Friday, October 31, 2014

Thursday, October 30, 2014

Throwback Thursday Tune

How about a special spooky song for  Halloween? You can't get  much funkier then this classic sung by Thrul Ravenscroft. Don`t get too scared as you listen!


Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Two Guys 3 Release Day!


What a great way to celebrate Halloween! Paul and Gordon`s latest adventure is available for purchase today. If you love zombies, moose, and snark as much as I do, you'll want to shuffle to your favorite eBook retailer to grab your copy.

Thank you for your support. It is so very appreciated. *hugs*



Paul and Gordon aren't your typical zombie hunters. They're a loving couple of educators who might be infected by the virus that is turning the world's population into mindless, undead eating machines. So why haven`t they turned?  Well, Gordon has a theory about that. He suspects that those who march under the rainbow flag just might be carrying the cure for the plague in their bloodstream. Zendra, the massive pharmaceutical company where the mutated virus was made, certainly seems to be in a hurry to round up all the gay survivors they can grab.


To avoid the clutches of Zendra, Paul, his partner Gordon, and a ragtag band of survivors head into the Great White North - the land of maple syrup, hockey, lumberjacks, and thick bacon. Here they plan to spend the winter, hopefully safe from roaming bands of undead, militaristic companies with far too much power, seedy groups of other survivors, and the always dreaded moose. Can two guys in love lead a motley crew to safety?

Monday, October 27, 2014

Tuesday Tales - Ghostly

Welcome back to Tuesday Tales!



Today we have the another installment of a short holiday addition that spanned White Moon, Yellow Leaves and Wind in White Birch.

Our word prompt this week is 'Ghostly.' Please do check out the other wonderful writers after you`re done reading by clicking on the Tuesday Tales link at the bottom. Thanks for stopping in!

Blue & Silver Bows



The man looked good enough to eat.

He had worn black jeans covered by a long ebony wool coat. Obviously he was fond of boots for he had forgone the old shitkicker`s he had worn at the lake in favor of an onyx pair of alligator boots that shined like Yul Brynner`s head. His coat was unbuttoned. Under the coarse wool was a wide chest wrapped in light blue cotton. He had forgone traditional neck-wear in favor of a bolo with black cording and a silver and turquoise stag tie. His hair had been pulled back into a ponytail as thick as my wrist.

It was the look on his handsome face, though, that made me lean against the wall instead of merely using it for support. Close to three weeks had passed since he kissed me beside Mud Puppy Lake. His eyes were fiery black gemstones as he ran a long look over me. I flushed. My mouth got dry. My shoes felt too tight and my bra suddenly shrunk.

“Dana,” he said, stopping three inches shy from flattening me against the wall.

He was fixated on my mouth. My sight was glued to how thick his lashes were. I ran my tongue over my lips. The man shuddered imperceptibly. I acted in typical Doofy Dana fashion and held out my hand. Jonah glanced down at it, stunned me into blindness with a smile filled with perfect white teeth, and then raised my fingers to those plump lips of his. He kissed each digit then rolled my hand over to nibble on my wrist. I wanted to say something but all that came out was a sort of ghostly choking sound which made him chuckle warmly as he ran his lips over my pulse.

“You sure have a way with words,” he teased.

“Maybe we need to go get our seat and order,” I offered with feigned nonchalance, “Since you’re so hungry you have to gnaw on my arm.”

The look he gave me through those long black lashes made my inner thighs itch. “This is nothing. You should see how I could feast on you if only you`d give me a chance.”


Oh roar.


Copyright 2013 ©by V.L. Locey

*~*~*

Click on the link below to return to the Tuesday Tales main blog for more great reads from the talented Tuesday Tales authors.






Sunday, October 26, 2014

Buckling Down

Phew. October has been one frantic month!



With two book releases, blog tours to support the books, as well as parties and events to attend online as well as in real life, I think I may actually be looking at NaNoWriMo as a vacation this year!

Of course I`m kidding, as all who choose to participate know that NaNo (National Novel Writing Month) is a challenge and a half. Fifty thousand words in thirty days is nothing to sneeze at. The dust that will accumulate in my house will be, though. Fortunately, Mister and Miss know how to cook well enough to survive so the guilt won`t be too severe.



I`m hoping to knock out two hockey novellas as my NaNo project this time around, which is a change for me. I generally do novels but I wanted to get these two possible submissions for anthology tales done so I could leap into another book in December. To that end, I have worked like a devil . . . No, wait, not a devil. I`m a Rangers fan, I can`t be related in any way to the Devils. To that end, I have worked like a lunatic to get everything ready for my blog. Phew. That was a close one.

All the Tuesday Tales posts as well as the Throwback Thursday Tune posts are scheduled. Aside from any guest spots, there will be no personal blogging during November except for promo for Tumble Dry, which releases 11/29.

As I mentioned in my The Twisted Sister Query post a bit ago, when my novels/novellas need to be written I skip doing blog posts. November is going to be my time to get the last two items on my 2014 writing To-Do list completed. Therefore, until I complete my two novellas this will be the last time we chat on Sunday for a few weeks.

If you're a fellow author taking the NaNo plunge, best of luck with your project. If you`re a reader who is just stopping in, thank you for the visit and do come back for the regular weekly goodies! You'll find more from Jonah and Dana as their multicultural romance continues on Tuesday Tales, and who doesn't love an old tune every Thursday?

Talk to you when the literary dust has settled, my friends.





Thursday, October 23, 2014

Throwback Thursday Tune

How about some Southern rock? And how about the greatest Southern rock band in all the land? I was lucky enough to catch them two years ago live. It was one of the best shows I've ever seen.



Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Two Guys 3 Sneak Peek!

I bet you all have just been gnawing on your knuckles in anticipation of this moment. Well, gnaw no longer my M/M zom-rom-com loving friends! Have a sit down and enjoy this excerpt from Two Guys Walk Into an Apocalypse 3: He's a Lumberjack and He's Undead which releases next Wednesday.

Just as an extra warning, there is rough language in this excerpt. If you're offended by such things now is the time to skip off. I will not be offended at all, trust me.








The following day we were standing alongside Route 10. It had been agreed upon that we should keep a nice wide berth from Winnipeg, just in case the city had been overrun. Our intrepid band was staring across a huge area of what had been manicured yard that led up to a few acres of chain-link fence topped with circlets of barbed wire.

"I don't know," I said, chewing on a rather crisp apple we had borrowed from a tiny deserted Mom & Pop store about fifty miles back, "I'm just not sure how intelligent it would be to try to survive a zombie apocalypse inside a prison."

Rodney, of course, had a different take on the situation than I did. Shocking, I know.

"I think once we got it cleared out we'd be set," he said, gazing around my mother and Tink to locate me. All our asses were against the side of his Escalade. The wind was making a lovely whistling sound as it blew through the barbed wire. "They've got tons of food, weapons, medical supplies. Hell, we could hunker down in there and not come out for years."

"We could also run into a thousand inmates," Gordon interjected, his brown eyes roaming over the seemingly innocuous minimum-security prison. "Either way, infected or no, that is not a situation I'm comfortable putting ourselves into."

"I'm with Gordon," I seconded. "I say we move on, further north to the Territories, as we all agreed. The further we get from the border the fewer infected we should encounter."

"We'll also have shorter summers and worse winters," Rider said. I appreciated his reminder but I was backing Gordon on this one. "I'm not saying I'm not willing to go, I'm just wanting y'all to bear in mind the further north we go the harder survival is going to be. We got a shit load of stuff to do and learn before snow flies."

"Yeah, we got that down pat, Rodney," Justine said, reaching up to swat a persistent fly from her face. "I say we move north. I'm filling up on med supplies every stop we make and that place . . ." she flicked the prison a distrustful dark glance. "I'm not taking Eden into a prison."

I stepped from the Escalade and pushed my sticky fingers through my lanky blond hair. What I wouldn't give for a proper shower. I hadn't had a hot bath since that rest stop Gordon and I pulled into back in -- Ohio was it? Pennsylvania? Things get blurry when you're running for your life.

"Show of hands," I said, rolling the half-eaten Gala between my palms. "Those who want to move on, raise your hands." I crammed the apple in my mouth and looked down the line. A tweak of a smile tugged at my mouth when I found the Colonel at attention with his flattened age-spotted hand resting on his bushy silver eyebrows. It seemed we were unanimous after Rider grudgingly shoved his mitt into the air.

Monotony is nearly as deadly as infected zombies. Driving for hour after hour was enough to make even those with the patience of Job cranky. So when any sort of new distraction appears, those who are bored out of their minds leap on it. Our newest distraction came when we were about seven hours north of the prison. It was The Colonel, believe it or not, who spied the man walking down the middle of the road. I was driving the Escalade, chewing on some peanut butter bread, when our elderly neighbor leaned forward in the passenger seat, squinting so hard his bushy silver eyebrows were nearly lying on his bottom eyelid.

"Half a league, half a league, half a league onward," he said, pointing a crooked finger at a lone figure following the yellow line. I slowed the Caddy down. Gordon came up from the rear, his dark head sliding between the seats while he gripped the headrests.

"Is it a phobie?" he asked. Tink appeared, sticking her little brown and pink head over Gordon's shoulder.

"He's not walking like a phobie," she commented, lifting her thumbnail to her teeth. She had a point. The man was strutting down the middle of the road with a lively gait, his arms swinging to and fro as if he were taking a happy summer stroll. I crept forward, nudging a Suburban with a bloody back window out of the way. I glanced into the rearview. Mom was behind the wheel of the S-10, giving Justine a driving break. My sight returned to Mister Spring Stroller. He was an older man, with black and silver hair pulled into a ponytail the dangled down his back. Not a thin man by any means either. He wore black pants, a black vest over a tie-dyed tee, and a black top hat with a menagerie of different feathers arranged artfully in the band.

"What the fuck does he think he's doing?" Rodney asked, his voice muddy with sleep. I looked back to see the man leaning around Tink, his hand resting casually on her left shoulder. We slowed to a stop. The man stopped beside a car that was obviously holding a phobie. The windows were so smeared with blood and bile you couldn't make out what was inside, but the constant shaking of the old Sprint should have warned the fidiot not to tug the handle up. I tossed open the driver's side door and hit the ground running, my handgun up and aimed at the blue Sprint.

"Don't open that door!" I yelled. The Sunday Stroller turned at the shout. He was wearing round orange sunglasses. It was like looking at Jerry Garcia's twin, I shit you not.

"Have no fear, my brother," he said with a smile of utter assurance, "The Mighty Almighty One will protect me."

I couldn't get to him fast enough. I heard Tink, Gordon, Rodney, and even the Colonel shouting at him.



"Plunged into the battery smoke!" the dear old gent in the oversized cap and Gordon's jacket warned. The ass-crack yanked the door open.