Riley Murphy's Blog, page 35

YOU KNOW YOU’RE GOING TO HELL WHEN…

You secretly curse your husband’s golf game. There, I said it! And yes, I did do it, but here’s the deal. He deserved it and well…I didn’t really think my hex would take. It did people! And now I’m going to hell. Wait. I’m not going to hell – I am in hell. With Honey swearing off the game because he played like crap yesterday, he’s going to be home both days over the weekend from now on. *eyes narrow as I stare across at the big picture and what do I see?* Is that a beautiful fairy in the background? No. No it’s not. It’s that big-ass bitch Karma coming to take a bite out of me. Hm. I’d rather take the bad with the good I suppose. (The good being that I love Honey, the bad being I’ll have him to love ALL weekend now) I guess I should count my blessings. *insert me trying to find the silvering lining among the thunder clouds* Yeah, if I wanted perfection, I’d be one of those boney babes enjoying a candlelit dinner below. Actually, now that I look at it – they kind of look like they’re having fun, don’t they? Why the stunner with the green scarf looks to be laughing. She is. *shakes head* She better not be laughing at me!


Riley

 

I HAVE A RELEASE DATE PART TWO OF THE SCENE FOR REQUIRED SURRENDER!

 

****You must be 18 or over to view****
****I mean it. No clicking unless you are of age and you’re not offended by naked people and steamy words because that is how I roll.****
Okay, if you haven’t seen the first part of my Required Surrender scene click the picture below.

And click this picture below to see the second part of the scene.

 I will post the last in a week or so. I will be doing a giveaway and will post details about that soon. If you want to add Required Surrender on goodreads just click my cover.

As always, thanks for stopping by!!!!
Riley

 

 

 

 

Wow, just…yeah, wow!

So picture this. I’m in the car down South County, meaning that I’m about twenty-five miles south of my home, and I’ve just finished with an appointment. I put all my paperwork on the passenger seat and toss my purse on it. Only, my purse hits the center between the seats and suddenly the navigation system screen is all lit up and there’s fancy looking red arrows and everything.
I shall pause here in the telling as I must share one important fact about me you need to know to understand why this “coming on” is a huge deal. I am a big picture person…as in, no details for me. If there are instructions to anything – putting furniture together or cooking a specific dish even – I usually toss them aside. In the case of furniture I pull out all the parts and hardware and wing putting it together. Hey, I maintain life’s more interesting this way because you never know if the darn thing will unexpectedly collapse. Of course, the first time this happened Honey decided it was best if I left this kind of stuff up to him. *beams* that could not have turned out better for me I’m thinking, but hey, I digress. Back to the navigation system. I never use it. I never programed it and if my purse hadn’t hit a button I wouldn’t have even known how to turn it on. For me, when I see an address I have a fair idea where it is and I get to the area and poke around until I find the actual place. Drives Honey completely batty that’s why I never drive when we go out together. So yeah, seeing the thing on when I was in the driver’s seat and hearing “her” shouting orders at me was a little weird, but it got even weirder as I made my way home.
Imagine if you will, I’m driving due east and I can, at any time, make a left turn at several different intersections to go north and eventually hit Main Street that will get me home. I could but I don’t want to because I like to go across to the last street which is a Causeway for no other reasons than there’s water on either side. Which means there are birds, boats, jumping fish and more importantly, no cops stealthily hidden in bushes to catch me speeding through the mile and a half of traffic-light-free road (don’t tell, okay?) Anyway, there I am passing each street intent upon my stretch of highway heaven and Ms. Navigation Nuisance is screaming at me.
“Take your next left. Your next left is approaching. You are approaching the left-hand turn. Veer into the left-hand lane.”
I pass it of course and when I do, I’m treated to her condescending silence until she eventually perks up spying the next left turn. Sheesh! Talk about nagging. For all that though, I will say at this point, that I was interested to see how she’d direct me to get home once I was over the Causeway…yet it never happened. Instead, I was on the road heading toward the water when she said, “Destination is on the left .08 of a mile.”
There’s me thinking, Destination is on the left? You smoking hardwired crack today or something?
She nags on, “Veer into the left lane and safely make a legal U-turn.”
I’m not going to lie, I was calling her a crazy ass-well, never mind about that right now, suffice it to say that I was just about to turn her off when I see the big Key West style building with a huge, totally hot sign out front complete with stylized naked legs. The moment my eyes hit on the gleaming black, five-inch stilettos, a number of things occur to me and I veer into the left lane to make my legal U turn.
The most important factor? Honey borrowed my car the day before when he and his out-of-town visitor buddy went to grab a beer. As I pull into the gentleman’s club parking lot I’m thinking a beer wasn’t all they were grabbing. >:)  So, there’s me staring at the building realizing that the damn bugger didn’t lie to me, but neither did he disclose the full truth. “Beer.” I snort. It is to laugh.
I got out of the car with my cell phone and took a picture of the place. Then I texted it to him with the words, “Lookie where your little navigation sweetie directed me to. You are so busted!”
He texts back, “If you’re going in, ask for Tanya. She’s cute, she looks like you, but you have a much sweeter ass.”
Here again, I’m not going to lie to you, I was a little less pissed with the addition of the compliment, but he’d never know it. Instead I was just about to get back in the car when that little devil on my shoulder…okay, big devil because that guy always wipes the floor with my perfect little angel that never wins in these kinds of decisions, pipes up. I hear “Don’t be a chicken. Go in and ask for Tanya. See if you can get a picture with her and text that back to Mr.-I-went-to-a-strip-joint-and-didn’t-tell-my-wife-busted guy!
So I do. I march in there like I own the place and ask for Tanya. Two seconds later I learned it was her day off. Drat! Then I have a look around and something else occurs to me. Something big! This is guy mecca ladies! Seriously, I usually go into a restaurant and see maybe one or two good looking guys that make me go, Hm. But in this place? I counted at least five maybe more. Seven could have been. Yes Way! So, you know what I had to do? I had to stay for a drink. Oh, and I also had to ignore Honey’s texts coming in, as you know he knows when I’m quiet it usually never ends well for him.
And it didn’t…
When I got home he was there and it was with a very bright smile that I handed him the three business cards I was given by various guys who came over to talk, while I sat all by my lonesome at the “Gentleman’s Club”. Then I mentioned that it was Tanya’s day off, but that Nicole had a damn fine ass and the next time he went there he should hire her for a lap-dance because I did and it was awesome.
You ever seen a kid locked out of a candy store? Notice the expression? That’s what Honey looked like when I told him about Nicole. Heheheh. Then he looked like a ghost when I added that this was the best kept secret in the world, but not for long as I was going to shout it out as loud as my little blog site would let me. So now, without further ado…
*Brackets hands around mouth to make the words echo*
All you single ladies out there! An upscale gentleman’s club is filled with men. Tons of men and if some of the ones I met the other day, were telling me the truth, these guys are not only single, but totally into a woman who is confident enough to sit on her own at strip joint. Spread the word.
Signed,
Riley, who has been assured that she just got her guy kicked out of the club. Literally. Again, people, *beams* this could not have turned out better for me I’m thinking. *leans in to whisper* With him on the outs, at least there is no chance I’ll be running into him when I go back.  

 

ACCORDING TO MY SNAIL MAIL, I’M A SHORT, FAT, DRUNKEN SLUT.

Wow, thanks Mr. Postman.

Imagine my surprise when I sort through my mail yesterday and the first four official looking envelopes I received (thank-you sneaky junk mailers) give me pause. Eek! Was someone trying to tell me something?

I opened the first useless envelope (cryptically disguised as real mail) and find it’s a coupon for two bucks off of a set of shoe lifts when you buy three or more pairs.

Shoe lifts? Seriously? Hmm... this would have killed me if I were - at all - sensitive about my shortness.

Second one is a letter introducing the greatest weight loss pill ever scientifically engineered. This one cut deep. *thinks for a moment* Meh, screw the pill I'll keep first offer. Yeah, I can use the coupon for the lifts and tall up - thereby thinning out. Haven’t I always maintained that I’m too short for my weight? ;)

Third? Holy Crapatola! Time to kick Carlo Rossi out of the house. I mean, how the hell did I get on my local liquor stores private mailing list? A list so exclusive they deliver the weekly specials in an envelope with gold trim? Drat! I knew I was paying too much for that wine.

Now, the fourth letter was a classic. It seems I’ve been personally invited to the next singles mixer at our nearby recreation center. WTH? Gee, I wonder how Honey will feel about this, as you know, husbands have a tendency to frown on those types of extramarital social engagements. O_O

So, there you have it. Statistically speaking, today's marketers think I’m a short, fat, drunken slut who needs help in the man department.

Hey, I’ve just had an epiphany. This could be a new game specially designed for me the author. I can call it Junk Mail Yahtzee. (JMY for short)

*brightens*

Can you spell character builder?

I pause here to reflect on my brilliance. Then...

*Insert me deflating like a leaky tire*

Shucks, with the kind of junk mail I’m receiving these days it’s more along the lines of character assassination.

Double drat! No JMY for me.

Wait, there is a way I can keep my Junk-Mail-Yahtzee dreams alive...But dare I pilfer the neighbors box for better junk?

Absolutely. Hey, I’m a short, fat, drunken slut. What do I have to lose?

Riley :)

Pay Back Erotica Style!

*Disclaimer*
Before I begin. If you haven’t read my post on The Hounds of Hell Are Haunting me, please do. Otherwise this whole pay back scenario will make no sense.
Now *taps front tooth with index finger* where to begin? Well, after I recovered from my stress and anxiety over possibly being possessed and Honey laughing his ass off at me, I refocused and plotted to get even with him. I’m bad like that. So, after much silent deliberation, a few stricken plans and a stiff martini, it came to me. I needed to play on his fears. Sounds simple enough, right? Wrong. There isn’t much Honey fears. After all, he was the only guy brave enough to marry me.
So there I am running down the list of possible things to prey on. Depressingly enough it was a very short list. Real short. Okay, there was only one item on it and even that was questionable as we’ve never had occasion to test his reaction to an encounter of the third kind, but that didn’t deter me. Nope, I was running with the sucker. Alien invasion it is.
*Pauses in the story telling briefly to offer* For those of you at home who’d like to try this recipe yourselves, you’ll need: One laser pointer, one pair of brand new lacey (by that I mean extremely slutty) panties, a bra that does nothing more than decorate skin and a new sex toy. This last one is important as it MUST be something that in a million years you would NEVER EVER buy for you or your honey (think Fed-Ex even has to black bag this one and the guy delivering has to wear gloves to bring the package to your door) BUT *cough cough* you know your honey wouldn’t turn it away once he lays eyes on it and you wouldn’t *clears throat* turn him away if he said he wanted to use it with you or whatever. Other than these items you need time, patience and stiff upper lip so you don’t burst out laughing once you begin.
Erotic pay back night one:
I keep to my usual bedtime routine only this time after I turn off the lights and head to bed, I hook that pair of panties on the corner of a picture. I have also brought the laser pointer to bed with me, stuffing it under my pillow. Then I fall asleep until the bewitching hour. That’s when I usually wake up for no apparent reason and stare at the ceiling for an hour. Invariably, Honey wakes up and we usually discuss why we’re both awake. Not this night though. Instead I roll over really hard and purposely wake him and then pretend I’m asleep. I wait until he’s staring at the ceiling and that’s when I slowly shift my arm over the side of the bed and use the pointer. Moving only my fingers I make the red dot shoot erratically around the room until I get his attention. I know I can’t fool around with it too long or he’ll be on to me. So I slam the dot right to the panties on the corner of the picture and then I dance it back and forth really fast and shut it off. Of course he jumps up out of bed and goes to right to the spot. I’ll give the guy credit. He unhooked the panties and shook his head, before he tossed them on the dresser and went to the window to peer through the blinds. I was a little disappointed when he basically shrugged and came back to bed, but then I reminded myself I needed to be patient and that stiff upper-lip I mentioned? Boy did I need that the next morning over coffee. The look on his face when I went after him over the white lace crotch-less panties I found on my dresser? Absolutely priceless. Actually, the four calls he made to me during the day to swear up and down he didn’t know where they came from gave me the warm and fuzzies if you really want to know the truth. I’m so bad.
Erotic pay back night two – three days later (that’s key to making this whole bizarre thing work) patience…
This time I hook the sexy, but decorative bra on the dresser draw pull as I go to bed. I basically do the same thing as before. Only this time when he wakes up at bewitching hour he springs up immediately. I nearly got caught, but then he was less concerned with the light than he was with the appearance of the bra. This time he didn’t toss the item on the dresser. He came around to my side of the bed and woke me. After assuring him that it wasn’t mine and he better not be drinking or fooling around with another woman he went and checked the doors and peered out that window again. Then he came back and swore he didn’t know where it came from. This is when he told me about the mysterious red light. So, me, being the loving wife that I am, I patted his hand and joked that maybe we were being visited by kinky aliens or something. He didn’t like the sound of that. Poor guy… >:)
Erotic pay back night three – two nights later.
I deposited my toy of choice on his dresser this time and for the first little while lying in bed I was worried he was going to get up ahead of schedule and check around. But then he pulled me in close and hugged me tight. Really tight as though he was worried. I’m not going to lie. At this point I was feeling kind of bad and thinking I might have made a mistake. I didn’t like this, but then he fell asleep and I reasoned it would all be over soon and I’d have my revenge on him. I pushed aside my guilt, reminded myself of those hounds of hell and eventually, in the wee hours when I woke up, I did my thing. But something was wrong. Honey didn’t spring up out of bed. No, he got up as if he was defeated. Tired. Worried. And then when he saw the toy on the dresser? Instead of snatching it up and coming over to me as I expected he picked it up and slowly examined it. After a full thirty seconds he squared his shoulders and I thought I heard him sigh. WTH? Why—finally he turned and headed for my side of the bed and I was thinking this was going to be interesting. I could hardly wait to hear what he had to say about this before I came clean. I was even thinking I’d wait until our morning coffee time, but then he shoved his arms under the duvet and with toy in hand he pushed upward. Traveling the length of my legs. I was shocked. The idea that the toy I’d chosen overrode all his worry and angst about us being visited by kinky aliens was freaking me out. Was the guy nuts? I wasn’t going to let him use that thing on me it could have alien germs on it. Ya, okay, I know that it didn’t but I also knew that he didn’t know this so yard-stick rule, right? Here’s our conversation in the darkness.
Me, “What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m giving my girl what she wants.”
“Excuse me?” You have to imagine I’m scrambling to get away from him at this point. The thought that I may have pushed him over the edge of reason is forefront in my mind because if you knew what kind of toy I bought…just saying. “Wait, there’s something I have to tell you.”
“All right,” he whispered. “You can tell me right after I show you what I found.” By now he’s right over me. His hands with that toy are right at my pillow. I’m almost hyperventilating when I’m not berating myself for being an ass over trying to get even with him in the first place.
“No, wait…”
“Look.” He stands up and uses the laser pointer to highlight the toy. It takes me a ten count to figure out what’s wrong with this picture. He wasn’t crowding me to put the moves on me. He was pushing his way up the bed to find the laser! How?
“Aww, man, how did you figure it out?”
“Visa bill.”
“Seriously?”
He nodded.
“All my freaking planning wasted.”
“Not necessarily.”
I knew that tone. He wanted something and I knew what it was. Leaning back against the headboard, I grumbled, “I suppose I’m going to have play the kinky alien now?”
He shook his head. “Although that sounds like fun, how about I’ll be the alien and you can be the woman in fear of my invasion.”
That made me laugh, but I had to tell him. “I only got one part of that toy. Sorry to burst your extraterrestrial bubble, but it’s useless without the attachments.”
“Huh.” He bent over as if he were going to get on the bed, but then the mattress under me lifted and I slid sideways. “Good thing the mother ship beamed these down to me then.”
And there I was sitting in the middle of our bed staring up at the various attachments that I hadn’t had the nerve to buy. “You hid them between the mattresses? Wait…you ordered these? How long have you known about all this?”
“Since the day after the first invasion.”
“Before or after you made those four calls to me?”
“After.”
“Damn, you’re a genius.”
“I have to be to keep up with you. Now what’s it going to be. A hostile takeover or a simple alien probe expedition?”
Heh, bet you can’t guess which one I chose? I assure you it did qualify as being out of this world.
And hey, the moral of this story? If you’re going to attempt to pull off this kind of caper you need to use cash to buy your props. Frigging stupid visa people! Who let everyone know whatcha got in your wallet…or in my case, what I had up my sleeve.
Riley    

I HAVE A RELEASE DATE!

REQUIRED SURRENDER WILL BE RELEASED

 

FEBRUARY 6TH 2013

Click on the picture for the book video
 ***You must be over 18 to view***

Or click on my cover below to hear the audio of a
scene from the book

 

 

IT’S MELT-WORTHY I PROMISE…

 

 

**BUT, again, please do not click the pictures unless you’re over 18 and you don’t mind nudity and coarse language, because that’s how I roll.**

 

COVER LOVE FOR REQUIRED SURRENDER!!!!!

This is Josephine Nehr and Ted Basel’s story. If you like a feisty heroine and a strong, but fair alpha, this one’s for you. And if you are over 18 and you’d like to hear a smoking hot narrated scene of this story – with some visuals to help you follow along, just click the picture below. This is the first segment of three. I will be posting segment two next Sunday and then the last a week later. So be sure to come back.

 

THE HOUNDS OF HELL ARE HAUNTING ME!!!!

I swear it’s true. You have to picture this. I’m in the process of two sets of edits and finishing up a proposal for a three book series, not to mention company, Christmas and all the stuff that comes with that, so I’m a little stressed. Anyway, there I am, waking up in the wee hours and I find myself going over all the things I either need to buy, put down on paper or take off the page. Honey is sound asleep to my right and I’m constantly sitting up to look over his huge shoulder to see what time it is.
This is when the dread sets in because the ritual begins. 2am. Darn. 3am. Shit. 4am. Okay, this isn’t funny. 5am. I’m screwed. 6am. Kill me now. 6.58 I fall dead asleep. 7am. Honey scoops me in for a hug and says, “Good morning, Sunshine.”
Don’t. Ask. But I’ll give you a clue. There ain’t any rays beaming from me, I can assure you.
This is how it’s been for the past week or so. Only? There’s something I neglected to mention about the ritual. Occasionally, in those dark hours I hear this noise. At first I’m thinking it’s bees that have found a home between my exterior wall and interior one. Not so much buzzing, but something like that. I try each night to ignore it when it occurs to me. I never hear this sound when I’m in our room during the day. WTH?
This is when the author in me gets carried away and I start to dream up all kinds of possibilities. The most probable? I am being haunted by the hounds of hell. They come to visit me each night and whisper in my ear. They’re raspy little voices become clearer. I can actually make out words. OH. MY. GOD. They are here to possess me! What am I going to do?
Well, the first thing I’m going to do is keep all this to myself. I don’t want anyone to know what a freak I am. Second? I’m going to bathe in garlic and borrow my mother’s rosary. Only, I think Honey might become suspicious since I hate the smell of garlic and I sleep in the buff so a big honking wood-beaded rosary hanging around my neck might stick out, ya know? What to do. I need a plan. *insert Jeopardy theme song here* I know *perks up* I shall do what all other females have done before. I shall let the demons from hell possess me and while in that rabid state I shall blame it on PMS.
Hey don’t give me that look and don’t judge me. I said it was a plan maybe not a good one, but a plan nonetheless.
So there I am. Imagined crazed and looking rather hag-like. Seriously, nothing spells a hot mess better than no sleep and a heightened fear of possession. I begin to think the evil is manifesting itself in physical form as I look in the mirror every morning with escalating dread. How can this be happening to me?
And then? I wake up this morning after my two full minutes of sleep and decide. I’m going to tell Honey when we have our morning coffee. If he doesn’t want to live with one of Lucifer’s minions we’ll just have to make other arrangements. I’m plotting and planning before I get out of bed on how to broach the subject. It’s not easy, you know. Because there’s no delicate way to say, “Oh, by the way, we may have to schedule an exorcism for me before Christmas. Can you pass the cream please?” And that’s when it hits me. It’s morning. Light out. And? The whispers are back. I stare at the ceiling thinking they’re louder though. Maybe it’s my hearing. Maybe I’m going deaf or I’m going to be one of those people who will have ringing in their ears for the rest of their…
Blinded by the light
I hear this so clearly the song starts to play in my head and it takes me a second to connect the dots, but when I do I sit up and dive over Honey’s side of the bed. Plucking up the clock radio I hold it to my ear. Jesus, H! The stupid thing is on only so low all you can hear is a rasp of words and music. THIS IS WHAT HAS BEEN PLAGUING ME FOR AN EFFING WEEK? And he didn’t hear it???? The only decision to be made now was in what manner he was going to die. Unbelievable.
And ten minutes later when I tell him my sad tale over coffee and he finishes wiping the tears from his eyes because you know I embellished the hell out of the story, he gave me that grin. Here’s the conversation.
Me, “What?”
He shakes his head. “If I didn’t want to live with Lucifer’s minion?”
“I swear. I thought the guy was recruiting me.”
He looks me dead in the eyes. “I think he already did because most days I could swear I am.”
And there’s me LMAO because he has no idea. After that little comment? I’m sharpening my horns and polishing up my trident shaped tail. Poor guy. I foresee a nice little haunting in his future. Not too near. I have to let him forget about this and when he does? Bam!

 

Riley  

LOOK WHAT I GOT!!!

My debut novel is now available in print! How crazy is that? I’m so excited! So many good things for this story. All very exciting!

Click here under Rene Tanner’s picture to see it on Amazon.

 

Click here under Alexis’ picture to see it on Barnes and Noble.

 

 

 

IF GOD WERE A WOMAN WHAT WOULD SHE SAY?

“No.”
It’s true.  I really believe this, but then my version of creation with God being female would be that earth was created in five days instead of seven because, well, women are more efficient than men and besides, they wouldn’t have taken a whole day off to rest afterward.
So there I am thinking about the concept of “no”.  It’s such a small word and yet spoken in the female vernacular, it translates big time in many different ways.
Again for the sake of this being my version of creation, my messenger angel will be called ‘Express Male’ and he’ll look like Brad Pitt (in the part of Achilles in Troy) and he’ll um, have wings for no other reason than I believe that they’re quirky and any self-respecting angel should sport them.  Now my female deity? Hm. Think a cross between Heidi Klum and Pamela Anderson with maybe a little Selma Hayak thrown in for good measure. I’d probably go with the circumference of Selma’s hips.  From Dust Till Dawn . Seriously, I think the snake played that part for free.
Okay, here’s the conversation after earth’s been around a while.
Express Male enters the heavenly gates and seeks out God, “The mortals are at it again I’m afraid. They want to start another war.  Should we let them?”
God without blinking: “No.”
“Got it. They also want to strip the land of raw materials to make toys to play with. Should we give them carte blanche to do that?”
God not amused: “No.”
Express male warming up to the subject. “Well Mother Nature’s pretty pissed about this.  She wants to flood the Eastern seaboard. Should we let her?”
God, rolling her eyes. “No.”
Express male makes notes and then prepares to leave, but just before he walks off, he spies the last item at the bottom of the page. “Oh, one more thing. Politicians are seeking permission to do their own reality T.V shows. Should we allow them?”
God blinks rapidly, clearly at a loss. (Personally, I don’t know why she’s surprised here. I knew we were going to hell in a handcart the minute American Idol made it to season four)
“Can I take that as a yes?”
God gasps.  No!”
“Got it. May I go now?”
God undoes her heavenly hair clip, slowly letting down her ethereal curls with a shake of her head.
Express Male sees her do it and swallows.  “N-no?”
God smiles.  “No…”
All right. Shoot me. It’s my version, isn’t it?  Besides, tell me who in their right mind -even a God- could turn down Brad Pitt with that hair and those biceps. Why, given the opportunity to wield some power with him  I’d be all over that. Although now that I’m calling up a visual, the wings are kind of awkward. 0_0  Meh!  This is fiction. I’m can make them disappear with the stroke of a few keys if I wanted to. *wipes brows then looks at you*
So wait, *insert me looking at the ceiling, walls and floor* where the heck was I going with this before The Brad distracted me? Oh, yeah. No is a powerful word. Maybe if we weren’t so afraid to use it once in a while we’d actually get something  worthwhile done.
Riley.