forward and winced when another spasm ripped through his muscles. “What if I refuse?”

Ethan crossed his arms over his chest and he instantly recognized his older brother’s stance. It screamed, “I dare you.” What did that tell him? He needed to get out of this another way.

“Fuck.” Caleb swore, lifting his leg down from the chair he’d had it stretched out on. “Fine. She wants a green card, how many years do I have to stay married to her for her to qualify for it? Two? I’ll sign the license and be done with it.”

“What?”

Caleb put the towel and soap aside and then reached for the bottle of tequila, unscrewing the top. “The marriage license. I’ll sign on the dotted line and she’ll get her American dream. End of story.”

He took a swig of the liquor without taking his eyes off his brother. Ethan looked uncomfortable or was he surprised? Didn’t matter. “Isn’t that what you wanted to hear?”

“Yeah it is. I’m just a little stunned you’re not bitching more about it. It’s three years by the way.”

Caleb shrugged. What the hell did he care how many years? “Fine by me.”

“Hm. By the way you’ve treated all us guys when we’ve come to stay, I would have thought you’d be a little more combative. Michael said you threw the lunch he made for you yesterday in the toilet.”

Caleb had scraped the disgusting congealed macaroni in the can, but he wouldn’t have done it if he’d thought Michael was watching. Wait. What did the guys coming here and stepping on his last nerve pulling unnecessary nursing duties have to do with Frenchie obtaining a green card? Unless… “Oh no. She’s not staying here with me.”

Ethan uncrossed his arms and frowned. “Where else would your wife stay?”

“No. She’s a green card digger, not my wife.” He tried to stand up, but failed. Of all the times to have left his cane on the bed. Damn it. He downed a good bit of the tequila instead, and then used the bottle as a pointer toward his brother. “Besides, she’s a crackpot.”

“Funny.” Ethan walked over and took the bottle out of his hands, taking a large pull of the liquor before he said, “She told me she was your soulmate.”

He reached forward and grabbed the bottle back. “And you believed her? You’re as crazy as she is.”

He didn’t like the way his brother was eyeing him when he mused, “Maybe. I guess we’ll find out soon enough, won’t we?”

“No.”

There was no hesitation when Ethan shot back a firm, “Yes.”

“Does Alistair know about this?” He needed an ally here. Someone who would be reasonable. An unbiased third party who’d see the sense in putting her up in her own home a few states away from where he was living until she got that fucking card as a thank you.

“Alistair was the one who informed me that you had to cohabitate in order to pull off something like this. It was just that we planned to wait on this until you weren’t so…”

So much for unbiased. He narrowed his eyes. “So…what?”

“Surly. I know it’s the pain bothering you and you’re probably wise not to be downing Vicodin, that shit’s addictive, but seriously, pounding back tequila isn’t helping either. Have you thought about doing some sort of therapy?”

“For what exactly? The pain? That’s what you think my problem is?”

Ethan’s tone was quiet, almost gruff when he asked, “Are you still having the nightmares?”

Yes, he had pain. Absolutely, he had nightmares. These things, given what he’d been through, were to be expected, weren’t they? What he hadn’t counted on was the sense of loss that was more crippling to him than his bum leg. “She’s not staying here.”

“She will reside here. I made a deal. Your life was saved. And now it’s time to pay up.”

He didn’t say anything. He just stared at the tequila bottle knowing there was no way he was going to agree to this.

Never.

*****

Genevieve waited until Ethan finished speaking before she clasped her hands together and said, “I am very glad Caleb has recovered. Although Colin has kept me informed on his condition, hearing from you puts my mind completely at ease. But as you can see, my things are all packed. I’m leaving America in less than a week so while I appreciate the offer, what you’re proposing isn’t possible.”

“This.” He swept a hand toward the neatly stacked boxes against one wall in the room. “Will only speed things up when we call the movers and relocate you to Vermont.”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry. It’s not that easy.”

Genevieve wished it were. She’d lain awake many nights trying to get a handle on the situation, but it always circled back to the same conclusion. No matter how adamant she felt about Caleb being her soulmate and that she was supposed to be here. Not just in America, but somehow a big part of his life, she couldn’t consciously force him into being with her when he didn’t want to.

Ethan took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he sat down on the arm of the couch opposite her. “This is your chance at a green card.”

“Not my only one. Maybe you hadn’t heard, but Matt was ready to fulfill the original bargain we’d made once he got out of the hospital.”

Ethan leaned forward and some of that stoic Dom control he was a master at maintaining slipped. “I heard about that, and it does make me wonder why you didn’t take him up on it?”

He looked so much like Caleb in that moment her heart rate kicked up speed. But then his Dom-shield was back up, and she automatically told him the truth. “Before I met Caleb, I asked my friend, Matt,” she emphasized, so he’d know there was no romance between them, “to help me for the express purpose of buying me some time in order to meet my soulmate. But then I met your brother and that express purpose was no more.”

Ethan frowned and sat back. Clearly he was thinking all this through when he asked, “But initially in Cape May when you first met Caleb you were willing to put the need for a green card out there. He told me about that. Even later, when you came to Silver Lake, you and Colin seemed pretty set on blackmailing me into agreeing to that as the stipulation for the information you gave me. I’d like to know why.

She held his gaze without a falter. “Because he’s mine, and at the time the card was a good excuse to get to him.”

Although he tried his best, she caught his initial surprise before he could hide it. Once he had though, he shook his head. “I should have said why, now that I’m here, have you changed your mind about wanting a green card, but more specifically him?”

She lowered her gaze and whispered, “Personal reasons that I’d rather not share.” If she ever did it would be directly to Caleb. No one else.

The quiet that stretched out between them then was intense to the point of suffocating until she couldn’t take it anymore, and looked up. She was fully prepared to use the only logical argument that made sense enough that he’d stop pressing her on this. “What kind of soulmate would I be if I  forced Caleb to do something he doesn’t want to do? Your brother doesn’t want to marry me, Ethan. He made that very clear when we were in Cape May. He told me straight out that his bachelorhood wasn’t for sale. In effect he said that he had a big life planned and it didn’t include me. A woman he didn’t love, who only wanted to claim her American dream.”

Ethan’s chin dropped to his chest and then lifted again. “I’m sorry. Caleb’s a little rough around the romantic edges sometimes.”

That made her smile because being the protective big brother was causing him to walk a fine line here. “You may swear in front of me, sir. You can say he’s an asshole. Believe me, I won’t mind.”

Ethan laughed, but the sound quickly petered out when it appeared that something had just occurred to him. Now he was frowning again. “Genevieve, you do know that Caleb’s not a Dom.”

She nodded. “I know. He told me that too.”

“But you’re a sub?”

Why some people needed to spell everything out and put labels on things was beyond her. She was what she was. “Yes.”

He stood and looked as if he was going to say something, but then he shook his head and began to pace. Back and forth. Back and forth, before he stopped. “I can’t help wondering how you ever thought this would work between the two of you.”

She’d wondered that herself, but not for the reason he did. “I’ll admit I did have reservations.”

“So this was a waste of—”

“Not because Caleb and I have differing views of the lifestyle.” She looked away and then looked back. “We actually never discussed the topic at any great length. I heard about his views from Colin and it makes perfect sense to me since you’ve made such a commitment to this aspect of your life. It’s only natural he’d want to find his own path. And I may be veering off the subject of Caleb here, but I think you need to consider the reality of most submissive women. I’m positive it’s far different from what you think, sir.”

Ethan stopped pacing and clasped his hands behind his back. “How so?”

“A woman gives her heart unconditionally. But the heart of a submissive woman? It’s given wholly. If she doesn’t get what she needs from her man, whether he is her definition of a Dom or not, she would never belittle or place judgment on the kind of attention she does receive from him because he is hers. I think if you asked, most submissively inclined women will go to great lengths to get what they need without breaking that emotional covenant.”

He inclined his head. “Alright. I’ll ask you. What lengths were you prepared to go to when dealing with Caleb over this?”

Genevieve unclasped her hands and smoothed her palms across her linen skirt. This admission wasn’t an easy one. “I would do what every submissive does who aches to be mastered by the man she loves when that man can’t or won’t do it. I’d invent being taken in hand by him in my mind. I’d turn him into the Dom I needed him to be in my fantasies. Sometimes…” She paused here for a moment and then ended her little speech by saying as upbeat as possible, “Sometimes this way of things is better than the reality. Less complicated. N’est-ce pas?”

Ethan was studying her as if he was seeing her for the first time, and that kind of laser-focused attention made her a little uncomfortable. She sat up straighter. “But to get back to why I had my own reservations about this? Caleb is not really my type.”

Ethan’s gaze drilled through her. “And yet you insist, still if I’m correct, that he’s your soulmate.”

“Yes, yes.” Genevieve stood and now she was the one pacing. “It makes no sense.” She halted when she was right in front of him, and then looked up. “I’m afraid your brother is too nice for my liking. He smiles a lot and…and…he’s jokey.”

Ethan scowled and when his hands landed on his hips in a commanding way, well, this wasn’t the first time she wished Caleb would be more like that. “Jokey?”

She rolled her hands like she was looping twine. Slightly flustered because she hadn’t meant to share so much with him. “The funny man. He’s—” She let that last thought go with a wave of her hand, and stared at a spot on his shoulder. She didn’t want to meet his eyes. “It doesn’t matter. None of it does. I’m not going to force him—”

“I already did.”

Her gaze shot up and she frowned. “I don’t understand.”

His hands went from being balled on his hips in a semi-intimidating position, to lifting between them in supplication. She looked down at them and then back up. Gone was all his Dom-like demeanor, in its place was every bit of the frightened older brother of the man she was meant to love.

“Caleb is in pain.”

“Yes, I know.” She urgently searched his face. “Colin said his leg was healing though. It is, isn’t it?”

When he ran a hand through his hair and looked away, she held her breath until he said, “It’s not physical pain. It’s something more than that. Deeper.” He sighed and then seemed really angry saying his next words. “They took a piece of his soul and I—”

She held her breath again.

“If I have to I’ll—I’ve come here to force you to—”

She was steadily breathing once more. She had to in order to keep up with the adrenaline racing through her that was fueled by hope and a building sense that all the murkiness she’d been wading through over the situation with Caleb was about to disappear. She had no idea how all of it would work out in the end, but at least he was offering her a beginning. “Yes?”

“—to find the part of him they stole and give it back to him. I’m not asking you to marry him, Genevieve. I’m telling you that you must if you truly believe he’s your man. He needs someone in his corner right now and you’re our last hope.”

This was it. Her reason. The reason. She dove forward and gave Ethan a hug, wrapping her arms around his middle while she laughed, and yes, even cried a little with relief. “Thank you, sir.”

He put a hand on her back, and she knew she’d probably caught him off guard when he said, “Whoa. You’re thanking me? I expected you to yell at me when I said the thing about force.”

She finished squeezing him and then stepped back, shaking her head. How could she explain to him that she’d needed another way and he’d just given it to her? She beamed. “I never yell.”

One of his brows went up. “Never say never. And remember that you thanked me.”

“I will, but why do you want me to remember?”

Ethan led her out of the living room toward the front hall. “Did you ever hear the story about Androcles and The Lion?”

She looked between him and the glass panel at the front door. There were men standing out on the stoop. “Of course. Are those men with you?”

“Yes, the movers. Now about the story. Do you remember how miserable the lion was when he had the thorn in his paw…?”

By the time he finished retelling the whole tale she had a lump of worry in her throat. Brooding and surly? What had they done to her man?

“Oh, you are a soft one, aren’t you?” Ethan tipped up her chin and made a tsk, tsk sound as their gazes locked. “You can’t let him know it. He’ll bully you if you do.”

She needed to show him that she was stronger than he thought. “If I understood your version of the story correctly, sir. The lion becomes the slave in the end. Caleb’s the lion, so…?” Now she lifted a brow at him, and when he laughed she knew she’d succeeded.

“Hm. There might be hope for the two of you yet, French-fry.”

“French-fry? That’s not very nice.”

“Take it up with my brother.” Ethan opened the doors and told the guys to back the truck up into the loading zone as there would be a move today.

When he closed the door she asked, “Why would I take up the name calling with Caleb? You said it.”

“Yes, but he said it first. To a buddy of mine, David Hollan. I believe his exact words were, “She’s an adorable little Frenchfry that I’m having a hard time not eating.”

She felt her face flush with pleasure, not embarrassment. “Your brother does like food.”

“Yeah, I’m fairly sure he wasn’t fantasizing about potatoes when he said it. May I help you pack?”

All she could do is blink as he sauntered off toward the kitchen.

Could it be true?

Suddenly the term French-fry didn’t seem so bad after all.

Ethan swung around. “Are you coming? Colin’s expecting us for dinner in a few hours so we need to get cracking. I’ll tell you about the wedding plans and the move as we finish boxing up your stuff.”

Genevieve nodded. Showing him into her room. She was just about to tell him that she meant what she’d said earlier about being all packed when he looked around and made a low whistle.

“It’s all done.”

“Yes. Now you can tell me about the plans.”

And her future brother-in-law did.

(END)

As always. If you are a subscriber you are automatically entered in our build-a-givaway. If you leave a comment on any of the build-a-giveaway posts your name gets added to the finally draw hat additional times for each comment for more chances to win! Yay! I love more chances!!!

Thanks so much for stopping by. Next up? Honey and The Case of The Missing Five Hundred and Sixty Thousand Dollars…

*Looks right at you* Trust me. You don’t want to miss this next post (I should have it done this week). Why? Honey cracks me up. *shakes head*

Take care,

Riley

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

 

Collages83

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.

romeo1

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!

romeo2

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

 

 

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