Thursday, April 24, 2014

Please Welcome Elise Hepner

You all know me. Someone mentions 'Greek Pantheon' and my ears perk right up! I`m tickled to have Elise Hepner here today to share some info, and a great little character interview, about her new release, Furious Temptation.


Character Interview: Omen from Furious Temptation

1)      What’s your favorite color?
Green. Don’t ask me why, I hate that question.

2)      What’s the perfect way to let off steam?
Uh, I don’t think I can say, at least not without getting in trouble

3)      When you’re not working, what do you do?
I’m a big reader, I’m halfway  through Les Mis right now.

4)      What was your most embarrassing moment?
Probably being commissioned to make a set of rose gold shackles for Hades for his bride on their anniversary with a matching collar. Yeah, I didn’t need to know those things and now I can’t get them out of my head.

5)      If you could do anything, what would you do?
I can’t. Next question.

6)      If you could go anywhere, where would it be?
My human home. Is that too sappy?

7)      Socks or slippers?
Socks, house slippers sucked in my time.

8)      Boxers or Briefs?
A man doesn’t give away all his secrets, though if you ask me in person I might give you a sneak peak.

9)      Hera, Alecto, and Persephone…Kiss, Marry, Kill?
Oh, you had to break that out, didn’t you? Persephone, kiss…if I married her Hades would kill me and same if I killed her too. Alecto, marry, we could probably work well together. Hera, kill…because, well, it’s self-explanatory right? That doesn’t break the treaty with Mount Olympus does it? Hope she doesn’t read this interview.

Genre: Paranormal Erotic Romance


For millennia Megaera, a Fury, has functioned as Hades right hand by passing judgment on demons who break the sacred laws. Stalwart in her  moral compass, but harboring a curse triggered by rage, she walks a thin line between perfection and destruction. But when she digs into a case  uncovering a string of demon rapes, she incites a war with Mount Olympus that could ripple chaos throughout the ages.

     Omen Cole was demon made during the Civil War after repeated torture at the hands of his enemies.  Sentenced to an eternity as watchdog over  his emotionally frail, once human ex-wife, he’s haunted that he couldn’t save her from a brutal assault.

    Now it’s happened again. And Megaera needs his testimony. Omen will sell his body—and anything else—to avenge his fragile ex-wife. If that means  an alliance with Megaera, he’ll make it the most memorable of their eternity.

Excerpt 1: “Give me a chance, you won’t regret it. You want out of this situation as much as we do. It would be more than worth your trouble, I would guarantee that for you.” His fingers skipped across my collarbone until my fingers shook at my sides and I shoved them onto the edge of the bookcase behind me. I held onto the antique wood and pain twisted up my wrists. But he didn’t move back. His lips remained poised against my ear, our hair mingled, and his fingers danced on the only expanse of naked flesh on my body.
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t you know by now?”
I couldn’t see his eyes, but judging from his tone they were twinkling and bright with mischief. All the anger he’d been carrying, every stubborn action had been wiped away and replaced with misleading flirtation. And as much as I wanted to doubt him—he was good. Embarrassingly so. Omen’s every attention spanned into a gapping chasm of sex I’d all but put under lock and key. And then I swallowed that key. Yet his teasing voice, small bursts of air from his conversation, still licked across my skin in invisible caresses down my neck.
“Why don’t you tell me.”
If he was truly insinuating what I thought he was whispering in my ear under lock and key as my prisoner I wanted him to say the words. Because I couldn’t imagine he was desperate enough to make the proposition outright. While my fingers scrambled, I navigated the murkiness of my thoughts. If only he’d draw away. As if he meant to break me down bodily before making me take leave of my senses. With the knowledge of his manipulation came the tendrils of my anger that I’d been tamping down all day, trying to bank the embers. Suppression was a nasty business.
As sexy as he wanted this little meeting to be, I had a lovely secret weapon tucked in my pocketless skirt suit. My rage had never been my friend before, but if she would keep me from making a reckless mistake, right this second she was my BFF. Omen shifted as if he knew something between us had changed. Surely the atmosphere between us crackled with a different energy, one far more deadly than the reason I had wanted my hands wound around his neck.
“I’ll do anything you want, be anyone you want, if you give me this chance. Taking you into my bed would be far from a hardship. In fact, I’ll go farther. I can’t stop thinking about you beneath me. How well I’d love to treat your repressed little body so that my name echoes in your mind because you’ve been crying it out for so many hours. I’ll make this risk in the investigation merely a bump to get my attention, for as long as you’ll have me. And for both our sakes, I hope you keep me for a while. I don’t get bored easily.”
As his lies slid across my neck I did the first thing that came to mind. While he was lost in his seductive ploy, I lunged, wrapped my hand around his throat, and threw us both back onto the bed so I was straddling him, pinning both his hands above his head. For a beat I couldn’t recall whether or not my move was intentionally sexual or not—but here we were—and judging by his obnoxious smirk he had a fine idea.
But I only needed one hand to pin down his wrists, so I shifted in a blink and clasped my other hand around his throat, erasing his cocky expression, as if I’d drained the light from the room. His neutral expression held all the calculation of someone very, very careful. And though I’m sure he wished to, he didn’t move a muscle beneath me. Well, expect for the betrayal of his cock, which hardened between my thighs as my skirt rode up higher on my outer thighs and I tried my best to act as if I wasn’t enjoying our little moment together. I’d lose my high ground if I let the smallest moan slip. No matter how hard it was to ignore his pleasant pressure between my legs as his hard cock rubbed against my pussy.
I tried to remind myself I held all the cards when his gaze locked with mine. Neither of us spoke a word, waiting for my answer to his ludicrous proposition. He couldn’t be serious. Not when his charm and good looks got him in with my secretary as much as any other woman he’d seduced in his lifetime. I was one of many, of that I was certain. Even if he did look at me as if I was something special. And I’m sure he would have fought my silent accusations—if I’d given him room to speak.
“Even if for a second I didn’t see past your charade, Omen, I wouldn’t entertain the thought because it very clearly breaks several codes of ethics. But thanks, for the offer. I really, really appreciate it.”
With a look of smug wickedness I put emphasis into my words with every slow tilt of my hips against him as I held him immobile against his bed. His eyes flashed. Whether with anger or arousal I couldn’t care. Instead I slowly untangled us, tugged my skirt, and smoothed it with my hands. Omen lay on the bed as if I hadn’t gotten off of him. When he rubbed his neck with a few low noises in the back of his throat, I didn’t hold an ounce of guilt for my actions. Even if I still sensed him flush against my pussy.
“You still haven’t rejected my prior offer. Does that mean it’s off the table even without the incentive?”
“No. If it means making my job any easier I’ll allow you to see Claudette and follow your plan, but if it doesn’t work expect me to be beyond displeased. And you won’t enjoy me when I’m angry.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I think I can find many different ways to enjoy you.”
He half sat, leaning on his hands on the bed so I got a peek at his bare chest through the straining buttons of his button down which was rolled up at the sleeves. I crossed my arms and raised my eyebrows. I wasn’t so gullible to fall for his act. No man had wooed me before now and none would unless a group orgy was involved. Granted, what Omen was offering was very one on one—but he only offered his body as a substitute for manipulation. By taking him to my bed I’d be belaying a weakness in my character.
And I had many flaws, but weakness wasn’t one of them.
I silently reminded myself of that as Omen straightened up entirely before wincing at the tent of his pants. I wish I could have felt sorry for him, but my mind was otherwise occupied with our more pressing problem. His erection would go away eventually and I would continue dodging his roguish comments so long as the investigation lasted. If he didn’t get sentenced for Claudette’s crime then the possibility of entertaining him in a less formal capacity in my bedroom slunk around in the back of my mind—but the likelihood of that was slim.
As if Omen read my mind he smiled but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“How do we proceed?”

Excerpt 2:  Omen Cole would get nothing from me. Not when we’d be working together for Goddess knows how long. His grip on my bicep tightened imperceptibly, as if he wasn’t aware of his strength. Heat washed up my arm, as bitingly painful as any burn. But I didn’t flinch, tense, or move a muscle. Let him unleash his rage on me, at least then we’d be working with a clear-headed demon instead of one clouded by unbelievable rage.
“What do you want?” I narrowed my gaze, tongue easing across my bottom lip.
It wasn’t really a question, not as he backed me against the hard press of marble. Nowhere to go and no one to see us. Adrenaline pounded at my temples as his other hand took a hold of my other arm. I was as good as pinned by his body and his stare. I cocked my head, a subtle dare. The lift of my lips, only at one corner—come and get me.
“A distraction.”
Before I could make another comment, the small inch of space separating our bodies dwindled to nothing as he shoved himself on me, his lips bruising against mine as my whole body went limp with acceptance. Take, take from me for the good of our cause—a cause that suddenly outweighed all of my common sense once I’d convinced myself on the walk to the elevator that this form of distraction was exactly what he needed to keep himself on track. Not as though our plan benefited me in any way at all. Gave me an excuse. The excuse.
His tongue pushed against my mouth without invitation and I opened for his perusal knowing that, as his fingers tightened around me and pain spiked up to my shoulders, he wouldn’t give me a choice. Part of me—the beast, the anger—coiled inside me. An innate reaction to a predator as my hands slid up through his button down to have skin on skin. His first few buttons burst because I couldn’t get to him quick enough. I let myself dabble in the freedom of touch. In the longing for unshackled emotion of any kind—and my beast was sated, even as I yearned for more of him.
Our bodies molded together and he groaned in my mouth, easing his other hand to my left breast before he cupped me. His possessive touch was an electric shock to my system and I jerked against him. His laughter as he tugged my lower lip between his teeth and brought my nipple hard against his palm. A yearning unlike anything I’d ever acknowledged, nothing and everything shifted for me all at once as if a part of myself was merely waiting, dormant for the pleasure that would calm me and piece together my tormented puzzle.
When my fingers skimmed the line of his pants, he let out a satisfying hiss that made my panties damp as my stomach plummeted to my sensible heels. In kind, Omen brushed his thumb across my nipple, earning my small shift as if to get away from the torment despite the wall at my back. On the second pass, I did the next best thing. I left the teasing to amateurs. My hand slid past his pants and found his hard, long length hot against my palm. I squeezed him, unable to suppress a noise in the back of my throat that ricocheted inside my bones.
Omen moaned and mumbled something I couldn’t make out with the sound of my need pounding against my temples. As his hand moved from my bicep I tried to pinpoint his next move. Oh, so wrong. His nimble fingers tipped my head back with his tight grip in my hair so it stung enough to get my attention. He underestimated me. I wasn’t losing this battle.
Despite my small groan, lips partway open, eyes slit while I watched his expression flit from one emotion to the next. Nothing stopped my progress when my palm slid from the base of him to the tip, one hard, long slide that made him quake against me. He yanked my head back even further. His grip on my breast was relentlessly hard and he bared his teeth in a smile that rocked me to my core.
“You haven’t gone for the obvious point yet.” I struggled to exhale, every bit of me trembled, and my voice was gravely with lust.
“Unlike you, I don’t need to cheat.” He drew close to my cocked back head as our lips almost pressed together, our body heat mingling as he ground himself against my palm. “For another time.”
His light kiss caught me by surprise—but the swiftness with which he entangled from me must have hurt, as I was still very much attached to him. Even from practically across the room he showed no pain. Though his pants were a bit constricted at the fly and that bit of discomfort was enough of a hit for me that I was satisfied.
“I wasn’t distraction enough for you?”
“No, you were perfect. I simply can’t stand the idea of using you up so quickly. Even if I do want to fuck you into the wall behind your back until you can’t walk straight for a week. But a gentleman doesn’t tell his superior that, especially when she’s a lady of good breeding. So you think on that, and I’ll pretend I didn’t say it out loud. Wouldn’t want to give you any ideas you couldn’t handle.”
“I can handle far more than you know, little boy.”
“Oh, now, come on.” He gave me an incredulous, cocky look. “We both know I’m not little. The warmth tingling on your palm speaks for itself.”
Thankfully before I had the chance to lick my lips and tip my hand, the elevator’s telltale wind pushed us both a bit to the side. The car came to a standstill with barely a screech of effort and the golden, shimmering doors pulled back as I fought to regain some kind of composure. I was buzzed from the tips of my toes to the top of my scalp. It took everything in me to wipe the dopey grin off my face that would have proved it as I moved into the elevator car without another glance or word to Omen. I only knew he followed me because he greeted Hermes and told him to take us to the archival room.
Point. Set. Match.
And there would be no rematch.

Bio: Elise Hepner lives with her husband and two eccentric cats in Maryland. She spends the majority of her free time in her basement office concocting smutty characters and sinful situations that leaves readers satisfied. When not writing, she researches everything from automatons in the 18th century to gladiatorial rules in Ancient Rome. She prides herself on being an avid information hound as well as a blog reading addict--which is her favorite way to procrastinate. Her previous publications include books and stories with Entangled, Excessica, Xcite, Ellora's Cave, Secret Cravings Publishing and Cleis Press.

Author Links:


Wednesday, April 23, 2014

QTA Blog Hop and Giveaway!

Hello, and welcome to my little corner of the interweb! My name is V.L. Locey and I`m a multigenre erotic romance author. I love being able to jump from M/M to M/F as my Muse dictates, then leaping from a saucy ice hockey tale into a zombie apocalypse!

I was thrilled to get the invitation to participate another Queer Town Abbey Blog Hop. And the theme was a straight up winner! Favorite summer memory. There are so many to choose from, but the one that leaped out is one from the summer after I graduated high school. A couple friends and I decided to hit the Jersey Shore as a sort of last hurrah. 

I won`t mention names, but we`ll just say that Madame J and I were thick as thieves back then. Still are. I might have had a crush on Master J, the young man with the golden locks, killer smile, and cherry red Chevy Chevelle SS that looked something like this:

 Uh-huh. Yeah. The stuff of dreams right there, gals and guys.

Of course, being kids right out of high school, we never imagined that we might have any trouble. We were bullet proof. Isn`t that what every eighteen year old thinks of themselves?

Well, things were fine until that hot red muscle car needed gas. I`ll date myself badly here but getting gas in June of 1979 wasn`t always easy. Those along the East Coast were caught in the second oil crisis to hit the US in that decade. If you`re unfamiliar with this event, Wikipedia has a rather nice account of it. Many gas stations looked like this:

And if you happened to find one that did have gas, the lines were like this:

Needless to say, it was quite a hairy experience. We did manage to get enough gas to get us back home, but had to sleep on the beach for a couple of nights until the nearest gas station got a delivery. Good times. Good times.

Do you have any summer memories from those wild teen years? If so, and you`re not too embarrassed, share them down in the comments thread. Those who do leave a comment will be entered to win their choice of one of my M/M backlist Torquere Press books. Check them out here:

You must leave your summer memory as well as your email address. If you do not leave your contact information, I can`t contact you. I`ll be forced to skip over any comment without an email address as I simply do not have time to search for the commenter. So please, leave that email address when you comment! I hate having to omit folks.

Thanks for stopping by and make sure to visit all the other participating authors!

Have a swinging summer!

V.L. Locey

Monday, April 21, 2014

Tuesday Tales - Picture Prompt

Hello! It`s time for Tuesday Tales again. This week I`ll be sharing excerpts from my 2013 NaNoWriMo novel, Laco Law – The Gnarled Oak. Laco Law is an M/M historical western romance, set in the fictional county of Laco, Texas in 1867.

We have a picture prompt this week so the excerpt is written to reflect the image and must be three hundred words or under.  

A note for my readers:  This is a gay romance novel, and so the romance that occurs is man on man. If this is not your cup of tea, no one will think less of you if you read no further.

 As this is my NaNo work, it is quite rough. I do ask that you overlook any glaring mistakes you may find. 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!

They were the most gloriously stupid men I had ever met. Drunk as hogs they fired at us sloppily. I called to the four drunkards again. They kindly refused to lay down their weapons. Bringing them in dead sounded better to me. So we proceeded to pick them off one by one. It was akin to shooting at chickens in a pen. 

When one head would pop up in the window, the Henry balanced on my knee would eradicate the outlaw. I had plucked three inebriated fools when Zeke entered the dusty Express station. I stood up, cradled my Henry, and waited. He emerged a few moments later, his hands covered with blood.

“You shall need to stop doing that when you are wearing the badge,” I informed him as we went about gathering the bodies for transport back to Galveston. Hopefully they carried bounties for we were sorely lacking in funds. His eyebrow quirked upward in response. “It upsets the civilians,” I added. He stooped down to rub dirt over the tacky red liquid coating his fingers, his motions cool as a breeze over a snow-capped mountain.

“Maybe the civilians should be worried about upsetting me,” he commented as he worked the dust into the blood.

“Maybe, but since they outnumber you by a few thousand, you may wish to reconsider your defiant disposition. Scalping is not accepted among the . . .”

“Who said I scalped him? Quick to jump to conclusions, aren`t you, Pan?”

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 authors of Tuesday Tales.

See you next week with more from the old West!

Sunday, April 20, 2014

Monday, April 14, 2014

Tuesday Tales - Savage

Welcome to Tuesday Tales! This week I`ll be sharing excerpts from my 2013 NaNoWriMo novel, Laco Law – The Gnarled Oak. Laco Law is an M/M historical western romance, set in the fictional county of Laco, Texas in 1867.

This week our word prompt 'Savage’. In this excerpt Clayton and Zeke run into a most colorful character.

A note for my readers:  This is a gay romance novel, and so the romance that occurs is man on man. If this is not your cup of tea, no one will think less of you if you read no further.

 As this is my NaNo work, it is quite rough. I do ask that you overlook any glaring mistakes you may find. 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!

            “I would ask you to lower your weapon, Sir, as we are lawmen as you can see.” I leaned back in my saddle so that the sun would shine over the brim of my hat. The star on my chest gleamed. Dr. Dante`s rifle drifted downward much to my relief. The man was quite old and paunchy. His suit had at one time been fashionable. Now it was dirty, torn, and stained with greasy spots.

            “Thank the most heavenly host!” Dr. Dante exclaimed, his hand rising into the sky most dramatically. “They emptied me out! Stole all my coin! Then the reprobates busted all but four bottles of my Dryworm Distilled Dislixior!” the chubby man said. His silver hair was sticking out in odd ways from his head. He rushed over to us, four brown bottles rattling in the deep pockets of his blue overcoat. His gait was peculiar, as if he had a thickness of his thighs that impeded his running. He was nearly up to Zeke when he got a good look at the imposing man studying him intently. He tripped in his haste to stop and bounced off the front shoulder of Storm. The horse threw its head. The snake oil salesman went to his ass with a jangle of glass bottles. “That man is a savage!” he coughed and pointed.

            “He is?” I asked for that seemed to amuse Zeke while befuddling others. The man on the ground grew mysteriously quiet. “Tell me what your name is and what manner of trouble has beset you.”

            “My name is Dr. Albacore Dante, scientist and originator of Dr. Dante`s Dryworm Distilled Dislixior,” he said after gaining his feet. Zeke said nothing as the man bowed theatrically. I regarded the travelling salesman with mild rancor. Paw-Paw never did have one good thing to say about snake oil salesmen, but he had many a bad thing to say about them. “I have been crossing the great state of Texas while spreading the joy of renewed vigor and manly performance. Tell me, do either of you have bouts of flatulence, dyspepsia, gangrenous vapors, melancholy, or lack of manly firmness situated in the groin region?”

            Zeke was halfway out of his saddle, his hand pawing for the knife he hid in his boot. I reached over to jerk him back to his seat atop his gelding. Dr. Dante seemed oblivious to how close he had come to meeting the heavenly ones. Apparently Ezekiel Fire Sky took offense to anyone questioning the firmness of his groin region. I could attest to the man`s potency but chose not to at the time.

            “Dr. Dante,” I interrupted, “If you could get to the part where the crime occurred?”

            “Oh yes! Of course! Well, they robbed me of all my cash, which was going to be donated to further the study of manly infirmities of the genital region. Then they stole my horse and rode off to the west!”

            I looked over at Zeke. He rolled his eyes.

            “I suggest you wait here, Dr. Dante. My deputy and I will see if we can locate the men that robbed you. Can you give us a description of the outlaws?”

            Hessie pawed at the ground. A crow flew over cawing to the humans standing under the hot sun.

            “Yes I can! There were four of them. They wore clothing and rode horses!”

            I stared at the man hard. I wondered if he dosed himself with his own concoction. “Can you think of anything more distinct perhaps?”

            “Well,” he said as he strode back and forth stroking the silver whiskers hugging his chin, “One had a rather large head. Oh!” he shouted loud enough to make Storm flinch, “One was black as the night with a large gold ring in his nose!”

            “That should suffice. Find somewhere in the shade of your wagon to rest.” I smiled, tapped my hat then put my heels into Hessie`s ribs. We rode hard in a westerly direction, Zeke mumbling to himself the entire way. I grew steadily more agitated with each delay in pursuit. A small part of me knew that Zeke had to dismount, work the land for signs of horses as he scoured each minute trace of rearranged dirt. The larger angry part did not care. That dark festering thing inside me wanted nothing more than to find these outlaws so that justice would be served.

             Zeke moved with measured steps. He was naught but a solid bruise yet. Even my wounds pulled internally from time to time. I snapped when the Tonkawa was slow to rise from a crouch. The look he leveled upon me was fierce. I rode around him when we picked up the trail. It took perhaps another hour to locate the route to the outlaws. They had overtaken an abandoned way station for the Pony Express.

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 authors of Tuesday Tales.

See you next week with more from the old West!

Sunday, April 13, 2014

Sunday Sneak Peek

Here`s a fun way to discover possible new reads. Just hop from one blog to the next for six paragraphs from that author`s current WIP or published work! This week I`ll be sharing something from my newest release, A Most Unlikely Countess, which is book 2 of the To Love a Wildcat hockey romance series. 

In this sneak peek, Liz is in the Wildcats` locker room. 

“…when he first came over from Finland. Hell, that must have been six years ago now. Ouch! Christ, Clarkie, don`t rub so hard! They`re calves, not sides of beef,” the captain of the Wildcats snarled at the trainer kneeling in front of him. “As soon as he arrived, I knew he would fit in and be one of the boyce.” I had to assume ‘boyce’ was Minnesota speak for ‘boys’. “Any man that retaliates for the itching powder in his cup by sprinkling sneezing powder into your helmet is a contender for my friend—shit!” the man hissed as the old, bald man worked on Derrick Andersson`s knotted calf muscles. “Are you going to write any of this down?” Derrick asked when he noticed the silence coming from Veikko Aho`s dressing cubicle.

I couldn`t speak to reply, so I just continued to stare at the trainer trying to massage years of abuse from Andersson`s legs. Clarkie, the trainer, was the only thing I could look at in the Wildcats` locker room that didn`t make my face flame. As it was, I was crammed into Veikko`s cubicle, my knees to my chest, my sight locked on Clarkie the calf masseuse.

Men walked past in various stages of undress. Derrick was in nothing but a towel, his beard and hair wet from his shower when he had spied me then limped over. Veikko had not only gotten me a free pass to wherever I needed to be in the Houseman Center, he had apparently told everyone on the team to come talk to me. I wished he had told them to wear pants for the interview. Pads and coats and rolls of tape tumbled down on me as I wriggled back further to avoid the massive redheaded center, Bobby Fovea, when he ran past with his dick swinging in the breeze. This was so never happening again I vowed, going wide-eyed when Viviana`s lover trotted out of the showers in his birthday suit. No wonder she was so pleasant all the time now. That man was packing some serious meat.

“Oh God,” I muttered, then tore my gaze from Alain Lessard`s package. Derrick began chuckling despite the pain of his legs.

“Too much beefcake, eh?” the forty-year-old captain asked. I nodded then turned a deeper crimson color.

“Ah, there is Liz!” the defenseman from Quebec shouted as he reached into Veikko`s cubicle to remove my hands from my face. “You are so shy,” he teased, patting my head before he showed me his bare back. “If Viviana were in here, she would be placing rating stickers on every penis she saw. Mine would be a ten of course, but Andersson`s? A mere one.”


You can find Liz and Veikko`s book, A Most Unlikely Countess, here: (It is recommended that you read the series in order)

You can find Pink Pucks & Power Plays, the first book of the To Love a Wildcat series, here:


Don`t forget to check out all the other great Sneak Peeks!

Thursday, April 10, 2014

Seduced by the Game - A Personal Back Story

Every book, every novella, every short story or poem is special. We authors pour our hearts and souls into our works. We weep and cheer with our characters. Sometimes, though, a book comes along that is even more special simply due to the reason it exists. That is how I feel about Seduced by the Game. Every author involved is a proud supporter of Hockey Fights Cancer. 100% of all royalties are being donated to the cause. 

For me, when I saw the call for submissions for this anthology I knew I had to submit. I had to try to get involved. Even if I had not been fortunate enough to have had Heir Apparent chosen for inclusion, I would have found a way to help. Cancer has touched my life, as I know it has touched many of you out there reading.

My Pop is now battling for the third time against this terrible disease.

He has fought against prostate and colorectal cancer. Those he beat, but had to have a colostomy to win the second war. Now he has spots on his liver that have him, us, and his oncologists quite worried. Treatment options are being discussed, and let me tell you, none of them are appealing. I have seen firsthand how cancer whittles down a robust man to a thin, weak shell of his former self. Yet, he has not given up nor have we. I hope through the sales of this anthology that we will get one step closer to finding a cure for cancer. Every penny helps.

You can get your copy of Seduced by the Game for your eReader here:

You can also visit the Seduced by the Game website to find print copies of the anthology, as well as t-shirts, mugs, pins, and other great ways to help win the fight against cancer! There`s also a HUGE giveaway going on at the website. You`ll want to check it out and enter for you chance to win some great prizes!

Seduced by the Game Website