Friday, August 27, 2010
Here's a little unedited teaser:)
Reid entered the room quietly. His gaze immediately zeroed in on Alexis. He swore beneath his breath and thanked god she hadn't been there long. She was hanging by her arms in the center of the room, feet dangling inches from the concrete floor. Blindfolded, gagged and almost naked. They'd stripped her, leaving on only her red lacy bikini panties. He knew she was wearing a matching bra, too, the kind that emphasized her full breasts by pushing them over the top. The first time he'd laid eyes on her he'd been able to examine their perfection. Now her jet-black hair, long and thick, hid her breasts from his view.
His gaze skimmed over the room, taking note of the two-way mirror covering the wall, giving whoever was on the other side a bird's eye view of everything that went on. He clenched his teeth-he knew what they expected him to do. This was a test to see if he made the cut and could be trusted. One of several, he'd been informed. And Reid knew he'd have to see it through to the end.
Or he and Alexis would both die.
Except for the bed, which he was supposed to make use of, there was no furniture in the room. Walking quietly toward Alexis, Reid let his gaze roam over her lovely shape from the top of her bent head down to her painted toes. How many months have I imagined her without her clothes on? Nothing escaped his scrutiny. From what he could see, she was flawless, her skin like a sun-kissed peach. Healthy, with a natural sheen, toned where it needed to be, soft where it mattered. There was no movement to indicate she was alive until he saw the slightest stirring of her belly when she breathed.
Reid walked slowly around her. His gaze explored the enticing swell of her ass, the graceful curve of her hips and small waist. Damn... the sight of her is arousing. He felt something hot twist in his gut and his cock began to swell. He hadn't expected it to be this easy, not with an audience. But then this was Alexis, and he'd been aching for her. His mission was simple and crude. He was supposed to fuck her and, he feared, kill her. He couldn't afford to fail and see six months of hard work go down the drain. Not when the end was so close.
It was a stupid initiation, but he was dealing with a freak, Juan Rodriguez. A weirdo who got his kicks playing games with other people's lives to suit himself. The only way Rodriguez felt he could trust anyone new in his organization was to make them perform an act they found reprehensible, to prove they were as unscrupulous and evil as he was.
Reid came to a halt in front of Alexis, standing for a moment and just staring at her. She gave no sign that she knew he was there. But instinct told him that she did. Reid gave her credit. She had to be terrified, yet she remained quiet. No screaming out or pleading for release, no twisting at the rope binding her wrists in an effort to break the restraint. The only sign of her turmoil was the tear tracks lining her cheeks.
Resisting the urge to look at the two-way mirror again, his gaze dropped down her body slowly, feeding the need uncurling and growing in his belly. He'd never had to perform with an audience before. Could he do it? The need to see more of Alexis prompted him to reach forward. He answered his own question when he pushed her hair back to expose her luscious breasts. The shape of her full, sensuous body was hot enough to bring him to full arousal.
It's still dark when I leave for work in the mornings. The first thing I learned was...ignore the speed limit. Everyone else does. Forget setting my cruise five miles over the limit because no matter what lane I'm in high beams will flash as a warning for me to move over. Some drivers get so close behind me that I can't see their head lights. And when they can finally get around me they're nice enough to show me their IQ. I either go the speed they're going or get run off the road.
The next thing I learned was to join the pack. Find a small cluster of vehicles flying down the road like we're on the Daytona Five Hundred race track, and floor it. A good spot is somewhere in the middle, so if there is a cop around I have less of a chance of being the one he stops. After all, he can't stop all of us. It's the luck of the draw.
I can't wait to see what I learn next:)
Thursday, August 26, 2010
The Fasting & Prayer Conference includes meals.
The sermon this morning: 'Jesus Walks on the Water.' The sermon tonight: 'Searching for Jesus.'
Ladies, don't forget the rummage sale. It's a chance to get rid of those things not worth keeping around the house. Bring your husbands.
Remember in prayer the many who are sick of our community.. Smile at someone who is hard to love. Say 'Hell' to someone who doesn't care much about you.
Don't let worry kill you off - let the Church help.
Miss Charlene Mason sang 'I will not pass this way again,' giving obvious pleasure to the congregation.
For those of you who have children and don't know it, we have a nursery downstairs.
Next Thursday there will be tryouts for the choir. They need all the help they can get.
Irving Benson and Jessie Carter were married on October 24 in the church. So ends a friendship that began in their school days.
A bean supper will be held on Tuesday evening in the church hall. Music will follow.
At the evening service tonight, the sermon topic will be 'What Is Hell?' Come early and listen to our choir practice.
Eight new choir robes are currently needed due to the addition of several new members and to the deterioration of some older ones.
Scouts are saving aluminum cans, bottles, and other items to be recycled. Proceeds will be used to cripple children.
Please place your donation in the envelope along with the deceased person you want remembered.
The church will host an evening of fine dining, super entertainment, and gracious hostility.
Potluck supper Sunday at 5:00 PM - prayer and medication to follow.
The ladies of the Church have cast off clothing of every kind. They may be seen in the basement on Friday afternoon.
This evening at 7 PM there will be a hymn singing in the park across from the Church. Bring a blanket and come prepared to sin.
Ladies Bible Study will be held Thursday morning at 10 AM. All ladies are invited to lunch in the Fellowship Hall after the B. S. Is done.
The pastor would appreciate it if the ladies of the Congregation would lend him their electric girdles for the pancake breakfast next Sunday.
Low Self Esteem Support Group will meet Thursday at 7 PM. Please use the back door.
The eighth-graders will be presenting Shakespeare's Hamlet in the Church basement Friday at 7 PM. The congregation is invited to attend this tragedy.
Weight Watchers will meet at 7 PM at the First Presbyterian Church Please use large double door at the side entrance.
The Associate Minister unveiled the church's new campaign slogan last Sunday: 'I Upped My Pledge - Up Yours'
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
The second Matt was certain Maggie’s feet were firmly
planted on the ground he took hold of her shoulders and forced her
backwards until she was against the stone wall. He ignored her startled
gasp. He ignored the way her soft flesh felt beneath his hands,
and the teasing allure of her perfume. He ignored his body’s rapid
response to her closeness. He easily overpowered her initial struggles,
madder than a hornet that she’d tried to escape. The alley was
dark except for one dim light at the end, close to the street, yet he
was able to focus on a pair of frightened, glittering eyes.
“Oh! You scared me half to death!” she cried, her hand flying
up to cover her pounding heart.
Matt wished she hadn’t done that. The action drew his attention
to her creamy breasts, which were all but spilling out of her
top. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t let Bob run you in,” he
growled in a furious undertone. He’d long ago learned how the
criminal mind worked. He was glad he decided to follow up on his
“I’m not a prostitute,” she said simply.
“I don’t believe you.” But he wanted to. Matt didn’t like
thinking he was attracted to a woman who made a living by selling
her body. Of course, the woman he’d wanted that morning didn’t
look anything like the little tramp in front of him now. The only
thing that hadn’t changed was her soft, full mouth and those unforgettable
eyes. If he wasn’t careful he could easily drown in those
beguiling green depths; cat eyes that mesmerized its prey before
pouncing in for the kill.
“But…I can explain everything.”
Her soft laugh steeled Matt’s heart and made up his mind for
him. He wasn’t in the mood to hear her lies, or put up with her
misplaced humor. “Save it. You’re going to jail, honey.” He took
her by the arm and began dragging her behind him. He should let
Bob handle it and still might. On his way out of the bar he’d told
his ex-partner to wait for him in the front.
“But I thought you weren’t a cop.”
“Not here.” In a few days he would be starting a new job back
home as the local small-town sheriff. He was looking forward to
the change to both his professional and personal life.
“Than you can’t arrest me,” she said in a satisfied tone. She
tried to pull away from him. “Maybe I’ll have you arrested for assault,
Matt didn’t bother to correct her assumption. Mainly because
it meant he could get rid of her sooner. And the itch in his loins
that had never really diminished since that morning. He tried like
hell not to remember how quick his body had reacted to her. “I’ll
turn you over to my ex-partner.” He continued pulling her easily
along, heading for the end of the alley that opened up onto the
“But I can explain the whole thing. It’s really kind of funny.
Matt swiveled on his feet in time to catch Maggie from falling
to the ground. He dragged her up against him. “Another trick,
sweetheart?” They were suddenly standing nose to nose.
“No, I swear! I stepped on something.” They were more than
nose-to-nose; they were also mouth-to-mouth.
Matt’s eyes glared into hers, every breath he sucked in filled
his lungs with her sweet fragrance. In spite of his instincts for self preservation
he continued to hold her against him. His hands were
wrapped around the fleshy part of her upper arms and his fingers
rested against the exposed sides of her warm, lush breasts. He
could feel them crushed against him, feel her nipples harden and
poke into him with every breath she took.
Damn! He felt his cock swelling.
This wasn’t good. Mistake number one was getting involved
with her at all. Mistake number two had been in touching her, for
any reason. It was ironic that he’d wanted her that morning but
couldn’t afford to get involved. Now for a price, he could get involved
for a couple of hours and not even look back. He couldn’t
accept the fact he wanted her no matter what she was. It had been a
damn long time since he’d felt any life below the belt, and now
twice in one day he’d had the urge to get laid.
They were too damn close and it was hot in the alley.
He was hot.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Traveling down the interstate and needing to use the restroom,
I stopped at a rest area and headed to the restroom.
I was barely sitting down when I heard a voice from the other stall saying:
"Hi, how are you?"
I'm not the type to start a conversation in the restroom and I don't know what got into me,
But I answered, somewhat embarrassed,
"Doin' just fine!"
And the other person says:
"So what are you up to?"
What kind of question is that? At that point, I'm thinking this is too bizarre so I say:
"Uhhh, I'm like you, just traveling!"??
At this point I am just trying to get out as fast as I can when I hear another question.
"Can I come over?"
Ok, this question is just too weird for me but I figured I could just be polite and end the conversation.. I tell them
"No..I'm a little busy right now!!!"
Then I hear the person say nervously...
"Listen, I'll have to call you back. There's an idiot in the other stall who keeps answering all my questions
Cell phones, don't you just love them! I hear folks talking on their cell phones in the restrooms all the time and personally think it's NOT the place to have a conversation...period!
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Today was it. It's been a week and he said he could get the job done in a week. So when he arrived this morning I was ready. Got your list of everything you need? I asked. Yep, he says. Then I warn him, this is it, the last trip, right? Only an idiot would ignore the obvious threat in my tone. For today, he had the nerve to say, smiling. Which only forced me to say more firmly, no, this is it. I'm not coming back here so get what you need to finish up the job.
I can't complain about the work he's done, though. I've watched him and he's done a top notch job. Much more than I contracted him for, and he didn't ask for any more money. Most of the extras he just did on his own, even though it did cost me more in materials. So I'm going to give him more money anyway. My conscience won't let me take advantage of his work ethics to do it right.
Monday should be the last day. Happy day!
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Monday, August 16, 2010
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Renovations to turn the double car garage into a spacious room have officially begun. I got a great quote for the labor, it helps that he's family. Call me stupid but I had no idea how much the materials were gonna cost until I added up the first three receipts today. They amounted to more than the labor. Geesh! But did I tell you? I have a window!
I was beginning to think that I was never going to find someone to do the job within my budget. But now it's underway and by the end of the month it should be all done.
As ham sandwiches go, it was perfection: a thick slab of ham on a fresh bun with crisp lettuce and plenty of expensive, light brown, Gourmet Mustard.
The corners of my jaw aching in anticipation, I carried it to the table in our backyard, picked it up with both hands, but was stopped by my wife suddenly at my side.
Here, hold Johnny (our six-week-old son) while I get my sandwich,' she said.
I had him balanced between my left elbow and shoulder and was reaching again for the ham sandwich when I noticed a streak of mustard on my fingers..
I love mustard.
I had no napkin.
I licked it off.
It was not mustard.
No man ever put a baby down faster.
It was the first and only time I have sprinted with my tongue protruding out.
With a washcloth in each hand, I did the sort of routine shoeshine boys do, only I did it on my tongue.
Later, after she stopped crying from laughing so hard, my wife Said, 'Now you know why they call that fancy mustard Poupon.''
Friday, August 13, 2010
They told me the big black Lab's name was Reggie, as I looked at him lying in his pen.. The shelter was clean, no-kill, and the people really friendly. I'd only been in the area for six months, but everywhere I went in the small college town, people were welcoming and open.
Everyone waves when you pass them on the street.
But something was still missing as I attempted to settle in to my new life here, and I thought a dog couldn't hurt. Give me someone to talk to. And I had just seen Reggie's advertisement on the local news. The shelter said they had received numerous calls right after, but they said the people who had come down to see him just didn't look like "Lab people," whatever that meant. They must've thought I did.
But at first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me in giving me Reggie and his things, which consisted of a dog pad, bag of toys almost all of which were brand new tennis balls, his dishes, and a sealed letter from his previous owner. See, Reggie and I didn't really hit it off when we got home. We struggled for two weeks (which is how long the shelter told me to give him to adjust to his new home). Maybe it was the fact that I was trying to adjust, too.
Maybe we were too much alike.
For some reason, his stuff (except for the tennis balls --- he wouldn't go anywhere without two stuffed in his mouth) got tossed in with all of my other unpacked boxes.
I guess I didn't really think he'd need all his old stuff, that I'd get him new things once he settled in. But it became pretty clear pretty soon that he wasn't going to.
I tried the normal commands the shelter told me he knew, ones like "sit" and "stay" and "come" and "heel," and he'd follow them - when he felt like it.
He never really seemed to listen when I called his name --- sure, he'd look in my direction after the fourth or fifth time I said it, but then he'd just go back to doing whatever.
When I'd ask again, you could almost see him sigh and then grudgingly obey.
This just wasn't going to work. He chewed a couple shoes and some unpacked boxes.
I was a little too stern with him and he resented it, I could tell. The friction got so bad that I couldn't wait for the two weeks to be up, and when it was, I was in full-on search mode for my cell phone amid all of my unpacked stuff. I remembered leaving it on the stack of boxes for the guest room, but I also mumbled, rather cynically, that the "damn dog probably hid it on me."
Finally I found it, but before I could punch up the shelter's number, I also found his pad and other toys from the shelter...I tossed the pad in Reggie's direction and he snuffed it and wagged, some of the most enthusiasm I'd seen since bringing him home. But then I called, "Hey, Reggie, you like that? Come here and I'll give you a treat." Instead, he sort of glanced in my direction --- maybe "glared" is more accurate --- and then gave a discontented sigh and flopped down .... with his back to me.
Well, that's not going to do it either, I thought. And I punched the shelter phone number. But I hung up when I saw the sealed envelope. I had completely forgotten about that, too. "Okay, Reggie," I said out loud, "let's see if your previous owner has any advice."
____________ _________ _________ _________
Whoever Gets My Dog:
Well, I can't say that I'm happy you're reading this, a letter I told the shelter could only be opened by Reggie's new owner. I'm not even happy writing it. If you're reading this, it means I just got back from my last car ride with my Lab after dropping him off at the shelter.
He knew something was different. I have packed up his pad and toys before and set them by the back door before a trip, but this time... it's like he knew something was wrong.
And something is wrong...which is why I have to go to try to make it right. So let me tell you about my Lab in the hopes that it will help you bond with him and he with you.
First, he loves tennis balls. The more the merrier. Sometimes I think he's part squirrel, the way he hordes them. He usually always has two in his mouth, and he tries to get a third in there. Hasn't done it yet. Doesn't matter where you throw them, he'll bound after it, so be careful - really don't do it by any roads. I made that mistake once, and it almost cost him dearly.
Next, commands. Maybe the shelter staff already told you, but I'll go over them again: Reggie knows the obvious ones --- "sit," "stay," "come," "heel."
He knows hand signals: "back" to turn around and go back when you put your hand straight up; and "over" if you put your hand out right or left. "Shake" for shaking water off, and "paw" for a high-five. He does "down" when he feels like lying down --- I bet you could work on that with him some more. He knows "ball" and "food" and "bone" and "treat" like nobody's business.
I trained Reggie with small food treats. Nothing opens his ears like little pieces of hot dog. Feeding schedule: twice a day, once about seven in the morning, and again at six in the evening. Regular store-bought stuff; the shelter has the brand.
He's up on his shots. Call the clinic on 9th Street and update his info with yours; they'll make sure to send you reminders for when he's due. Be forewarned: Reggie hates the vet. Good luck getting him in the car. I don't know how he knows when it's time to go to the vet, but he knows.
Finally, give him some time. I've never been married, so it's only been Reggie and me for his whole life. He's gone everywhere with me, so please include him on your daily car rides if you can. He sits well in the backseat, and he doesn't bark or complain. He just loves to be around people, and me most especially. Which means that this transition is going to be hard, with him going to live with someone new.
And that's why I need to share one more bit of info with you.... His name's not Reggie. I don't know what made me do it, but when I dropped him off at the shelter, I told them his name was Reggie.
He's a smart dog, he'll get used to it and will respond to it, of that I have no doubt. But I just couldn't bear to give them his real name. For me to do that, it seemed so final, that handing him over to the shelter was as good as me admitting that I'd never see him again. And if I end up coming back, getting him, and tearing up this letter, it means everything's fine. But if someone else is reading it, well ... well it means that his new owner should know his real name. It'll help you bond with him. Who knows, maybe you'll even notice a change in his demeanor if he's been giving you problems.
His real name is "Tank".
Because that is what I drive.
Again, if you're reading this and you're from the area, maybe my name has been on the news. I told the shelter that they couldn't make "Reggie" available for adoption until they received word from my company commander. See, my parents are gone, I have no siblings, no one I could've left Tank with ... and it was my only real request of the Army upon my deployment to Iraq , that they make one phone.. call the shelter ... in the "event" ... to tell them that Tank could be put up for adoption. Luckily, my colonel is a dog guy, too, and he knew where my platoon was headed. He said he'd do it personally. And if you're reading this, then he made good on his word.
Well, this letter is getting downright depressing, even though, frankly, I'm just writing it for my dog. I couldn't imagine if I was writing it for a wife and kids and family ... but still, Tank has been my family for the last six years, almost as long as the Army has been my family.
And now I hope and pray that you make him part of your family and that he will adjust and come to love you the same way he loved me.
That unconditional love from a dog is what I take with me to Iraq as an inspiration to do something selfless, to protect innocent people from those who would do terrible things ... and to keep those terrible people from coming over here. If I have to give up Tank in order to do it, I am glad to have done so. He is my example of service and of love. I hope I honored him by my service to my country and comrades.
All right, that's enough. I deploy this evening and have to drop this letter off at the shelter. I don't think I'll say another good-bye to Tank, though. I cried too much the first time. Maybe I'll peek in on him and see if he finally got that third tennis ball in his mouth.
Good luck with Tank. Give him a good home, and give him an extra kiss goodnight - every night - from me.
____________ _________ _________ _______
I folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope.
Sure I had heard of Paul Mallory, everyone in town knew him, even new people like me. Local kid, killed in Iraq a few months ago and posthumously earning the Silver Star when he gave his life to save three buddies.
Flags had been at half-mast all summer.
I leaned forward in my chair and rested my elbows on my knees, staring at the dog.
"Hey, Tank," I said quietly. The dog's head whipped up, his ears cocked and his eyes bright.
He was instantly on his feet, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor. He sat in front of me, his head tilted, searching for the name he hadn't heard in months.
"Tank," I whispered.
His tail swished.
I kept whispering his name, over and over, and each time, his ears lowered, his eyes softened, and his posture relaxed as a wave of contentment just seemed to flood him. I stroked his ears, rubbed his shoulders, buried my face into his scruff and hugged him.
"It's me now, Tank, just you and me. Your old pal gave you to me." Tank reached up and licked my cheek. "So whatdaya say we play some ball?" His ears perked again. "Yeah? Ball? You like that? Ball?" Tank tore from my hands and disappeared in the next room.
And when he came back, he had three tennis balls in his mouth.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
With a 5-lb potato bag in each hand, extend your arms straight out from your sides and hold them there as long as you can. Try to reach a full minute, and then relax.
Each day you'll find that you can hold this position for just a bit longer. After a couple of weeks, move up to 10-lb potato bags.
Then try 50-lb potato bags and then eventually try to get to where you can lift a 100-lb potato bag in each hand and hold your arms straight for more than a full minute. (I'm at this level.)
After you feel confident at that level, put a potato in each bag.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Working means you're gonna get tired...according to my granddaughter:)
I'm actually just playing on the computer but I call it work because most of the time I'm either working on a story, networking or promoting. Today turned into my syfy day because I moved on Saturday. Now, that was work!
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Tory: What do you like most about writing?
Natalie: Losing myself in another world, creating something that will touch someone somehow, working out my characters’ dilemmas and fixing them, and trying my best to create good imagery and description.
Tory: Your first EC release, Soul Keeper, is about online romance. Do you believe happy endings can come out of such a relationship?
Natalie: Yes. Soul Keeper is loosely based on a true story. I have several friends who have hooked up with partners this way and are still going strong years later. Marriage, kids, the whole package. When online we say things we wouldn’t normally, things we’d struggle with face to face. The relationship builds as we reveal our secrets and the other person doesn’t run for the hills in shock. Trust is also a big issue. You have to have a lot of it to know in your heart the other person isn’t running around online saying the same things to other people. I’ve seen firsthand the shocked faces when my friends have told others they met their husband online. It’s almost like people think online = pervert. It’s the same as real life—there are strange and good folks everywhere!
Tory: How did your book, Magenta Starling come about? What inspired you to write it?
Natalie: Someone mentioned writing about a nice demon. It intrigued me as to how a demon could be nice, when for me, thinking of demons brings horror or evil to mind. I decided to give it a go and Magenta Starling was born. Dion was cursed as a child, made a demon, but he didn’t act like one in the usual sense. He’s also a Beta male. I tend to write all my males as Betas. I like showing the softer side of a man.
Tory: Do you listen to music when you write?
Natalie: No, not if I can help it. If music is on, or the TV, I’ve learned to tune them out, but my preference is to write in silence. If I have distractions, I tend to get up and walk around the house more in between sentences, or find something else to do when the noise level doesn’t allow me to just sit and type or think about plot twists and where my story is heading.
Tory: You write in other pen names. What prompted you to be Natalie Dae?
Natalie: My other names are for specific genres. I did write as my real name for a number of years, all genres, and found I was producing too many different types of books, so I asked myself if my readers were wondering what the hell I would write next. So I created a name for my mainstream work and another for my m/m. Neither name allowed for m/f to creep in, so Natalie Dae came along. It’s certainly been interesting being a ‘new’ author again, starting from the ground up, and going through the sometimes painful process of promoting myself when at times I want to yell: It’s me! You know! The one who wrote that book!
Tory: Do you have any other books coming out with EC?
Natalie: Yes. I’m lucky in that I have two more contracted. His Beautiful Wench is a time-travel novel that is historical, paranormal, and contemporary. That was fun to write, switching from the past to the present. The heroine zips back in time to meet her true love, a man who I absolutely adored writing about. I also have Come Find Me, a contemporary novella about two co-workers who finally let each other know they have feelings for one another and discover that their sexual fantasies match. They have much fun exploring in the bedroom! My editor is also looking at a vampire novella and a shapeshifter novel. At the moment I’m writing a horror erotica novel, as yet untitled, and will be starting another Quickie very soon. I also have plans for a free read.
Tory: How do you find the time to write?
Natalie: I’m very lucky that I’m able to write full-time. A good job, really, as keeping all my names writing something needs all the time I can get!
Cursed at birth, Dion is a demon who has searched for his beloved for centuries. Upon meeting Morgan, he knows she’s the one he’s been waiting for, the one woman he can love forever, the one woman capable of helping him break the curse. However, Jistin, the curse-giver, has other ideas…
Morgan longs for a relationship and release from her solitary life aboard her yacht, The Magenta Starling. She longs for Dion—who’s not all that he appears. When he reveals his feelings for her, Morgan allows Dion to take her to his world, the realm of Thradmos. Her love for him growing even as she struggles to accept his reality, Morgan realizes she would do anything for him—including give up her life in the real world.
At a party held in celebration of Dion’s impending freedom, Morgan is snatched away by Jistin. In a final battle, Dion will fight not only for his freedom, but also that of his beloved, lest he be cursed for all eternity…and lose Morgan in the process.
Friday, August 6, 2010
"What do you think you're doing?" asks the wife.
"They're on sale, only $10 for 24 cans," he replies.
"Put them back! We can't afford them," orders the wife.
They carry on shopping. A few aisles farther on the woman picks up a $20 jar of face cream and puts it in the basket.
"What do you think you're doing?" asks the husband.
"Its my face cream. It makes me look beautiful," replies the wife.
Her husband retorts, "So does 24 cans of Budweiser, and it's half the price."
Cleanup on aisle 25: We have a husband down
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
“Strip searches?” Paul’s tone was filled with shocked surprise.
“We don’t do that kind of thing here, ma’am.”
“I want a woman officer,” she demanded.
“We don’t have one.”
“Why, so you can get away with molesting women prisoners? Are you the sheriff?”
“I want to see the sheriff.”
“I’ll take it from here, Paul.” Matt heard Maggie gasp but he ignored her. Paul swung around with a look of relief in his eyes. Matt tried not to smile. He’d never seen the happy-go-lucky Paul look so out of sorts before. “Why don’t you hit the road now and check out the trouble spots? I’ll handle,” Matt made a show of looking down at the report in his hands, “Mrs. Myers.”
“Good luck, Sheriff.” Paul couldn’t leave the cell quick enough.
Matt pinned his gaze on the surprised Maggie. He slowly began to shake his head, sighing deeply. Arrested on various charges, and giving his deputy a hard time.
“I didn’t know you were the sheriff here,” she said quietly, breaking the silence stretching between them. Matt could understand that. He didn’t wear a uniform like his deputies, preferring khakis and a matching shirt when he was working. He liked the element of surprise it afforded him. “This is all a mistake.”
Didn’t they all say that? Someone had made a mistake all right but at the moment Matt wasn’t sure. He glanced down at the report in his hands, skimming over Don’s comments. Without identification and under the circumstances it appeared he’d followed the book. His gaze returned to Maggie, moving over her slowly.
Matt knew what he had to do. He might not like it but he still had a job to do and this was serious business. He couldn’t let his feelings rule his actions and until he got to the bottom of this mess Maggie was a prisoner. That meant she had to be treated like one.
She looked at him with confusion, wetting her lips. “Which one what?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Which one are you innocent of?” He stepped further into the cell.
“Well, someone apparently stole my license tag. You know my car isn’t stolen.” She backed up when he stepped closer to her. A shaky smile formed on her luscious mouth yet it was clear in her eyes she was a little more than nervous.
“What about the speeding and running a stop sign?” Damn she was sexy. And from where he stood Matt caught the subtle fragrance of her perfume. He purposely hardened his gaze, and his determination to keep things impersonal. He wanted Maggie to understand this was a grave situation and their relationship wouldn’t enter into it.
“I think those are legit,” she replied reluctantly, dropping her lids.
“You think?” Matt crossed his arms and halted before Maggie, once he saw she’d backed up against the cot with nowhere to go. Where was the sass he was usually faced with? “Well, I cleaned out my purse and car the other day and forgot to put them back. No reason to throw me in jail though,” she added in her defense. She was trapped against the bed; the only place to go was up.
“Am I in big trouble?”
For a change Matt had the upper hand where she was concerned. She wasn’t in trouble; she was trouble. “You’re in jail, honey, what do you think?” Damn! He’d called her honey. He had to watch himself.
“But I told you…”
“Save your breath, Maggie. If I had a nickel for every prisoner who said they were innocent…”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Annoyance laced her words.
For the first time Matt felt a slight smile move over his expression. The fire in Maggie’s eyes challenged him. Making him think about her, the woman and not the prisoner, making him forget about his duty. That didn’t sit well with Matt. He prided himself on his work ethics. That was why he was going to force down his attraction for Maggie and do what he should have done the minute he’d heard her giving Paul a hard time. He reached for her, grasped her arms and whipped her around before forcing her away from the cot and against the cold, stone wall.
She gasped at his sudden action. “Matt…you’re not going to frisk me, are you?” There was total disbelief in her tone, and a little humor.
That’s precisely what he was going to do. It was his job, or at least he tried to convince himself of that. Only Matt knew it wasn’t exactly necessary. He realized he was willing to use any excuse to put his hands on Maggie. And he wanted to make her squirm for a change, like she’d been doing to him ever since he met her. It wasn’t very professional. So much for not letting their relationship enter into it.
“It’s my duty,” he reminded her, struggling to ignore the flowery fragrance of her soft hair. But how was he supposed to do that when his nose was practically buried in it?
He knew the routine. He forced her arms high above her head and flattened her palms against the wall, spreading her legs by nudging them apart at her ankles until she was spread eagle. His mouth went dry when it placed her buttocks in close proximity to a part of his anatomy that was showing signs of wanting her as more time went by. It was all Matt could do not to take her by the hips and grind his aching cock against her.
“You can’t be serious,” she breathed, making an attempt to turn and face him. But just as quickly Matt flipped her back around and arranged her into position again. “You know this isn’t necessary.”
That’s what she thought. It was very necessary if Matt was going to keep his sanity. “All prisoners are patted down for weapons.” Only in this case Matt was pretty certain the only weapons Maggie had on her were the dangerous curves beneath her clothes.
He started with her hair. Both hands moved beneath the heavy fall and he ran his fingers through the long strands. Was that her breath catching? She shivered violently. Silky water cascading through his fingertips, that’s what it felt like. He spent more time then he needed to there, but Maggie had a lot of hair. “Did Don read you your rights?”
“Yes,” she whispered, trembling when his hands glided to her shoulders in a smooth move. They continued down the outside of her arms, before repeating the journey on the underside. “Find anything yet?” There was a faint tremor in her voice, the words barely audible.
His breath stirred Maggie’s hair where it fell at her ear. “I’ll let you know when I’ve found anything.” He was just beginning. His hands moved from under her arms, gliding in a thorough caress over her crown tipped breasts, lingering because he couldn’t help it, perhaps pressing a little harder than he should. He continued over her flat stomach and down the sides of her legs. By the time Matt was done he was out of breath and about to have heart failure.
“Is this really necessary, Ma—Sheriff?” Her voice was low and throaty, teasing Matt’s senses.
He didn’t know how much longer he could remain in control. His pat down had somehow veered way off course and into a danger zone. Matt grinned in spite of himself. “Very.” He moved his hands from her ankles up the insides of her legs, wondering at his own good judgment as he neared the top of her thighs. Heavy breathing filled the cell and it took a moment to comprehend he was the one out of breath. It was his own damn fault; he shouldn’t have touched Maggie in the first place.
“Even if you know your prisoner is innocent?”
Every nerve ending in his body awakened to what he was doing to her. A live wire couldn’t have carried the amount of current traveling through his hungry body. He was close to saying to hell with his job and tossing Maggie on the cot and taking her. “Until I determine exactly what you’re innocent of, I’m not taking any chances. A resourceful woman can find the most unusual places to hide a weapon.” Like his heart. With that sobering thought Matt finished abruptly and stepped away from her.
“This is silly, you know me.”
“I know a lot of things about you, Red.” He could hear his heart pounding in his chest and wondered if she could hear it too. “I know you’re reckless and have a knack for getting into trouble.” His hands moved to her hips. “I know you need a few lessons in self-preservation.”
Matt stepped away from Maggie before he couldn’t. But when she swung around to face him he realized he was still too close to her for his own peace of mind. The only reason he grabbed her wrists and pinned her back against the wall was because he wanted to touch her again. For any reason. It became painfully apparent that he wasn’t as in control of the situation as he thought he was. Maggie wasn’t stupid and in their position she had to know he was aroused. Their eyes clung, and a crazy thought crossed Matt’s mind about kissing her. She wanted him too; he could see the truth in her half-closed eyes. She wet her lips, intensifying the lust eating him up.
“You’re trouble,” he grumbled, slowly closing the distance between them.
Monday, August 2, 2010
Months of running into her sexy new neighbor takes a toll on Alexis’ libido. There’s interest in his smoky gaze every time they meet, but he seems reluctant to ask her out. And other than a slight nod, and a polite hello, that’s all they share. About to take matters into her own hands, she finds herself thrown into a situation that could end her life.
With nothing but erotic fantasies of Alexis to warm his bed at night, Reid knows he has to stay away from her until his undercover assignment is over. But when a coldblooded initiation to prove he’s trustworthy forces him to involve her, there’s nothing to keep him from claiming her.