Thursday, April 30, 2015

Throwback Thursday Tune

I used to love the jelly beans out of this song. Talk about bouncy!  Who else remembers The Midnight Special shows??

Monday, April 27, 2015

Tuesday Tales - Key

Hello! It`s time for Tuesday Tales.

 Today we have the next chapter for Wind in White Birch and our word prompt is "Key". Last week Dana and Jonah`s night on the town had just began. 

Don`t forget to visit the other talented Tuesday Tales authors. Thanks for stopping by!

Wind in White Birch

I did just as he said. I looked at him then gathered my napkin from my lap and laid it on the table. He smiled. My breasts tightened. Jonah led me to a small area beside the bar, the only place wide enough for two people to hold each other in the entire eatery. He stepped close, took my left hand in his right, slid his left hand around my waist to my back, and looked at the violinist. The older man gave us a knowing smile then launched into the singularly most beautiful song on a violin I had ever heard. Or perhaps it was the man holding me just a bit too close as he led me in tight circles that made the song so much lovelier?

            “You`re very light on your feet,” I whispered, not wishing the patrons at the surrounding tables and bar to overhear our conversation.

            “And you`re very light on my feet as well,” he teased as I stumbled over the tip of his shoe.

            “I`m sorry, I`m so clumsy and self-conscious,” I muttered, looking down at our feet. Jonah put pressure on my back until I was flush to his chest. I had nowhere else to look but at him.

            “Are you self-conscious about being the most beautiful woman in this city?” he asked, his breath spiced with oregano and basil just as mine was. I snorted then kissed him before I said something stupid.

            We danced. The patrons clapped. Jonah paid the bill and swept me into my coat and out the door. He had me locked against him, his mouth roaming over mine, before we could exit the eatery properly. His kisses were mind-altering. He teased and tempted, ravaged and stroked, demanded and acquiesced. I couldn`t think straight or breath normally. My fingers were wound tightly in his hair as cold city wind blew up under my dress. That was probably the saving grace. I needed an icy Pittsburgh wind blowing on my overheated thighs. The feel of Jonah`s erection grinding against my abdomen while his teeth nibbled on my jugular had me deliberating how best to get busy on a sidewalk while avoiding police problems.

            It was Jonah who finally drew back. His eyes were smoldering onyx coals, his breaths rapid and heated as they blew gently over my face. I went to tiptoe to plaster my lips over his once more. His hands slid from my back to my ass. A car pulled up. The valet parking attendant exited Jonah`s truck, coughed discreetly into his gloved hand and waited while we tried to look like we hadn`t been ready to do it on the doorstep. Jonah tipped him handsomely then lifted me up into his beast of a truck. I wiggled my fingers at the valet then buried my face into my palms.

            “Dana?” I heard my date ask. I peeked through my splayed fingers. The man was smiling like a cat in a canary ranch as he turned the key in the ignition. “You`re a terrible influence on me.”

            My hands fell to my lap. “I`m a terrible influence on you? “ I squeaked. He nodded, winked, and then pulled out of the parking lot, taking the first exit to head to Clairton.

            “You older women are nothing but hands,” he said, flipping on his turn signal.

            “You`re lucky we had to pick up Rhett, or I would have thrown you down on the sidewalk and shown you just what a cougar is really capable of.”

            The look the man gave me was absolutely priceless. “Damn, Dana, someday that tongue of yours is going to get you into serious trouble.”

            Aha, so the game was on, was it? Wonderful! I was feeling all sorts of revved up and randy so why not? “Oh? And just what kind of trouble do you think my tongue can lead me into?”

            The light we had been sitting at changed to green but the truck didn`t move. I stopped smiling at my reflection in my window and peeked over at Jonah. He was eying me like a lion eyes a gazelle. I had to wriggle around again.

            “You really want to know what I think that tongue of yours could do to be in trouble?” he asked, his voice low and gruff with need.

            I shook my head.  I didn`t need to hear him talk dirty to me. My brain was already swimming in a lake of pure estrogen. The car behind us grew impatient. I jumped when the horn blasted. Jonah slowly pulled his eyes from my crossed legs and we started moving again.

            Several moments passed. I wet my lips. I watched Clairton coming into view. The trucks radio was low and the heater high. “Are you mad?” I asked while I fidgeted with the hem of my dress.

            “Mad? No, why would I be mad?” Jonah asked, pulling off where I pointed on State Street. “I just needed a few minutes to clear the image of you lying under me, sweaty and nude, from my mind.”

            Oh. My. Goodness. I flung the door open to allow the lovely smelling cold wind of Clairton to blow up under my skirt yet again. If I kept this up, I would have frostbitten girly parts.


            Rhett, the wheedle king, managed to get three stories from me before his eyelids were ready to close. He had been all over Jonah from the moment he had seen the man in Clairton. My grandmother had been cool when we gathered up my son. Jonah had smiled and complimented her extensive collection of Precious Memories figurines. The man certainly knew how to soften a woman`s heart.

            I moved from Rhett`s room down the hall to the linen closet. I tugged out several blankets, a pillow and one of my better pillowcases. Sniffing the fresh linens as I pattered back to the living room I was in no way prepared for what I saw when I stepped from the hallway. The only thing Jonah Big Deer had on was that necklace made out of cougar claws and his trousers.

            Where was an arctic blast when you needed one?

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!

Monday Author/Book Spotlight: Susanne Matthews

Please welcome the lovely and talented Susanne Matthews to our little corner of the interweb. She`s visiting today to tell us about her book, The White Carnation. 

The last person disgraced reporter Faye Lewis wants back in her life is Detective Rob Halliday, the man she blames for ruining her career and breaking her heart. But when she finds an old friend murdered, he’s the one she calls.

 For the past year, Rob and his team have been hunting the Harvester, a serial killer who ritualistically murders new mothers and vanishes with their infants. What Rob doesn’t need is another case, especially one involving his ex-fiancĂ©e.

 Then Faye is assaulted, and Rob realizes the cases are connected. She may hold the answers he needs to find the elusive killer. But the more they investigate, the more complex the situation becomes. Can they set the past aside and work together, or will the Harvester and his followers reap another prize?
The White Carnation is available for purchase from several retailers. Find links at 

Excerpt from  The White Carnation

“Am I okay?” she shouted. “You can stand there and ask me that with my friend’s mother dead in the other room?” She punctuated her words with a shove. “No, I am not okay. I am most definitely not okay.” Fresh tears ran down her cheeks, and Rob instinctively reached for her to offer what comfort he could. She held herself stiffly for a few seconds before relaxing into his shoulder.
“I didn’t mean it that way,” he said, feeling like a fool. Holding her like this felt awkward and yet familiar. “I’m sorry for your loss.” His hand rubbed small circles on her back as he’d done many times before. “Home invasions don’t always make sense. There’s no sign of forced entry, so she must have let him in.”
Faye pushed away, her anger palpable.
“Seriously? Home invasion, my ass. Look around, Sherlock. Home invasions usually involve some kind of theft. Do you see anything worth stealing? The television is twenty years old, and it’s still here. The silverware is scattered all over, and she’s still wearing her rings. There’s money on the table. She had nothing worth taking. Nothing they wanted. Nothing worth dying for.”
Faye’s crying increased, fueled by her frustrated rage, making it almost impossible for him to understand her words. He tried to pull her back into his arms, but she refused to let him hold her. Admitting defeat, he put his arm across her shoulders and led her out of the room.
“Come on. Let’s get you out of here. There’s nothing more you can do. Amos and Logan need to get the body ready for transfer, and the lab guys are on their way up.”
He hurried her out of the apartment and down the stairs, remembering her phobia of that particular elevator. They walked out to the street where the crowds were beginning to form. It was early evening in Beacon Hill on a Friday night. Many of her residents wouldn’t make it home for hours yet.
“Tom, get a ride back with the black and white,” he yelled at his partner, who was questioning the concierge. That guy would probably be looking for a new job come Monday. The rest of the condo owners wouldn’t be impressed with a home invasion and a death on his watch. Rob opened the sedan’s passenger door and helped her in. Faye automatically buckled her seat belt, as the tears spilled down her cheeks.
Rob walked around the vehicle and got in behind the wheel.
“Where are you taking me?” From her tone, he could tell she didn’t really care. She knew he’d have questions, and she was probably grateful he’d chosen to ask them elsewhere. But she’d never admit it. Her color wasn’t good, and she shivered. He turned on the heater even though the temperature outside was in the mid-sixties. Despite what the officer on the door had said, for a crime reporter, she’d never had much of a stomach, and seeing Lucy that way would have been a shock.
“Home. I should probably take you to the ER, but knowing how much you hate hospitals, there isn’t any point in making things worse for you. You can answer my questions in the comfort of your own living room, sitting on that god-awful buttercream leather sofa you love so much. By the way, you haven’t moved, have you?”
He recognized bitterness in her chuckle.
“No, my career may be in flames, my finances worse, but my real estate is sound. The couch is gone.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her words but didn’t comment. Things must be bad if she’d parted with that damn custom-made couch. “Where’d you park the Camaro?”
“It’s gone, too. My Ford’s a half block down.”
“I won’t miss the couch, but that Camaro was your baby. Why get rid of it?”
“It didn’t match my shoes,” she spat out bitterly.
“Don’t chew my head off. You called me, remember?”
Faye nodded, gave him the license plate number, and he radioed it in, making arrangements to have her vehicle towed to the police station for collection tomorrow.

About the author:

Susanne Matthews was born and raised in Cornwall, Ontario, Canada. She’s always been an avid reader of all types of books, but always with a penchant for happily ever after romances. In her imagination, she travelled to foreign lands, past and present, and soared into the future. A retired educator, Susanne spends her time writing and creating adventures for her readers. She loves the ins and outs of romance, and the complex journey it takes to get from the first word to the last period of a novel. As she writes, her characters take on a life of their own, and she shares their fears and agonies on the road to self-discovery and love.

Follow Susanne on her:  Website    Blog    Facebook page    Twitter @jandsmatt

Amazon author page    and    Goodreads author page 

Sunday, April 26, 2015

Sunday Ramblings -The Value Of Writers & Words

Forgive me for starting this post this way because I know I sound like an old woman speaking to her grandchildren, but . . .

Back when I was a child, getting a book as a gift was a treasure! If it was hard-covered, then it was even more wondrous for it meant you were growing up. Books used to have great value. They took me to places I could never go in real life. As a child my books took me around the world. I visited the Alps, the African jungles, the Great Pyramids, and journeyed to the bottom of the sea.

I remember having a book-stand in my room as a young girl. It made me proud to see my book collection grow over time. I was taught to respect a book, treat it well, never break the spine, and never ever bend over a page to mark your place. Always use a bookmark and never write on the pages. My elders passed on how important each book was, how hard someone had to work to write it, and how important each word was on each page.

What happened? When did the work of an author come to be a piddling thing, like an old gum wrapper one finds in their pocket? Over the past few years I have seen the public become less and less respectful of a novel and the hard work that goes into it. What really drove the point home for me was a comment by a reader in a Facebook group last week. This reader was lamenting the fact that she had to pay almost five dollars for a book.

"I just love books but I don`t get why all authors just can`t make their books free!"

Yes, why don`t all us authors just do that? Who needs to eat, pay bills or tuition, or clothe their children? While we're at it, let`s ask artists to stop charging for oil paintings. And musicians, they should stop being paid as well for their songs because writing a song is even less difficult than writing a hundred thousand word novel, correct? Maybe we can all just stop paying everyone for his or her hard work. Plumbers, contractors, doctors, dentists, and auto mechanics don`t need wages, right? You, the reader of this post, don`t need to be paid either. Just work for months on end but don`t collect any wages because what you do is that devalued.

Pardon me for sounding bitter, but it hurts more than I can say to have people - readers who claim to love books - saying such things. When did this reader stop valuing that which she says she adores? I have a few notions, and I suspect we authors may be part of the problem. It was we, the writers, who stopped asking a fair price for our work. We authors started handing out books for .99 or free, and now, several years later, we are seeing more and more readers refusing to pay over a dollar for a book despite word count. Did we cheapen our craft and ourselves by giving away something of great value for nothing? Each author must answer that question for themselves.

Let`s get back to the reader who was upset about paying for a book for I have a few things to say in regard to her comment. You have my apologies that we authors have to make a living but this old workhorse refuses to labor for nothing. I do not expect others to work free, so they should not expect it of me. Doing so shows a lack of respect and it shows that you consider the person less than deserving of a fair wage. I deserve a paycheck. I work hard to create my books and I know my work is good.

I know it has value. I know how many hours I spend at my laptop. I know how many hours of editing, revisions, and proof-readings that I do on top of my hours writing. I know how much time I spend on marketing, promotion, and attending events online and in-person. My time is valuable and my books have worth. I have worth and no one is going to tell me or make me feel otherwise. I am not going to allow my books to become gum wrappers. 

All I ask is that those jaded readers do the same. Show respect to authors and their creations and they will repay you with tales of wonder, romance, action, and adventure for years to come. Not a bad trade at all I should think. 

Thursday, April 23, 2015

Throwback Thursday Tune

Oh yeah, keep on rocking me, Steve! I was fortunate enough to see the Steve Miller Band back in the day. It was a great show that left some wonderful lasting memories! Which SMB tune is your favorite?

Wednesday, April 22, 2015

Author/Book Spotlight: Kenzie Michaels' Nikoh's Chosen

Please welcome Kenzie Michaels back to our happy little nook under the stairs! She's here to talk about her book, Nikoh's Chosen. 

Thanks for having me today! 

If you’ve been following the tour, you’ve seen both NiKoh and GiNae agonizing over the fact they see seem destined to be together.  Another storyline is unfolding, however.  If you’ve read Heart’s Last Chance, you saw NiKoh’s sister SaLie agree to be the Primary Mate of a high-ranking Xaxonian official, while also being the lover of the Xaxonian military leader DuKah, with whom she’d fallen in love.  On the planet Xaxa, tri-unions are common, with either females taking two husbands, or even the males having two wives.  SaLie, however, was allowed to break her contract with JeWal, when it was learned he tried to subject SaLie to ‘unacceptable practices’.  She returned home to TriJupe and continued her education.

However, JeWal and DuKah visited TriJupe and enlisted SaLie’s help in recruiting businesses for the joint space station.  NiKoh’s office in Planet Security was keeping tabs on the two men, when a horrifying secret was exposed.

As the eldest sibling, NiKoh is very protective of his younger siblings, and calls a family meeting.
I hope you enjoy this glimpse into the secondary story line, which foreshadows the events of Book #3, still yet-to-be-titled.


Still mourning the tragic death of his beautiful mate, could another Chosen one already be waiting for NiKoh SiLah? To avoid what he’s not ready to accept, he throws himself into his work at Planet Security. 

Leaving the Academy behind to follow her dream of working with animals, GiNae SoJae returns home. Preoccupied with work and not ready to take a mate, she’s horrified when her body enters Maturity. GiNae fights the changes occurring within her. But during nightly dreams she cannot control, an unknown man teaches her the secrets of her body.

Will NiKoh and GiNae succumb to the paths they think have been chosen for them or will they discover the true Chosen life that awaits them? 


“As Eldest, it is my responsibility to intervene when upsetting situations are brought to my attention. Ever since BaRok’s Bond Test, JeWal and DuKah of Xaxa have continued to partake of our planet’s hospitality, along with the help of SaLie.” He paused.
“So what, NiKoh?” ReNei frowned. “She is Mature, and explained her reasons previously.”
“Yes, but there is another development which has come to light.” NiKoh tried to find the right words.
Salie blew out her breath. “I think he’s referring to this, Mother.” She stood up, pulled her voluminous skirt tight against her body, revealing her swollen girth. Amid gasps, she faced her brother. “For your information, Mother already knew. We were trying to keep it quiet, and not raise such a fuss.” Defiant, she glared at NiKoh. “This is another reason JeWal and DuKah continue their stay. I refused to give birth in their primitive birthing center, so even though the contract has been severed, the fact remains this child is one of theirs. Don’t look so shocked, BaRok. As the test showed, I was intimate with both men. It happened, get over it. When the child is born, whomever it favors the most will return with it to Xaxa, in order to continue their bloodline.”
NiKoh gaped at her as the rest of the family erupted in protest.
If you had told me of the emergency, this could have been avoided. He heard ReNei’s mild reproach.
I thought she was concealing it from you as well. Apologies.
It is out now, so let us move on.
“SaLie, how can you simply give up your child in this manner?” NiKoh crossed to her side once the other voices subsided. “You know your family will stand behind you, of course, but have you considered everything?”
SaLie continued to look defiant. “I have. Progeny is equally valued over there, and I’m hoping it will be of DuKah’s line, since this might finally join the two of us. JeWal already has two by his Secondary, but I did not get along with her and have no wish to have my child raised by her.”
“I cannot believe, after everything you went through, that you still hope to be mated to DuKah.” BaRok clenched his teeth. “JeWal is odious enough, but the coldness in DuKah’s eyes…I fail to see what impresses you so much about him.”
SaLie smiled. “We’re all adults here. He has a twelve inch cock, brother, which swells to a very impressive size when he’s aroused.”

NiKoh’s Chosen:  Family Matters is available at the following places:





Thank you again for having me!  I’m holding a month-long contest.  Simply comment with your contact info and after the tour is over, all names will be tossed in a hat for a Grand Prize, a special gift pack full of goodies, along with a free book awarded daily.


Kenzie Michaels resides in the Midwest with her husband, three children, and various household pets. Her fifth-grade teacher showed this avid reader how to write the stories swirling in her head, successfully unleashing her imagination upon the written word.

Kenzie is the ‘wild child’ of author Molly Daniels. They cohabitate nicely inside the brain of a woman in Indiana who’s the mother of three and ‘Aunt Molly’ to the entire neighborhood. A devout chocoholic, her hubby has learned to watch out when the characters in her head take over and not get too upset when the words are flowing and all concept of time is lost. (LOL)

Monday, April 20, 2015

Tuesday Tales - Picture Prompt

Hello! It`s time for Tuesday Tales.

Today we have a small excerpt from the next installment of Wind in White Birch. This week is our picture prompt week. Our excerpts must be 300 words or less and incorporate the image somehow. Don`t forget to visit the other talented Tuesday Tales authors. Thanks for stopping by!

Wind in White Birch

                I think I ordered baked rigatoni. It looked, smelled, and tasted like rigatoni. The consistency was right. Ribbed pasta with thick sauce and melted mozzarella that stuck to my tongue. If I had been able to tug my sight from Jonah sitting across from me, I could have been sure it. When he had began forking individual bites of his own meal into my mouth I kind of lost sense of time, space, and my own place in the universe. Heck, I could have been sitting in the middle of a country road on the back of a singing mule for all I knew.  Thankfully, something pulled me back from the mental void. Probably it was the wandering violinist playing something Italian as he strolled past our table.

            “You`re going to run out of food,” I pointed out after chewing and swallowing a delicious mouthful of veal and cheese. “Here, I don`t want you to grow weak before we even get a chance to have dessert.”

            He silently leaned over the table and tugged a cheesy rigatoni from my fork with his teeth. I sat in my nicely upholstered red chair watching him chew. I was holding things together well until he ran his tongue over his lips to gather up a few droplets of tomato sauce. Then I had to cross my legs to try to calm the eruption of need that his display had caused. His eyes never left my face. I felt color creeping up into my cheeks. Jonah dabbed at his mouth, got to his feet, and extended his work-rough hand to me. I giggled nervously, noting that most of the diners were still dining and not dancing.

            “Don`t look at them,” Jonah said. “Just look at me.”

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!

Monday Book Spotlight - Hurri Cosmo`s Ladders & eBook Giveaway!

I'm so excited to have new friend and fellow M/M writer, Hurri Cosmo, visiting today to chat about her book, Ladders. Hurri will give one copy of Ladders to one random commentor, so make sure to say "Hi Hurri!" and leave your contact information in the comment section.


Blurb: Rhys has spent his entire life in underground Winderport. He knew there was a whole other world above his "sky" but he wasn't interested—until the day he chased a killer to that mystical upper world and saw Kullian, all six foot something of perfection. So what if the man was a notorious and powerful Fey Baron? Rhys wasn't a typical law abiding citizen himself. The very fact the man was dangerous made him that much more attractive and had Rhys wanting things he'd never even considered before.

However, an injury causes Rhys to lose his memory and his only clues to his identity are his gun and a camera with pictures of Kullian's silver eyes looking right into the lens. But Rhys does have a couple memories—a very strong desire for the dangerous Kullian and he was after a murderer, a killer that just might be Kullian himself…

Excerpt one:

“You know who this is?” Rhys asked.
She glanced at him then back to the picture, leaning in a little closer. “I do. His name is Kullian.”
She looked back to the bundle. “And the fact that you obviously know him too explains another one of the items I found on you.”
She reached across the table, grabbed an edge of the shirt, and pulled it toward them. As it came closer, Rhys looked at the dark, metal object nestled in the center. It was a weapon. His weapon. His Cyro-silgil, to be exact. He put the camera down on the table and picked up his gun. Like the camera, he caressed the cool metal, realizing immediately the liquid hermitil injector had been removed. He looked back to the bundle and although he saw the gun’s holster he did not see the injector. He glanced up at Aylon, one eyebrow cocked.
She bristled, her plump face frowning, “Look, I don’t like guns, okay?” She then said something under her breath as she went back into the bedroom, this time emerging with a knife and some sort of skin sheath cradled in her hands. She handed it over to Rhys. “This is yours, too.”
Shit! Who carries all this weaponry? He put the gun down, picked up the knife out of her hands, and held it, bounced it. It was very light but solid, the blade short but sharp. He would not be able to do much damage if damage indeed needed to be done nonetheless it would still be formidable and command respect. He placed it on his clothes and took the leather sheath out of Aylon’s hands. Looking it over, it seemed to be an ankle strap. He let the strap join the knife on top of the bundle. It was then he noticed the pieces of something else sitting on top. He picked up the largest of them and held it up to Aylon.
Aylon harrumphed. “I think that may have been your cell or communicator, whatever it is you people use. Too bad. There is no fixing it. It was in your pocket. It must have broken when…well, probably the reason you have such a bruise on that side.”
Rhys nodded, touching his side again while he put the broken piece down and thinking about what she said. You people? Then he turned back to the camera and repeated, in almost a whisper, the name Aylon had given the man in the picture. Kullian. Yes, that name was familiar. He picked up the camera again and clicked to the next picture. It was of Kullian getting into a vehicle, another man closing his door for him. Kullian was looking out of the window, presumably at the camera again. More shivers made him nearly shake. What was this feeling?
“I’m not sure of anything, but I think I was after this man.”
Aylon raised an eyebrow. “Eh?”
“I think…I think he may have…killed someone I know. I think I may be after him to take revenge.”
“Really? That’s too bad.”
“I was beginning to like you. It would be sad to get to know you, nursing you back to health and all, and then have to bury you right away. And you being so young, too.”
“Bury me?”
“As in you’d be dead?”
“What are you talking about? I’m going to kill him!”
“No. You won’t. He’s a demon who would see you coming from a mile away. He’s guarded too, as if he needs it. He can take very good care of himself. But you see the mountain he’s with.” She pointed to the other large man in the picture. “That’s his bodyguard. He never goes anywhere without him. You would never even get past him.”
“You saw the pictures. I was close.”
“Yes…you were.” She took the camera out of his hands, looking closer at the picture. “How close?”
“Well, with the lens that’s on it and judging from the picture, about forty feet, maybe less.” Funny, he thought. He could remember something like that but not even a glimmer of where he lived.
She huffed. “Then if that was your intent, why didn’t you kill him here? It’s clear you let him drive away.”
“I…I don’t know…” It was a good point. Still, the emotions he was feeling connected to this man were too huge to ignore. He would have to find this man again. Maybe if he saw him, his memories would come back. “Do you know where I can find him?”
Aylon threw back her head and laughed as she handed the camera back. “Oh sure! He hangs out with the likes of me all the time! Of course not!” She laughed some more. “But I can tell you he owns several high class clubs. His most popular is called Angelo’s.”
“Angelo’s? Where’s that?”
“On the other side of the city.”
“Good. I’ll go there then. Hang out a little, ask a few questions…”
Aylon laughed yet again. “Do you think you just walk right in? Even if you had the clothes to wear—and you don’t—you still have to know someone to get in. Plus, across the city is not just down the street! How are you going to get there? You certainly can’t take the monorail.”
“Monorail? What the hell is a monorail?” Another foreboding fell over him.
“Oh yeah. Did I forget to tell you? I could tell by the ID card, not to mention the color of your skin, you’re from down below. Hate to break it to you, hun, but people from down under are not well liked up here; in fact, people up here are terrified of you people—would shoot you as soon as look at you. So traveling around up here might be a little difficult for you since you are going to stick out like a sore thumb.”
“Down below? What the hell are you talking about?” Then again, even as he voiced the question, Rhys knew she was right. He’d known it the moment he woke up and saw the sunlight streaming in through that window in the bedroom. He’d known somewhere deep inside he was about as far away from his home as he could be. He had no idea what or where that home was; however, the sunlight struck fear so deep, so ingrained, he knew more was at work here than a few lost memories.

Excerpt Two

He hazarded opening the door. Fresh, cool air rushed in from another huge room. Rhys remembered being carried through this one. He felt a twinge in his cock and an even harder twinge in his ass as his memories—Ahhh yes, I have memories now—brought him back to what he had done hours ago…or was it minutes? It didn’t matter. It had been incredible but he had to go and find Aylon and hope to hell she didn’t kill him. Where was the stupid HangeVide suit she had made him wear? Oh crap! It never made it into this place! He saw Kullian’s pants lying in the middle of the floor, remembering the almost desperate battle to get them off. Once again, he felt a hard twitch. He needed to block those things from his mind or he would get absolutely nowhere!
Well, except horny again…
He picked up Kullian’s pants and slipped them on. They were big. He clutched them together at the top to prevent them from falling down and let them bunch up at his ankles so he wouldn’t trip. They would have to do until he found his own clothes. He walked quickly to the door. Holding up the pants with one hand, he turned the knob with his other and opened it, cautiously.
The mountain known as Korras, the one who had dragged Rhys into Kullian’s office in the first place, stood in the hallway. He turned a questioning eye in his direction but stood still, his hands clasped in front of him. “Hi…” Rhys said almost above a whisper. Would the guy stop him from leaving? What would Rhys do if he did? He stepped out into the hall, continuing to hold his pants up. He spotted his shirt lying just outside the door. He took the couple of steps to it and reached down to pick it up. The guard said nothing, just continued to watch him.
“Just…I think my pants…I’m just going to take a look in that…that lift over there.” He shuffled past the guard, trying to face him the whole time he was near him, so he could gauge any movement he decided on. The look on the guard’s face betrayed nothing, no emotion at all. Finally figuring out the guard wasn’t going to stop him, he dashed to the lift and pushed the button alongside it.
He knew how they worked, even if he’d never been on one before last night. The doors slid silently open and there, in the middle of the floor, were his pants and shoes. He cursed under his breath thinking about the fact the coat came off first and he’d still been in the limo at the time. He obviously wasn’t going to be able to retrieve that any time soon. He hazarded a look back at the man who still stood motionless at Kullian’s door and continued to watch him. Rhys saw an eyebrow go up. Was he amused with the fact Rhys would not be able to find all of his clothes? He had to know what had gone on behind the door he guarded so closely. If he expected Rhys to ask for assistance, he would be dead wrong. He was in enough trouble with Aylon anyway. The loss of the coat couldn’t make her any more upset. He backed into the elevator, keeping his own gaze on Korras, and bent his knees to pick up his pants. He looked at the panel on the side and pressed the number one. Hopefully that floor was ground level. He gave a half salute and smirk to Korras just as the doors closed.
Once the doors were completely shut, he quickly rid himself of the too big pants and dressed in his own clothes. He folded Kullian’s pants neatly and laid them on the shiny floor just as the doors came open again on a bright lobby. Another guard-type man stood sentinel at this level, too. He eyed Rhys but said nothing as Rhys walked by him. There was a large, ornate front desk off to his left. He headed for that and the geeky-looking guy behind it. He was going to have to ask him where Angelos was. He hoped it wasn’t far because he would probably have to walk.
“Excuse me, sir. Could you tell me how I could get to Club Angelos?”
The mousy little man took the time to look Rhys up and down before he raised his hand rather dramatically and snapped his fingers. Another large man appeared. Shit! I have got to start drinking the water up here! “Jac, please take…” He raised an eyebrow as he slowly turned back to Rhys in obvious need of a name.
“Um…Rhys. My name is Rhys.” Cursing himself one more time for giving the guy his real name, he waited as that condescending head turned away from him.
“Please take Mr. Rhys to Angelos.” He turned back, slowly again, as if he were some kind of machine and not a real human. “Please follow Jac, Mr. Rhys.” He gave him another very disapproving once over. “Is that all you have with you?”
Rhys looked back down at himself as if he had to make sure as well. Irritated he was letting this guy get to him, he snapped his head back up. Without answering, he followed Jac. Rhys didn’t like the idea he was being taken there. He didn’t have much money on him and he had no idea how much it would cost. He absent-mindedly touched the pocket of his pants, noting his billfold was indeed there. Not that anyone in this place would have wanted to take his money. But he did like the idea he would get in front of Aylon faster, face her wrath sooner. He sighed as he lagged behind Jac.

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 Author Bio:

I live in Minnesota where I am holding tight to the idea that here, where it's cold a good part of the year, I won't age as fast. Yep, I avoid the truth as much as I avoid mirrors. But one of the reasons I love writing is reality doesn't always offer up a 'happily ever after' and being able to take control of that is a powerful lure. Being a happy ending junkie, writing just makes them easier to find. Oh, I don't mind 'real life' and I do try to at least keep it in mind when I write my stories but I truly love creating a wonderful couple, knowing they are going to fall in love and have their HEA. Every time. And, of course, that is exactly the reason I love reading this genre too. Give me a glass of red wine, some dark chocolate, and my computer, whether I am reading or writing, and I can entertain myself for hours. The fact I actually get paid to do it is Snickers bars on the frosting on the cake.

Sunday, April 19, 2015

Top 3 Bonds

Oh, James!

Is there a spy out there that captures the hearts and imaginations like James Bond? I grew up watching the 007 films and have quite a soft spot for Mr. Bond. If there is a marathon on, you'll find my hubby and I in front of the TV. While I enjoyed, and still enjoy, all the actors that have played that super sexy secret agent, I do have my favorites. What about you? Is there a special Bond or two for you? Tell me about your top Bond men in the comments below! Here are my top 3 in order.

1-Sean Connery

Sigh. And sigh again. For me, this is the epitome of Bond. Sean Connery set the bar. He has shown all that come after him how to drive a car, smoke, dress, make love, look, speak, handle a gun, and deliver a catchphrase. Nobody does it better in my book.

2-Pierce Brosnan

Cue the sighing again. I have been a fan of Mr. Brosnan's since his Remington Steele days. The man is simply stunning, incredibly virile, gifted with a voice that makes my knees slightly rubbery, and a fine actor. His tenure as Bond was a gift for all womankind.  Oh to be Halle Berry in Die Another Day!

3-Roger Moore

While Mr. Brosnan may be a very close second to Connery for many reasons, Mr. Moore is a sound third on my list. For me, the reasons for loving Moore as Bond aren`t as tangled up in lust as they are for Connery and Brosnan. While Moore is a handsome man, it`s more his style and his flair at delivering sharp one-liners that wins him the third place placard for me.

Do you agree with my picks or not? Who would you choose for your top 3 Bonds? Share your thoughts in the comment section below while I prepare some drinks.

Shaken, not stirred, of course.

Thursday, April 16, 2015

Throwback Thursday Tunes

Time to mellow out a bit and get persuaded. Enjoy the groove, my friends. Peace out.

Wednesday, April 15, 2015

Two Man Advantage Release Day!

I love hockey and I love romance.

I am so proud and so humbled to be able to write hockey romances for fans of both straight and gay genres! It is thrilling to have three M/M hockey novellas completed and contracted for your enjoyment coming soon. And for my fans of M/F hockey romance, we have nine new Venom books in the works.

 Two Man Advantage is the first of three gay hockey novellas from Ellora`s Cave. Let me warn you now--Victor Kalinski is not your typical romance novel hero. Oh no, he is far from it.

Most of you will probably hate Vic in the beginning of the book. That's okay. I wrote him to be disliked. Vic is patterned after a real hockey player and was penned to be rude, annoying, crass, and a first-class jerk. I suspect readers will not be fawning over Victor in the beginning of the tale. Vic pulls no punches just as the books blurb states. He says what he thinks and lets the chips fall where they may, sometimes paying dearly for his abrasive attitude and sharp tongue. It takes a special kind of man to love a person that everyone else hates. Luckily for Mr. Kalinski, he finds that man in Dan Arou.


Victor Kalinski, all-star forward for the Boston Barracudas, is one of the biggest jerks in professional hockey. Before long his aggressive attitude gets him shipped off to play in the minor leagues.

Furious, he takes to the ice with equal amounts of skill and scathing sarcasm, which doesn’t win him any friends—except for good-natured alternate captain Daniel Arou. He won’t take any of Vic’s crap, and he won’t take no for an answer.

But Vic’s troublemaking is pulling his career one way while Dan’s talent is pushing his in the other. However much they scorch the sheets, they might soon be separated by more than Vic’s fear of being hurt.

Inside Scoop:  This book contains scorching gay sex and a heaping helping of no-holds-barred snark between hot hockey heroes who don’t pull their punches.

A Romantica® gay erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

You can find your copy of Two Man Advantage here:

 There` s a free copy of Two Man Advantage being given away, so drop by all the wonderful blogs participating in the Pride Promotions Book Blitz for Vic and Dan`s novella:

Thank you all for your support. It is deeply appreciated.

Skate hard and love deeply,


Monday, April 13, 2015

Tuesday Tales - Nail

Hello! It`s time for Tuesday Tales.

 Today we have the next chapter for Wind in White Birch and our word prompt is "Nail". Don`t forget to visit the other talented Tuesday Tales authors. Thanks for stopping by!

“Rhett, please, just stop being so nasty about this,” I said, chugging through Clairton on Friday afternoon. We passed closed stores and restaurants, many boarded up years ago. “It`s not like you`ll be at G-G Helen`s for months. It`ll just be a couple hours and then Jonah and I will pick you up when we`re done dinner.”

“I hate Grandma`s house. It stinks!” he pouted, arms tightly folded over his chest. His bottom lip dangled down so far it was tickling his chin. “I want to go with you and Jonah!”

I inhaled through my nose as we crept up to a red light. “Rhett,” I said with all the patience I could muster. He had been miserable since I picked him up at school with his bag packed. For the life of me, I could not understand why he was throwing himself as he was. It`s not like I hadn`t told him days ago of our plans. He was fine with the few hours we had laid out for dinner. The whole weekend had been slated for family fun. What the hell more did the child want? “You`re not coming with us,” I said yet again, my fingers curled tightly around the steering wheel. “Jonah and I would like a few hours alone.”

I pulled up to the curb in front of my grandmother`s narrow box of a house. There were no driveways. You parked along State Street and prayed your car didn`t get rear-ended by the steady stream of tractor trailers. I barely had the Toyota in park before my son was out, closing the door in my stunned face and stalking up the skinny walk to his great-grandmother`s house. I counted to one hundred and sixteen before I went inside. The ambiance was as you would expect. My grandmother was sitting in her chair, her mouth slightly open and her eyes wide behind her bifocals.

“What`s the matter with him?” she asked. A door slammed upstairs. The house smelled of fried foods and mothballs. I turned sideways to squeeze around the coffee table and sit on the sofa.

“He`s upset about me taking a few hours of time away from him and Jonah,” I hypothesized. I really had no clue what was eating the boy. I looked up the narrow stairwell. Maybe someone had bullied him today. He was just the kind of tiny, gangly boy that bullies were attracted to.

“He`ll get over it or he won`t,” she sagely said, her chair gently pushing her to her slippered feet. “You used to be the same way. Do you think he wants some skinny potatoes?”

I rolled my eyes. Yes, that was the Zajac way. Have a problem? Eat. Have a cold? Eat. Have a boil on your ass? Eat! Eat! And put some sour cream on that.

God, skinny potatoes sounded good. I could almost hear the thin slices of potato hitting the hot grease. I shook my head to dispel the erotic carbohydrate addiction. I stood up. I had about an hour to get back home and get ready for the arrival of an erotic Seneca addiction.

“I`m sure he would love some.” I walked to the kitchen. She was already digging potatoes out of the bin in her fridge. “I have to go. We`ll be here no later than ten.”

“Ten? That`s pretty late,” she muttered, inspecting a spud the exact same color as her hair.

“I don`t turn into a pumpkin until midnight, remember?” I smiled. She glanced over the top of her glasses at me. “Thanks for watching him. I don`t want Rhick and Jonah anywhere near each other if I can avoid it. ”

“Rhick needs to be run over by a trash truck.”

Ah, there`s that sweet, feminine Zajac love. Don`t it just warm your cockles?

“Yeah, he does,” I agreed.

* * * * *

I was doing the pantyhose dance when someone pounded on my door.

“Just a minute!” I shouted my knees tight against each other and my toes pointing inward. I was late. I knew stopping at the drug store for nail polish would do this. I bounced around my bedroom, tugging and wriggling until the damned nude things got over my hips. I stood beside my dresser panting like a plow horse that had just finished cultivating the bottom forty. I grabbed a robe and ran to the door. Blowing out a breath while patting down my hair, I willed myself to appear unruffled. The door creaked open. I got very ruffled and all it took was his smile.

“Nice robe,” he said. I grinned then realized I had put my ratty robe on instead of my good robe.

“Pickled beet stains are all the rage in Paris this year,” I covered with, waving him in out from the cold. My heater kicked on. He stepped inside. I closed the door and turned around, wondering if I could somehow erase the image of this robe from his mind. He dropped his duffel bag, shook his long wool coat off his arms then turned to face me. My eyes couldn`t get enough of him.

 And I thought he looked good in jeans and flannel . . . 

I love a man in a suit, and this one fit him to sheer perfection. The dark grey, two-button made his ebony hair and eyes seem that much darker. A black shirt with a red tie looked incredible with the smoky Mohair. The cut was classic and emphasized his broad shoulders and lean waist. My lips got dry from the gas heat.

“Damn,” rolled out of my mouth. One side of his mouth ticked upward. He took a step toward me then stopped.

“You better go get dressed,” he said, “I remember what happens when I get your back against that door.”

“We have reservations,” I muttered.

“I figured we would,” he said, reaching up to gather his long hair into a ponytail.

“One kiss wouldn`t make us late,” I whispered, my fingers itching to get inside his suit. “Leave it down.”

“Yeah, it would,” he said dropping his hair per my wishes, “Because when I get you in my arms, it won`t be just one kiss.”


“Yeah, oh.” He winked. It was a real internal battle but I skirted around him then tripped into my bedroom, closing the door on him. Once the latch clicked, I blew out a long steadying breath.

I glanced at the two dresses lying over the bedspread. One was a short-sleeved red that was very nice and had been to a few dinner parties when Rhick and I were still married. The other was a secret purchase made on my ‘Extreme Emergency-Only Visa’ two days ago. It was an irresistible turquoise shift under a matching flouncy outer sheering and came to the top of my knees. It was sleeveless and gathered behind the neck. I had seen it in Betty`s Boutique across from the book store and had to have it. I could have paid my rent next month with what I spent on the racy little thing, and that was with a twenty percent discount from Betty.

I thought of Jonah in that suit and my saliva-filled reaction to him. If we were only getting these few hours, I might as well do my best to make the man remember me when he was all alone in that damned lodge of his. Maybe he`d come around more often if he saw me dressed to impress.

Fifteen minutes later, I floated out of my bedroom. Jonah had seated himself on the sofa, a magazine about independent presses and authors in his hands. I stopped when his dark eyes lifted from the article he was perusing. I knew I had chosen wisely when the periodical slid from his long fingers to the couch unheeded.

“You look sexy as hell,” the man said, his eyes caressing every inch of exposed flesh.

“Thank you kindly, Mister Big Deer,” I replied, lifting out the sides of my dress to drop into a curtsy.

Oh yes, this dress was worth every lunch I would skip for the next month.

Copyright 2013 ©by V.L. Locey


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