Riley Murphy's Blog, page 8

How many inches is it????

So there we were. Me and Honey sitting down with a cocktail over the weekend and making plans to redo the master bath. Yeah, I know, I’m a glutton for punishment given that I’ve been living in a state of remodel for months now, but what the heck, right? What’s another month or two? >.<

Honey lists my options really fast. *Looks right at you* Seriously like lightning because, well, he could talk about these kinds of construction details in his sleep. Me? Not so much. Here’s the conversation.

“How wide?”

He holds his hands apart and says, “Thirty inches.” Then he adjusts them to be wider and shrugs, “Or maybe thirty six.”

I wanted to see thirty again, so I tilted my head and motioned. “Show me the first measurement again.”

He does and it doesn’t look like 30 it looks like 36. *Turns and narrows my eyes at you* Did I ever tell you about the time Honey talked me into getting dresser for one of our children’s room by selling me on the measurement only it wasn’t the right measurement? In that he said it was going to be 45 inches wide and he showed me 45 inches on the wall we were going to put it up against, but when the darn thing arrived, it was like 65 inches and looked like complete crap on that wall? No, *slowly turns back to him with those same narrow eyes, and continues speaking to you out of the corner of my mouth* It happened, and it’s not going to happen again. Promise.

“That’s not 30 inches. It looks like 36.”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s 30.”

“I don’t believe you.”

He hikes a brow and says, “Go get my measuring tape. It’s on the counter. Come on. I dare you.”

Alrighty! For those of you have been reading my blog for a while you know where this is going, right? And for those of you who are new around here? It’s like this. I have a major problem when it comes to Honey and his dares. I can’t help myself. I have to pick up that tossed gauntlet EVERY TIME!

So where was I? Oh yeah, the dare…

“Stay put. Don’t you think about moving those hands. I’ll go get it.”

He rolled his eyes again, but I just ignored him while I raced to get the tape.

When I returned and started to pull out the ruler I stared him down. “You didn’t move did you?”

“No.”

So there’s me thinking this is going to be good. He was going to be so crushed when I proved…NOTHING. I could not believe it! The measurement was exactly 30 inches long!!!

“You cheated. Tell me how you did it.”

He smiled and shook his head. “Now, babe, don’t be such a spoil sport. I just know these things.”

There’s me trying to figure out if he had something on him or he used something or…I mean 29 inches, I could see it. 31 inches I could see that too. Even give or take a half inch, but dead-on accurate? Hell, yeah, I was going to lose sleep over figuring out how he got the air width perfect. I turned and took three steps and then swung back around.

“Show me 36. You can’t get that right.”

He lifts his hands and I’ll be a monkey’s uncle smoking an e-cigarette. He was frigging right again! By now I was frowning at him, but I wasn’t really looking at him if you know what mean. I was thinking. Still wondering how he was pulling this off when he asks, “Since you’ve got the tape measure out, would you like me show you what 12 inches looks like?

I was still distracted, so I blinked. “A foot?”

“Not exactly. It’s a little higher up on my body than that.”

Bah! It wasn’t until I saw the sparkle in his eyes that I got it.

12 inches? Yeah, right.

Honey is so bad.

And I was so stupid.

Why? I’ll tell you. Two hours later it came to me. I should have let him do that one. *Insert me slapping my forehead here* Of course as a guy, he would over exaggerate that measurement. They all do. And after he did it this time, I could have called Bullsh*t on him and negated his two previous wins.

Damn.

Very sad about that missed opportunity…

Here’s the shiny new book trailer of PERSUADED!

Peyton is ready for anything, until he walks through the door. His name is Greyson Maddox, but she calls him trouble. Only because he is…

If you haven’t read the first chapter and would like to, click here

If you want to enter my “build a giveaway” it’s really easy. All you have to do is leave a comment on any of the “giveaway” posts I’ve already published. To find them, click here or click here and click here Every time you leave a comment your name get thrown into the hat for the big drawing shortly after release day! My subscribers are automatically included, but when they leave comments they get additional chances to win.

As always, thanks for stopping by. Oh, and if you’re one of my readers and you’re waiting for this story – you’re in for a treat! The early feedback I’ve been getting about this hero and heroine has been phenomenal! I can’t wait to share them with you!

Riley

PERSUADED TEASER #2

If you haven’t read the Teaser #1 (click here) And if you haven’t read the first chapter you can (click here) Let me know in comments if you guys would like to read chapter two. I may be able to post that next time if you want me to.

Okay, now for the next item in our giveaway. This is what we have so far…

An Amazon 25.00 gift card (emailed separately to the winner) with this image on the card.

 

This Reclaimed Surrender key chain and small wooden box.

An autographed copy of Reluctant Surrender (never before in print and it was my bestselling book!) so very excited about this!

And a…BCBGeneration bracelet! Why? Well, I figure you’ve got to be kind of fearless to read what I put on the page so…

They’ll say what about me?

Aww, Honey’s worried about my reputation. Isn’t that nice? *Looks right at you* It would be a first, but whatever. Here’s the deal.

The other night he’s in the kitchen putting together one of his specialties. Eggplant parmesan. Yum! That would be him, not the vegetable. I don’t know about anyone else, but I find my guy totally appealing when he’s cooking for me.

Anyways, he bends over to get a pan out of one of the cabinets and I dive on him. Hey, don’t judge me. The guy is 6’ 2” and I’m 5’ 1” so every chance I get to take advantage of an even playing field I’m going to take it. >:)

Now, *Leans in to whisper to you* when I say dive, I really mean hug him from the back around the neck type deal, so when he stands up I’m kind of getting a piggyback. Nice. Only this time I was trying to kiss his neck and when he moved I got a little *cough, cough* aggressive about it. *Looks away and then looks back with a shrug* So sue me because, you know, I’d rather go to court than change who I am. Which brings me to that exact point. Who the heck am I? Well, according to Honey…? Let’s see.

“Hey, easy there. You’re moving into hickey territory.”

He stands and shifts in such a way that I wind up sliding down his back. When me feet reached the floor I playfully smacked his shoulder. “So what.”

Once he filled the pot with water and put it on the stove he turned around. “Do you have to even ask? I think you’re old enough to know better.”

Of course I was, but I didn’t want that. Why? Easy. “I don’t ever want to be old enough to know better.”

That made him laugh. “Understandable, but what would our children say if they saw their dad sporting one?”

“They probably ignore it or say, Mom! In that really drawn-out-you-did-a-bad-thing-again way.”

“Precisely. We’re too old for that kind of shit.”

There’s me thinking au contraire. “Being older has its advantages.”

“In a case like this I doubt it.”

“I’d simply tell them it wasn’t me. At your advanced age your skin is so thin you bruised your neck while you were shaving.”

He grabbed me before I made it to the kitchen exit and commenced the tickling. “Are you saying I’m an old geezer?”

When I was laughing hard enough for his liking, he’s mean like that, ;0 he reminded me of a situation I’d totally forgotten.

I’m about to tell you something I’ve kept quiet on for 30 years. Actually, if I’m being truthful, I only kept the secret for about 8 years the rest of the time it slipped my mind. But it still counts, no?

When Honey and I were dating and the purple marks showed up occasionally on his throat, one of my sisters – I call her eagle-fleagle eyes – would always point them out at family gatherings. *Insert me doing a tug on my necktie here* It was so annoying (Keep in mind that my parents back then pretty much wrote the first rendition of one of Beyonce’s popular songs, only instead of the lyric “If you liked it, then you shoulda put a ring on it” their version was worded, “You BETTER put a ring on it before you attempt to like it.”) Enough said, right? So after one very close call when my sister almost got me grounded for life, I pulled out my fireproof pants and sold her a bridge in Brooklyn to get her to shut the heck up.

At the time Honey was apprenticing with a big general contracting firm that handled all kinds of construction stuff. So I told my big mouth sister that Honey got those marks on him from when he carried heavy carpet rolls on his shoulder from the truck to the jobsite. The burlap on the carpet backing pinched his skin and broke blood vessels, ya know?

So, where was I going with this? Oh. Right. After Honey brought up this blast from my good-girl past, I wondered two things. How the heck did I manage to get my sibling to believe such a thing, and why was I so worried about it? I mean, at the time, Honey wasn’t worried at all.

Yeah. The guy didn’t lose any sleep over it back then. Not like I did. Hm…

*Insert a 1000 watt lightbulb moment here*

OMG! Could it be that our roles are reversed at the moment? He may have not been scared of my parents seeing the proof of you know what, but he seemed to be uncomfortable with our grown-up children getting the birds-eye view and connecting those purple little pin-dots.

Oh no! *claps hands together with unmitigated glee* He cares and I don’t. Yay!

After I get through with him. Me thinks Honey is going to have a very interesting Thanks Giving this year. That’s all I’m saying. Either that or he’ll be channeling “The Gable” with those neckerchief thingies

or *gasp* he might have to wear a turtleneck!

Holy turkey waddle, Batman! I’m suddenly excited about this upcoming holiday. The poor guy doesn’t know what he’s in for.

Honey, Honey, HONEY!

I’m going to make this post short and sweet. I should be working, but…

I had to write this one. Now, if you follow me on twitter you probably heard about this in real time. I tweeted this one. It was that good.

Imagine me typing my fingers to the bone in my office when Honey comes in. There is never a rhyme or reason for these types of visits from him. Afternoon or evening? It doesn’t matter. He’s always very quiet. Serious almost, as he comes in and pokes around in my stuff. He touches things on my shelves and moves picture frames until I have to look up.

“Hi there. Can I do something for you?”

He shoves his hands in his pockets and turns on the charm. “You look great today.”

*Looks right at you* Really? My hair is in a messy ponytail and I’ve been wearing sweatpants all day hoping the mood to workout will strike me. Never does, but that’s another story.

“I don’t think I do, but thank you for saying otherwise. What’s up?” *Hikes a brow at you* As if I don’t know…

“Are those new reading glasses?”

“Nope.” To be fair here, he likes glasses on me as I’ve only recently started to wear them. The upside of becoming Ms. Magoo.

“What are you working on?” As he asked this he casually made his way around my desk behind me. The second his hands landed on my shoulder I started the count down to the words… “You’re so tense.”

Now, I could have let him work my muscles and then told him no, but that would have been mean so I’ve started nipping this little man-detour right at the curve. “I’m working so no can do.”

“Are you sure about that?” He adds a few knuckle presses in his repertoire and I’m not going to lie, I was tempted, but it would set a really bad precedent if I did.

“Positive.”

He stops massaging with a sigh. “Why’s your phone in here if you don’t want to be disturbed?”

“I was expecting a call.”

“Nice. You have time for that, but not for me.”

*imagine me dropping my head here and thinking about all the time I do give him* Now… *Imagine me doing a ten count and reminding myself that he’s a guy who is thinking with the part of him that’s south of the old cranium*

I look up. “Guilt is not going to work. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but maybe you can find a documentary to watch instead.”

After much sadness and “Woe is me” he finally left me to my writing. There I am firmly entrenched in a smexxy scene when lo and behold? My cell rings.

*Imagine me deadpanning to you* It’s him.

So, what did I do for the next few minutes after I answered his call? I laughed my ass off listening to his comic attempt at having phone sex with me. I gave him points for being so creative. *Shakes head* He was only 25 feet away from me! And if you could have heard the stuff he was saying? I almost fell off my chair I was laughing so hard. Seriously, I’m laughing now just remembering.

Speaking of laughing. Check this one out. Honey decided he was making his spaghetti and meatballs for dinner a couple of nights ago. He has a few special dishes and this is one of them. I love when he cooks, but it seems he’s on some kind of a salt kick. As in he doesn’t want to use too much. How do I know this? Well, when I saw black bits swimming in the pasta water and I asked him about it he said, “I think we should cut down on salt. I used pepper instead.”

Does a double take at you. Pepper? The guy is nuts.

Did I mention that he decided to bathe the pooch this week to give me a break from having to do it? No? Well he did. After he finished and our little diva came to sit beside me, I say, “She smells nice. Is that a coconut scent I smell?”

He nods. “Yes. That conditioner you bought for her is very good.”

*Slowly tilts head and stares at you* Conditioner? I didn’t buy any dog conditioner, nor do I have any myself that smells like coconut. Hm…

Turns out? He slathered the pooch with my Hawaiian Tropic, probably 30.00 a bottle suntan lotion. No wonder she smelled and felt so good!

I marched out to the family room and held up the empty bottle. “You used this?”

“Yup.”

“Well, maybe you should also use your glasses because this is my suntan lotion.”

The guy’s face fell and he said, “It is not.”

Suddenly the pepper in the boiling water was beginning to look kind of sane.

*Beams at you*

I love Honey!

Hey, now that I think about it. My life is like the I Love Lucy show only with a guy causing all the mayhem.

WHAT’S THAT I SMELL? PERSUADED TEASER #1

Here’s Teaser #1 of Persuaded!

And here’s a small excerpt:

Thankfully he didn’t have time to question the move, because she dropped into his embrace, trusting that he’d catch her. With her safely in his arms, he turned and walked through the boisterous crowd, ignoring the whistles and taunts. He was too focused in on the feel of her against him and what it meant.

Was he used to taller and sturdier babes?

Yes.

Was he used to being able to readily charm the opposite sex?

Absolutely.

Was he used to getting his own way nine times out of ten?

Without a doubt.

Until now.

All because this little pixie chick had a Napoleon complex.

God, she felt good in his hands. Small, warm and—? What the hell was she doing?

He looked down just before he got to the double doors that led outside to the front parking lot, and scowled. Peyton had a fistful of his borrowed t-shirt gathered up, using it as an anchor, while she rubbed her forehead over his pecs and collarbone as if they were fucking in a king sized bed.

No, the way she moved on him, it was as if he was the bed.

Come to think of it—he tilted his head and paid attention to her hips—her subtle, yet sexy gyrations vouched for the fact that she wanted an intimate ride and he couldn’t say he wasn’t enjoying it.

He kicked the front doors open and barely noticed how the full-scale swing narrowly missed hitting the guy who’d bumped into him earlier, right in the ass. He held Peyton tighter as he strode past him and couldn’t resist. “I told you I was star-struck.”

Greyson had every intention of being calm and methodical. Nothing spelled “Look, it’s us over here” better than rushing by the guys who were searching for you. But then he hadn’t counted on his little pixie chick pressing her lips against his neck in a soft push. Methodical? Yeah, that went by the wayside, and his pace automatically quickened as he descended the stairs two at a time. Where the hell he was currently speeding to, he couldn’t say.

Why?

Simple. She was a nibbler. A bunny. Playful and invested.

He responded to shit like that. It was his thing. But then…?

She fucking bit him and there wasn’t anything playful in the action. It was straight-up pain inducing.

Yeah, that was his thing too.

(end of excerpt)

If you haven’t read the first chapter you can find it here. I do want to mention that Greyson and his girl are taking their time rolling around on the pages of their story. I will post a confirmed release date the moment I have one. Promise.

Now before I get to the telling of this latest slice of my life, I want to add something to the giveaway. It’s a signed copy of “never before been published in print” Reluctant Surrender! This is Ethan and his girl Colin’s story. I’ve updated one major sex scene and cleaned up a few editing littles that needed some dusting, but otherwise it’s all good. I love this story. You can check out the reviews and an excerpt here if you haven’t already. I still love the tapas sex scenes. So much fun!

Also, I think I owe you guys that last scene in the Master X story, right? I shall have to mull this around and maybe post that one for our next giveaway addition.

Okay, onto my Honey story. This happened last night…actually early this morning around 4am. To set this up, I’m going to tell you the strange events that happened before the big event. It’s kind of awesome, weird and spooky all at once. Personally, I’d like to believe my dad had our backs, but you never know. One day I’ll tell you about the black ice incident of 2012. That was strange and scary too. Anyway, here’s the deal.

Honey and I have had a lot of company over the last month and half. I love seeing family, but sometimes when you’re on a deadline and you work from home it’s tough, because they love seeing you too, and? Well, you get dragged away to do awesome things with them quite frequently. A visit to the beach, out to a great lunch, out to a phenomenal dinner or shopping. I was prepared for this and enjoyed myself with the thought that I’d buckle down twice as hard when the last bit of company left yesterday afternoon. The plan was to go to bed early and wake up today to get thousands of words down on the page so I can finish Persuaded and make it pretty for my readers. So here’s the conversation Honey and I have getting into bed early.

I stretch out beneath the sheets with a satisfied sigh. “This is nice.”

He dives in and I could swear, not gonna lie, he managed in one move to pull the sheets off me, onto him, while he hooked an arm around me and yanked me so I was plastered right up against him, saying, “This is better.”

Once I caught my breath, I frowned into the darkness. “No. I need some space right now. Tomorrow will be better.”

He knows me and he knows what this means. Basically, I need quiet time to collect my thoughts and gear myself up to start back into work. Unfortunately, he misses me when we have company so he gets all *cough, cough* amorous the second they leave. This happens EVERY time and EVERY time I tell him, “Give me some space for 12 hours and then we’ll be good.”

To his credit last night he let me go and once I settled on my side of the bed with the covers back in place I said, “Do you know what would make this night better? If you turned down the AC and we got to sleep in chilly temperatures.”

Again to his credit he didn’t ask why or complain. He got up and adjusted the AC from 76 degrees to 72. Nice. When he got back to bed he said, “It will take a while for it to adjust.” Then he sighed and after a minute or so he asked, “What made you think of this?”

Legitimate question as I’ve never made the suggestion before. “I don’t know. It just popped into my head. I’m so looking forward to getting a good night’s sleep.”

And we/I did until 4am. That’s when I kind of woke up. You know, I was sort of in that semi-conscious. Oh, my eyes were closed and I was trying to drop back to sleep, but here’s what was running through my mind.

“Did we deep fry something for dinner? I hate that smell.”

“Is it on my hands?” I readjust in bed.

“Is it Honey that smells like sweet toast?” I roll away from him.

“Toast? No, it smells like the smoker. Is that what we had for dinner?” I bring my arm up over my face to block out the smell that’s messing with my sleep and then it comes to me. When I went to bed everything smelled just fine. WTH?

I sat up and sure enough I smell smoke. But not like the fire kind of smoke it smells like sweet burnt toast. Now, I don’t panic because we’ve had local brush fires in the past in our area that make the house smell like a forest fire, but this wasn’t like that.

I got up and immediately went to my mom’s house. Her place is attached to ours in the back. We have the main house and she has her own little 2 bed 1 bath villa. There’s me thinking she probably couldn’t sleep and was up early making herself toast. Truthfully, I had visions of her sticking a knife into the plugged in toaster and…well, you can imagine the images that came to me as I rushed from one end of the house to the other. Only? Her place was peaceful and quiet and non-smelly.

Hm…

I checked outside and there was no smoke smell out there so whatever it was coming from inside. I went to the living room, dining room, the other bedrooms, my office, the back hall, the front hall, the kitchen and the laundry room. Nothing. I was just about put it down to a mystery, when I thought to check the garage. I did the ‘checking the door for heat’ before I opened it, so I was shocked when I opened the door and a huge cloud of smoke hit me.

There was a fire in our garage! Holy crap!

I shut the door and run to our room to tell Honey. Now that I think about it I probably should have called 911 first, but in terms of emergencies at house he’s the department. He gets up and heads in the garage and I tell him I’m calling 911 and getting my mom and the pooch outside.

*Looks right at you* Don’t ever think because you have an escape plan all mapped out with your loved ones – furry ones as well, that you’re covered. There I am waking my mom up, while I’m talking to the 911 operator and my mother is asking me to get her good slippers for her to put on as she didn’t want anyone to see her in her old ones.

Seriously? I’ve got the phone to my ear and I’m on my hands and knees halfway under her bed when Honey walks in.

“What the hell are you doing?”

I bumped my head and almost dropped the phone, thinking I can’t tell him I was trying to reach my mom’s good slippers. Because he was right. What the hell was I doing? “Getting mom’s slippers. She can’t go outside in bare feet. What are you doing?”

I shimmied out from under the bed and that’s when I heard the 911 operator saying, “All of you need to go outside and wait for the fire department to arrive.”

I hold my hand over the receiver of the phone and say, “We’re supposed to go outside and wait. Where’s the fire?”

“I took care of it. It was a towel.”

That’s when I noticed his hand. It was wrapped in a different towel. “What happened to your hand?”

So there I was. The operator on the phone was asking about the fire, my mom was asking for her slippers, Honey was explaining that a towel he’d used to polish our outdoor furniture the day before had been smoldering and the second he picked it up to take it outside it burst into flames in his hands, and the poochie? Yeah, she wasn’t too happy with all the commotion and was trying to get my attention.

Point of this whole story-besides the safety issue and being careful about the chemicals one cleans with before the towel gets tossed back into the rag basket? Listen to your angels. After speaking with the firemen who came they were very surprised I smelled the odor enough that it woke me up. Funny thing about that? If we hadn’t turned the AC down and it wasn’t frequently kicking on during the night pushing the air around I probably wouldn’t have. The unfunny thing about that? There were gas containers and propane tanks in the garage. If we hadn’t gotten to that towel before it burst into flames that whole part of the house would have been lost.

So, after Honey and I set fans up to air out the house (there was a lingering scent of smoke) we got back into bed. There’s me thinking I’ll never be able to sleep even though Honey put an extra smoke detector in the garage (the one we had in there didn’t go off and when I asked one of the firemen about it, he said it would have, but by then it would have been too late). *side-eyes you* you have to know I’m thinking what’s the freaking point of having a detector if it doesn’t detect until it’s too late? So I’ve got all these things on my mind when Honey rolls over and pulls me across the mattress.

*Continues to side-eye you* He can’t really be thinking that we…?

“So, you want to have our first ‘almost got BBQ’d ****?”

It was such a Honey moment that I burst out laughing.

That’s when it came to me. Of course I have an angel who watches over me. It makes perfect sense because I’m living with a devil. A very persistent one. I closed my eyes and snuggled up against him. “No.”

“It will be fun. A challenge even.”

I didn’t open my eyes, just frowned. “Oh?”

“Yeah, I only have one hand. It’s my bad one so maybe we can see how good it is.”

And what did I think about that? *Insert shrug here* Sure, what the hell, I wasn’t going to be able sleep in any case.

Turns out? His bad hand is pretty good. Heh heh.

It’s time to start our build a giveaway for my next release! PERSUADED!

First some news!

I’m excited to tell you that I’ve gotten the rights to all my boys back! Reclaimed Surrender, Reluctant Surrender and Required Surrender had been published with Ellora’s Cave, but as of September 9, 2015 all of these guys belong to me again! I’m working to spruce them up (I added a prologue and rather *cough, cough* extended epilogue to Reclaimed Surrender. As you can see I’ve also redone covers *let’s out a deeply satisfied breath* and all is right with the world again. Well, it will be as soon edits are done and files are loaded.

So yeah, I’m celebrating that happy news. Also?

Since PROVOKED AND PUSHED are still on Amazon’s Top 100 Bestselling lists in numerous categories, I’m going to celebrate that as well!

Of course the upcoming release of PERSUADED has to be celebrated too! If you haven’t read the first chapter of that story and would like to, click here.

What does all this mean in terms of the giveaway? Well, we need some good stuff, right.

This is what I’m starting with:

It’s a Reclaimed Surrender Key chain in it’s own little chest. I think the chest will be painted, but as you can see from the picture it isn’t yet. Also, you can’t see the little set of handcuffs on the key chain either. Sorry, but trust me. These are SO cute! I love them.

You guys who follow my blog know how this works, but for those of you who don’t here’s the rundown. I post a story or a scene or teaser of my next story and then add an item(s) to the giveaway item(s) during that post. You leave a comment and your name is added into the hat for the final drawing. The more comments the more chances to win. We started last time with two items and wound up with all this!

So we have the book charm key chain and I’m putting a 25.00 Amazon email gift certificate into the starting pile now as well.

This is going to be fun.Oh, and here’s the new cover for A Date With A Dom. If you haven’t read some of the chapters in this “Prelude” click on the books tab above and then “free reads” to check them out.

Have I missed anything? *looks around* I don’t think so.

As always thanks for stopping by!

Riley

Grocery Shopping Bingo, Dishwasher Jenga, and…What?

I probably shouldn’t even tell you this, but I can’t help myself. *drags hands down sides of face* I have to tell someone and well, *looks around* I’d freak out the neighbors and possibly get arrested by those guys from hoarders. *cringes* So here goes…

Every week when Honey and I do the grocery list we make a game of it. We do the base list during our morning coffee hour first of the week, and then we stick the list on the front of the fridge and basically ignore it until shopping day. Then? It’s balls to the walls for a half an hour before one of us gets in the car to make the trek. (We switch off weeks.)

What does that final half hour around our place sound like? Well…you might hear shouts from one end of the house to the other that sound like this, “Caulifour!”

Followed by, “It’s added.”

To, “Toothpaste. And not the cheap kind!” Can you guess who yelled that one? Me. *beams*

“Red kidney beans. You said you’d make chili for me this week!”

I did. And then I remembered I’d be having soup while he ate it, so I yell back, “My soup!”

“A box of those sea salt milk chocolates!”

Yeah, Honey always tries to slip something by and it usually came right after I included something I wanted. “Absolutely not!”

“Swedish fish?”

“No!”

“I need raisins.”

There’s me thinking about it and then I nod to myself. Raisins? They’re good for a person aren’t they? I call back, “Okay.”

A telling pause and then I hear his slightly quieter. Actually a lot quieter, voice say, “The kind with the milk chocolate all over them.”

Honey is so bad…but then I remember the white whale, the always forgotten, the one item we can never seem to remember between us, and I shout, “Lemon juice!”

And what did I hear? “Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner folks!” That’s when Honey comes into my office and says, “Congratulations! You won this week’s grocery shopping bingo because now we can have our chicken piccata with the piccata in the sauce. What would you like for a prize?” *Nods at you vigorously with a bright smile* Yup, we do prizes.

WANNA READ THE FIRST CHAPTER OF “PERSUADED” IT’S COMING SOON!!!!

 

Persuaded

It’s  9½ Weeks meets Romancing The Stone….

Here’s the first chapter of their story.

Chapter One

 

He took one look and then cut through the male crowd, determined to be the first one to Peyton Thomas’ table during this “date while you wait to dine” fiasco.

“Excuse me.” He shouldered his way past the last few guys to reach the front doors of the bistro and the hostess, who chatted on her cell. He was just about to tap her on the shoulder when he spotted the clock on the stand counting down the time. There were three minutes left to go before the place opened for the guys to be let inside.

Wonderful.

From what he could tell, women were allowed in as soon as they arrived. So, while the hostess continued to complain about her lousy weekend, he thought about his. Not that it was lousy, but busy. Actually, the last three weeks had been a zoo with him staking out the widow’s house. Ms. Thomas had a veritable family circus performing around her. Starting at the top with her two mother-in-laws and hitting rock-bottom, surrounding the situation with her dog. He thought about the last one and scowled. Once this was all over he’d be paying that neighbor kid’s father a visit, that was for sure.

“Hey he cut the line.” He heard someone whisper behind him so he swung around.

“Is there a problem?”

“You-you need to get in line.”

Greyson frowned. “I am in line.” He stared at the guy for a five count and then said, “Look, I have a situation here that I need to take care of, so if you don’t mind?”

“There’s no need to argue.” The hostess said, “Where you start at the tables isn’t determined by line placement. No worries. Oh, good it’s time.” When Greyson turned back around, he saw the hostess holding up the clock. She had a fake smile on her face, and when she finally looked at him her smile faltered, and she flushed. She liked what she saw.

Right on.

He needed a name badge to get inside and she was going to provide it.

“Hi.”

He smiled down at her. “Hi back.” When she shifted to answer a question from one of the guys behind him, Greyson stealthily turned his attention to examining her clipboard that was filled with columns of self-adhesive labels. There was no apparent order to them so he figured this was going to be a piece of cake.

“I’m wondering if you could hand me a menu?” The second she turned to get him one he spotted a guy’s moniker right at the top of the sticker sheet and was just about to swipe it when she turned back.

“I think a big man like you would want the dinner menu. The lunch one has nothing but lite bites and salads.”

Greyson nodded and when she swiveled to reach for the hefty binder, he kept an eye on her as he peeled off the tag he’d previously had his eye on. With one slap it was stuck on his shirt. “On second thought. Maybe I’ll skip lunch today. Thanks anyways.”

“Okay, but you need a—”

“I’ve already got mine.” Patting his hand on the square, he walked to the doors before she made an issue with him helping himself and called over his shoulder. “Thought I’d save you the trouble.”

He didn’t wait for her to respond. The way he saw it? He’d wasted enough time lining up.

“Sir?” The instant he was inside, he was confronted by a young man holding a different colored clipboard. Jesus H. Just how hard did a guy have to work to land a date these days? He’d never had a problem. But then he wasn’t dining on vanilla.

“Yes?”

“I can’t see your name or number. I need to know one or the other so I can tell you what table you should start at.”

Start at? He wasn’t making the dating rounds until he got to her. Quickly, he scanned the room until his gaze landed on Peyton Thomas and her numerical value. “It’s number eight. That one.” He pointed to her and then made a beeline for her table.

“Hello.” Greyson didn’t wait for an invitation. He simply took the seat opposite of her as if he owned it. “Have you been waiting long?”

He was hoping his nonchalance would confuse her, but only crystal clarity shone in her light blue eyes.

“That depends.” She smiled and then shrugged. “Are we talking about me winning the lottery or my first date showing up? If it’s the former, why yes I have. If it’s the latter? Could be, as this event hasn’t officially started and even if it had, you aren’t the right number.”

He didn’t care about that. Man, she had nice eyes. Nice teeth too. A slight overbite which meant she’d be great at sucking—

“Do I have something stuck in my teeth?”

He cleared his throat and forgot about how accommodating hers could be for the moment. “No. Sorry. I’m Aaron, by the way.”

“Really?” She tilted her head and gave him a half grin. “I don’t think so.”

Not a reply he was expecting, but one that made him curious. “I’m crushed.” He put a hand over his stolen nametag that was stuck just above his heart, and hiked a brow at her. “Why would you think I wasn’t who I said I was?” Briefly it occurred to him that maybe she knew Aaron. But then if she did, she wouldn’t be meeting the guy this way, would she?

“Well.” Was she trying not to laugh? “For starters your nametag disagrees with you, Anita.”

Anita? Greyson moved his hand and read his tag upside down. Shit. “Oh.” He sat back real casual like. “I must have grabbed the wrong one.”

“Stole the wrong one, don’t you mean?” She held his gaze with a tenacity that impressed him. This chick was smart. Perceptive. Cool and collected by the unruffled look of her.

“What would make you think that?”

“I could tell you I saw you do it, which I did, but I’d rather tell you there’s a guy at the hostess stand with a Yarmulke on, sporting a nametag with Aaron’s name on it.”

He didn’t say anything. His drill-like stare had been known to crack the hardest of criminals so he’d just wait her out until she crumbled and dropped the subject. A couple of seconds later something cracked.

Unfortunately it was her cracking up.

“Hang on a minute.” She managed to pull herself together long enough to lean sideways and look beyond him. Then she straightened and picked up her ice tea. “Scratch our Yiddish friend over there. Now there’s a woman all up in the hostess’s business at the front door. She’s freaking because there’s no tag for her. Hm. I wonder what her name could be.” She lifted her glass in a silent toast. “Don’t you think unraveling that mystery is far more interesting?”

No. No he did not think that. Suddenly the shine he’d taken to her being sharp was dulling down some. Especially when he realized she was enjoying this situation far too much. What kind of woman in peril disses the man who’s trying to save her? It was time to cut to the chase and tell her that. “You’re in danger and you need my help.”

With a brow hiked, she mimicked his earlier action and carefully set down her glass. “Are you sure about that, Anita?”

There was one thing he was sure about. He didn’t like her attitude. Narrowing his eyes, he strove to lower his voice. Maybe this form of intimidation would work on her. “Positive.”

“Am I in jeopardy today?”

It was hard intimidating someone who smiled at you. “No, but soon.”

Her smile disappeared and so did her playful attitude. “I’m well aware that things change the moment I’m legally able to sell that tract of land. If I need help at that time I’ll let you know. Until then, I’m doing a little shopping.”

“For?”

She stubbornly tipped up her chin, so he knew this was going to be good. “A husband.”

“Here?”

“Sure. Why not?”

After looking around, it was on the tip of Greyson’s tongue to tell her there wasn’t a man present who’d be strong enough to handle her. Not one. Except maybe him. But then, she wasn’t here to land a husband and they both knew it. “I would imagine if that was true, you’d give the poor fish a squirming chance and remove your wedding ring.”

He knew he’d caught her off guard when a soft frown creased her brow. She looked down and held out her hand, splaying her fingers. “I forgot about that.” When she looked up, her playful attitude was back. “It’s quite a tangle isn’t it?” She moved her hand, showing him the ring. “You’re right. If I hope to snag a new mackerel I’ll need to cut the old line.”

Although she acknowledged the slip, he noticed she didn’t make a move to correct it. Just as he noticed she was in complete control of her emotions. So intimidation wasn’t going to work with her. Best to try reasonable. “I want to help you.”

“Really? I don’t know.” She studied him. “Meeting you like this, I’m kind of reminded of one of my favorite fairytales. It stars a young girl in a red cape who meets someone other than her grandmother.”

Now he didn’t have to say the word out loud, he was crushed. Usually when he turned on the heroic charm women were dazzled. “You think I’m a wolf in granny’s pajamas?”

“I do. Oh, don’t look so offended.” She sat back in her seat as if they were discussing the weather. Cool and calm? Hell yeah. “What else am I supposed to think when you approach me this way, Anita?”

“The name’s Greyson. Greyson Maddox.” He tried to keep an even tone, but when he spoke his voice sounded as if he’d been chewing on glass. “Here’s what I think. Being that the woodcutter killed the wolf in the end to protect Red from the beast, you’re looking at this all wrong. I’m not the beast, or in this case the bad guy. I’m the hero.” When her brows shot up as if to say, ‘Oh really?’ he added, “Yes really. Look, normally I’m an easy going guy, but I have to tell you, I do find the idea of you relishing my death offensive.”

“In the original story, Red, as you call her, gets eaten by the wolf, so personally? I don’t care what you find offensive.” She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled. “You’re a liar, a thief, and a bully—not necessarily in that order, so it would be foolish of me to believe anything you have to say.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a man come and stand beside their table. The guy was wearing jeans, so he wasn’t a waiter. Without turning, Greyson said, “Beat it.”

Which only made her scowl deepen. “Case in point. That was my first legitimate date you just growled at and scared away.”

He shrugged. “I’m a wolf, remember? Besides, you can do better than him.”

When she cocked her head, he was glad to see her frown ease up some until she said, “He was six-foot-five and looked like Brad Pitt’s twin.”

Greyson wasn’t going to look. There was no way the guy was an inch taller than him. She was messing with him. He wasn’t that insecure that he had to turn to—damn. Apparently he was, because he turned.

“And you’re full of yourself on top of everything else.”

Greyson was nearly finished giving the room the Steven Austin once over when her words sank in, causing him to stop. Damn, he was busted checking out the potential competition. What the hell? Peyton wasn’t a woman to be won, she was a job. Plain and simple.

He shifted in his seat and looked her right in the eyes. “I was checking for you. Not for me. I was going to wave him back here. A man like that would be perfect for a woman like you.”

“Oh?”

“Sure. With all the female attention looks like that would garner, your suspicious nature would be kept busy.” He braced his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “Too bad he doesn’t exist. Who’s the liar now?”

“Me.” And she didn’t seem one bit broken up about it. Not. At. All. He should have been angry, pissed even a little, but he wasn’t. He was almost grinning when she said, “It’s going to cost me a dollar too.”

“A buck?”

She nodded. “I’ll have to pay up when I get home. Each fib requires that a dollar be put in the pants on fire mason jar. There’s one for swearing too. Needless to say, between me and my late husband’s two mothers, I should be buying the island of my dreams in,” she checked her wrist that had no watch on it, and said, “less than a year.”

That sealed the deal for him. She was funny. He liked her. “Sounds like you have the perfect location picked out already.”

“Of course.” She affected an ‘I’m so sorry’ wince, and added, “But I can’t tell you about it as I make it a point not to give my would-be stalkers the information I prefer they work hard to dig up on me themselves. It’s only fair, right?”

She may have been attempting a joke, but there was anger steeped in her tone. Was she mad that his presence ruined all her plans for today? “I’m not a stalker.”

She shifted, and when she did her hair slid off her shoulder, falling like water over glass. Normally blondes weren’t his type. Hell, short chicks weren’t either. He had to be a foot and a half taller than her, but here he was thinking about getting his hands on her. Touching her. Feeling her skin. Would it be as soft to the touch as it looked?

“I know. You’re one of the government guys who never gets anything right. I tell you what.” She picked up her purse, that was almost bigger than she was, and dug through it until she found her phone. “Why don’t you give me your email address and I’ll send you a birthday gift.”

Greyson remembered what his friend had said about her. Neil had mentioned that Peyton had a problem with authority and she disliked the government agency her late husband worked for. He couldn’t blame her there. They’d done a shit job in protecting the guy. Reminded of that tragedy, he wouldn’t argue with her over her insult. Instead, he’d focus in on the second part of her comment. “What kind of gift?”

He expected a number of different replies. An email bomb. An attachment with a virus in it, or maybe even a link to where he could donate to the Free the Citizens of Inept Government Intervention campaign.

“An email with some very important answers about the sanctuary in it. Are you interested?”

He was. Very interested. “Maybe. What kinds of answers and why would you hand them over to me if you think I’m one of the government guys who never gets it right?”

“These are answers you’ve been looking for and the reason I’d hand them over is precisely as I’ve said. You guys will never figure this mess out on your own. You need help from a person who thinks outside the bureaucratic box. Come on.” She held up her phone. “Just give me your address and I’ll shoot it over. All I ask for in return is that you leave me alone.”

She may as well have said, “Stay back so I can put myself in harm’s way and get this shit over with.”

He held her gaze. “Why make this offer now and not before?”

“This is the first chance I’ve had since you’ve never returned my calls.”

He blinked and so did she. Damn. Had she called the agency to offer them info? One look and he knew she was telling the truth.

She put her cell on the table and looked away. “Not you personally, but you know what I mean.”

This gave him a chance to study her profile. When she appeared vulnerable like this it was hard to imagine how she not only challenged, but balanced the trials and tribulations she faced in her everyday life. All of those things were enough, without adding in the additional stress of men currently tracking her down to steal her land, and yet she’d managed it without breaking down. Fuck that. She’d plowed forward to meet the potential for danger head-on. After he’d spent nearly a month watching her from afar it was easy to forget how small and isolated she really was. She may have had a tiny shoe size, but she walked with tall and confident strides.

“Peyton.” She seemed surprised that he used her name. There was a measure of wariness in her eyes. “I want you to know if you had called me, night or day, I would have answered.” What was he doing subtly flirting with her like this? She’d think he was an asshole. Yeah. She couldn’t know he’d had weeks to learn things about her. Things he’d begrudgingly admired. And he didn’t want her to know that, so he changed the topic.

“What’s that?” He nodded toward the paper she’d put her phone on.

“The list of things I want to ask a man before I’ll agree to date him outside of this event.”

The correct reply for him to utter was, “Oh? Or nice. Or, good thinking.” instead he found himself captivated and invested. Was he the kind of man she’d date? Right now he wanted to be and that made no sense as he uttered the incorrect response. “Ask me.”

She remained looking at him, never checking the paper. She’d probably memorized the questions. If she had, they made her unhappy. Stoic. Prepared, and not in a good way. Was she bracing herself? “Do you like children?”

“Not particularly.”

“Great.” The air rushed out of her and the tension of whatever moment they’d been having, vanished. “Give me your email address and I’ll send you that info.”

She’d set him up. He hadn’t been prepared for her question, but she’d been expecting his answer none-the-less. “What about the danger I said you may be in?”

“I just diverted it.” She sat up straight and grabbed her cell. After she searched his face she whispered, “I’m not afraid of the people from the sanctuary.”

But her inference was clear. She was afraid of him.

Damn.

“Those men will be Stateside in three days. You’d better be prepared.”

“I understand.”

He doubted that, but he wasn’t going to argue with her. Not here. “I’ll take the info.”

“And I’ll send it. Just as soon as you leave.”

Greyson nodded and wrote his email address down on one of the napkins. After he handed it to her and before he got up, he said, “You have two days to decide whether or not you want my help. Once you’ve decided, shoot me an email.”

“Sure.”

As he got up he realized her decision made no difference to him. She was getting his help whether she wanted it or not.

 

Peyton waited until he left before she relaxed.

Greyson Maddox.

He was a problem she hadn’t counted on. Although she’d never met him before today, she had heard about him. A decorated Navy seal. A hardcore mercenary. A decent man. A complicated man. A man who belonged to an edgy lifestyle she found intriguing.

Why?

Simple.

He was a horror story. A dark thrill that represented the dreaded, but bizarrely exhilarating long walk through a haunted house a person should have passed by, but couldn’t because of the electrifying rarity. He was the kind of man that made a woman sweat with fear in one moment, and caused her heart to beat at double-time in nervous excitement in the next.

He was everything a woman should stay away from. No wonder she was drawn to him.

For a few seconds there she’d worried he was the perfect man for her. The one who’d wake up the parts of her that seemed to have died when she married Wes. Lord knew the moment Greyson had sat down those intimate parts had started to physically react to his presence. To be expected, she supposed, as the guy was not only big and powerful looking, but gorgeous besides. Handling that dual combination wouldn’t have been too hard if his eyes weren’t penetrating. He was a man who could get the job done with just one look.

A man who got anything he wanted with a look.

Good thing he didn’t like kids. That nonnegotiable probably saved them both from a night of hot and heavy sexual recriminations of the unforgivable kind.

The fantasy was nice though.

She was just wondering what he’d do after he went through all the information she intended to give him, when the man with the Yarmulke approached her table. “Peyton? Hi. My name is Aaron.”

“Hi.” She gave him a bright smile and indicated for him to take a seat. She could handle this meeting as it was a typical one. No tingles, heat, or excitement, which all combined, added up to one big no problem. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself Aaron?”

And as he did, all she could think about was Greyson Maddox.

His piercing gaze.

His potent magnetism.

That deep and husky voice.

If you had called me, night or day, I would have answered.

And that’s why she needed to put all thoughts of him out of her head.

Giving herself a mental shake, she sat forward, determined to focus on the man she should be thinking about. “I’m sorry Aaron. Did you say you worked as a toll booth operator? How interesting. I bet you have a lot of stories about crazy things you’ve seen when people drive through your line.”

“No.”

“No?” Oh brother. This was going to be the longest ten minutes of her life. Maybe she could leave early now that she’d tested her theory and was right. Nothing bad was going to happen to her until she met with her attorneys and signed the deal for the land to be released out of probate.

“Well, there was this one time when a driver paid me all in pennies. It was funny because he lost count each time. Right at the second to last cent he’d miscount and had to start all over again. He must have counted out that pile of pennies ten times.”

She frowned. “But you knew there were only two cents left to make up the total.”

He did a giggle-snort and nodded like a bobble head sitting on a spinning washing machine.

Wow. She really didn’t know what to say to that except. “You don’t work the toll on I-92, do you? My car overheated crossing the bridge last year after some guy held up the line for nearly an hour.”

His suddenly sober expression, combined with his owl-eyes told her everything she needed to know.

Fantastic.

When her phone buzzed she was instantly relieved and then completely hesitant, faced with this lesser-of-two-evils moment. She could listen to Aaron trip over the most awkward apology of the century, or she could deal with Greyson Maddox.

“Maybe I could tell you about the time a guy with no pants—”

“Sorry Aaron. I have to take this call. It’s terribly important.” She turned aside, picked up the call, and said loud enough for him to hear, “Anita. Thank God. I was worried about you.”

“Careful, Red. At the rate you’re fudging things today you’ll be funding a small nation of islands by the week’s end.”

She tried to ignore Greyson’s gravelly voice, but couldn’t disregard the spine-tingling prickles his tone elicited. A shiver-like flush of pleasure skated downward, from the back of her neck to her bottom. “What? No! Oh, Rita—”

“Anita,” he corrected.

“—give me a minute, would you?” She turned back to Aaron to see if he was taking the bait. Just her luck, he wasn’t. Great, now what? A dud right in front of her and a stud on the phone. Maybe she could—

“I could probably fix this pathological lying problem you have with a regimented schedule of some corporal punishment. I like skin to skin. You?”

She crushed the phone to her ear, worried that Aaron would hear the deeply masculine voice saying some deeply disturbing things. “Wh-what did you say?” This time when she turned sideways to curl down and talk into her cell she’d spoken in hushed tones. “I don’t think I heard correctly.”

“I said. I could make you stop fibbing by spanking your bare ass with the flat of my hand every time you did it. Corporal. Punishment. It’s the deliberate infliction of pain in order to punish a person for an infraction. Where I come from, lying is a whopper in terms of transgressions. A few over the knee sessions and my guess is you’d be as honest as old Abe.”

She snapped up so fast she worried she’d cracked a rib. She looked at Aaron and then held her phone out and stared at it for a second or two before she brought it back to her ear and said, “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“Peyton?” Aaron reached across the table and gave her shoulder a quick pat. “You’ve obviously been given distressing news. I’ll go so you can have some privacy.”

It occurred to her as he left, that nothing in life was free. Using right now as an example. The cost of getting rid of one problem had landed her on the lap of an even bigger one. “I hope you’re happy, Mr. Maddox, you just scared off a very delightful date.”

His laugh was nice and almost as sexy as his voice. Almost. “What happened to Anita?”

She sat back in her chair and crossed her legs. “How did you get my phone number?”

“I put some of that can’t get anything right government guy stuff to work and had the state department look it up.”

That couldn’t be true. He was bluffing. “Who’s the liar now?”

“I am. I googled you. Do you really shop at Victoria’s Secret?”

How the hell—? She uncrossed her legs and sat forward. Clutching her cell with both hands. “A general search told you that?”

“No. Educated guess. I bet you favor an underwire and don’t favor lace. You probably like the little bows though.”

She couldn’t believe this. The guy was right on all accounts, but at the moment she couldn’t think of what to say back so she stalled. “Excuse me?”

“The little satin bows. They usually stick them between the cups on a bra, or on the elastic part of the panty. Dotted right over the hip. I’ve choked on a couple of those, so I’m not a big fan.”

Oh, he was very funny. Actually he was, but she’d never let him know it. “What do you want, Mr. Maddox?”

“Greyson.”

“Greyson.”

“I’m waiting for that email.”

And just like that she was back to reality. For a few minutes there she’d been…been…what had she been?

Enjoying herself.

“Right.” She was almost disappointed that this was the reason for his call. What would she have preferred? Him calling just to talk to her? God no. “I’ll send it now.”

She bent to pick up her purse, when his next words jarred her.

“If I were you, I’d hold off doing that until you get to your car. Look at the clock. You only have two more minutes to get out of here before another date shows up to your table.”

She stood so fast the chair nearly toppled behind her.

He was here.

Quickly, she scanned the room, but then her eyes fell on the clock beside the hostess at the front door and she panicked. He was right. One more minute and she’d be trapped for another ten.

Damn it.

Adjusting her purse strap on her shoulder, she hurriedly made her way to the door. No sooner had she exited than her cell vibrated. She’d received a text. She was almost afraid to look.

But she had to.

Was I right about the lace?

She didn’t realize she was stomping down the sidewalk until she noticed the woman coming towards her gave her a wide berth out of fear. Oh hell no. She wasn’t going to let him rile her or have the last say. She stopped at her car and then texted back.

Nope.

Who’s the liar now? Don’t answer that. I’m on official “can’t get anything right government” business at the moment. Just send me the email.

She narrowed her eyes after she read his text, because at the present she was totally riled, and he’d managed to get the last words in too.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

(End)

Thanks for reading. And speaking of reading…

If you read my blog regularly you know I can’t let a blog get posted without a Honey moment. And boy do I have one to share.

Am I going to tell you about him watching another one of his stupid documentaries? Nope. Why? Because I don’t think you want to know about how an owl flies noiselessly, do you? That’s a true story by the way, but there’s a price the owl pays for that privilege. *Sigh* See? Here I am telling you. *Shakes head* If an owl takes flight in the rain he/she could die, as in fall out of the sky, because their feathers aren’t waterproof and could be saturated and rendered useless. Sad? Yes. True? Yes. Why do I know this? *Looks right at you* Honey!

But I digress. I shall turn my thoughts to the matter at hand so *insert here, me razzing him last night about his documentary show watching, and him being all holier-than-thou about it* Why? Welp, it would seem I only write books and he gets to educate himself through the modern marvel of  the history channel…actually, I think it’s the discovery channel, but I wasn’t about to ask him. So there we are, having this little heated tiff that amounts to nothing more than a “So there” from me and a “Go write your hunky guys” from him, and no one wins. End of story, right? (Pun intended by the way, because it wasn’t) Check this out. To set things up, Honey and I are in bed later that night and, well, things are starting to get interesting when I begin to notice a couple of things. *Leans into whisper* Go get the popcorn. I’ll wait. *whistles and looks up at the ceiling, then at the walls and the floor. Lovely tile. Got the snacks? Are you ready? Perfect. Here’s the lowdown.

Honey is pulling out all the moves, he even starts to talk in that low and dirty way of his, “I’m going to…” *insert unmentionable things he’s going to do to me there* Yay!

Insert more unmentionable things.

And more…

And more…

And—gasp—more…

And then? Just when I’m ready not to listen to anything anymore, dirty or unmentionable, I hear, “She has such beautiful skin.”

Yeah, I’m kind of drawn out of the moment because…she? Am I in bed with Yoda?

“Her hair is silken velvet and smells like grass appointed dew.”

My eyes are wide open at this point people. Grass appointed? Never mind the dew.

“I hear her breathe and it gets me hard like the granite that hasn’t been cut for a sink opening.”

*Pulls my readers down and gapes at you* WTF? A sink opening? Really? I invoke the mighty snow globe here

before …

I tap his shoulder, almost sorry to interrupt such a romantic diatribe, and ask, “Um, what are you doing?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “I’m writing a book. You’re giving me ideas. If I recall correctly writing is more important than watching documentaries.”

I felt kind of bad. “Did I say that?”

“You did. Now, what color would you say your skin is? Alabaster or ivory?”

I really wanted to laugh, but I managed to say this without cracking up, “I’d say it’s a tough call since we don’t have the lantern of the undead lighting up the bed tonight.”

“Don’t I know it.” He played it straighter than I could have. “With that in mind, I have to say, this working in the dark is stifling my artistic expression. My poor muse is bumping into walls.”

And right there folks? I lost it. I was laughing so hard I nearly fell out of bed.

That’s what life’s all about isn’t it? Give and take. Agree or disagree. At the end of the day if you can laugh until your sides hurt, you’ve got to know you’re doing something right. Right?

Thanks for stopping by! Up next? The start of a our build a giveaway. I can’t wait for that! I’ll be posting about that soon.

Riley

Exciting Times…..

This temporary absence affects Reclaimed Surrender, Reluctant Surrender, and Required Surrender.

Rene Tanner, Ethan White, and Ted Basel may be MIA on Amazon right now, but not for long. Stay tuned.

So happy right now!