Monday, March 31, 2014

Tuesday Tales - Hug

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 'Hug’. In this excerpt Clayton and Zeke meet Mr. Brooks Price.

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`m looking for Mister Brooks Price,” I told the office workers. Above us on the second floor, a man emerged from an office paned with glass. He was a well-dressed man, tall as I was, with a neatly trimmed blond mustache that curled on the ends. Perhaps he was close to fifty. His hair was slicked down flat to each side of his head, the hair dressing making the golden hair on his head appear a shade or two darker than his handlebar mustache. The part showed his scalp to be quite white. His suit was made of wool, clearly custom tailored as it fit him perfectly. He sported a fine long coat and elaborate cravat. His boots shone like a newly minted coin.

            “I do hope I have not done anything unlawful, Sheriff." Mister Price smiled as he motioned us up the stairs then led us into his office. It was a well-appointed suite with a mahogany desk, four windows, and several chairs. There was a round table with dainty chairs hugging the corner. “My darling sister stops in for tea daily when she is in town,” he explained as I stared at the dainty cups and saucers already in place. The door closed behind my deputy. I looked from the frail table and delicate seats to our host.

            “Thank you for allowing us to come in,” I said. Mister Price smiled at us. He seemed to smile a great deal. Most folks when confronted by two lawmen that smelled as rank as we would be less than friendly.

            “It would be rude to not accommodate the law from my illustrious home county!” he chuckled as he settled into a huge chair behind his massive desk. Zeke and I stood before him but several feet back. We did not dare put our boots onto the finely made oval rug that covered most of the office floor. “Can I interest you in some bourbon? Or a cigar?”

             Zeke threw me a suspicious sideways glance. I shook my head at the generous offer.

            “We thank you for your hospitality, but we cannot accept. What we would like is just a moment of your time so that we can discuss a rather distressing situation that we have come across in the course of our duties.”

            Mister Price leaned back in his leather upholstered seat, his fingers steepled under his rather long nose. His blond eyebrows knitted over his eyes.

            “That sounds quite serious,” he said behind his fingers.

            “Indeed it is. Are you the sole owner of the Price Cargo & Shipping Company?” I asked. Price`s gaze was heavy. I did not allow myself to shuffle or look away. He tapped his lips with his fingers.

            “I am not,” he replied, lowering his hands from his lips. They came to rest on his desk. “That is a partnership with the city of Galveston. The Price name was graciously allotted the business as it is a well recognized and respected name. Why do you ask, Sheriff?”

            “What exactly is it that you ship, Mister Price?”

            He paused in his extraction of a fat cigar from a wooden box upon his desk.

            “What tribe are you from, boy?” he asked out of the blue. Zeke`s fingers tightened on the band of his scruffy hat. The beads and feathers tinkled as he pawed the brim.

            “I`m no boy,” my deputy replied, his voice deeply grating.

            “Let me explain something to the both of you,” Mister Price said. He then made us wait until the end of his cigar was snipped off. He held out a lighter to Zeke. “Why don`t you come over here and light this for me, Deputy?”

            “My deputy is not here to serve in the form of domestic help for you, Mister Price.” My tone was cold. My hackles were more than ruffled, they were raised. The man behind the desk smiled around the cigar held in his teeth. He struck the lighter then puffed loudly. I glanced at Zeke. He was holding onto his temper by the thinnest of tethers. I shook my head infinitesimally at him. His eyes darted to the painting of the Price ranch back in Laco that hung behind a cloud of cigar smoke. It did not waver until we turned to leave a moment later.

            “That is where you are wrong, Sheriff Moore. You and your deputy both are here to serve me in whatever avenue I so see fit. Do you have any idea who it is that pays the stipend the sheriff of Laco draws?”

            “No, Sir, I do not,” I said but I knew. As soon as he asked, I knew.

            “Well, Son, you`re a smart Louisiana boy, I thought you`d be able to put two and two together faster than your red-skinned partner here.” Price waved his stubby cigar at Zeke. “I pay the law in Laco. I pay the mayor, the city council, the cattlemen, and the whores. Well, I only pay the whores when they`re done being on their knees, but the point is that Laco, its surrounding lands, and the rails that are quickly approaching all belong to me or soon will. Now, let me ask you once again, and I would like you to think about your reply before you make it. Why are you asking about my business ventures, Sheriff?”

            “No reason, Mister Price. I believe I may have been mistaken. Thank you for your time.” I placed my dusty Stetson on my head, spun on my worn boot heel, and left Brooks Price smirking at my retreating backside. Ezekiel practically oozed confusion. Neither of us spoke until we were riding slowly down one of a hundred busy side streets.

            “What the fuck are you doing?” Zeke asked as we ambled past the impressive storefront for the Price Cargo & Shipping Company.

            “I`m stepping off the man`s toes. Tell me; are you any good at entering an establishment after business hours?”

            “I`m no thief if that`s what you`re asking,” Zeke snapped with mild umbrage. Hessie and Storm plodded along, my mare trying to nip passersby’s that got too close.

            “That is not what I was asking at all,” I replied as I looked over at him. His thick black eyebrows were wound around each other. I chuckled lightly at his bewilderment.

            “Weren`t you thinking of breaking into Price Cargo & Shipping?” my deputy asked as his horse sidestepped a wagon filled with barrels fresh from the harbor.

            “I was not,” I said, turning the corner then stopping so that we could drink in the sight of the Galveston seaport. White gulls swooped downward while screaming loudly. Sails snapped in the wind. Tall ships and short ships jockeyed for available piers. Steamships lumbered to and fro in the choppy water of the Galveston Bay. The smell of fish, guts, sailors, and sea was overpowering. “I was thinking of breaking into the harbormaster`s office. Breaking into Price Cargo & Shipping after our little meeting with the owner would be more than foolish.”

            “Breaking into the harbormaster`s office is smart?”

            I tapped my temple.

             “I will never understand the white man.”

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, March 30, 2014

A Most Unlikely Countess Excerpt

I hope this last Sunday of the month finds you hale and hearty!

Since I pulled a silly me and forgot to sign up for Sunday Sneak Peeks this week, I thought I`d just go ahead and share a bit from A Most Unlikely Countess, book two of the To Love a Wildcat series. Release is set for 4/4, unless something unexpected crops up. I hope you enjoy this little look at Liz`s life after she agrees to pen Veikko`s memoirs. This scene takes place after a rather memorable trip to the Wildcats` locker room for our shy little biographer.

Even though this blog does have a mature content warning before you enter, let me put this up just in case:

This excerpt contains mature and explicit language that concerns a certain part of the male anatomy. These are hockey players, folks. They`re not nuns. If such words offend you, do not read any further. If you like dirty words and/or hockey players in various forms of undress, read on!


A brief volley of cock-related jibes flew back and forth. I was never so grateful to see a man as I was when Veikko appeared. He was still in his pads and uniform, having stayed on the ice longer to drill with the assistant goaltending coach, Sebastian Kirby, a tall lean man with a warm smile hiding under a huge nose. Coach Kirby`s task was to fire shots at the goalie repeatedly. Veikko looked down at me hidden among his equipment and clothing.
“Is there a reason you`re hiding in my cubicle?” he asked, leaning on his fat hockey stick, a trace of amusement playing over his lips.
“She is hiding from all the penises,” Alain offered, sliding his briefs up over his firm ass. I mean, what I assume would be a firm ass. Not that I was eyeballing my best buddy`s boyfriend’s backside or anything. Oh God, even my eyelashes were hot with embarrassment. My ass scooted further into the enclosure.
“Well, that`s understandable,” Veikko said casually, “Seeing such tiny things being touted as something large and impressive would confuse any woman.” He winked at me then offered me his hand. Sliding my fingers across his palm I inhaled at the sensation of his flesh and mine meeting. Keeping my eyes averted I muttered a query about the exit.
“Tiny? Please! My cock is so formidable it could be used as a battering ram,” Lessard threw back, driving his elbow into Andersson`s ribs. The captain grunted, hitched up his towel, and slapped the young pup from Quebec upside his wet head.
“Do you think you can stop talking about your stupid puny dick, Lessard? Can`t you see the woman isn`t used to having genitals in her face?” Andersson barked.
Yeah, that was the final straw. I made a wild run for the exit, slamming into and then rebounding off the imposing-yet-handsome-for-an-old-guy form of head coach Philip Moore. If I were thirty years older and not mortified on a continual basis . . .
I didn`t stop running until I was out of wind, which was roughly twenty feet from a ladies room. Inside I went, huffing and puffing. I was not about to blow anything down.
“Shit,” I mumbled as I found my reflection in one of fifteen mirrors over fifteen sinks. My cheeks were still scarlet. My hair was filled with static. I must have been sweating because my mascara had run. I looked like some introverted chick version of Brandon Lee in The Crow. Digging into my black canvas tote I located a scrunchie. It was green with yellow polka dots, which clashed pretty badly with the whole gray skirt, leggings, vest, and long-sleeved blouse look I was rocking but, tough shit. Pulling my hair back I pony-tailed the ebony mass then I scrubbed my face violently, hoping to remove not only the mascara but the shame of being so fucking inhibited.
As I was drying my face on coarse brown paper towels, the door opened. I lowered the clump of damp towels to see Veikko peeking around the door.
“Are you alone in here?” he asked on a whisper. I nodded. He stepped inside. The man filled the ladies room with his presence and padding. “I think I should apologize. I know you`re shy. I should not have plunked you down like a delicate rose among all those nasty weeds.”
“It`s okay,” I mumbled, balling the towels tightly in my left hand. He shook his head. He had shed his skates but he was still in his goalie get-up. The scent of sweaty man clung to him. It wasn`t a bad smell at all. No, not at all.
“You`re too forgiving,” he said, reaching out to grab my chin to lift my sight from his black stocking-clad feet. “The next time you can talk to them when they are not naked.”
“Thanks.” I smiled. He smiled back. The sink behind me was a Godsend for it kept me upright.
“Your eyes are so warm,” Veikko said, tipping my head back slightly, the pads of his fingers rough on my freshly scrubbed skin. “You should wear your hair off your face so that those eyes can be seen. Most women, they don`t have honesty in their eyes, but you? You think it then there it is on your face and in your eyes. It is something I haven`t seen for many years.”

My brain was screaming for someone in my cranial language department to make words. Obviously they were on a coffee break. Some weird gurgle happened in my throat. Voices erupted in the hallway. Veikko released my chin.

Thursday, March 27, 2014

Iris Blobel Drops By/Book Giveaway!

It’s such a pleasure to be Vicki’s guest today. Thank you so much for having me here today.

I suppose it’d be polite to introduce myself first – I’m Iris, born and raised in Germany but I moved to Australia in the late 1990s. I’m married, have two beautiful daughters, work at a private school and present a German Program at the local radio every Wednesday.

But really, I’d love to talk about my latest books – New Beginnings and More Beginnings.
I love writing stories that are set in Australia. It has some of the most beautiful sceneries in the world – beaches with coral reefs, the outback with the Uluru or the rainforest with the most amazing wildlife.

But there’s also a small island south of Australia, which is called Tasmania. This is where my latest series is set. Why Tasmania? It has everything from mountains to coral blue sea, from warm summers to cold winters, a chocolate factory in Hobart (!!), Australia's oldest operating brewery and the friendliest people.
I fell in love with Tasmania during my first visit about 20 years ago and when I spent a long weekend in Hobart a few years back, I wondered what it would be like to move there – that’s how New Beginnings started.

New Beginnings is about Sophie and Mia Levesque, sisters who inherit a house in Hobart from a stranger.  As eight-year-old Mia settles well into her new school and life in general, twenty-something-year-old Sophie is not only occupied by her search of what connected her to Clara, but also her new studies and the two men, who suddenly have become part of her daily life - Mark O’Connor, the lawyer representing Clara’s estate, and Zach, the hunk from across the road.

In “More Beginnings” the now teenaged Mia finds out about her father. It’s got a little bit of everything in it, relationship between sisters, grief, romance and the “mystery” of who the generous lady was, who left them the house.

Thank you all for stopping by. I truly appreciate it.




Twitter: _iris_b


If you`ve read New Beginnings, leave a comment for Iris and you`ll be entered to win a copy of More Beginnings! 

Wednesday, March 26, 2014

Please Welcome Liza O`Connor!

What a great way to spend a Wednesday! Getting to meet a new author and learning about a new book is my preferred Hump Day activity. Today the talented Liza O`Connor is here to share some excerpts as well as some info about her contemporary romance, Ghost Lover. Take it away, Liza!


Ghost Lover
By Liza O’Connor

Contemporary Romance with a touch of paranormal


Two sexy English brothers. One irresistible ghost. Who would you choose as your lover?
Completely broke and with a criminal record to boot, Senna Smith is one day from eviction from her apartment when Brendon, her promiscuous roommate from London, suggests she go to England, marry him, and manage his fortune. With few other options, she agrees to an open marriage. But she’ll never, ever, have sex with him, knowing if she falls in love with him, he’ll break her heart.

As trustee of Brendon’s family fortune, there is no way Brendon’s older brother, Garrison Durran, is going to let him marry a self-professed American gold-digger. As Senna tries to embrace castle life and English society for Brendon’s sake, Gar discovers Senna is the perfect woman for him--beautiful and intelligent, kind and caring. Now, if she wasn’t already engaged to his brother…

The ancestral ghost of Durran Castle has to intervene if the Durran brothers have any chance of an heir. He can’t leave them to fix matters on their own. They are useless buggers when it comes to love. As counselor to Gar, matchmaker for Brendon, and lover to Senna, a ghost’s work is never done.

CONTENT WARNING: Allergy warning: Ghost cat in book.  



Excerpt 1

 “So my brother steals all your money and to compensate you, he suggests you come to England, marry him, and he’ll give you his trust fund.” Only his brother could contrive such an absurd plan.
“Yes.” By her brief answer, he gathered she thought it a perfectly reasonable solution.
His brother might be an idiot, but this gold digger would soon discover Gar a force to reckon with. “Did he steal a half million from your bank account?”
Brendon laughed. “Do you have any idea how long that would take? Cash machines only allow you two visits a day at two hundred dollars a pop.”
“How much did he take?” Gar restated his question.
“Four hundred,” Senna replied.
Gar stared up at the ceiling praying for patience, then glared at Ditz. “So why didn’t you pay her back the four hundred?”
Ditz stubbornly refused to answer, and instead glanced at the girl.
She sighed and faced Gar. “Precisely what I asked. He said he didn’t have the four hundred, but if I married him, he would come into a half million. Since the landlord planned to evict me, I really had no choice but to accept the offer.”

Excerpt 2

Senna woke to her breast beeping. Trying to make sense of the oddity, she pushed herself up to rest on her elbows and discovered the noise came from Brendon’s wristwatch. Somehow, his hand had found its way beneath her bra during the night, and now chirped like a baby chick.
She contemplated tearing his hand off at the wrist, but he looked so angelic with his curly dark hair framing his handsome face. With a heavy sigh, she unlatched her bra and eased his hand out, then gently shook him until his face scrunched into a pained grimace.
He groaned and frowned at his noisy watch. “This is a god-awful hour to be woken up,” he said in his sexy British accent. “Never bothers me when I’m coming home at this hour.”
Senna rolled her eyes. “Speak for yourself.”
Pushing himself up, he shook his head. “Remember the second night I came around? You kept yelling at me, ‘Did I realize it was four in the morning?’ At the time, I couldn’t understand your fuss.” He groaned and scratched his scalp. “Well, I certainly understand it now. It’s bloody hell to be woken at this ungodly hour.”

Excerpt 3

Brendon moved to the window and stared out. “I don’t think you realized how bad things became for me when Nan died. I’d lost the only person who cared for me. I had no one left. The million dollars I lost on a roulette wheel wasn’t done just to get rid of the cook. I did it to get your attention. While you didn’t give a shit about me, you’ve always loved money. And it worked. You finally noticed me.”
“And sent you away,” Gar said with remorse.
“Yeah.” Brendon turned and gave him a faint smile. “Not exactly the response I’d hoped for, but it turned out all right. I met Senna and since then life keeps getting easier with each day. Now I find I even like you most of the time.”
“Well, the feeling is mutual. You’re still eccentric, but you’ve a good heart and good intent, and I’m proud you’re my brother.”
Suddenly the door opened and Senna walked in looking at both men with concern. “Are you two having a fight?”
“Not at all.” Brendon smiled. “In fact, Gar told me he’s proud I’m his brother.”
Senna’s eyes filled with appreciation as she grinned at Gar.
Her smile almost broke Gar’s heart. God help him, but Brendon had nailed the truth. He did love Senna, and more than anything, he wanted her to be his wife.


About Liza O'Connor

Liza lives in Denville, NJ with her dog, Jess. They hike in fabulous woods every day, rain or shine, sleet or snow. Having an adventurous nature, she learned to fly small Cessnas in NJ, hang-glide in New Zealand, kayak in Pennsylvania, ski in New York, scuba dive with great white sharks in Australia, dig up dinosaur bones in Montana, sky dive in Indiana, and raft a class four river in Tasmania. She’s an avid gardener, amateur photographer, and dabbler in watercolors and graphic arts. Yet through her entire life, her first love has and always will be writing novels. She loves to create interesting characters, set them loose, and scribe what happens.


Monday, March 24, 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. In this snippet we find Clay and Zeke have arrived in Galveston.

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!

When we emerged from that cattle car we were indeed a pitiful sight. Our horses looked, and I can assume, even smelled better than us. I drew in a deep breath. Among the various smells of a busy port city there was the salt water tang of the ocean on the wind. Zeke stood stiffly at my side, the reins to our horses white-knuckled in his left hand. The city of Galveston was truly remarkable. 

It spread as far as the human eye could see. If you glanced in the direction of the harbor, you could see the masts of the sailing ships above the roofs of the hundreds of homes and businesses. Carts drawn by horses cluttered every available inch of space beyond the train depot. Dog was a flurry of indecision. Zeke spoke to him, telling him to stay close.

Wagons selling everything from furs, hand-crafted metallic mirrors, and chili con carne vied for our attention. We walked among the many hawkers peddling their wares. I finally did manage to get one of the ‘Chili Queens’ – the women who served food in the plaza – to point me in the direction of the Price Railroad building. 

After paying her a penny for a cup of the spicy bean and meat concoction, she pointed us to the largest building in the railway plaza. Zeke enjoyed the chili con carne immensely

The Price Railroad & Port Authority office was an impressive wooden structure with three floors and many windows. We hitched our horses, removed our hats, told Dog to stay, stamped the cow shit from our boots, then entered the hustle-bustle office. Several young men looked up from desks. I saw Zeke tug up the grimy bandana around his thick neck.

“I`m looking for Mister Brooks Price,” I told the office workers. Above us on the second floor, a man emerged from an office paned with glass.

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, March 23, 2014

A Most Unlikely Countess Cover Reveal!

I hope you are as excited as I am. The lovely, and incredibly talented, Dawne Dominique has yet again captured the feel, sensuality, and look of our next Wildcat couple. Dawne`s skills never cease to astound me. Right down to the shape of Veikko`s nose, the way he wears his perfectly styled hair, and Liz`s swan-like neck, this is Liz and Veikko.

Notice how the covers have a slightly different tone,  just like the women that are telling us their tales. Alain and Viviana`s was more tactile, rather possessive, fully erotic. Veikko and Elizabeth`s feels more softly sensual, yet still highly amorous and arousing. I could not be more pleased, and am anxiously awaiting release day, tentatively April 16th, to share this second book in the series with you.

How about we have a blurb and an excerpt?

Painfully shy Liz Argon probably shouldn`t be dreaming of Veikko Aho, star goalie for the Philadelphia Wildcats. As she works side by side with 'The Count of the Crease' on his memoirs, she finds herself falling for the handsome goaltender. His tender ways with her and her mentally fragile mother are slowly claiming her heart. If only Veikko wasn`t already engaged to a woman far better suited to move in to 'The Count`s' world. In book two of the To Love a Wildcat series, we`ll see if a glass slipper can survive in the rough and tumble world of professional ice hockey.

Laughter broke out on the ice. Maggie sat down behind me and Donald, as did Viviana. They began gossiping. I eyed my cuticles with lust.

“So, Viviana tells me that you`re quite the word wizard.”

“I guess,” I managed to say, sitting in an awkward lotus position while Trevor slouched by the glass trying not to look interested. If only I could get that thumb closer to my mouth…

“She`s being modest, Donald. I have never read obituaries that are so artfully done,” Viviana interjected, rudely if you ask me. But, that was Viv. She did what she wanted, said what she wished, and slept with whatever man she desired. Envy blossomed in my chest but I beat it down. “Liz not only lists the details of death, she brings the person’s past to life. Each of her obits is like reading a mini-memoir filled with warmth, character, love, and above all compassion for the person. Which is why I know she will do Veikko`s amazing life story justice!”

If death would take me now I wouldn`t mind. I spied Donald smiling widely as he turned to look over his shoulder at the woman in purple and black.

“Are you sure I can`t lure you away from the Wildcats PR department? You really should be an agent.” He winked. A corner of my mouth twitched.

“Oh no, I`m perfectly happy where I am, both professionally and personally,” she purred, the sound that of a sexually satisfied she-cat. God, I wish I was sexually satisfied. Or even a she-cat. “You read her work, what did you think? I know Veikko was impressed when I gave him her clippings.”

That brought my head around like Linda Blair`s. “You gave him my obits!” I squeaked like the rodent I feel like most times. Maggie was lost to the conversation it seemed, her neck stretched out as she tried to look at something or someone on the ice, probably Captain Derrick. Viviana leaned back with a dramatic sigh.

“Yes, Liz, I gave him your obits. He wanted a taste of your style. Would you have rather I gave him the newest chapter of Mardavian Nights you sent me last week?”

If I were a fainter the mere thought of Veikko reading about my elvish prince of the ice would have sent me into a swoon. As it was I felt the stadium sway for a minute. My thumb found its way to my teeth. Viviana sat up briskly then tugged my hand from my mouth.

“Stop,” she whispered then tucked half of my bangs behind my right ear. “It`s going to be fine.”

“Yes, I promise neither I nor Veikko bite,” Donald Richer, CEO of Richer Hockey said. It was meant to ease my anxiety, I know, but it didn`t work. I studied him closely with one eye.

“I know.” The weak reply bubbled out of me. Donald seemed pleased at the answer. “I`m very nervous,” I whispered but if he heard that last comment or not, I couldn`t say. The sound of men coming off the ice at that moment drowned out my meek confession. Fans boiled out of the woodwork, jostling and pushing to draw close to the players as they exited the rink. Shrinking into my seat as best I could I watched, all Veronica Lake like, as Veikko Aho stopped to sign autographs, his goalie mask pushed upward to reveal his classically handsome face and dripping wet hair.

The mask was nothing shy of being artwork itself. The background was black and orange stripes, much like a tiger’s fur, the detailing so incredibly real it called to you to pet it just to feel the fur moving softly under your touch. Right above the grillwork that protected his face glowed amber eyes, curved up at the corner like a cat`s. Those eyes followed you and never blinked, sizing you up like a panther hidden in the shadows of the jungle. I bet opposing players got a shiver down the spine when they had to stare at those menacing yellow-gold orbs.

Then the goalie turned from his fans. Eyes deep and blue as a fjord landed on me. My insides went cold then hot when he smiled and lumbered his way over to his agent and me. Goalie padding and ice skates do not a graceful man make on carpet or cement. My neck slunk downward, like a turtle. I worked at getting inside my shell.

My vision was filled with goalie pants and leg pads. Fire engulfed my face. Someone behind me flicked the tip of my right ear. I jerked upward, my head tipping back slightly. There he stood, all six foot two inches of Finnish delight, perfectly white teeth flashing in a warm smile, his big hand waiting for mine. He smelled of sweat and leather with just a faint hint of that unique fragrance he wears.

“Hello again,” Veikko said. Something snuck past my lips, I think it was ‘hi’ or ‘hello’ or ‘blerk’. I placed my hand in his, hoping he didn`t see how it trembled. His grip was strong yet gentle.  He bent over my thin fingers and brushed his lips over the knuckles. There was nothing for me to do aside from stare, blush, then stammer like a dolt.  Then he released my hand. It struck me that there was no other sound now. It was just me and Veikko, in this wonderful cone of silence.

Sneak Peek Sunday

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 Goaltender`s Penalty, an M/M hockey romance novella. We join Daryl, our protagonist, who is smitten with goalie Ryan Amirault, at his first hockey game. 

I shook my head and agreed to grab him a soda. He was driving after all. I jogged up the never-ending steps and made quick use of the trash can, dropping my soggy nachos into it. Then I found a men's room and located a booth that sold jerseys. Angus was right; I could buy a week’s worth of food for the cost of an officially licensed Hawks jersey with Ryan's last name and number on it. I bought it anyway. Tugging the oversized jersey over my head made me feel less a noob. Angus just shook his head when I returned, bomber jacket over my shoulder and a soda in my hand for him.

“You're an ass,” he grumbled, eying the cola with distaste. I took my seat and tried to relax for a moment. The arrival of the teams ended my R&R. We were all up and stamping our feet to encourage the Hawks. Ryan went to his goal, determination etched on his features. His mask went on. He slapped the ice with his huge stick. The other players got into their respective positions. A whistle blew and the puck raced down to the Aardvark's end of the rink.

If I thought the first two periods were frenetic, this last one was insanity. The teams were evenly matched in both skills and tempers. Numerous penalties for rough play, fighting, and various other infractions occurred. Blood speckled every player’s jersey. It was madness. It was amazing. In the last forty seconds of the third period, our left-winger Raymond Dupree scored. The place erupted and a countdown began. The final buzzer signaled a mass eruption of hysteria among the fans and Hawks. I was hugging Angus. Angus was slapping my back. After the joy dwindled, we lingered a bit, just sitting and talking while finishing our drinks to allow the crush to go ahead of us. The ice was cleared of players and the Zamboni made its final rounds of the night.

“You know what would be awesome?” I asked, leaning back in my seat with an ankle resting on a knee, “If I could get Ryan to autograph this jersey.”
Angus glanced from the ice to me. “You can. We just have to go to the player's exit.”
I sat up straight. “I'm sorry, there's an exit for the players where we can actually speak to them?”
“Yeah,” Angus ran his fingers though his flat red hair then shoved his screaming Hawk back on his head.

We were up and moving before my buddy could complain. After a few hundred feet, Angus shook me off, grumbling about his big mouth. Outside we went. It was bitter cold now. My nose hairs froze instantly. Around the oval stadium we went. We found a rather small group of fans gathered at one of the double-wide security doors.
 “Too damned cold,” Argus said into his cupped hands as we slid through the meager assemblage. “Usually there are hundreds of people here,” he explained and began bouncing to stay warm.

“We'll go just as soon as I get him to sign my jersey,” I promised. The words had no sooner fallen from my blue lips and the doors swung open. The waiting fans engulfed the players. I noticed that there were fans and players from both teams here. I quickly removed my Hawk headgear, jamming it into Angus' chest. I raked my fingers through my hair. It was lying flat to my head. Cursing the stupid Hawk that had turned my usually perky hair to a Moe Howard coif, I looked around when I heard someone cursing lividly. Fingers still in my hair, I saw two enormous men tumble out of the stadium shoving and pushing each other. A dark-haired player with an Aardvark duffel over his shoulder stumbled into me. He ducked. I didn't. Ryan Amirault's right fist met my face and the world went black.


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

Thursday, March 20, 2014

Spring Fling Blog Hop! Prizes Galore!

Hello everyone and welcome to my little corner of the internet! My name is V.L. Locey, and I`m a multigenre erotic romance author. Some people may ask if the multigenre pertains to subject matter. Yes, it does. It also refers to the fact that I pen both M/F and M/M romances. I suppose you could say I was a cross-writing, multigenre, erotic romance author, but that`s just too big of a mouthful. And for an erotic romance author to admit that, then you know it`s a choker. *wink, nudge*

Celebrating spring, and love, is the theme of this hop. Love for all people, between all people. Not just love for a person if they like hyacinth. Or love if a person thinks spring peeps are cuter than spring piglets. Both are cute. As are spring lambs, kids, ducklings, geese, or any other newborn critter. Love for those who like to hide brightly-colored eggs outside as well as love for those who don`t. See, love is okay. Love is a good thing. It`s a thing that we really need to stop putting exclusivity labels on.  Labels are bad, and dumb. 

"You can only love/marry if you`re this tall!" (Bet I`m left out.)

"You can only love/marry if you`re a size 4!" (I know I`m left out!)

"You can only love/marry if you prefer Captain Picard over Captain Kirk!" (Oh damn. Really? Who could choose? Captain Janeway. There! Put that in your elitist Trekkie food replicator and, uhm . . . replicate on it!)

"You can only love/marry if you`re this color. No! Not that color plus that color! Just this color!" (But what if I`m a glorious mixture of colors?)

"You can only love/marry if you have chocolate eggs in your basket. No! No! Not those cream-filled ones with that silly clucking rabbit!" (I love that clucking rabbit!)

"You can only love/marry if you`re this gender and that gender." (How about if I`m this gender and my love is this gender too? To heck with me? Live alone? But . . . but . . . but . . .)

"You can only love/marry . . .

Well, you can see how silly it all is.

Love. Spring. Romance.

Let`s celebrate those things, hand in hand. Let`s work to make sure that one day everyone can love/marry who they wish. Even if that person does prefer green jelly beans to purple ones.

Speaking of sweets, what could be sweeter than winning a free ebook? Simply tell me what your favorite sweet treat is and you`ll be entered to win a copy of any of my books listed on Amazon. You can check out the selection here:

V.L. Locey on Amazon

Please, make sure you leave your contact information with your sweet treat comment. If you don`t, I`ll pass over your comment as I simply do not have time to track people down. So, make sure you leave that email address! I hate having to omit people. Once you`re done entering my giveaway, make sure you hop on to the rest of the participants, as well as entering the grand prize drawing! Here`s the grand prize list:

1 Kindle Fire (Donated by Blushing Books)
1 $75 Amazon (or B&N) Gift Card
1 $25 Starbucks Gift Card (Donated by Sue)
1 $25 Blushing Books Gift Card (Donated by Patty)
1 $25 Loose Id Gift Card (Donated by Cara)

a Rafflecopter giveaway

And here is the link to lead you back to the main blog. Please take a few moments to visit all the other bloggers who are participating.

Spring Fling Blog Hop Main Blog Page
Thanks for stopping by and have a glorious spring! 

V.L. Locey