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

 

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

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

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

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

What to write about…?

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

Always tell the truth.

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

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

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

*Looks right at you*

We’d wind up killing each other.

*Leans in to whisper for clarity*

That would be figuratively, not literally.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then there’s level three.

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

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

Scenario One

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Scenario Two

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

The wife. “Oh yes.”

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

The wife. “I do.”

The husband. “Do you mind telling me?”

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

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

The wife. “At least twenty times.”

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

The wife nods.

The husband. “That’s a bad ding.”

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

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

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

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

The husband. “When did you do it?”

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

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

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

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

Now why did she leave the room?

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

 

Scenario Three

 

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

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

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

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

Wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And what about the woman?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay. Now, onto our giveaway.

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

Here’s what they will look like.

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

Yay! I love reading comments.

And, as always, thanks for stopping by.

Riley

 

 

 

 

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