Monday, August 31, 2015

Tuesday Tales - Hardy

Hello! It`s time for Tuesday Tales.

Today we the next issue in my historical M/M romance, Dear Jon, which is set in 1945. Every issue of this serial will be under 1500 words so they're quick reads.  Our word prompt today is 'Hardy'. This story contains mature language and gay sexual situations. If that offends now would be the time to move onto another Tuesday Tales offering. 

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

            Packing had been sadly easy. I had nothing of great import – aside from pushing back the art show I had planned – to take care of. Not even a goldfish in a bowl could be found in my personal space behind my studio. Not wishing to dwell on what that meant, I rolled down my window and fumbled with the radio until I found something from Benny Goodman. Hearing Gotta Be This or That made my jaw loosen enough to shove a Pall Mall between my lips. Using my knee to steer my knackered up `39 Ford coupe I managed to get a match lit and a hand cupped. The first hardy inhalation made me relax. Dropping my knee my fingers found the huge steering wheel. I drove, smoked, and tried to ignore the knot of unease growing in my gut.

            Shit. What was I supposed to do with a kid? Why the hell had Betty done this to me? Rolling across sloping hills thick with green I tossed the last half of Turkish and paper to the road. The sky was overcast, threatening rain which I prayed wouldn`t come. The convertible roof of my old Ford was damned ratty. I had enough cash laid back for a new car. Thing was, I was still in that rationing mindset I guess. I`d done without for so long to help the cause I figured I`d run the old gal until she dropped. Or I drowned in a sudden downpour.

            Every mile marker meant I was that much closer to Hannity Hills. With nervous fingers I grabbed another smoke. I didn`t usually chain like this but I could feel the town reaching out for me. Like some hateful octopus from a Jules Verne story Hannity Hills was. All tentacles and snapping beak, ready to sucker anyone who wasn`t normal in and chew them up like a wayward crab. I had to pull over to light the fucking Pall Mall my hands were shaking so badly. I spit the loose tobacco to the side. The landscape was already turning rural. Long gone were the skyscrapers of New York. Now all you saw were cows, farmhouses, and kids starving for something more.

            Or maybe that was me I saw. Roaring back onto the road, I resigned myself to not looking at the kids stranded in the middle of Repressionville. If I didn`t look at them, I wouldn`t hear the hatred that rolled down over me, threatening to bury me under the landslide of my father`s disgust and disappointment in his only son. I wished I had a fifth of something. I blew past the quaint sign welcoming people to Hannity Hills, Pennsylvania, Pop. 1,938 like a man with a demon on his ass.

            The town hadn`t changed much. I lit another smoke. The general store still had American flags snapping in the wind. The movie theater was still playing flicks for a nickel according to the sign. Looked like White Pongo starring Richard Fraser was on the silver screen. I had an overwhelming urge to either vomit in my lap or gas the Ford. Maybe, if I were lucky, I`d take out the theater and Lenity’s Men’s Wear next door. I didn`t gas her though. I pulled respectfully into the office of Bartlett & Bowen.

            I turned the key. The engine quieted. I sat there and stared at the sedate brick building, hands sweaty and tacky. Not knowing how else to handle it I forced my hand to snake out and find my hat - A matching brown Fedora with a dark red band to go with my suit - very upper class despite the long golden hair dancing over my shirt collar. An urge to rip off my respectable tie and run up and down Main Street shouting "I'm a fairy!" overtook me. Wisely, I just lowered my head and walked into the law office.

            The receptionist wasn`t happy, I could tell from the way her mouth never curled into a warming smile. She was mad about being forced to stay here an hour past closing. I was mad about being forced to drive five hours just to get another kick in the cahoneys. Maybe she and I should compare sob stories someday. Laying aside her tube of lipstick she rose. She was a tall woman, nearly as tall as me. Sober though, with penciled eyebrows, outlined lips, and an aura of pure ‘If I had a husband I`d tell you to fuck off, you fruit!’ painted on her mug as thick as her make-up was. I introduced myself.

“Mr. Bartlett is waiting for you, Mr. Porter,” she said, coming from behind a wooden desk that weighed as much as my `39 coupe outside. I followed because I didn`t dare not. I feared she would turn around, find me dawdling with my shoes or my tie, and reach out to rip my balls from my body with one of her grotesquely clawed hands. Smiling weakly when she whipped a look over her shoulder I ambled along in silence. I nearly rear-ended her when we stopped. “Go right in Mr. Porter, I`ll bring more coffee and milk.”

            With that the door was opened and the bitch hurried off, her freedom in sight. I stepped into the office and was nearly bowled over by the eyes of one sandy-haired kid. He was seated in a leather chair that nearly swallowed him. It was his eyes that knocked the wind out of me. They were Betty`s eyes and my father`s eyes. And they were the same eyes that looked back at me every morning as I dragged a razor over my mug.

I never heard the coffee arrive.

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 Tuesday Tales authors.

See you next week!

Monday Author/Book Spotlight-Lynn Townsend's Classic

I am always thrilled to have Lynn visit. She is a wonderfully talented author and a dear person. Today she's here to chat about the long awaited last book in her Rainbow Connection trilogy, Classic. I'm so sad to see this series end, although I know that this isn`t the last we'll see of my boys Vin and Beau as Lynn has other stories planned for the supporting characters from this trilogy. The floor is all yours, Lynn! 

Hi everyone! Thanks so much to Vicky for hosting me here on her blog, as she's wont to do from time to time. It's really been great how much support she's shown for my two boys over the years.

One of my favorite writers is quoted as saying, "When a man writes a romance, the woman dies. When a woman writes one, it ends all tidy and sweet."

The Rainbow Connection, a series of novels I have been writing for the last four years, is a romance. Admittedly, it is a gay romance, and until very recently, the likelihood of it ending in legal wedding was up for debate. But it was always meant to end happily.

The truth is, I was inspired to write what started as a short story and grew into a series of novels (three have been, or will be soon, published. One that's being written, and one -- maybe two? -- that are in preliminary planning...) from an event that took place shortly before another wedding, many years ago. I had a tumultuous affair planned, for characters who took on a life of their own, ripped my control right out of my hands, and took me on a ride that I'll never forget.

So, when I offer forth this little short story, I say to you, this is not a true spoiler. You always knew we were going this way. The road has been long, it has been winding, and it has had a great many bumps in it. But you knew the destination when you got in the car with me...

These books were always meant to be a romance, and a romance often needs a good wedding...

Tag Line 

Rebuilding your life can make you stronger, or it can destroy you all over again…


Beau Watkins and Vin Reyes have mended their differences, but that doesn't mean that everything is back the way it was. When Beau's teenage niece shows up with her son in tow, Beau is thrown unexpectedly into a world of adult responsibilities and adult decisions, all of which could have disastrous consequences. Reconciliation with his family is complicated by an overseas internship with a predatory business woman.  

Vin still struggles with his alcoholism, with finding his place in a world after college, and establishing relationships with his newfound father and sister. The last puzzle piece of Vin's mysterious past is clicked into place when he comes face-to-face with his mother's ex-fiance. His relationship with Beau has never been stronger... until an unexpected email threatens to topple everything they've build together. 

Buy Link:

by Lynn Townsend

A short story, in parts...

... some years later.

Beau stared at the fancy office, decorated with elaborate mock-ups and pictures from previous events. There were brochures for floral arrangers, for cake bakers, for caterers, for destinations.

"No." He stopped dead in his tracks. "Absolutely, no."

"Yes, Beau," Vin said, tugging on Beau's arm with a resigned expression on his face. "You asked, I said yes, and now things actually have to get... planned. And trust me, that's heartache you just don't want. So... we hire a wedding planner."

"Cain't we just stand up in front of a judge?"

"No. Absolutely, no," Vin said, precisely echoing Beau's inflections. "We absolutely cannot do that. We need a ceremony. We need to celebrate our joy in front of everyone we know and care about. We need to have a big party and dance and have cake and get rice thrown at us and drive away in a car with greasepaint on the windows and cans tied on to the bumper."

"People still do that?"

"Maybe not," Vin admitted. "But we can. Seriously, have you never thought about..."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Reyes," the polished until she glowed receptionist came out of the back of the room to greet them. "It's an honor to be working with you. I'm Cathy, your hostess. We've got you set up in the silver parlor, with some Coke and a light lunch, while you meet with Aglaia, who'll be your planner. She's got a few ideas from your talk over the phone."

Cathy didn't swish and her skirt was not clingy or tight; the wedding planners did, after all, cater mostly to heterosexual couples and having the potential groom ogling the help was probably bad for business. Beau sighed. "This wasn't accidental, you didn't just pick her out of the phone book, did you?"

"Of course I didn't," Vin said. "Aglaia's one of my clients. I sold her some -- well, you'll see it, she told me she was going to put the painting in one of her parlors, and it would be silly of her not to take advantage by seating us in a different room. We were talking, at the last show, about what she did, and I rather liked her. I'm sure you will, too. You just have to relax a bit."

"You know I don't like it when you make a fuss," Beau said.

Vin pursed his lips and blew his bangs off his forehead; Beau still wasn't sure Vin was comfortable with the new style. It seemed Vin was always tucking his hair behind his ears or puffing at the fringe, but Beau had to admit that it did suit his features, and looked oddly both artsy and professional, the look Vin was trying hard to capture.

"Beau. Honey," Vin said in his most persuasive voice, the one he trotted out for special occasions, usually employed against Beau in situations which it might not be best to think too much in detail while in public. "This is my wedding, too. Don't you think a little bit of fussing is in order?"

Cathy showed them into the parlor -- better described really as a swanky sort of office. There was a round mahogany table in the middle of the room, set for lunch, and an offside lounge area with a few comfy looking couches clustered in one corner.

The planner had set out a few glossy pamphlets with suggestions for venues for them to look over while they got settled in. Lunch was crystal glasses filled with lemonade and tiny little sandwiches cut into triangles with no crusts. "Fancy," Beau muttered, which did not keep him from shoving a few sandwichettes into his mouth. The most annoying thing, he had discovered, about growing older was that he wasn't any less hungry than he'd ever been, he just had to work harder to keep those extra Snickers' bars from ending up around his waist. On the plus side, his job included rather a lot of bare-knuckled boxing, both as a coach and for the occasional demo, so it wasn't like keeping the weight off was truly a hardship. Not like it was for Vin, who rather mournfully watched Beau wolf down most of his own plate before eyeing Vin's sandwiches covetously.

Vin took up one sandwich and then shoved the rest of them at Beau without commenting.

"Hello gentlemen," the wedding planner said, coming into the room. Aglaia was a dark skinned woman of mixed heritage, gloriously rubenesque with her hair done in a mix of braids and loose twists, dyed in various shades of henna red. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Reyes, and of course, I've heard all about you, Mr. Watkins. Now, let's sit down and I'll get a few of the basic questions out of the way, before we plunge into the meat of what your vision of the perfect wedding is."

Sunday, August 30, 2015

Sunday Ramble - My Top 5 Musicals

I don't know about you but I LOVE a good musical! The singing and the dancing always make me feel so happy and lighthearted. Of course, there are a few that are my favorites, and I thought I would share my top five with you today. I would love to hear what your favorite musicals are! Just tell me your picks down in the comments section. These are in no particular order. It was hard enough trying to narrow it down to just five!


I have probably seen this movie a hundred times if not more. Danny and Sandy are great but Rizzo steals the show as far as I'm concerned!

My Fair Lady

This may have been the first musical I ever saw. To this day, it still delights me as does anything Audrey Hepburn starred in.

Les Miserables

Okay, I'll confess. I wept like a baby three times seeing this in the theater. I am known to belt out a killer rendition of Master of the House while driving!

Singing in the Rain

A true classic with one of the best singer/dancers ever to grace the silver screen, Mr. Gene Kelly. 

The Sound of Music

Is there anyone out there who doesn`t know at least one song from this amazing musical? 

Honorable Mention

While I just adore the following two movies, I can't really call them true musicals as there is no singing. Since I use that as a criteria, they had to be omitted from the top 5 list. But, they are not to be forgotten! 

Dirty Dancing

Another film that I have watched over and over and over. The romance between Baby and Johnny is a true classic and the dancing is sheer perfection.


What a premise for a great movie. A town that doesn`t allow dancing and the adorable kid who brings the joy of song and dance back.

Thursday, August 27, 2015

Throwback Thursday Tune

To wrap up our month of classic country I had to feature my fave old-time country singer, the one and only, George Jones!

Monday, August 24, 2015

Tuesday Tales - Buzz

Hello! It`s time for Tuesday Tales.

Today we have the next issue in my historical M/M romance, Dear Jon, which is set in 1945. Every issue of this serial will be under 1500 words so they're quick reads.  Our word prompt today is 'Buzz'. This story contains mature language and gay sexual situations. If that offends now would be the time to move onto another Tuesday Tales offering. 

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

It took me roughly five minutes to run to my studio, a crumpled Western Union message in my hand. Once inside the missive fluttered to a small table beside the front door. I tugged the ‘I`m at the Wastrel’ note I had taped to the door off. The lights flickered on and I moved through the gallery, the oils that were just now starting to command some serious dough ignored blatantly. I paid no mind to the sculptures done by a friend. I saw nothing of the newest piece that held the largest spot on the dark green walls. The smell of booze, perfume, dreams, turpentine, and Pall Mall`s filled the tiny flat. I loved it. I loved this place and I loved the attention that my work was getting. I loved being called the next big thing to come out of the Village.

I have a nephew . . .

Hand on the door to my personal space I paused. I ran back through the modern cityscapes that defined who I was as an artist. I reread the note. My heart felt like it was beating too slowly. My thoughts buzzed around inside my skull.

I have a nephew . . .

Why had Betty never told me? I was her fucking brother. Oh yes, that`s right. She never told me because I had informed her she was dead to me.

“Sweet shit.” My hands splayed on the table. Business cards fluttered to the floor when the studio door opened. I didn`t have to look up, I could smell her perfume. Without a word or a glance, I shakily held the telegram out to the left. Charlotte closed the door, lit a cigarette, took the news with a gloved hand and sashayed into the studio. She positioned herself artfully beside an oil of the city done at dawn. The pink pin striping and the ebony material of her dress and hat matched the colors of the painting perfectly, as she knew it would.

Turning around I found her eyes on me. “I knew it was bad news.” She flicked an ash to the hardwood floor.

“I have a nephew.” I walked over to stand beside her, both of us looking not at each other but at the people hustling by on the sidewalk.

“So I read,” Charlotte replied, her voice smoky and deep. She broke from my side. I really did love to watch her walk. Pity we could never make it work. One date- and one less that spectacular roll in the hay - had shown us the errors of our ways. We never made that mistake again but we had become thick as thieves.  Charlotte was one hell of a woman. “Are you heading off to Ass Crack, Pennsylvania?”

“Hannity Hills. Yeah, it`s where I was born. I do not want to go back but . . .”

She read the dangling sentence for what it was. “They`re going to spit on you now just like they did before,” she said, her sharp grey eyes narrowed.

“I know,” I countered. “But Betty`s boy . . .”

Again it was left swinging in the smoky air. Charlotte raised one shoulder, the padding riding atop her arm making the gesture seem bigger.

“What about the show?” she asked.

I have a nephew . . .

“I`ll rush things back home,” I said, staring at her openly. The knot her finely penciled brows were in hadn`t untied. “It`s not for three weeks. I should be able to find someone more fitting to take the boy.”

At that she laughed. It was a sound that made the muffler on a ratty old `32 Chevy coupe sound smooth.

“Someone who doesn`t paint and suck dick, you mean?”

I winced at her frankness. “You have no idea what the word subtle means, do you?”

“Jon, there`s no reason to be subtle. We are what we are. Call me when you arrive,” she said, tapped another ash to the floor then left. I stood there with my hands swinging at my sides watching my best friend stop and wiggle her fingers at me outside my studio before latching onto some poor slob`s arm. With a wink, a giggle, and a pat on her well-rounded ass, Charlotte blended into the crowds with this week`s sugar daddy.

Well at least Charlotte knew how her night was going to go. Me? I had no damned clue but I highly doubted I would be wined, dined and bedded like Madame Duvall. What I had coming over the next few hours was a rushed packing job, a five hour drive, and an eventual glum return to the town that had spit me out like an old flavorless wad of Bazooka bubblegum.

Oh, and I had a funeral to plan and a nephew to meet. I picked up the phone and asked the operator for Hannity Hills.

I have a nephew . . .

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 Tuesday Tales authors.

See you next week!

Monday Author/Book Spotlight - L. Marie`s Reclaim My Heart

Today the talented L. Marie visits to give us a look at her new release, Reclaim My Heart.


Boyd Hart is content with his life. He’s a licensed contractor who has a way with wood. He, and his brothers, are rehabbing an old farmhouse. Imagine his surprise when the first love of his life, Sunshine O’Hare, returns to Haydensburg and buys the house before it’s even finished. Old feelings are rekindled and Boyd’s ready to burn.

       Sunshine O’Hare is a woman on a mission. A mission to seduce the first person she’d ever loved. They had fallen in love as teenagers and she’s carried the torch into adulthood. She had to walk away from him fifteen years earlier and she wants back into his life. She can only hope he’s a willing participant in her grand scheme.

Desire comes quickly. Will they light a fire? Or had the flames fizzled out fifteen years ago?

Excerpt One:

The hours ticked by, and he thought perhaps there had been a change of plans and Sunshine wouldn’t come around. The afternoon sun slanted through the windows. He glanced at his watch. Only three o’clock.
A stack of two-by-fours that he had marked earlier needed cut to length or ripped, so he started that task. The repetitive action of placing a board on his chop saw, cutting through it, and then tossing it aside became cathartic. His mind emptied of everything except his love of carpentry. The whine of the saw. The sawdust flying in every direction. It calmed him.
A hand landed on his shoulder, and he completed the cut he was doing. Then, he spun around, expecting to see one of his men.
Instead, his heart leapt into his throat.
He needed a moment to gather himself so he turned off his saw and laid the most recent board on the pile. After taking a deep breath, he faced her. “Hi,” he began.
That was as far as he got.
Suddenly, Boyd found himself securely in a bear hug. Her ample breasts were crushed against his chest. At a loss, he awkwardly returned the embrace, lightly patting her back.
She released him. “Sorry. I just planned on saying hello and shaking your hand. But…” She toed the floor with the tip of her shoe. “I guess I became overwhelmed.”
He smiled. Sunshine had grown into the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen. She’d gained maybe only an inch or two height-wise, leaving her at roughly five-foot five-inches. But gone were the straight lines. A shapely, hourglass figure had replaced them. The billowing, multi-colored skirt she wore enhanced the curve of her hips, and the hot pink of her tank top did little to hide the lushness of her full breasts. Even the bright pink polish that adorned her toenails, left bare by the open toe of her sandals, turned him on.
Boyd was afraid all his blood would rush to a certain part of his anatomy. “You’ve changed,” he finally managed.
She glanced down at herself and chuckled. “Yeah, I guess I have. I’m not the stick figure I was when I left.”
“No. You definitely do not have a stick figure.”
She giggled again, and Boyd’s heart thudded hard in his chest. Just as it had the day she had told him she was leaving. When he’d realized she was much more than a friend.
And now, he wanted. Wanted to be with her on a level far beyond mere friendship. He locked gazes with hers, and soon, the pull of her turquoise-colored eyes began to drag him in.
He’d never been so drawn to a woman. Sure, he’d seen plenty of pretty ones, but the woman standing before him made the rest look homely and common. He didn’t understand how Sunshine could enrapture him by nothing more than being in close proximity, but the need to gather her to him again almost became more than he could take.
Instead, he’d admire her from afar.
However, she was a temptress, and he had a feeling he’d give in to temptation eventually.
But he was good with that.

Excerpt Two:

“What brings you here?” Boyd asked.
“Well,” Brandt began, pausing to sip, “I found a buyer for this house, sight unseen.”
Boyd’s eyes widened. “Already?” He glanced around. “It isn’t even ready yet.”
Brandt grinned. “You are talking to me. I can sell ice to an Eskimo.”
“Huh. I guess you can. Who’s buying?”
Brandt eyed his brother over the rim of his foam cup. “I think you may know her.”
Boyd chuckled. “I know a lot of hers. You’ll need to be more specific.” He moved to a neat stack of drywall and began counting the sheets.
“Yeah. But this her was your first love.”
Boyd stepped back so quickly that his hip connected with the makeshift table and nearly sent the plywood to the floor.
“I thought that would take you by surprise,” Brandt stated, as he straightened the pile atop the sawhorses again.
“Sunshine O’Hare is buying this house? She’s coming back to Haydensburg?” The words raced out of Boyd’s mouth, but then he stood there, silent and thunderstruck.
Sunshine had been the first girl he’d ever kissed. Hell, the first girl I’d ever loved. But that had been so long ago. Fifteen years to be exact. And there had been other hers in his life since then.
But, truth be told, when he kissed another woman, the first thing that popped into his mind was Sunshine’s pretty face. Even during times of passion, he had often thought of her. He’d never completely shook her.
Then, Brandt dropped the biggest bomb. “I’m bringing her by later today.”
Boyd wasn’t a violent man, but right then, he wanted to strangle his brother. “Well, hell, Brandt. Could you have given me a little more warning?” He glanced down at himself. “I would have at least looked presentable.”
Brandt waved away his concern. “Oh, you look fine.”
Fine was a relative term. Dressed in paint-stained blue jeans, a faded black T-shirt, and brown, steel-toed work boots, he definitely wasn’t runway material. He hadn’t even bothered to style his hair. He had thrown on a baseball cap and called it a day. Boyd scowled.
Brandt laughed. “You’ll be fine, Romeo. Just talk about what you know. Talk about wood, hammers, nails.”
Boyd removed his hat and ran his hands over his shortly cropped, black hair. “Easy for you to say.”

Buy Links:

Secret Cravings Publishing-
Barnes and Noble-
All Romance Ebooks-

Author Bio:
I live in Pennsylvania just a hair shy of the Maryland border. I live with a family I adore which includes two furry feline children and a furry canine daughter.

In my spare time, I'm more than likely watching television. I watch Bones, Blue Bloods, NCIS:New Orleans, or some sort of car show like Wheeler Dealers.

I'm a huge sports fan, football in particular. During the fall/winter, I'm watching Notre Dame or Penn State on Saturdays and the Saints or Colts on Sunday.

I've been known to have my nose buried in a book. Nora Roberts/JD Robb and Clive Cussler are favorites of mine. I know, I know...Clive Cussler isn't a romance author. The man can weave a tale of adventure like no other!

Find me at:

All Romance Ebooks- Romance Ebooks- Romance Ebooks- Romance Ebooks-

Monday Author/Book Spotlight Sophia Henry's Delayed Penalty

Hockey, hockey, hockey! I can't get enough of the game, or of hockey romances! Today I'm thrilled to have a new visitor to our little corner of the interweb, Sophia Henry. If you love ice hockey as much as I do you will want to check out Sophia's book, Delayed Penalty!

Auden Berezin is used to losing people: her father, her mother, her first love. Now, just when she believes those childhood wounds are finally healing, she loses something else: the soccer scholarship that was her ticket to college. Scrambling to earn tuition money, shes relieved to find a gig translating for a Russian minor-league hockey playeruntil she realizes that hes the same dangerously sexy jerk who propositioned her at the bar the night before.
Equal parts muscle and scar tissue, Aleksandr Varenkov knows about trauma. Maybe thats what draws him to Auden. He also lost his family too young, and he channeled the pain into his passions: first hockey, then vodka and women. But all that seems to just melt away the instant he kisses Auden and feels a jolt of desire as sudden and surprising as a hard check on the ice.

After everything shes been through, Auden cant bring herself to trust any man, let alone a hot-headed puck jockey with a bad reputation. Aleksandr just hopes shell give him a chancelong enough to prove hes finally met the one who makes him want to change.

Amazon     Barnes & Noble     iBooks     Kobo     Books-A-Million     Google Play  

Author Bio:
Sophia Henry, a proud Detroit native, fell in love with reading, writing and hockey all before she became a teenager. She did not, however, fall in love with snow. So after graduating with an English degree from Central Michigan University, she moved to the warmth of North Carolina for the remainder of her winters.

She spends her days writing books featuring hot, hockey-playing heroes. When shes not writing, shes chasing her two high-energy sons, reading, watching her beloved Detroit Red Wings and rocking out at concerts with her husband. 

Sophia's debut DELAYED PENALTY, in the Pilots Hockey series, which follows a Russian interpreter who unintentionally falls for her client, a hot minor-league hockey star, releases on September 1st, 2015 from Random House Flirt. 
POWER PLAY. Pilots Hockey #2: February 16, 2016.
INTERFERENCE. Pilots Hockey #3: May 3, 2016.

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