Thursday, January 30, 2014

Welcome Angel A. Walker!

I`m quite thrilled to have Angel A. Walker here today! Not only is she a talented author, she is also one of the lovely ladies that I have lunch and coffee with monthly. Take it away, Angel! 

*~*~*

Thanks Vicki for inviting me today. 


For those of you who aren’t familiar with my work, Such is Love is the second book in my Such is Life series. Being a first time self-published author I figured today I would talk a little about the dreaded sequel. I don’t know if you guys are familiar or not with how many people feel about sequels, but usually they aren’t good. Most people don’t believe the first one could be topped. Writing Such is Love I felt that feeling over me. That people who loved the first weren’t going to feel the same about the second. That I would hear those awful words, “She should have stopped at the first one.” I don’t know if any of you have experienced this feeling, but I would have to tell ya it stopped me in my tracks. 







I doubted myself for a year about the second book coming out. Would people like it? Will people bother to venture onto the third? What if I’m a one hit wonder? 
The point of all this today is for those of you who have ever had this feeling I’m here to route you on. Don’t let your fear of failure stop your success. I’ve gotten an overwhelming support from my friends, family, and fans of the series. Rooting me on everyday wondering what was in store for Melissa and Brett. Wondering if they would one day be together. Posting comments on FB and emailing me. Without the support I don’t know if I would have ever continued. So if you are a writer or a reader, remember that your support could be what gets another author the push they need. I know it helped me and next week is my book signing for Such is Love and I can’t wait. I also couldn’t thank the people in my life anymore. They are the reason I continue to write. 
Oh, and don’t forget every review counts!




*~*~*

BLURB
Melissa Jones is packed and ready to go Canada with her closest friends. The good part is that after years of being the single girl, she’s finally in a relationship with old flame Shawn Edwards. The bad part is her assistant and ex-fling Brett Thomas has started dating her longtime friend Tracy Rumsey. As a last minute addition to the trip Brett is bringing not only his good looks but also his feelings for Melissa along. Tensions are high but everyone wears their smiles for the sake of the trip. Friendships and relationships will be tested in this second installment of the romantic comedy Such is Life series. By the end of the trip the good and the bad will come out. Fires and floods won’t compare to the secrets that will be brought to the surface. It goes to show all might look good on the outside even though there’s a storm brewing within.

*~*~*


EXCERPT
Instead of stopping at a Denny’s or a Perkins we decided on fast food, which made Shawn very happy. It was getting late and we didn’t want to waste time with sitting down and eating. Shawn hopped in the back with Tracy to get some sleep since he spent most of his day running around New York. Shawn and Tracy are two people who get in a car and if they aren’t driving pass right out. Shawn wasn’t lying when he said we were up late. There wasn’t even the slightest bit of exaggeration there. 
For an hour Brett and I didn’t speak to one another. I handed him his food and we listened to music and sang. I never really noticed his great belting voice until he started singing along to the radio. But then again why wouldn’t he have a great singing voice? Good looking guys, with a nice bodies, and a great personalities always have a great singing voices. It comes along with the package of being beautiful and perfect.
I stared at him as he continued to sing along with Maroon 5. I couldn’t help but smile at him because I never heard him belt out before. When we went to Mansfield last year he would sing but he was really quiet. Who could pass up a guy who has a great singing voice? Another reason to fall for him. 
Meat Loaf’s Paradise by the Dashboard Light came on and he practically jumped out of his seat. He turned up the radio and he commenced to rocking. I knew the song too, but I was so shocked by his excitement that I didn’t join in on the song. I was even more stunned when it got to the baseball commentary and he knew the whole section. It was hilarious watching him jam out, drumming against the steering wheel, and swinging his thick dark hair back and forth. I had no other choice but to sing along with the female part the second it came on. I think he was stunned because he stared at me while I sang. He finally sang again when the “let me sleep on it” part began. 
Once the song ended we had ourselves a chuckle and a slight awkward moment due to what I assume was the lyrics. “Do you love me forever?” It was the exact question I’d been asking myself. It felt like I was really asking him. I wish I could ask him that without a song being the pretext. It’s something that I wanted to ask him for a long time and it felt like singing that song kind of lifted the weight off my shoulders although he didn’t really answer. And by some chance if I ever asked him if he loved me and he replied, “let me sleep on it” I would probably hit him. Funny thing is he probably knows I would hit him. He always tells me the two things I got from my mother was my ability to hold my liquor, and my violence. My two least favorite attributes about her. 
He looked over at me again and smiled. I could tell he wanted to say something but he kept looking away every time he opened his mouth. The situation was unbelievably frustrating. I wish I was the type of person who could trust her instincts and go with what she wants, but I always fear getting hurt. I blame Derrick. He was always constantly pulling me in close and then pushing me further away. That’s why it’s hard for me to be able to take risk. 
One might say I took a risk with Shawn, but it wasn’t a risk, it was a safety net. The more and more I thought about Derrick the angrier I became. And the angrier I became the more I relied on my relationship with Shawn. The more I relied on my relationship with Shawn, the further things between Brett and I slipped away. There was no risk in my decision at all. It was just like me to take the safest route. 
Sometimes I wanted to stand in the middle of the desert and scream at the top of my lungs. I wish I could turn to him right now and say I want to be with you, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I panicked and ran when things between the two of us began. I’m sorry it’s taking me a year to say this. I will admit that I knew I made a mistake the minute I got off the phone with Shawn. I’m also sorry that this isn’t our trip together. 
I’m so pathetic. Even I am underway of becoming bored with my constant back and forth behavior. 
I also have to take into consideration one thing. What if he doesn’t feel the same way? My gut says that he does, but if I were him I don’t know if I would necessarily want to try something that broke his heart once already. To him I turned him down, and to me I chickened out. What a way for one situation to be viewed two different ways. 
I debated with myself for another hour while we were on the road. It’s was nine and we were about three hours outside of Ontario. The roads were jammed which meant he couldn’t go his normal Mach speed. I could tell he was getting tired by the way he was driving. It was pretty early so I didn’t know why he was tired, unless he and Tracy stayed up all night. What was the best way to ask him if he and Tracy had sex? It took us a year to kiss I couldn’t imagine him bedding her right away. Maybe that’s just wishful thinking. He could simply be more attracted to her than he was to me. Maybe she was a better kisser than me. There are many possibilities and it seemed like none were a positive in my direction. I turned around to make sure Tracy and Shawn were still asleep. Tracy was leaning up against Shawn and Shawn’s face was up against the window. They were both most definitely knocked out. 
“Aren’t you supposed to be keeping me awake?” Brett asked. 
“I have been keeping you awake.” I swiveled around in my seat. “What would you like to talk about?”
He leaned forward and turned down the music just enough for the two of us to hear each other. “I want you to ask me the question you have been debating on for the past five hours.”
“What? I have no idea what you’re talking about!” I laughed out of nervousness. 
“Whatever you say, but I know you want to ask me about Tracy,” he whispered. 
I let out a deep breath. “Will you please get out of my head? I’m not thinking what you are thinking I’m thinking, but I am thinking what you are probably thinking now.”
With all the traffic he came to a stop. 
“You do realize that doesn’t throw me off the original topic right? Maybe that would have worked two years ago, but not now baby.” 
“Baby?” I spoke softly.
“You know what I meant.” He looked down at my lips then back on the road as the traffic moved. “Why is it that you have barely talked to me all week?”
“What do you mean, Brett?”
“What do you think I mean? We get coffee every morning, we eat lunch together every afternoon, and most weekends we rent a movie…if ‘you know who’ isn’t around.” He nodded back toward Shawn. “I don’t know I guess I missed you that’s all. Are you sure you don’t mind that I’m here with Tracy?” 
I shook my head yes but said no, “I guess I don’t see why you would want to come? But maybe I’m thinking about this all wrong, maybe….”
“Melissa, come on now. You know why I came.”
“I really don’t, Brett, I really don’t,” I answered while looking in the side mirror to make sure Shawn was asleep. “I have been wracking my brain trying to figure out the answer, but I don’t have one. All I know is I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have ignored you this week because you were with Tracy. You haven’t done that to me and I shouldn’t do that to you.”
“I accept your apology Melissa, but…why did I come?” His expression and tone was one hundred percent serious. I thought I would answer him, but Shawn tapped me on the shoulder and I almost jumped out of my seatbelt.



Such is Love will be released digitally on Valentine`s Day, February 14th, 2014.
*~*~*

Links for Such Is Life



Wednesday, January 29, 2014

Says Who?

That`s what I want to know.


I know that sounds a little childish, but I`m curious. Just who is it that sets all this stuff up that we`re supposed to abide by? I suppose I should clarify a bit.

A couple weeks ago I was joyfully visiting my M/M groups on Facebook. I belong to quite a few groups : some for male-male writers and some for male-female writers, some for writers of any genre, some for fans of comics, and a few for Rangers groupies . . . I mean backers.

As I was reading through the many posts one in particular caught my eye. It was from another author who was getting quite upset about the audacity of some male-female writer crossing her genre to pen a male-male tale. 

Oh wait, I just answered my own question. That upset author was the one who said it. Well, we`ll carry on anyway because there is a point in this post somewhere.

But why was this being said in the first place? I mean, isn`t it hard enough being an author? Now we have to battle with others in our field saying we can`t write what we wish. That we have to stay in one genre. Why? If I feel like writing a M/F hockey romance, then I write it. Why shouldn`t I? If the muse tells me to pen a M/M shifter story, I pen it.

I suppose I just don`t understand why we as authors can`t stand together. So who cares if Joe Journalist is a het author but wants to pen a lesbian story? Why is that bad? Is there some law I don`t know about? As long as Joe is a good author with respect for his characters, go for it I say.

 See, the way I look at it is that romance is romance. Love is love. I don`t write gay love any differently than I do straight love. Why would I? Isn`t this the kind of thinking GLBT people and their allies are fighting against? Don`t call it 'Gay Marriage' just call it 'Marriage', right? So why would the gay genre be unwilling to accept a het writer into our ranks? Or am I not in the ranks because I write both?

I don`t get it. If we`re all writing about romance, why keep this genre barrier between us? If our stories are showing two people falling in love . . .

Well, you all get the gist. Maybe someday soon we can all stop insisting on putting labels on things. Maybe someday we can all be just romance writers. Maybe someday we can all just give each other a hug. Who says? I says.

What do you say?





Monday, January 27, 2014

Tuesday Tales - Mirror

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 is 'Mirror’. In this excerpt Clay and Zeke ride out to see what they can find out about the Double Sun ranch.

A note for my readers:  This is a gay romantica 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!



            We rode up to the front of the grand home. The front door opened. A small Chinaman scurried out, his almond-shaped eyes as wide as they could grow. He was dressed in white pants with a matching white shirt. His black hair was pulled back severely from his face. His long plait hung over his left shoulder.

            “Morning, is your mistress to home?” I called, still seated on my horse. The reception we would receive could be questionable after all. “Mister Barnabas Wright gave us permission to come calling on Mrs. Price. We`re the law from Laco,” I said while tapping my silver star for emphasis.

            His eyes seemed riveted to Zeke I noted. When I cleared my throat the thin man nodded several times, backing up the wide wooden steps as he bowed over and over while I dismounted with a small groan of pleasure.

            “Laco lawman happy welcomed,” he said. “Indian no welcome. Stay outside while lawman visits proper.”

            I started to argue with the servant. Zeke slid from his horse. 
          
            “It`s fine. I don`t want to go inside anyway.” He took Hessie`s reins. I stared at his stiff back as he headed to the watering trough, Dog at his side. A tug on my elbow pulled me from my deputy. I removed my hat as I climbed to the front door. Rattan furniture was placed on the porch to encourage restive conversations.

            My boots sounded heavy on the dustless entryway. The door was closed quietly behind me. The tiny fellow with the amiable smile rushed into a room to my left. I followed, ducking slightly to avoid hitting my forehead on the door-frame. I noticed the woman in the wheelchair first off. The room, although it was filled with delicate furniture, vases, frilly lace curtains, gilded mirrors, and flowers paled in comparison to the blonde woman smiling engagingly up at me. 

          She was nearly swallowed by the huge front wheels of her mobile chair. Her eyes were intelligent pools of bright blue. Her skin was flawless. She wore her hair swept up softly. Her day gown was the same blue as her eyes. Over her lap was a thin blanket. Her feet were turned in terribly as they rested on a metal footrest. This was a woman born into money I sensed right off.

            “Ma`am,” I said with a polite nod.

            “Please, Sheriff, won`t you sit and have some lemonade with me? Charlie, fetch us a fresh pitcher of lemonade, and a tray of those vanilla cookies Sophia whipped up last night.”

            “Yes, Missus Price,” Charlie grinned before bowing out of the room. I eased myself onto a tiny couch that had legs that I feared would buckle within minutes. Mrs. Price beamed at me. My ears grew hot.

            “I had heard that Laco acquired a new sheriff. No one told me he was so handsome,” she said, tipping her head to the side. I stammered awkwardly under her perusal. She laughed at my unease. “Well, aren`t you a delightful man?! Handsome and humble! I wish I had a daughter to foist upon you, Sheriff!”

            “I`m not exactly the marrying type, Ma`am,” I confessed. She pooh-poohed that away.

            “Every man is the marrying kind, Sheriff. He just has to be offered the proper dowry.” It was said lightly but the words dropped around us like cold iron ingots.

            “Not meaning to argue, Ma`am, but not every man can be led to marriage with only the promise of a large dowry,” I murmured just as Charlie entered with a rolling cart laden with silver trays, crystal pitcher, and two tall glasses. Mrs. Price watched her butler with the eye of a predatory bird. “I hope you don`t think me presumptuous, Ma`am, but have you noticed anything untoward occurring within the boundaries of your land?”

            “Untoward? I`m not sure I quite understand what you mean, Sheriff. Charlie, please pay attention! You`re spilling sugar all over the floor,” Mrs. Price scolded. I met the brown eyes of the servant. His face showed his shame, but his eyes were trying to convey something else. Whatever it was, it fled when he had to go fetch a broom to clean up the spilled sugar from the shiny tile floor. “I hope it`s not too sweet?”

            I raised the sweaty glass to my lips. The lemonade was tart but perfectly made. I rested the glass on my knee. My pants were filthy. I surely did not belong in this sitting room.

            “No, Ma`am, it is just perfect.” I said. She smiled in acknowledgement of her skilled staff.

            “So, you seem to think my land is being used for nefarious purposes,” she said after nibbling the edge off a pale white cookie. “My husband would be the one to consult about such things. Since my riding accident, I`m afraid I`m relegated to house matters.”

            “Well , Ma`am, my Paw-Paw always said that while a man thinks he runs the show, it`s the woman who truly does. I suspect you are more than aware of what happens on your land,” I commented. Our eyes met. She grinned widely. What a beautiful, sharp woman she was. I could see myself falling for such a woman if I were not the kind of man I am. Even with her being ten or more years my senior.

            “I must say your accent is beyond charming.” Mrs. Price asked if I would wheel her to the window. I placed my glass to the cart, got to my dusty boots, then rolled her to the nearest window. A delicate hand with fine blue veins across the back pushed aside a curtain as sheer as a morning mist. “I see that the rumors about your deputy are also true. Tell me, Sheriff Moore, whatever possessed you to choose such a person as your right-hand man?”

            I looked through the pane of glass. Zeke was lounging in the shade of a huge oak beside one of many horse barns. Dog sat beside his master. Our horses were sleepily standing ass to face, using their tails to chase away the flies on the other`s long faces.

            “He saved my life. I figure that gives a man the right to be judged on his own merits.”

            She looked over her shoulder at me. “Hmm, you`re a rare breed of man, Sheriff,” she murmured as if deep in thought. “Most men would shoot such a man on sight. You make him your deputy. Perhaps the genteel ladies of Georgia raise a more sophisticated manner of man than the women of Texas do?”

            “Perhaps, Ma`am.” She nodded, fully aware that I knew she was searching for information.

            “Yes, I should think you do know about genteel ladies,” she said, her sight remaining on my deputy so long I began feel some unease settling upon me. When she was done, she let the lacy curtain drop back into place. “I wish I could assist you, as I find you quite pleasant to chat with, but I honestly do not know of anything out of the ordinary taking place on the Double Sun.”

            “I thank you for your time, and the refreshments, Mrs. Price,” I said. She inclined her golden head then produced a small bell from underneath the rose-toned blanket on her lap. She rang it gently.


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, January 26, 2014

Please Welcome Cathy Brockman!

I`m happy to be hosting the lovely Cathy Brockman  today! It`s not often I get authors of childrens books here, so this is a special treat. 

*~*~*

Thank you, Vicki, for having me here today!  Childlike Muse and I are so excited that you asked us in for a little chat. Let me introduce myself properly.



I am Cathy Boyd and Cathy Brockman. No you are not seeing double! There is just one me (I bet you`re glad about that, I doubt the world could handle two of us) We just write both children and adult books and use two names to keep it separate!(we wouldn’t want the little ones getting l hold of the grown up stuff ,would we?)*child-like muse taps Vicki on the shoulder excitedly*Ok! Ok !  I’ll  get to the point! We are here today to tell you about our new release of Luke’s Dragon. I got the idea for this story one day when it was storming.




 I remembered the tornado that came through our town. I thought I would write a story to help children that has been through such devastation deal with their fear. What better way than to have a favorite stuffed animal that comes to life and help us through.


           
How about an excerpt? :                
                                                             

 CHAPTER ONE
  

The Storm

Gigantic, jagged streaks of lightning flashed through the sky as Luke stared out the window beside his bed, his big blue eyes wide with fear. Yeah, he knew a twelve-year-old boy shouldn’t be so afraid of storms, but he just couldn’t help remembering when the tornado came through town, literally blowing close to half of it away. Sure it happened almost five years ago, but every time it stormed this bad, he remembered it like it was yesterday. Everyone in town managed to survive, but that didn’t stop the memories. Every flash, every boom of thunder, and with every howl of the wind, he could see and hear the windows shatter when his family huddled together in the bathroom. He could feel the goose bumps on his arms and the hair standing on his neck from the fear of the approaching storm.

Hearing him moving around frantically in his room, his mother shouted, “Luke, it’s going to pass over us. Go to bed. You have school in the morning!” Luke looked out again. Man, it sure is dark, but the thunder and lightning has stopped. The wind had quieted down considerably, too. He grabbed his favorite stuffed dragon off the dresser where he kept it. Well, except for stormy nights like this. So what if he was too old to sleep with a stuffed animal? Who’s gonna know, but him and the toy?  It couldn’t talk!

Gage wasn’t any ordinary stuffed animal. He wasn’t small and furry or plush. Larger than a bed pillow, he was made of a soft vinyl, his scales artfully crafted in shades of reds, yellows and oranges. Luke’s Aunt Cathy had given it to him for Christmas a couple of years back, when he was into reading adventure stories of dragons and such. Well he still was, and he still liked the dragon. Tucking Gage in beside him, and putting his favorite DVD in the machine, Luke turned the lamp on by the bed. Why do they call those bulbs black when they look blue? Luke wondered to himself? Before he knew it, he had drifted off to dreamland.

              Luke was jerked awake abruptly by a deafening BOOM!

*~*~*





 You can find Luke’s Dragon here:





*~*~*

A little about the author:       Cathy has always been a dreamer. In her dreams she is a beautician, business owner, masseuse, physical therapist, social worker, private detective, Ranch owner, veterinarian, florist wedding planner, exotic dancer, even a gay man, vampire, and all sorts of shifters.
    In real life, she is a retired woman in her fifties, although she acts like she is still in her thirties. She is married, living in a unique dome house in a small river town in the Midwest with her Hubbie, her three year old dog Molly that thinks she is human or a cat, and a brood of kitties that hide underneath her house.
   She is retired from 19 years of retail sales management specializing in jewelry sales and her two lovely children are grown and flew the nest to achieve their own dreams and leave tier mother to hers.
 Now she devotes her time to writing about all the above-mentioned things in her dreams adding in plenty of romance and suspense.
   In her spare time she likes to play with her many grandchildren, garden, cook, craft, sew, crochet and create things from trash and things she finds interesting like, bottles, rocks, old clothes, etc. Yes, she is a huge packrat. She is also a chronic dieter and likes to read on the treadmill. She loves to read and will find any excuse to do so.

*~*~*

I love to meet new friends and fans! You can find me at-


Grown up website:  Cathy Brockman Romance: 


Twitter: @cathybrockman- https://twitter.com/Cathy_Brockman







Thursday, January 23, 2014

Road Trip!

I just love travelling via the interweb, don`t you?

Over the next several weeks, I`ll be on the road, just like my Wildcats hockey team minus the possible fisticuffs and resulting sin bin time, to promote Pink Pucks & Power Plays



While it`s true, I don`t have a huge charter jet like the Wildcats do, I do happen to be the proud owner of the Ranger-Mobile, complete with snazzy bumper sticker!




Yep. I`ll be tooling around the internet, visiting blogs and meeting new friends starting today and spanning the majority of February. But don`t fear! I`ll return to my home rink to share Tuesday Tales, as well as host some great authors that are on the road as well!

I hope you`ll drop in at the lovely blogs that I`ll be visiting, I`ll leave links for each stop I make. If possible, it would be great to let the authors coming here see your support. We writers do love hearing from readers!

So, I suppose I had best pack my bag, grab my big Wildcats foam finger, and gas up the Ranger-Mobile. Looks like it`s going to be a whirlwind road trip!

 Today you can find me at Cathy Brockman`s blog:



Cathy Brockman - Author of Hot Romance





Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Pink Pucks & Power Plays Release Day!

Today is the day fans of steamy sports romance! Alain and Viviana`s novel is now available for purchase.




You can grab your copy of Pink Pucks & Power Plays at the Secret Cravings Publishing store by following this link:

Pink Pucks & Power Plays


As soon as the book is available on Amazon, ARe, B&N, and other major retailers I`ll add the buy links to this post. I hope you enjoy the To Love a Wildcat series as book one introduces you to the couple that starts it all! Thank you for your continued support. I truly am humbled by the outpouring of love from friends, fans, and readers.


Yours as ever,

V.L. Locey

Tuesday, January 21, 2014

Tuesday Tales - Hill

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 is ‘Hill’. In this excerpt Clayton and Zeke get a clue about the cryptic last words of an outlaw, as well as an unexpected visitor. It is revealed in a part of the book I haven`t shared here that our visitor was born with a birth defect known as a cleft lip.

A note for my readers:  This is a gay romantica 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!



            “Morning,” I said. Zeke made a noise that could have been a reply. Or it could have been the sound of a catamount with a bowel blockage. Dog rejoined me. Zeke was slow leaving the cot. His shirt was in his hand when he emerged from the cell. His trousers were partially undone. The band dipped dangerously low under his pelvic bone. 

           A wicked fantasy about running my tongue over then into the hills and gulley's under his hip bone appeared out of the blue. I waved a hand at the lone seat. Zeke filled it and then some. Removing the towels from last night`s menu highlight, we lifted the black cups of coffee from the gravy. The brew was hot, strong, and invigorating.

            “What`s the plan for today?” Zeke asked, licking an escaped drop of coffee from his fleshy lip. My mind wandered just a bit. Dog sitting on my boot to stare forlornly at his owner brought me back.

            “Bath and a shave,” I commented, placing my cup to the desk. I grabbed a towel to lift the leftovers to my chin.

            “I like the way you smell,” he tossed out before he dove into his food.

            “I like the way you smell too,” I countered. A cloud of steam rushed skyward from the chicken gravy. I could smell sage seasoning the lumpy mass. Zeke shot me a look, his fork never slowing as our eyes held. “I was thinking last night . . .”

            “That what you Anglo`s call it?” he inquired without missing a chew. My reply was a wry eyebrow. Zeke smiled at his food.

            “The thinking took place before you came back. After you come back, well, then thinking got kind of difficult,” I confessed with a shade of pink touching my ears.

            “Yeah, it did,” he concurred. “So what were you thinking about before stuff got difficult?”

            “Double Sun,” I said. I decided to ignore the word game he seemed to want to play. This was a new side to Ezekiel Fire Sky. It made me uneasy since I had no experience with a slightly playful deputy. “You ever hear of it? Is there some kind of Indian meaning behind it?”

            “Unless it has meaning to the Tonkawa, I wouldn`t know. Don`t assume we all hold the same beliefs or tell the same legends,” he said without rancor for my ignorance.

            “Apologies,” I mumbled. Sometimes it slapped me in the face how sheltered Becky and I had been back in the bayou. “Does it have meaning to you?”

            “No, it`s gibberish from a dying man,” he said between dripping forkfuls. I noticed a fine line of whiskers riding along his jaw. It looked rather enticing. “Maybe he saw two of everything. Or maybe he was looking into the eyes of your God as death came for him.” Zeke shrugged a shoulder.  I couldn`t tear my gaze from his new facial hair. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask why his beard was so scant. Surely he was manly enough to grow a fine beard. I could attest to his how vigorous his manhood was.

            Someone appearing in the doorway shattered the private moment. Zeke shot to his bare feet. I swallowed loudly while lowering my plate from under my chin. Miss Sarah skittered inside then hurried to close the door behind her. She was all in grey, as usual, but she had decorated her bonnet with yellow flowers. She looked quite fetching, aside from her deformity. She held a tiny black purse in front of her bosom.

            “Miss Sarah,” I said as I dabbed at the corners of my mouth with the hotel towel, “I was not expecting to see you. Please, have a seat.” I waved at the chair the Indian had just vacated. She blinked once then paraded right past the towering Tonkawa with her tiny purse held before her. I met Zeke`s bewildered look over the top of Miss Sarah`s smoky-colored bonnet. She sat primly, purse on her lap, hands folded over purse. Dog wiggled closer. She patted his head once then looked up at me.

            “I just wished you to know that not everyone feels the same way others feel.”

            “Thank you kindly, Miss Sarah,” I said with sincerity. No wonder Becky had found such favor with this woman. She was not one to be cowed easily. Her eyes darted to Zeke who was now loitering in the corner, eating as fast as he could chew and swallow. His dark eyes were narrowed. I had no idea what Indian`s thought about those born with such gruesome malformations. Mayhap he was befuddled with her terrible speech. Whatever he was thinking was closely guarded. “It`s refreshing to know that some people are of a higher intelligence than others.”

            She snorted loudly then quickly covered her misshapen mouth with a tiny hand.

            “Tell me, Miss Sarah,” I walked over to her then dropped into a crouch at her left side. Her cheeks flamed. “Have you ever heard the term Double Sun?”

            “Oh yes! That`s the ranch that Brooks Price owns,” she gushed, her eyes lighting up at the mention of the man`s name. I dropped to one knee. Her perfume was reserved yet pleasant, rather fitting for a spinster.

            “Price as in the Price Railway?” Miss Sarah nodded briskly at my query.  “Are you sure?” I asked. Dog seemed to take umbrage with me horning in on the lady. He shoved his long nose under my arm. Miss Sarah patted him liberally after I rose.

            “Quite sure, Sheriff,” she said as Dog`s rear leg twitched. “Why do you ask?”

Copyright 2013 ©by V.L. Locey

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See you next week with more from the old West!




Monday, January 20, 2014

Pink Pucks & Power Plays Excerpt # 2

Another week closer! I`m sure Viviana and Alain are getting antsy to share the story of their sultry love affair with you. I know I`m beyond excited! Thankfully we only have two days left until the release date! If you`re interested in reserving your copy, Pink Pucks is now available for pre-order! 

Pink Pucks & Power Plays








Speaking of erotic love affairs, why don`t we have a spicy snippet this time? Let`s see how a night on the town ends for our handsome young D-man and his sassy new flame, shall we?



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One just never knows when one offers a man a whistle-wetter what form that wetting will take. Whereas I had envisioned a long, tall flute of some lovely mid-priced champagne from my fridge to refresh Alain`s tongue he had something a bit less alcoholic in mind.

“It looks like I have one bottle of bubbly left from a New Year`s Eve party, or two bottles of raspberry spring water,” I announced from the chilly confines of my refrigerator. “Personally, I`d go with the champagne. The flavored water tastes off to me for some reason.” I reached for the bottle on the top shelf,  then pulled out two chilled flutes from the half dozen I leave in the fridge. “So, what do you want to wet your whistle with?” I asked, waving the bottle, cold air blowing over my calves.

           Alain never uttered a syllable. His eyes grabbed mine. My heart leaped around like a frog on meth in my chest, and then he was all over me.



My back hit the kitchen wall soundly. I held a bottle of champagne in my left hand and two crystal goblets in my right. Alain had me by the waist. My arms were looped around his neck. My leg was hiked up the side of his hip. He was more than mildly thirsty from his week on first base. He was nearly dehydrated. His tongue wrestled with mine aggressively.

           I pushed the cold bottle of Bollinger against the back of his head, egging him into kissing me harder and deeper. The light from the refrigerator was the only illumination aside from a small plum nightlight I keep lit beside the sink. I hoped like hell the salami didn`t get too warm.

I nearly dropped the bubbly when he lifted me from the floor to the counter. His mouth never left mine. 

He was so damned thirsty.

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To find out how this little whistle wetting adventure ends, you`ll have to grab a copy of Pink Pucks & Power Plays when it releases! I`m a terrible tease, I know.