Monday, January 16, 2017

Tuesday Tales - Train




It`s time for Tuesday Tales.



 Welcome back! This week we have another snippet from my M/M hockey tale called Rookie Moves. This novella will continue the romance of Riley Zeally and Keiffer “Rocket” Holden, the stars of On Broadway, which was part of the 2016-2017 Changing on the Fly charity anthology. This novella will be part of the 2017-2018 COTF collection and I’m just thrilled to be able to be part of this amazing project to benefit a charity that promotes inclusivity in sports once again.

 Our word this week is “Train”. In this snippet, we get to see Keiffer return to his old neighborhood and meet up with one of his oldest friends. 

This story will have same sex moments, strong social issues addressed and crude language, these are hockey players after all. If those things offend now is the time to move onto another Tuesday Tales blog. Thanks for stopping by!



The busy streets were familiar. People didn’t look down their noses at me as I pushed off the wall and headed toward the Curio. I’d gone about half a block when I heard Tommy’s distinctive raspy voice calling people over to play three card monte. I wiggled through the crowds of tourists who had wandered from Central Park. Tommy was dressed in jeans and a tank top, his smile bright, his brown eyes sparkling, and his hustle strong. The man was rangy and lean, sexy in a rough street way, and slick as a ferret. Also, he was loyal as hell and one of my dearest friends.

            “Watch it, watch it! Red, black, black.” Tommy’s hands were lightning fast. That had been his biggest draw when he was hustling dick back in the day. Mine had been my face. Tommy worked on a small table that could be picked up and tucked under his arm if the cops showed up. The NYPD frowned on hustling cards or ass. I tossed a ten on his table. His gaze flew from the three cards to me. “Watch, watch. Quick money. Hey, Eye Candy.”

            Everyone standing around that flimsy table lost. Tommy gathered up the cash and pocketed it.

            “Move on. Games closed,” he told the ten or so men milling around his table. “I got royalty come to visit me.”

            I threw my arms around the man. He smelled like cigarettes and cheap cologne just as I remembered. Tommy kissed me hard on the lips then ran his hands over my funky haircut.

            “No shit, Rocket, you get hotter every time I see you.”

            “And you get faster hands. You got time for some lunch?”

            “You buying?” he asked, folding up his table with practiced ease.  I nodded. “Then hell yes let’s do lunch. Eddie’s?”

            “Sounds good.” We headed back the way I had come. Tommy chatted away about how he felt he should be sweeping the sidewalk in front of me now that I was rich and famous.

            “Riley’s rich and famous, not me,” I reminded him as we walked into Eddie’s through the open front door. The zesty smell of pizza sauce and old smoke grabbed hold of me and transported me back in time. “Fuck this place never changes,” I said and ran a hand over the back of an old wooden chair. Six tables sat empty and waiting for the lunch rush.

            “You look like you seen a ghost,” Tommy said then sat down at the table I had stalled beside. “Sit down Rocket. I need to hear all about your rise to the top. I always told you that face of yours would get you places but Riley fucking Zeally? Fuck you and that tight little ass of yours!”

            “He does,” I mumbled which made Tommy howl. Man, it was nice to be back where I could be me. A skinny girl with multiple piercings shuffled over. She looked strung out. Her eyes were dead and her skin mottled. I ordered a large pizza and a pitcher of Miller beer. “Shit, she looks like Angel Mack used to. You ever hear from him?”

            “He died last month. Arms all tracked up and mouth filled with stupid. I always told you kids not to get into that fucking horse or hustle in train stations.” Tommy sat back and regarded me openly as I processed the news about Angel Mack. 

              Angel had slept next to me in the back room of the Curio. A ghostly pale kid with white-blond hair who’d wanted to be a musician and had written some of the most haunting lyrics I’d ever read. Angel had been thrown out of his house at twelve when he started to say he wanted be a girl. And now he was dead. What a fucking waste. And all because he didn’t feel right in his body and said so. Trans kids are like at the tip-top of the homeless LGTBQ+ pyramid I bet. What is wrong with people? Why do they hate so damn much?



Copyright 2017 ©by V.L. Locey

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





Author/Book Spotlight - Lily Harlem's Hot Ice




HOT ICE
By Lily Harlem




Lily Harlem’s sexy Vipers have been re-released and are available on Kindle Unlimited for the first time.

HOT ICE is a series of hockey-themed 7 novels, the first HIRED is only 99c/99p, and the 7th, RUSSIAN HEAT, comes with a FREE bonus short story ROOKIE RULES. They are predominantly M/F erotic romances with the exception of HIGH-STICKED which is M/M and TEAMWORK which is menage a trois. Go on…get lost in Lily’s bad boys of the ice and the women who tame them.


Excerpt from HIRED

“You grab the cushions,” Logan called over the noise of the flapping shrubbery. “I’ll anchor down the parasol.”
Unlocking the door to the living area, I grabbed three pillows and chucked them inside. I went back for the other three then tumbled in, half shutting the door behind myself. My hair was wild, my cheeks stung and my heart pounded as I caught my breath.
I watched Logan close the umbrella and secure the pole into place. He glanced around, shading his eyes with his hand, checking for anything else that might blow away, then headed my way with a train of dry, flat leaves skittering past his feet. I opened the door wide to let him through. He stepped in, still squinting against the dust, as I pushed the door shut with a loud click.
The world went silent. After the howling wind and the roaring sea, the quiet of the house was acute and heavy and fell around us like a dense cloak.
Leaning back against the door, I pulled in a deep breath. “Made it,” I gasped.
“Yeah,” he said, stepping up close—real close.
When I looked up, his cheeks were stained red, several grains of sand hung in his long lashes and his hair was tousled and dusted with gold. “Is that everything tied down?” I asked, trying to ignore my breasts heaving against my halter-top.
“Well, almost everything,” he said with a decidedly carnal grin.
I flattened my palms against the cool glass door behind me. “What else do you need to tie down?”
The right side of his mouth creased upward and he gave the tiniest of twitches with his eyebrows. “I’d like to tie you down,” he said, his gaze coming to rest on my mouth. “To the bed.”
My stomach knotted as excitement, anticipation and sin collided in a delicious tangle.
“But I guess that’s moving a bit fast,” he murmured, bending his head lower. “We only just met.”
“A bit fast for me,” I agreed, absorbing the burning heat from his body as it radiated toward mine.
“Brooke.” He raised one hand and rested it against the wooden doorframe by my left ear. He moved in closer still. The gorgeous spiced aftershave he wore invaded my nostrils and settled not just on my tongue but somewhere else deep inside me. “You remember when you walked out the water yesterday?” he asked in a low, rumbling voice.
“Yes.” How could I forget the toe-curling embarrassment? He’d stared silently as me as I’d ambled up the beach, trying desperately to look cool and unflustered. I felt my cheeks warming further at the memory as my stomach twisted.
“It was a million times better than any Bond movie.”
“It was?”
“Hell, yeah. If they had you as a Bond girl it would be my favorite film. Not just 007, but any film ever.” His mouth slid upward in a grin. “You just about blew my mind.”
“I did?” He’d liked what he’d seen, and I thought he’d been unimpressed with my curvy attributes.
“Oh, yeah, my mind and other parts of my anatomy.”
He ducked his head, his lips a whisper from mine. I could almost taste the salt on his mouth.
“Well, we wouldn’t want that would we, Logan?” I murmured.
“Wouldn’t we?” He raised his eyebrows.
“Sounds painful.” I swallowed, my throat tight.
“It’s already getting painful.” He shifted his weight to the other foot. We were so close now my breast brushed against his chest and my nipples, which had tightened to hard pinched peaks, scraped against him through my clothing.
I reached up to touch his jaw, his bristles catching on my fingertips. Our gazes connected and I rose onto the balls of my feet and pressed my mouth to his.
He opened up and took immediate control of the kiss. He tasted so good—man and ocean, wind and sun—he tasted of everything I was missing in my life and had been for so long. I moved my hands to his shoulders and squeezed hard muscles through his soft cotton shirt. My tongue searched for his and began to explore his mouth.
Logan groaned and let go of the doorframe, cradling the base of my skull in his palm and winding his other arm around my waist. He pulled me close and as the length of our bodies touched, right in the very center of my abdomen, he pressed his steely erection forward. He was right, he was painfully hard.
“Damn, you taste good,” he murmured, trailing a gentle kiss across my cheek.
I tipped my head back and let him explore the base of my ear, the angle of my jaw and the hollow of my throat. “I taste like salt,” I said.
“You taste of the beach and flowers and coconut,” he whispered between kisses. “Delicious.” He pulled back slightly, slipping his fingertips under the shoulders of my cardigan and easing it down my arms. It fell to the floor and he slid his palms back up over my elbows to the base of my neck.
Each tiny section of flesh he touched came alive with sensation and pricked with greedy little goose bumps searching out his caress. I found his mouth again and ran my fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. I pulled his head to mine harder. I wanted more. Much more.
He was busy, fiddling with the knot at the back of my halter-top. It was cleverly designed with a fitted bra, it had cost a fortune but was well worth it. I felt it slipping free and pulled back from the kiss, crossing my arm over my chest and gripping my opposite shoulder to hold it in place.
“What’s up?” Logan asked, his eyes heavy with desire and his voice thick with lust.
“I’m…I’m big,” I said in a rush then felt silly for saying something so insecure and obvious.
“Me too,” he said, a provocative grin playing on his mouth.



About Lily Harlem

Lily Harlem lives in the UK and is an award-winning author of erotic romance. She writes for publishers on both sides of the Atlantic including HarperCollins, Totally Bound, Pride, Evernight, All Romance eBooks, and Stormy Nights Publishing. Her work regularly receives high praise and industry nominations.
Before turning her hand to writing Lily Harlem worked as a trauma nurse and her latest HarperCollins release, Confessions of a Naughty Night Nurse draws on her many experiences while nursing in London. Lily also self-publishes and The Silk Tie, The Glass Knot Cold Nights, Hot Bodies Bite Mark and Shared have been blessed with many 5* reviews.
Lily writes MF, MM and ménage a trois, her books regularly hit the #1 spot on Amazon Bestseller lists and Breathe You In was named a USA Today Reviewer’s Recommended Read of 2014. Her latest MM novel is Dark Warrior and you can grab Part One of her series Caught on Camera  for FREE! Don’t miss HOT ICE a popular hockey series, again first book FREE!
Lily also co-authors with Natalie Dae and publishes under the name Harlem Dae - check out That Filthy Book which has been hailed as a novel 'every woman should read' and is available in book stores nationwide.
One thing you can be sure of, whatever book you pick up by Ms Harlem, is it will be wildly romantic and down-and-dirty sexy. Enjoy!
Check out Lily’s website for details of her other books and her Amazon Author Page. Subscribe to her newsletter to get a FREE ebook and be the first to hear of new releases and free reads, and if you enjoy Facebook, hop on over there and say hi!




Links



Sunday, January 15, 2017

Silent Sunday



*An Unhappy Lady*



Friday, January 13, 2017

Fandom Friday - Sexy Villains




This is the sexiest baddie I've seen in ages--







Gotcha! *giggles wickedly* Okay, I'll behave. In keeping with the Whovian frame of mind that I'm in here's one sexy bad guy, The Master, as played by John Simm.







If you have other sexy villains let me hear about it.


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If you're interested, here are the links to my fan fiction blog and AO3 page:


Monday, January 9, 2017

Tuesday Tales - Coffee



It`s time for Tuesday Tales.



 Welcome back! This week we have another snippet from my M/M hockey tale called Rookie Moves. This novella will continue the romance of Riley Zeally and Keiffer “Rocket” Holden, the stars of On Broadway, which was part of the 2016-2017 Changing on the Fly charity anthology. This novella will be part of the 2017-2018 COTF collection and I’m just thrilled to be able to be part of this amazing project to benefit a charity that promotes inclusivity in sports once again.

This week we get a peek at some after sex small talk between Riley and Keiffer. Our word this week is “Coffee”. This story will have same sex moments and crude language, these are hockey players after all. If those things offend now is the time to move onto another Tuesday Tales blog. Thanks for stopping by!



“You and me are like pretzels and peanut butter. Salty and sweet and fucking tasty as hell mixed together,” I told him after I licked my way from his flat stomach to his chin. His smile was rosy and warm. He pushed his hands into my hair then gently pulled my mouth to his, his tongue meeting and slipping over mine. We made out for a few minutes then I stretched out beside him. “Turn off the light.”

Riley reached for the bed stand. The room went dark. I sat up and looked out at the hundreds of thousands squares of lights in a hundred thousand windows. He lay beside me, drawing round circles on my back, his powerful legs crossed at the ankle. I turned on the stereo system with a click of the master remote. One of his playlists kicked in, tossing Jay Z’s “Empire State of Mind” out into the airwaves bouncing off our tacky skin. I chucked the remote back to the stand.

“You okay?” he asked as our breathing quieted.

“I’m just wondering what the kids are doing, you know?”

“The kids being your old friends?”

“Yeah.” Jay Z was waxing all sorts of rap poetry about how inspirational the Big Apple was. I stretched my legs out in front of me and ran my hands over my thighs. They were bigger now, loaded with muscle from working out with the trainer Riley had hired to whip me into playing shape. Amazing what groceries, good health, and proper exercise could do for a man’s body. I was brand new from my shaggy but stylish head to the Giuseppe Durberry sneakers purchased at the shoe salon at Bergdorf Goodman two weeks ago. “Did you know I used to get thrown out of Bergdorf's on a regular basis?”

“No, I didn’t know that.” His hand continued moving over my back, keeping me in touch with him and this place so far above where I had lived for seven years.

“Yeah, security said I looked disreputable so they’d chuck me out onto the sidewalk like an old, used coffee cup. Funny how I looked completely reputable when we went in there. From street rat to sultan just like Aladdin, only you’re my genie." Riley made a grunt of unease. “You know that no matter how you dress me up I’m still going to be that punk that sold his ass to the highest bidder right? That’s all people will see. Fuck.” I rubbed my hands over my face. A short bitter snort bubbled up out of me. “I’m not handling this well.”

“Are you breaking up with me?”

His question caught me totally off guard. I turned from the window and my pity party to stare at his shadowed face. His fingers rested on my lower back.  I wished I could see his eyes better but the early June moon was thin and hidden behind the exhaust cloud that hung low over the city on warm nights.

“Fuck no. Man, no way ever.” I laid down on my side next to him and reached out to cup his face. His jaw was covered with a thin playoff beard. Riley did lots of shit well but growing a beard wasn’t one of them. The patchy hair on his cheeks turned me right on so I lowered my face to his, rubbing all over him like a homeless kitten who’d just been picked up by a kind old lady.

“You’ve been so unhappy lately,” he mumbled, his hands roaming over me, pulling and pushing at me until I was flat on my back looking up at him as he rolled over me, pinning me to the bed. “Is it me? Am I making you unhappy?”

“Shit no, never. I’m making myself unhappy. I love you, Riley.”

“If there’s something that I need to do or buy just—”

I grabbed his face and tugged it down until his nose touched mine. “All I ever want from you is love, man. Just love me. Like right now, Riley. Love me and hold me.”

“I do love you, Keif,” he murmured before capturing my mouth. I rose off the bed to meet him, eager and super needy, pushing my chest into his. “I’ll love you forever,” he whispered between kisses that grew hotter and wetter.

I knew he would. Riley Zeally was that kind of man. I just wasn’t sure what kind of man Keiffer Holden was.






Copyright 2017 ©by V.L. Locey

*~*~*

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




Sunday, January 8, 2017

Silent Sunday




*Winter in the Mountains*





Friday, January 6, 2017

Fandom Friday Review - Arrow




Since this day is all about sharing the love of our fandoms, I thought that perhaps posting reviews of shows, movies, comics, books, or audio books every now and then might be cool. Maybe it will spur some discussion about the fandoms that we love or persuade someone to check out something new. I’d be more than willing to have guest reviewers on, so if you’d like to give it a shot just shout! And so, here’s my first every FFR for the television series Arrow.




I tried. Honestly, I did. 

Perhaps I’m just too much of a Marvel girl. Maybe I’m just too particular about the personality of my leading men or perhaps it’s just that this particular DC show and I weren’t meant to be, even though my beloved John Barrowman did grace it.

After seeing Suicide Squad the idea to give DC another shot had been rattling around inside my head. Ever since the days of being a moderator over on the old Marvel message boards I’d been a Marvel-only type of comic reader. But, Suicide Squad won me over. Something that no Batman or Superman movie had been able to do. When I discovered that Barrowman was on Arrow, that seemed like a sign and I dove into the show with glee.

It took me about ten episodes to realize that Oliver Queen and I were not going to mesh well, no matter how good the man looks. And that lack of bonding with the lead was what killed this show for me. Not the acting or the action, the storyline, or the fact that by the time I had called it quits there were more people in spandex on Arrow than in Xavier’s spiffy mansion. And remember there was the big draw of Malcolm Merlyn. Not even John Barrowman could help me get past Oliver’s off-putting personality though.



Obviously, it’s a personal quirk. I have never been a fan of the “I’m so damaged. Watch me endure great heartache and never show emotion” type of hero. If you look at my top five Marvel men -Iron Man, Wolverine, Deadpool, Nightcrawler, and Gambit -  they’re all pretty much overflowing with personality and shade. You might not like Tony’s personality but he has one. Same with Wade, Remy, or Logan. Everyone loves Kurt, how can you not? Oliver Queen? There’s nothing there to like or dislike and therein lies the problem, at least for this old comic fan.

I was so desperate and determined to like this show that I forced myself to watch the first two seasons of forty plus episodes. I was sure something or someone *glances at Malcolm Merlyn* could turn things around for me. When I found myself searching for Barrowman’s appearances and skipping the rest of the show, I knew that I’d never be able to push through until the end. And I’m really bummed about that because I do love the comic genre and would love to have more shows like Daredevil, Luke Cage, and Jessica Jones to enjoy.

So, in closing, if you’re the type who enjoys tall, dark, and stoic leads then Arrow is right up your crime-fighting alley. But if you like a bit more sass in your heroes, you’ve been forewarned that cheek and Oliver Queen don’t live in the same area code.



Feral


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If you're interested, here are the links to my fan fiction blog and AO3 page: