Monday, September 28, 2015

Tuesday Tales - Glass



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 'Glass'. 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!



                I`m rather ashamed of how long it took me to walk into my sister`s bungalow. The aroma of rose bushes blooming alongside the western side of the house nearly broke me. Stepping gently onto a small porch that held an old trunk filled with toys and a cracked pot with a petunia in it, I removed my goose-battered hat. A small baseball mitt and a muddy hardball rested on the worn floorboards beside the toy box.
I thought about a smoke, but instead used my trembling fingers to open the door. The sounds of Roy Rogers on the radio met me. Andrew was seated on the floor, his steel trucks tossed aside in favor of cap guns riding low on his hips in leather holsters. On the bruised table that held the white Firestone Air Chief radio were four metal cowboys and one steel horse. 
Green eyes moved from the radio to me for a moment. I smiled. Andrew returned to his show, shutting me out. Fiddling with the brim of my hat, I gave the place a fast look. A living room with a sofa, table, radio, and carpet which I now stood in. Off to the left was a small kitchen. Directly ahead of me was a bathroom. The walls were clean, although the paper was peeling and dingy. The furniture had a fine coating of dust. Leaving Andy to moon over Roy and Dale, I walked into the kitchen hoping to find a telephone. I was flat out of luck. Guess I wasn`t in Greenwich anymore, eh, Toto?
I stepped further into the kitchen. Again, as with the living room, things were clean but shabby. I wondered how Betty had made ends meet. Had she been forced to live out here in this rundown hovel? Of course she had. Being a soiled woman in such a small town was nearly as taboo as being a faggot, or close to it. At least a pregnant girl wouldn`t be castrated, beaten to death, and then thrown in a diversion ditch. Something flopped in my stomach. The need to get the hell out of this cesspool of hatred made my lungs feel tight.
The sound of a small voice cheering on Roy and Trigger is the only thing that kept me from bolting that evening. Working to calm myself, I looked out a small window over the chipped porcelain sink. My car rested under the willow, the driver side door still opened. Inside the car was that folder from Bartlett and inside that folder was a letter from Betty. A missive from a fallen angel to a queer . . .
My father must have been retching in his sanctimonious grave.
“Go get `em, Roy,” I whispered, sight still on the folder flapping in a growing wind. Mesmerized, I ambled through a weak screen-door in the kitchen, the hinges squealing horridly. Rain was on the air. Glancing to the left, I spotted the geese preening on the bank of a small creek. I dashed to the car, grabbed the folder and my lone suitcase, and then jogged back to the kitchen, dancing between the huge drops slapping the earth. No sooner was I inside when the downpour hit. The geese let out a honk of celebratory joy. Wind whipped in the open windows, bringing water with it. Getting the old windows with the grimy glass down took just a moment. There were only four in the whole joint.
“Hungry?” I asked Andrew as I passed by from the closet that was masquerading as a bathroom. His head went up and down quietly as his lips moved with the Bromo Seltzer ad now playing. “Where do you and your mom sleep?” I asked. It seemed a pretty pertinent question since I had discovered that this little shack had a bathroom, living room, and kitchen.
“We sleep on the sofa,” the lad replied, eying me as if I was something Captain America ought to punch in the face.
“Sure we do,” I said under my breath.
Using the food excuse, I left the boy to enjoy the next show, Inner Sanctum, if the squeaking door and organ music were any clue. Thank God for the radio. I couldn`t imagine a better way to keep a kid entertained. There was a tiny table with two rickety chairs. I sat down carefully but it held me up. The folder called to me. Knowing I should be trying to come up with something edible, I instead grabbed the top paper in the folder, rose, and walked out to stand under a leaky overhang to have a Pall Mall.
Smoke hung around my head, clinging to the small dry spot as if it too were reluctant to get wet. Cupping the cigarette to keep it dry, I held up the already damp sheet of paper. I saw that it wasn't a letter, it was something legal - crisp letterhead - official and quite intimidating. I skimmed over the paper as the rain beat down in a violent wave. Flicking my ash to the ground, I heard that the geese were down in the creek beating their wings on the surface of the water.
            Exhaling, my cheeks now damp from the moisture in the air, I read over what was a bill from the nearby hospital.
            “Holy shit,” I whistled, spying the whopper of a total. Two-hundred and fifty-seven dollars! Was this the only one? Was there more of them waiting for someone to pay them?  I`d have to dig in the folder to see if any life insurance was coming. It was doubtful if Betty and the kid were living in a one-room shack by a stinking creek in the boonies. The bill was months overdue and had been turned over to a lawyer. It looked like a trip into town tomorrow was in order.
            “I`m still hungry,” I heard behind me. Looking over my shoulder, I saw a nose and lips pressed into a saggy screen. Flicking what was left of my Pall Mall into the wet grass, I turned to step inside.
            “Yeah, me too,” I said, walking into the kitchen. I shoved the bill into the folder, and then ransacked the place. After fifteen minutes, I shut the last cupboard to find my nephew still staring at me. “I don`t know how to cook,” I confessed. Not that there was much in the pantry anyway. Rice, some canned soup, three slices of dry bread, and a line of ants working to haul off the rice kernel by kernel.
            “I`m still hungry,” Andrew informed me. I pushed a hand through my hair, my eyes never leaving his.
            “Let`s go,” I said, grabbing my hat from the table. Out to the car we ran, splashing through puddles in our best shoes. When we dove into the front seat, I swore I saw a ghost of a smile on the kids face.  “Mister, we got soaked!” I said, cranking the old gal over. We`d find a roadside dive to eat in tonight. I`d worry about tomorrow when it rolled into town.
            “Mister, we got soaked,” I heard Andy whispering as we backed out onto the road, windshield wipers beating a tune faster than Gene Krupa, and rainwater dripping through the hole in the roof onto the floor behind 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 Tuesday Tales authors.


See you next week!




Sunday, September 27, 2015

Sunday Ramble - Get To Know Victor and Dan







Is there anything more revealing than an interview? Pointed questions, snappy replies, and lots of back and forth banter. Today, if you dare, you can visit Diane Lynch's lovely blog and read her interview with Vic Kalinski and Dan Arou, the leading men of Game Misconduct.

I have to take my hat off to Diane, this is her second interview with 'The Venomous Pole'! Most bloggers would have stopped at one. Not her! Diane is one tough cookie. Follow the link to Diane's blog and buckle your seat-belts! Victor did not pull his punches in this interview.


Diane's Book Blog



Friday, September 25, 2015

Rosanna Leo's Vice


I'm always happy to find a slot on my blog for Rosanna Leo. She is a sweetheart of a person and one heck of a great author. Today Rosanna is here to fill us in on her new release, Vice.

Release day- Sept. 22 at https://www.samhainpublishing.com/




“Taking a Gamble on Love”
Thanks so much to Vicki for hosting me today as I celebrate the release of my new contemporary romance Vice.
Vice was a very hard book to write, but necessary. Set in the gambling world of Las Vegas casinos, it features a casino owner hero and a heroine who runs a support group for the families of compulsive gamblers. In some ways, this is my story. I have a father who is a compulsive gambler and I know all too well the heartache that this disease can cause in a family.
However, Vice is not autobiographical. Certainly, I have never been seduced by a sexy casino owner!  But many of heroine Kate’s thoughts and worries have been my own at different times in my life. I know the concern she feels in connecting with hero Liam. I understand her trepidation. And I definitely know what it’s like to have a family rent asunder.
All that being said, you will get a “happily ever after” with Vice. You will with all my books. It was important for me to include a sense of hope and enduring love. You may shed a few tears along the way, but I think they may prove cathartic. So buckle up and enjoy the ride, as they say.
Thank you for reading. 

Blurb:
He’s much more than a bad habit.
As a Vegas singer and volunteer counselor, Kate Callender has experienced life on both sides of Sin City’s bright lights. The thrill of performing, and gambling’s devastating effect on the addicts’ families.
Liam Doyle is just the kind of man she despises—a handsome, enigmatic businessman with a knack for seducing customers into his casino hotels. Determined to put a lid on his growing influence, she prepares to picket the opening of his newest casino, Vice.
When Liam spots the lone protestor hassling his customers, annoyance wars with instant attraction. And he quickly discovers the leggy redhead not only can’t be bought, she tempts him the way the sound of a roulette wheel lures a gambler.
They are natural enemies, but when a vile attack sparks Liam’s protective instincts, they begin a sexual odyssey that dances on the edge of addiction. Dangerously close to losing control...and losing themselves.
Warning: Contains a sexy, damaged hero who’d really rather just be having sex, and a no-nonsense redhead who makes him want to roll the dice on love just one more time.



Excerpt:
He meandered toward her and forced a smile. “You seem to have had a busy day.”
She whipped around and her eyes widened. He saw her give him a quick once-over. Did she like what she saw? Interesting. There was some perverse satisfaction in that.
“It has been busy.” She narrowed her hazel eyes at him. “Do you work here?”
So, she didn’t recognize him. Good. “Yes, ma’am, I do.” He crossed his arms over his chest and nodded, noting how her gaze dropped to his exposed forearms. Her lips parted. Clearly, working out had its merits. “And word inside is you’ve upset the big boss.”
Her nostrils flared as she dragged her gaze away from his arms. “About time.” She put her sign down and picked up her purse. “Do you know Liam Doyle?”
“I’ve heard one or two things about him.”
She stepped closer and her lips did the most amazing thing, curling into a flirtatious semi-smile. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to share them with me? The other guy kept on sucking up about him as if he was wearing a wire.” She paused. “You’re not wearing a wire, are you?”
He laughed out loud. He couldn’t help it. This was way too much fun. He sidled close to her, leaned in conspiratorially, and put a hand on her elbow. Her very soft elbow. “I’m not wearing a wire. But are you sure you want to know the truth about Doyle? I don’t know if you can handle it.”
She gawked at him and then at his lips. Her voice came out in a whisper. “Try me.”
He murmured in her ear, taking note of her lilac scent. “Well, I hear at midnight he sprouts black wings and horns. And he’s always searching for innocent maidens to add to his coven.” He bit on his bottom lip, suddenly wishing he was gnawing on hers.
At first, her eyelids did this fluttery thing that made his imported pants spring to life. But then she blinked and began to laugh. “And here I thought I was dealing with a mere businessman. I didn’t realize Doyle was cousins with Lucifer.”
“What’s your name?”
She regarded him from out of the side of her eye, her mouth still bearing the same flirty grin. “What’s yours?”
“Consider me a friend who wants to give you some advice.”
The smile disappeared from her face. “And what would that be?”
“Don’t mess with Liam Doyle. He doesn’t take to it kindly.”
The coquettish shine in her eyes hardened. “Is that a threat?”
“No, sugar. That’s not my style.”
“What exactly do you do here? Are you in security?”
“Never mind that.” He waved his hand. “Look, you’ve had your fun. Why don’t you run along home now?”
She reached for her sign and tucked it under her arm. “I will go where I damn well please. And you can tell your friend Mr. Doyle to expect me tomorrow. Maybe next time he’ll be brave enough to confront me himself.” She turned on her heel and walked down the manicured pathway leading to the taxi bay.
Liam stared at her ass as she walked away. Brave?
Game on, sugar. He’d show her brave.



Preorder/buy links:









Author bio:
Rosanna Leo is a multi-published, erotic romance author. Several of her books about Greek gods, selkies and shape shifters have been named Top Picks at Night Owl Romance and The Romance Reviews.
From Toronto, Canada, Rosanna occupies a house in the suburbs with her long-suffering husband, their two hungry sons and a tabby cat named Sweetie. When not writing, she can be found haunting dusty library stacks or planning her next star-crossed love affair.
A library employee by day, she is honored to be a member of the league of naughty librarians who also happen to write romance. Rosanna blogs at www.rosannaleoauthor.wordpress.com

Author Links:






Thursday, September 24, 2015

Throwback Thursday Tune


To close out our folk music month I thought we would go out with the legendary Joan Baez. Love, love, love her voice!


Wednesday, September 23, 2015

Game Misconduct Release Day!!



Today Game Misconduct, my latest erotic hockey romance, hits the ice. What a great way to celebrate two wonderful events: the beginning of preseason hockey and Bi Visibility Day!

I suspect that Victor, our proud bisexual leading man, would be quite tickled to have his newest novella coming out on International Celebrate Bisexuality Day, a day set aside to recognize and celebrate bisexual culture, history, the bisexual community and all the bisexual people in our lives.



You can pick up your copy of Victor and Dan's second book today at the Ellora's Cave website. Other buy links will be available soon.

Ellora's Cave Store

BLURB

This book is a sequel to Two Man Advantage

Life has been treating Victor Kalinski well, which is a surprise for the ginger-haired forward with the venomous tongue. His career is somewhat stable, at least for another season. His relationship with Cougars alternate captain Dan Arou is deepening, despite the fact that Daniel has yet to come out of the closet.

It’s typical Kalinski luck when a puck bunny he shared a drunken night with several months ago slaps him with a paternity suit. Despite the sizzling passion and painfully heartfelt connection between them, Dan doesn’t take the news well, and heads back to Canada alone.

If he wants to make things right and win back the man he loves, he has no choice but to swallow his pride—and nobody’s prouder than hot-headed, ego-driven Victor.

Reader Advisory: This story has graphic sexual language and scenes—no closed bedroom doors (or other rooms) here!
An adult male/male romance from Ellora’s Cave






EXCERPT (Rated R for Mature Language)

I found Dan in our bathroom running a Q-tip around his right ear as water from his recent shower ran from his hair. He smiled at me, a special kind of light in his eyes. I stalled in the doorway, my summons wrinkled in my fist. The smile disappeared from his face as I stared blankly at him. He tossed the swab into the trash, which needed to be dumped, and turned to face me.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. My gaze roamed over him clad in nothing but gray cargo shorts that hung off his hips. If not for the fact that my heart was beating so hard I was scared it would blow up, I would have gotten all over the man. He still torqued me up like no one else ever had. “Vic, what’s wrong?”

I handed him the wadded-up legal document. His gaze darted from my face to the crinkled papers then back to my face.

“I don’t know who the fuck this chick is, but she is playing me,” I managed to cough up. I looked around the room, trying to get the palpations under control. The walls had ugly flowered wallpaper on them. The counter was plain white. Two razors lay side by side next to the sink. Sometimes, like right then, I wanted nothing more than to grab my razor and my toothbrush and get the fuck out of Dodge. Just seeing Dan’s personal shit playing cozy-cozy with mine scared me to death. Most days when that urge to fuck this thing up overtook me, I swallowed it down like a bad oyster and forced myself to get past it. Today, then, there, that second, those two razors were about to push old Vic K. over the brink.

“Paternity test,” he whispered as the papers blew in a stiff summer wind. I couldn’t look away from those two disposables.

“Someone is playing me, Dan,” I grunted, then spun from the Schick love-fest occurring on the chipped white bathroom counter. I pounded out to the living room, my feet squelching in my wet sneakers.

“Well yeah, obviously this Heather chick is trying to pin this on you. Big-name sports star. It happens like daily, you know?”

I nodded as I paced the small but homey place where we spent most of our downtime, aside from the bedroom. I jammed my fist into my other hand and began grinding as I circled the sofa.

“Yeah, but why me and why now? Why not do this when I was pulling in the big bucks in Beantown?”

Dan dropped onto the couch and put his bare feet on the edge of the coffee table. As I paced, he flattened out the summons on his thick thighs and read. My gut was in turmoil. My head felt light. My heart still thundered in my ribs. A kid. My kid. I barely made it back to the bathroom. I threw up the fancy lunch that we had eaten at the golf club earlier. Dan didn’t come in, which was wise. I don’t like people fawning over me when I’m sick. Dear old Mom never did. I could handle myself. Been doing it since I was about five. I’d had a head cold the month before and nearly ripped Dan into bits one day for making me chicken noodle soup. Why that man was still with me, I do not know. I retched a few times, then slammed the lid and flushed. Over to the sink for a swig of mouthwash. Do not look at the razors, Kalinski, or you will make a bigger twat out of yourself.

“You okay?” Dan called.

“Yeah, just some ptomaine from the clam chowder at lunch,” I replied, my throat and nose still burning. “I’m taking a shower.”

“Okay. I’ll read this over close while you wash.”

The shower didn’t last long enough, nor did it help one damn bit. Aside from having nuts that smelled like an Irish glen, I was still this close to hyperventilating. A kid. Holy fucking goat titties, I needed a drink.

“Hey, you need to call a lawyer in the morning,” Dan said when I shuffled into the living room in nothing but an old pair of cutoff jeans. “This paperwork is crazy legal, but according to what this Hillary—”

“Heather. Heather Pavlick. Who the fuck is Heather Pavlick?” I asked the kitchen table.

I jerked open the cupboard under the sink and reached for the bottle of Yukon Jack, one of three or four bottles of booze we had on hand for cocktails at night if the mood struck. Dan kind of liked Jack over ice. Did I want ice? Did I want a glass? Nah. The whiskey burned my raw throat like gasoline. I lowered the bottle, coughed, and ran the back of my hand across my tingling lips. I saw Dan appear in the doorway, papers still in his hand. He looked upset.

“I wish you’d use a glass,” he grumbled, then stalked around me to get two tumblers from the cupboard next to the fridge. I sucked in some air through my teeth in reply. His whole body twitched at the sound. “Two fingers, and stop making that fucking noise,” he said after he returned to my side. I glugged some Jack into both tumblers, my eyes on Dan’s. He handed me a glass. We both knocked the whiskey back then went out to the couch, him with my summons and me with the Jack.

“Okay, so this is obviously some sort of rip-off,” Dan said after we’d dropped our asses back to the sofa. Thankfully he’d left the boob tube off. I was so not in the mood to talk over his science shows. I poured myself another two fingers. Dan held up his glass, so I refreshed him. “Heather Pavlick. Is that the girl you were serious with?”

I shook my head as I swirled the Canadian whiskey around my glass. Mr. and Mrs. Rupert’s voices, as well as the smell of meat grilling, rolled in through the windows.

“No, her name was Gina. We were careful. I mean, we were obsessively careful every time we fucked to prevent any kind of kid-making.” A kid. I couldn’t get the glass of whiskey to my lips fast enough. Ah, what a nice burn.

“This is why you should just identify as gay and be done with it. You don’t have to worry about knocking me up.”

“Yeah well, if I could just pick my sexual identity like I do my socks, I would. But I kind of like pussy once in a while. Stop badgering me, gay boy.”

“That’s just weird,” Dan muttered, and sipped his Jack.

I nodded. Yeah, to a gay dude, wanting pussy probably did seem weird. And while I didn’t crave it anymore because, yeah, Dan Arou, back in the day I’d taken some great delight in leaping from twat to cock with wild abandon.

“Maybe you can talk to someone in the team’s legal department. I mean, this will come out. They’ll want to know about it beforehand so they can handle the bad PR.”

“Fuck. My. Life.” I dumped more of the amber liquid into my glass. My stomach rolled and bucked as whiskey met empty gut. Whatever the landlord was cooking was making me queasy.

“This is just fucked,” Dan said after a long moment of silence punctuated only by my stomach speaking up. “See, this paper says ‘unborn child’, and that’s impossible. You and me have been tight since Thanksgiving of last year. That’s nine months, right? November to July is nine.”

“If you count November.”

Christ on a unicycle. Dan and I really been doing the monogamy thing for nine months. I mean, I knew that we had, but hearing him say it out loud drove the point home. No wonder those razors made me twitchy. That was fucking incredible. Even with Gina, I’d bailed at six months. That had been the most solid relationship I’d ever been in before Mr. Stumpy and I had hooked up. Someone call Guinness. We got a new world record here. I threw another two fingers of Yukon down. Dan made a noise about the speed of my ingestion, I assume, which I ignored.

A moment ticked by. Two. Three. Dan sipped and repeatedly read that summons, counting and recounting the months. This was major fuckery, because there had been no one but Dan since the first time I’d punched him in the face.

My gaze rested on the Xbox under the flat screen. Our games were scattered on the floor. I tipped my head to stare at the artwork on a World War I battle game that Dan and I liked. It showed a German zeppelin dropping bombs on some European city…

It hit me like a semi that had lost its brakes. Ms. Goodyear. That blonde with the incredible tits. I’d rolled her the night I’d tried to drink Dan away. Had her name been Heather? Had she said? Did it matter? Guess so.

“Ah, fuck,” I moaned, then closed my eyes.

“What? Did you figure out who this woman is?”

Shit. Just shit. This was going to be bad. I inhaled through my nose, blew out the breath and started sucking on that Jack bottle like a hungry babe. Dan jerked it from my hand. Whiskey sloshed down my chest. I swallowed what was in my mouth, licked my lips and turned to find Dan looking at me with concern tinting his lapis eyes.


This was going to suck.


Monday, September 21, 2015

Tuesday Tales - Grim



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 'Grim'. 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!



                They say confessing is good for the soul. I`ll confess that I had thoughts of putting my nephew in the rumble seat just so I wouldn`t have to deal with him looking at me with Betty`s disapproving green eyes. I didn`t let him ride in the back though. He was sitting on his calves turning the radio knob. His bow tie was crooked. I wondered if Mrs. Bartlett had dressed him. The kid looked uncomfortable. Just like me. Our ties were choking us. I tugged mine off and tossed it to the floor. Andy paused in the musical selections.

            “I hate ties,” I said, pulling onto Main Street. It was after six and the sidewalks had been rolled up. “You want yours off?” I asked, pulling up to the only traffic light. Andy nodded and hastily tugged the clip-on from his stiff collar. I nodded approvingly. The dark green tie joined mine on the floor. Andy went back to searching. We left the bustling town behind, weaving along on dirt roads shaded by apple, black walnut, white birch and oak trees. Bing and The Andrew Sisters were lamenting fencing. I knew how they felt. I could feel all kinds of barriers starting to be built around me.

            Andrew slid off his legs, his shiny dress shoes bouncing up and down on the seat in time with the western tune. I cleared my throat.

            “You like cowboys?” I asked, the Ford bouncing along like a clown jalopy, her suspension ill suited for country roads. Route 6 would look – and feel - good once we got to it. The kid didn`t reply and I didn`t push him. He had just lost his mother to-

            I didn`t know what killed her. I hadn`t asked. I threw a look at Andy. No, I couldn`t ask him such a grim question. I reached into my breast pocket and tugged my pack of Pall Mall`s out. I couldn`t get the smoke lit fast enough. My exhalation was large. Andrew coughed lightly. I rolled down the window. Betty didn`t smoke, or hadn`t anyway when I left Hannity Hills. She found it distasteful. I guess even the righteous tumble from their pedestals. Andrew was living proof that my older sister wasn`t the Virgin Mary she always tried to come off as being.

            Route 6 appeared and none too soon. My poor coupe was close to losing a fender. The highway was smooth under the worn tires. Neither of us spoke. We passed a long white barn with hundreds of small glass squares. The stench of manure rolling in the window made my eyes sting. The memories of driving past this place to head to the lake to fish with dad rose up like a Kodiak bear in the road. It was unexpected, huge, and ferocious. The warmth of those outings with dad and Betty (mom`s uterine cancer had taken her a few years before our yearly fishing trips began) clawed at my guts with the same veracity as a bruin. Another match found the end of another Pall Mall, the flame quivering violently as I battled that emotional bear.

            “So where`s your house?” I asked after the poultry farm fell into the distance, nothing more than a withered memory in my rearview. If I was right, this stretch of Route 6 was nothing but old mining camps that had been renovated into homes or hunting lodges.

            Andy pointed at a blue house the size of a postage stamp. It had white shutters. I crept off the highway. The yard was tidy and surrounded with a nice white picket fence. Flowers were planted on the outside and around the base of the mailbox. Ground stone crunched under the tires as I pulled up under a weeping willow with drooping branches that skimmed over the car roof. Andrew was out before I had the car parked, his door left open but his steel toys clutched to his skinny chest. An overwhelming urge to sit here and smoke and weep overtook me, but I pushed my door open and stepped out.

            Two white geese appeared from the rear of the house, wings out and necks low to the ground. I had seventeen seconds to climb up onto the hood of my car before the web-footed attackers waddled over. There I sat, legs tucked into my chest, waving my hat at the miserable birds when Andrew came running around the side of the bungalow. He stared at my predicament. I called for assistance. The fucking geese were making so much racket a Panzer unit could have rolled up and not been heard.

            “Can I get a little help here?” I shouted louder, swatting at the bigger of the two. The gander ripped my hat from my hand then ran away, honking and shaking my Fedora as his wife honked in goosey praise of his accomplishment. Andy didn`t seem to fear the geese. He waltzed up and snapped the hat back from the gander. The goose nibbled at the seam of his pants then they moseyed back to whatever hell spawned her and her mate.

“Thanks,” I murmured, sliding down to the nicely mowed little yard.

“George and Gracie don`t like strangers,” Andrew said, threw my hat at me and then ran inside without a backwards glance.

I had to think the geese weren`t the only ones not fond of strangers.



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 - Ellie Mack's Red Wine & Roses





I'm so happy to be able to host one of my good friends today. Ellie and I have been hanging out online almost daily for a couple years now. She is a sweetheart, funny, clever, and one heck of an author. Her new book, Red Wine & Roses, is coming out soon and I am sure that you will love it as much as I did! The floor is all yours, Ellie.





Thank you for having me over! Nice little place you’ve got here.

I’m so glad that Fall is just around the corner. Love the cooler temperatures and the changing colors and baking!  It’s been way too hot over the summer to do any baking. OH, and did I mention that my book has a mini cookbook in the back? 

  So, let’s talk setting. 

For your hockey series, it makes sense that part of the story is on the ice, in the locker rooms and off ice. For Red Wine & Roses, I have several settings. The first one that I had envisioned is actually towards the end of the book at Bushkill Falls.  Bright vivid foliage dripping with recent rain, that crisp smell of wet earth beneath your feet and the slight musty smells of the surrounding forest. A slight chill in the air so that you can see puffs of your breath as you climb the trail towards the falls.

This scene was emblazoned on my mind’s eye with a couple embracing at a wooden platform designed for scenic overlook.  Of course, once I set pen to paper it didn’t come out quite like that, but that’s where I started.

The opening scene was easy as well. A brisk winter’s day in the city streets, the exhaust of passing cars making clouds of smoke as they drive by. The character’s breath visible in the cold air, pulling the jackets tight around their necks,  pulling on gloves as they make their way down the sidewalk towards the diner, then the sharp contrast of the dressed for fashion model that in no way is appropriate to the weather. 

I don’t know about you, but I’ve always wondered how some women do it. I am very temperature conscious.  My husband jokes that I have a ten-degree range of comfort.  Actually, I think it’s more like 15. LOL   In the winter, I’m bundled up when the temperatures are below freezing. Unfortunately, we get below zero temps in January and it’s brutal.  I’ve seen women wearing  slinky dresses with little more than a light jacket over it and I have wondered – how can you stand it?  On the converse of that,  when our temperatures are soaring in the summer to the triple digits,  I see  fashion conscious women wearing clothing that I would be sweltering in.  Back to my opening setting, that mental image of the fashionista dressed in a slinky dress seemingly oblivious to the cold and of course she’s a model.

Much of my story takes place with interaction inside of one of their apartments, for those settings I did a little playing around with floorplans and some marathon HGTV watching.  Yeah, you could say I’m addicted to HGTV.  Just slightly.  I went online to their website and built my apartments from pictures posted from Property Brothers mostly. 

I know it’s not like world building for a science fiction or fantasy story, but I feel that the settings are important whether it’s a juror’s room as in 12 Angry Men, or the entire planet in Dune.  How effective would your Hockey Romance stories be if they were set in the Bahamas in a hotel?  You rather lose the effect of what they do.

Each element such as setting plays a key part in  writing, and each builds off the other elements to make the whole better than the parts. At least, that’s what we shoot for. 

Red Wine & Roses

BLURB - Julia Mathers has had bad dates, but the blind date for a New Year’s Eve party takes the cake. Derek Snow, a sexy ambitious lawyer has definite plans for his future and a relationship is the furthest thing from his mind. 
From their first meeting, the fireworks fly as the embers of passion ignite into  a blazing inferno. Until Derek's ex, a fashion model has designs of her own.
As Julia works to overcome her insecurities, Derek realizes a love he can't deny, but is he too late?
Red Wine & Roses takes the reader on a treacherous journey of love, betrayal, heartbreak and self-discovery.



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AUTHOR BIO:
Ellie Mack received her BS in cartography from Southeast Missouri State University. After leaving the corporate world for the title of MOM, she has pursued her writing dreams. Nowadays Ellie charts unmapped territory through her fiction and humor writing. She lives near St. Louis with her husband of 30 years and their two teen daughters.  When she's not writing, she can be found scrapbooking, crocheting or cooking.  You can find her musings on her blog Quotidiandose. (https://quotidiandose.wordpress.com

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Sunday, September 20, 2015

Sunday Ramble - Happy New Me (And Maybe You) Part #3





Over the past two weeks, we've chatted about what made me wish to be more fit, and how I have changed my eating habits to get there. Today I'm going to share how I discovered yoga and what the benefits of daily practice are.

First, let me begin by saying that many times we're led to something by someone or something that we could never imagine. My finally working up the courage to try yoga (which I had always said I wanted to try but never did) came in a rather roundabout way. The person who led me to yoga isn`t even a real person, he's a character from one of my Venom novels. I kid you not. Dale Christie is the leading man in Twirly Girl, the second Venom novel. It was while doing research for Dale that I found Don Miguel Ruiz, a Toltec shaman. Mr. Ruiz wrote a book called The Four Agreements, which is a Toltec wisdom book.

If you haven`t read it, you should. I'm not a religious person at all, but I do consider myself to be spiritual. Reading The Four Agreements helped me step into a better understanding of who I am and how I deal with people and situations in my life. It made me see that stumbling is okay. You can simply do your best tomorrow. I learned how to stop taking everything personally, or at least I am trying to get that down. It's hard but so worthwhile for anyone looking for inner peace. Once I realized that I did not have to be perfect daily, I became free to try new things and risk failing. Once I understood that I could fail at something and not hate myself, I then knew that I could attempt yoga. 

Of course, yoga is known as a wonderful way to find serenity. It is also an amazing way to get into shape. For me, making the decision to try yoga was made because of my health issues that prohibit me from jarring workouts. Yoga is calm, serene, and easy on the joints. It sounded like a perfect fit for me, and perhaps for others who cannot partake in rigorous exercise routines.

But just because yoga is a smooth and graceful practice don`t think it won't work your body. It does and then some! Yoga will ask you to push yourself only to the edge, not beyond, as some of these new fad workouts demand you do. In yoga, you set your pace. If you cannot achieve a position one day, you modify for where you are today. Perhaps tomorrow you may be able to balance perfectly in tree pose . . . or perhaps not. Through yoga you learn to be happy with where you are at the moment during today's practice. It is an amazingly peaceful way to live your life.

There are some incredible benefits to yoga for people of all ages. I started out with a DVD aimed at yogis over fifty. After three months, I am now moving onto a beginner's DVD with more advanced poses or postures (asanas). Yoga helps prevent osteoporosis, osteoarthritis, and increases flexibility and strength. It reduces stress, aids in better sleep, helps lower blood pressure and increases mental clarity. If done on a regular basis you will begin seeing amazing results in just a month or two. You will begin to feel vital, strong, and more self-assured.

When I began yoga, I had to reach down to grab my leg and place my ankle to my knee. Now, after twelve weeks, I can lift my ankle to my knee with ease! I can see incredible growth in my flexibility and muscle strength. When I started yoga, I was double-stepping stairs as if I were eighty years old. Now I walk up them normally, even with arms filled with grocery bags. My body is happier and more limber than it has been in twenty years. This is only after three months. I cannot wait to see what I can do a year from now!




As you can see, I simply adore yoga. It has lifted me up both physically and spiritually. It can do the same for you, if you are interested in giving it a whirl. You do not have to be a size 4 to take up yoga, nor do you need to buy a pricey gym membership. You don`t have to be flexible to begin doing yoga, nor do you have to be a vegetarian.

All you will need is a mat, some comfortable clothing, a yoga block, a strap, and a DVD from a respected yoga instructor. I am fond of Barbara Benagh's videos. Ms. Benagh has been a yoga instructor for over 40 years and I find her routines easy to understand and learn and are paced perfectly for any newcomer. You can find her DVD's over on Amazon, as well as a wide variety of mats and other yoga goodies.

I hope that the past three Sunday Rambles have given you some insight into where I am and what seems to be working for me. If anyone has any questions about yoga or anything that I've talked about in the Happy New Me (And Maybe You) posts, please feel free to ask! I am no yogi master by any means, but I will gladly help in any way that I can. There are some wonderful online sites to visit for more information about yoga and its benefits to everyone, male and female, old and young. Here's one that I am particularly fond of:

Yoga International

Keep in mind that you are never too old to find a happy new you!

Namaste, my friends.