Riley Murphy's Blog, page 17

Stare Her Down **Coming Soon** Teaser #2

Harlot or Halo Bearer? Excuse me?

So…which would you rather be? As you know, if you’ve been reading my blog, these are the tough kinds of questions I face on a regular basis living with Honey. Let me set up this conversation for you.

Honey was watching T.V last night when I went in to the family room and sat down next to him. I’d just finished writing for the day, so he magnanimously said he’d find something we both might like to watch before we hit the hay.

Tombstone it was.

After a few minutes of me watching the images instead of really listening as I have a tendency to go over what I’d just written for a little bit, I see Dana Delaney standing in corset and singing by a piano. Then I see Kurt Russel walk into what I figured was the saloon, and he spots her. Now I’m paying attention so when Honey starts talking I’m half listening to him. Here’s the conversation.

“She’s not half bad. Better looking than his wife.”

Yeah, I’m not a big fan of adultery, so I frown. “He’s married and he’s checking her out like that?”

“Sure, in those days a guy didn’t live too long so he had to find comfort where and whenever he could.”

Comfort? *Insert me thinking here, if he were my husband that would be true because I’d kill him for ogling the town pump the way Russel was* I’m mentally snorting at my own sarcasm when Honey asks.

“Makes me wonder, though. If you were born in that era what kind of woman would you be? The dutiful wife or the sexy harlot?”

Hm…there’s me pondering not at all because I didn’t give a flying fig. Of course, that ambivalence only lasted until I see Russel’s wife and the clothes she was wearing. If I had to base my occupation on wardrobe I’d go with harlot. But I didn’t tell Honey that.

After a few minutes he says, “Now that I think about it? I see you as being a feisty pioneer woman who owned her own land. The kind of woman men fought over. Strong and sexy, you know?”

Aww, that was so nice, but then if I were a real pioneer woman I could fight my own battles, right? “If I were, I’d be able to take care of myself. If a guy came onto my property I’d blow his man bits to heaven.”

There’s nothing but silence for a full minute.

Me thinking about wearing a long skirt, tight top and a gun belt slung on an angle over my hips. Ooh, and shoe-boots. You know the kind. Cool western ones that are beaten up to stunning fashionista perfection. Maybe I’d have a bandana tied around my neck. Oop, and a great hat. Yeah, I love those.

And then there’s Honey…breaking the peaceful silence with…

“Oh, you mean with a gun?”

#$#@!!! I laughed my ass off as I knew what he was thinking about during the silence. While I was assembling my wardrobe he was stripping it off me. Men! *shakes head*

 

Riley

Stare Her Down – The Viking – Coming soon

If you’d like to read the blurb click here

Here’s an excerpt:

 

“Aries, is that Jaxx?” It sure looked like her and being that Aries and she owned the property it was highly likely she was here helping out a new tenant maybe? It wasn’t Aries’ wife that caught Gunn’s attention, though. It was the new tenant.

Aries walked to the door. “Oh yeah. She’s helping a new friend of ours move in a few things. I forgot about that.”

Gunn came to stand beside him. “A friend?”

Aries slapped him on the back and said, “She’s our landscape developer. What better way to make sure the property is kept in top-notch condition, eh? We bartered. Landscape services in exchange for deeply discounting her lease.”

“Her? She’s not married? Attached? Or otherwise engaged?” Gunn’s curiosity got the best of him. Especially when Jaxx gave up pulling and paused to stretch her back because the other woman only tugged harder on the plant all by herself. The determined look on her face caught and held his interest.

“Hey man, you ever heard of the saying, don’t shit in your own backyard?”

Gunn tore his eyes away from the woman and turned to him. “It’s an idiom for don’t sleep with a coworker.”

“Correction,” Aries said, going back to stacking the lengths of rope they’d brought into a corner, “it’s an idiot proof idiom for don’t fuck your neighbor. Bailey’s good people, so I don’t want you messing with her. She’d been living here for over a week. Haven’t you…?” He looked up and scowled. “How is it you aren’t in this complex ten minutes and you can zero in on a woman and in the seven months at the club you haven’t picked one yet?”

Gunn wasn’t going to insult his friend by suggesting he find some sturdier babes to play with. It wasn’t his club, nor his business. “I have particular tastes.”

Aries was down on one knee, stacking the items on the floor, when he stopped and leaned way back to see out the opened door again. “So, you like the buxom ladies?” He nodded and righted himself saying, “Probably a wise thing given your gigantic size.”

Gunn scowled and bent to help him stack. “Will you layoff the dick jokes please?”

“I was talking about your height. Ever heard the saying, God only lets things grow until they’re perfect?”

“That’s the start of a joke, not a saying. A bad joke at that.”

Aries grinned. “Why are you so moody today? Think of all the things you have to look forward to.”

Gunn stood. “I suppose you’re referring to the party on Friday?”

“Hell yeah.” Aries stood as well. “You and the groom will be the only bachelors there. And you know my brother. Gabe’s not going to do anything to fuck up his life with Lisa so that leaves you, my man. The rogue single guy in a sea of hot-to-trot and ready to please women.”

“Like I don’t have enough problems at the moment.”

“You have to start looking on the bright side of things. Have you ever heard the saying, every day brings new choices?”

“That’s not a saying. It’s a quote by Martha Beck.”

“How the fuck do you know all this shit? One day I swear I’m going to stump you.”

Gunn highly doubted it, but he kept that thought to himself as he let his friend continue to sell the Friday night bachelor party idea while he covertly kept an eye on the woman across the courtyard. She’d been living there a whole week and he hadn’t noticed her? He really did need to get out more.

End of excerpt

If you’d like the eBook versions signed, let me know and I’ll do it!

 

Just click on the link below and make the request!

Me, A Post It Note, And A Banana?

EXHIBIT “A”

I could have titled this Honey’s banana, but I didn’t want to mislead anyone. Here’s the conversation so my picture makes sense. *Huffs bangs out of my eyes and thinks about where to begin* Okay, got it.

This is me, last night before I turned off the kitchen lights and headed to bed. “Oh man, I hope Mom has some bananas. That one looks like it’s ready for the freezer.” (I freeze the overripe ones to eventually make banana bread. I also like to eat a banana in the morning, but not overripe ones because I think they’re gross. Honey knows this about me)

“I’ll check when I bring over the paper.” (Wow, there’s a lot of background info I have to give you guys for this latest Honey stunt, isn’t there? My mom, otherwise known as Madge, lives in her own in-law suite that’s attached to our house. Honey built the addition in 2000 when my dad got sick, and now there’s only Mom. Now Madge? She’s spoiled because she doesn’t even have to collect the morning paper – Honey does that for her. *sigh* He really is a great guy, and this is probably why she loves him more than she loves me…but that’s another blog post, or two. *Thinks for a split second* Meh, it’s more like 22, so let’s not go there)

*Looks around* Where the hell was I going with this? Oh yeah, the banana.

As we head into our room, Honey says, “Shame about the banana though, it was a good sized one.”

Of course it was. Honey was the one who bought those suckers and I swear –SWEAR- he had to search high and low to find the longest bunch in the stand. I never commented on this when he brought them home, even though I wanted to.

“I know.” I sighed. “But it’s okay. I ate all the big ones.”

There I was thinking, heheheh, that’ll get him, but it really didn’t. To my surprise and disappointment, all he did was nod, so the subject was dropped…until this morning.

Honey goes over to give Mom the paper and then comes to sit down for our morning coffee. We chat about what we’re going to do for the day, and that’s when he tells me he rustled me up a banana. See? Sweet, right?

“I left a banana for you on top of the bread basket.”

We have a real basket for bread, so I nodded. “Thanks.”

That’s all that was said about it. I didn’t think another thing about the fruit until I went to the basket after he’d been gone for an hour or so, and that’s when I found them. (Refer to exhibit “A” a.k.a the picture, and in it…?) The two bananas. Notice the Post It Note is on the bigger one with the infamous line. “Think of me!”

LMAO. I wrote a note back to him and stuck it on his night table. And I quote.

“Here is the quintessential duality of man. Who would have thought that ageism could be so clearly represented by two bananas. One young and the other old. Question is, would I rather have the stubby, young, and fresh one, or the long, old and, well, not so fresh one? Think about that.”

Hahaha! Honey doesn’t like it when I draw comparisons on the male anatomy, but, come on! How could I pass up the opportunity? You are so right. I couldn’t. *Thinks for a moment, and then* At least I didn’t mention anything about the older one being tired, bruised, or mushy. I have to write tonight. I don’t have time to be spanked. *And predictably the wheels turn* But I might be able to pencil in some time to be proven wrong. Could be fun. Maybe I should add that last part to the note after all…

Riley, still debating. >:)

Coming Soon!!!!

Here’s the blurb!

Stare Her Down

As an expert rigger, Gunn is the logical Dom to represent the club in the all-important bondage competition that will help out his friend. He thought he had the sub for the job, until she quit on him. Now he has to find an ideal replacement immediately.

Bailey wants the perfect bikini bod to capture the affections of her monumental crush. After a few margaritas, which prompted some sketchy decisions, she thinks Gunn can help her shape up. Didn’t a Dom equal Drill Sergeant?

Through her humor and Gunn’s stoicism, they find a precarious balance until the scales get tipped, but not in her favor. By the time she realizes her mistake, that a Dom is anything but a personal trainer, it’s too late because she’s literally tied up in a mess of her own making.

Securely caught in the rigger’s tangle, will she be able to break free and claim what she always wanted, or will her sexy and strict Dom stare her down until she accepts the truth? He’s all she ever needed…

This is a stand alone story, but if you haven’t read the first Stare Down novel and would like to, check it out by clicking the picture below.

Hey, If You Were Naked…

Imagine me lying flat on my back in the dark in bed. My eyes are closed and I did the old, Oh God this feels like heaven, sigh thing already, so of course my eyes pop open when I hear the rest of what Honey asks. Here’s the conversation.

“Hey, if you were naked and stranded on a deserted island with a stranger-a man- what would be the biggest obstacle you had to face?”

I didn’t even have to think about that. “Explaining it to you.”

He laughed and then went right back to being serious. “No, say I was good with it.”

“So, this is a big fantasy?”

“Sure, but the island isn’t. It’s a real place filled with all kinds of problem. So tell me. What would be your biggest threat?”

“Is the strange man naked too?”

“Yes, I thought I said that.”

“Nope, so I guess him.”

He sighs and then comes upon elbow and looks down at me. “He’s got more important things to do than trying to put the moves on.”

“Oh really?” I’m just yanking his chain at this point because, you know, it’s fun. “What could be more important to a guy than passing up a naked woman?”

“Surviving. Do you have an answer?”

I closed my eyes and pretended like this topic really interested me. New flash, in terms of interesting me? Yeah, that would be filed under I’d rather talk about the Argentine Lake duck. Probably a bad analogy as I would. Really. Did you know those drakes have penises that are as long as their bodies? 17 inches! It’s shaped like a corkscrew and not only does the end have a brush-like surface to swipe aside any previous mater’s intimate deposits *wink, wink* but if the female tries to run away from her new suitor it’s used to lasso her. That’s talent. But I digress. Back to Honey waiting for an answer. “Let’s see…If I were naked on a deserted island and sex was off the table I’d have to say I would want some thick leaves strapped to my feet and mud slathered all over my body. One,” I held up a finger, “for modesty, and two,” I made a peace sign, “it would deter the insects from eating me alive, I think.”

Wow, I probably should have told him the duck story, but then where had I learned those phenomenal need to know facts? Yep, Honey and his documentaries, so I guess I was pretty much screwed while I listened to him go in depth on the subject of surviving naked in the wild.

*insert me doing the grocery shopping list, picking an outfit to wear in the morning, working on Halloween costume ideas, birthday presents and trying to imagine how that small duck rolls that schlong up so it fits in his abdomen here* *sigh* Now I was completely at a loss when Honey said.

“Makes sense, right?”

I did the big yawn before I answered, “I guess. But then what do I have to worry about? If I’m ever stuck in the wild naked I’m sure you’ll be there and the most I’ll be worrying about is how long it’s taking you to light a fire, find food and build me a modest abode with indoor plumbing. Oh and a view. If we’re on an island I’d want the whole panoramic thing.”

“You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?”

I wasn’t going to lie. “No.”

I squirmed when he leaned over me and bent to speak real husky-like in my ear. “Tell me what you were thinking about while I was saving us from the perils of the wild.”

I was still squirming because he was sort of tickling me too. “A drake.”

It was as if I pushed him over. He fell back to his side of the bed so fast. “Who the *uck is Drake? Another new hero of yours?”

Did I mention that Honey doesn’t like me to bring my heroes into bed with us? Well, he doesn’t. So it’s my turn to lean up on elbow and shadow over him. “Not Drake, but a drake.”

He looks at me. “A duck?”

I popped my eyebrows at him. “A duck with a seventeen inch dick.”

That’s when he grabs me and drags me right on top of him. “You are such a pervert. I love that.”

And there I was left thinking for only a few seconds because, you know…well…that only Honey would consider the matter of a duck’s dick a perfect segue into…well, you know. And can I just say, I LOVE that!

Haha!

Riley

Let’s Shake Things Up A Bit!

Anybody out there want to win something AWESOME? Here are the rules. First thing you have to do is share this post. Please with sugar on top?  Next thing you need to do is hop on over and like both Riley Murphy and Jettie Woodruff’s author page with the links provided. Following me? Okay, here’s the fun part. Go take the quiz and comment on your score plus done below. I’ll be picking a random winner and Jettie will pick another on Friday by five pm eastern.

Here are the links! Just click on the pics! Good luck!Riley

 

Jettie

Here’s the quiz:

Just click him…unfortunately he doesn’t come with the kindle either. *snap*

Before you go, can I just say, those UK gals are dirty-birdies! I scored and 8 out 10. Man, I want to meet the individual who scores a perfect 10. Maybe buy them a drink and pick their filthy brains. Lol!

Riley

 

You Can’t Do That All Day!

The above picture? This is what I mean about that. Actually what Honey means, only it translates to write about sex. Here’s the conversation.

Honey jumping into a topic he figures is easy-breezy, but, you know with me that’s never the case. When is he going to learn? “So, what were you working on today?”

I didn’t even blink. “Stare Her Down. The rope scene with the two Doms.” I then proceed to go into detail- hey, he asked.

“You’ve got to be (insert bucking with an “f” in front of it here) kidding me. That’s what you wrote all day?”

I nodded, even though truthfully, it only took me a few hours to nail the scene. Meh, I was more invested in Honey’s shocked expression to tone down the exact timeframe.

“You can’t do that all day.”

Yeah, I’m hearing those crickets too. Because, let’s face it, how can an erotic romance writer do her work without writing about sex? “Yeah, *I give him a sorry-about-your-luck look* I’m pretty sure I have to if I want to complete a story.”

“All day you’ve been thinking about that stuff?”

In my head I was quite insulted, thinking, well not all day, but then I thought about something else. I thought about what he does on a daily basis. It would be crazy for me to suggest he stop thinking about contracting crap all day. It’s his job, right? Just like penning smexxy is mine. *insert me doing the Yeah! YEAH! Cheerleading toward his takedown dance here* now *insert me flicking my hair and doing the nose tilt to the ceiling thing* “I wouldn’t say I’ve been thinking about it all day. I did have to stop and do research. I had to comb through graphic pictures that were–” *insert an over-the-top dreamy sigh here* “nothing short of miraculous in most cases. I can only hope to be able to capture in words some of the scenes I encountered. Hot? Don’t ask. Why I was so turned on I had to stop halfway through and…”

Bah! From there I went on a little sexy diatribe, completely fabricated and heavily embellished just to freak him out. My bad. No really it was my bad, because I didn’t count on his totally male reaction. *Insert me huffing the hair from my eyes and looking right at you* By the time I was done pulling his leg he was definitely looking for me to pull on something else. Man, that’ll teach me to mess with him on the topic.

*Thinks for a millisecond* Wait, now that I think about it? Things worked out pretty darn good for me in the end. So *taps index fingernail on front tooth and stares up at the ceiling* How shall I mess with him today? Poor Honey… heheheh!

Riley

Secretary Or Slave Girl…Which Would You Rather Be?

Secretary?

or

Slave Girl?

Picture this…

I’m feverishly working. My writing is going well and I’m cranking out pages like a good thing. I’m focused and in-the-story moment. And…

Honey comes into my space and hands me a piece of paper. It must be important, right? After all, why else would he interrupt my creative genius? My ‘on-a-roll’ moment? It must be earth shattering.

“What?” Looking down at the note, I squint. Honey should have been a doctor his penmanship is that bad. “I can’t read this.” I hand it back to him.

He frowns. “Do you want me to dictate it to you?”

Dictate? Surely he meant read. “Yes.”

And he does, but then he pauses mid-sentence. “Shouldn’t you be typing?”

Typing? “Typing?”

“Yeah,” he twiddled his fingers doing an air keyboard. “Punching out what I dictate?”

Wait, is he looking at me like I’m the idiot? “What are you talking about?”

In my defense here, a few seconds ago I was in a snowed in lodge getting my brains…wait, correction. My character was getting her brains… well, you know where I’m going with that, right?

He didn’t “I need this done so that I can mail it out today.” He held up the chicken scratch.

I blink. “How is this my problem?”

“I can’t type.”

Hm. Last time I checked that wasn’t my problem either. I think about it for a moment. Nope, still not my problem. “That’s a shame.”

He does that sigh. The one he’s copied from me – the patented show of frustration where I start with a deep intake of breath and exhale with a heavy hiss type growl. (Truthfully, I was a little impressed – he’d almost nailed it)

“Come on, I need you to type this up for me,” he said.

Now, because I’m easy to get along with, (it’s true you can ask anyone who knows me how amenable I am ) I figured I’d mess with him a little until I eventually agreed. “I’m not your secretary.”

“I know but I need this today.”

I look him up and down and then give him a sly smile. “I’m not your secretary, but if you play your cards right I might be your slave girl for the day.” (Hey, what can I say? My mind’s back in the gutter at the lodge, remember? )

His eyes go all dark. I love that about him and he grins. “I like the sound of that.” He tosses the paper on my desk and then leans down and grabs the arms of my chair effectively caging me in. We’re nearly nose to nose when he whispers, “And as my slave girl, you’ll be required to do some light typing.”

LOL! Crapatola! He had me there. Hilarious.

Secretary or slave girl? Is there a difference?

Riley