Sunday, October 30, 2016

Friday, October 28, 2016

Cover Reveal for Holly & Hockey Boots!

If you’re looking for some M/M holiday hockey cheer, I have the book for you! Holly & Hockey Boots is now available for preorder.

I’m so thrilled and more than a little nervous to see this fun little novella finally going live. This book is my first toe-dip into the dark, scary waters of self-publishing my M/M work. To say I’m a wee bit anxious about how it’s received would be putting it lightly. 

I sure hope you love Adam and Cason as much as I do. They’re a great couple! Both are hard-working young men, loving and humorous, trying to find that special someone to share holiday treats (and kisses) with. Hopefully, everyone who reads it will be left with a warm tingle and a smile.

You can find the blurb and buy links below, as well as the Goodreads link. If you could add it to your Want-To-Read list over there that would be amazing!

Buy Links:


Minor league goalie Adam Seiger is a nice guy. He’s kind, cute, and a little quirky (but show me a goalie who isn’t) and he loves to interact with fans. During a meet and greet after a game Adam meets Cason Reyes, a hard-working young man with stunning amber eyes and a smile as sweet as a candy cane. Desperate to see Cason again, Adam does something more than a little naughty.

To add insult to the egg nog, it appears that one little white lie may end Adam’s chance of having a merry Christmas with a new boyfriend. Will he end up with nothing but a lump of coal in his stocking, instead of the man who owns his heart?

Thanks as always for all your support. You readers are simply the best.  *hugs*


Thursday, October 27, 2016

Getting Ready for NaNo

Thank goodness NaNoWriMo is kicking off in a few days. I’ve been jangling around at loose ends since I wrapped up Playmaker. Not that having a couple weeks off from writing hasn’t been productive. I’ve managed to get a couple books formatted and tweaked my release schedule for 2017 and into 2018. I’ve also gotten images purchased for covers. Still, even all this busy bee work getting done doesn’t take the place of actually writing on a daily basis.

I’ve also had time to do prep for Breakout, Brighton Wood Blades #2, my NaNo project this year. More prep than usual, I should say. Generally, all books get a character bio sheet that I use for the usual goodness such as height, weight, hair color, eyes, and any other distinguishing features or quirks. I’m also fond of finding images of my characters. Now that I’m going to be self-pubbing most of my M/M books, that means I can purchase the images that will be on the covers in advance. So yes, I do have the image of Todd and Lee already in my files. It’s so sinful hot smoke is rolling out of my laptop. Really, there is! 

A lot of the prep that I’ve done this year is extra fun stuff that I wouldn’t have time for most years. For instance, I made a rollicking good playlist over on Spotify for all the songs that Lee, or LeeLa Blue, sings onstage. I’ve also started picking out dresses for Lee to wear. In case you haven’t guessed, Lee is a drag queen who performs under the name LeeLa Blue. LeeLa is a queen with an attachment to the songs and clothing of the 40’s and 50’s.

Are those dresses to die for or what? If you love the songs of Lena Horne, Dinah Shore, Peggy Lee, and countless others, LeeLa is your gal! And once Lee and Todd lay eyes on each other, neither is going to be the same. Here’s the blurb for the story just for you! 

This is also a rarity, as I hardly ever write the blurb or synopsis beforehand. How can I when I don’t know what’s going to happen? But with Lee and Todd, I woke up a couple days ago with the blurb rolling around inside my head. Up I jumped at 4 am to jot it down. My husband gave me one odd look but didn’t say anything. He’s used to that sort of thing happening.

Breakout Blurb-

Todd Oleksuk has spent twenty years perfecting his loner persona. The indie trucker/Blades defenseman is a man trapped, yearning for the freedom to come out yet bound by the fear of revealing the gay man inside. What will his family think? His ex-wife? His two kids? Better to stay in the gloominess and out of the limelight of that wild, gay lifestyle. It looks like his time alone in the dark might be over, though. Seems Todd has just fallen for a man who thinks that living in the shadows is only fit for mushrooms and campy 60’s TV vampires.

Lee Odette has never been able to hide in the dark. His fire has burned far too brightly since he was a small lad who liked to dress up in his grandmother’s finery. Now, closing in on thirty, Lee is looking for something more than fawning fans and fast hookups at The Scarlet Owl, the gay nightclub where he performs as LeeLa Blue. What he’s found is a beautiful man with a heart as big as Lee’s home state of Louisiana, eyes as blue as a secret bayou, and a firm attachment to those dark old corners.  

Will Lee’s love and inner light be bright enough to lead Todd out of the shadows? 

 I am so ready. I am pumped. I’m all prepped up and anxious to put the pedal to the metal. Bring on November 1st!

How have you gotten ready for NaNo this year? Done anything different? I’d love to hear about it. Share your process for NaNoWriMo readiness down in the comment section.

Wednesday, October 26, 2016

Rj Scott's The Code Release Blitz with Giveaway!

RJ Scott writing as Rozenn Scott

The Code (Ice Dragons #1) 

Author: RJ Scott writing as Rozenn Scott

Release Date: October 26 2016

Buy Links: Amazon US | Amazon UK

Cover Design: Meredith Russell

Length: 50,000 words


Falling for his best friend’s sister seemed like a good idea at the time.

Defenceman Ryan Flynn’s life and career is defined by the codes of hockey; friendship, respect, leadership and protection. A call from his best friends sister ends up with him taking her home and it’s all he can do to remember that she’s off limits. Doesn’t matter that she’s too much of temptation for a man on the edge, he promised her brother he wouldn’t go anywhere near her.

Kathryn Lecour has been in lust with hockey player Ryan Flynn since she was first laid eyes on him. The problem? Ryan is her brother’s best friend, bound by a complicated code of chivalry both on and off the ice.

Will Ryan, the hard man of the Dragons ever see her as anything more than his best friend’s little sister? And will Kat be able to tame the Dragon with ice in his heart?


“You have to promise,” Loki had said to him.

They were nineteen years old and drunk on cheap beer. Kat’s prom date vanished into the darkness, and that was a good thing: the baseball captain and high achiever wasn’t good enough for her.

Not in her brother’s eyes, and not in his.

“Promise what?” Ryan had been worried that what he and Loki had done made Kat’s date leave and left her in tears. They’d only meant to intimidate him to playing nice, not get him to run away with his tail between his legs.
“Don’t ever let her near a jock,” Loki snapped. He didn’t appear to have any remorse at seeing the guy run, but then, he ’hadn’t seen his sister’s tears. “No one like us. Because all we are is hockey, and all we do is for the team.”
“I promise.”
“We fuck and leave, and nothing means anything.”
“Don’t you ever let anyone hurt her.”
“I won’t. I promise.”

The smile slipped from his face when the enormity of what he’d promised sunk into his soul, and for a second he hesitated. He had to go in there and be her brother, be the friend she’d need. Not the idiot man who fancied himself in love with her.
He settled his breathing. And then he opened the door, slipped inside, and shut it behind him before he could second-guess why he was here.
The room was simple: sofas, a coffee table in the middle, a large roof window that would let in light in the daytime. At the moment, the room was lit by a soft lamp in the corner.
Sitting bolt upright in one corner of the largest sofa was Kat.
Ryan took one look at her face and couldn’t help himself; a curse fell from his lips without conscious thought. A vivid scarlet mark ran from her eye socket to her cheekbone, as if someone had deliberately slapped her; bruises ringed her neck and her lip was cut, evidenced by a butterfly bandage just below the left corner. She was so beautiful, and he couldn’t bear to see the marks on her soft skin.
She looked up at him, her green eyes bright. He stepped closer and she stared at him. Her lower lip trembled as though she was fighting tears; he wanted to hold her and stop her from crying.
God, all I want is to hold her.
“Take me home, Ryan,” she said, her voice broken. Then she added a much smaller, quieter “Please.”

Author Bio: 

RJ Scott is the bestselling gay romance author of over ninety MM romance books. She writes emotional stories of complicated characters, cowboys, millionaire, princes, and the men who get mixed up in their lives. RJ is known for writing books that always end with a happy ever after. She lives just outside London and spends every waking minute she isn't with family either reading or writing. 

RJ also writes MF romance under the name Rozenn Scott.

The last time she had a week’s break from writing she didn't like it one little bit, and she has yet to meet a bottle of wine she couldn’t defeat.

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Monday, October 24, 2016

Tuesday Tales - Ghost

Hello and Happy Halloween! It`s time for Tuesday Tales.

 Welcome back! I recently started a novella called Playmaker, which is a Venom book and will center on Whitney Beaupré, one of the women we’ve come to know in the Venom books. In today’s snippet, Whitney is sitting down to confess something big to her friend, Jovan, a hockey player on the New Jersey men’s team and the arch-enemy of Philadelphia Wildcat team captain, Bobby Fovea.

Since I completed Whitney’s novella, this will be the last snippet from it and next week we’ll have excerpts from my NaNoWriMo novel, Breakout, which is book #2 in my upcoming Brighton Wood Blades M/M hockey series.

This is an LGBTQ romance, so there may be some same-sex frolicking taking place. If that offends, now is the time to skedaddle along to another Tuesday Tales offering.

Our word prompt for this week is “Ghost”.

"Ignore him," Jovan said as he slid off the stationary bike. "Give me thirty to shower and we can do coffee. Want to wait or meet me?" He asked them scrubbed at his face with a towel that hung around his tattooed neck.
            "I'll meet you at Clem's," I said as I eyed the other Sharks ambling around looking like they all had moronic things they wanted to say.
            "That'll work." Jovan strolled off, his back coated with sweat. The man was seriously built for sports and breaking poor little puck bunny hearts. Out of all the men on the New Jersey Sharks, I had formed a bond with the biggest asshole. Guess that backed up that birds of a feather flocking together bullshit. I left the stadium and drove for a couple blocks, enjoying the ambiance of Trenton. I kind of missed the old neighborhood. Not enough to move back over the river though, but Jovan, Trenton and me kind of fit together.
            Clem's Bar and Grill sat on the corner like an old man who was too tired to realize he was dying and just give up the ghost. The old pub had seen better days, but they had the best rippers-or deep-fried hot dogs-in a hundred-mile radius of the barn. I slid into a booth that hadn't seen a washcloth since I was a kid, and shouted to Clem to bring me two drafts and two rippers.
He muttered something that I didn't catch over the Bruce Springsteen song rolling out of the old jukebox. You didn't find a jukebox, or any other kind of musical device, in Jersey that was not loaded with “The Boss”. I sipped my cosmo as "Thunder Road" played. Jovan arrived about twenty minutes after I did. Clem shouted a greeting at the Shark. I shoved his mug of beer and his hot dog to him after he deposited his ass into the bench across from me.    
            "Thanks," Jovan grunted then dove into the ripper like a, well, like a hungry shark.
            "No problem." I watched him wolf down his food, his dark eyes staying on me as he chewed. "So I guess you're wondering why I came looking for you."
            "Yeah, sort of," he confessed then wiped his mouth with a crinkled-up paper napkin. "Thunder Road" ended and Bon Jovi's "Living on a Prayer" took over. Yep, we were in Jersey all right.

 Copyright 2016 ©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.

Sunday, October 23, 2016

Silent Sunday

*Gathering Leaves*

Thursday, October 20, 2016

NaNoWriMo, Word Counts, & Jell-O Shots

Looking at the calendar last week, I noticed that October had somehow arrived. Wasn’t it just July like ten days ago? I’m not sure where the time goes but I do know that the older I get the faster it whizzes past. So, being the glutton for punishment that I am, when I saw it was the tenth month I skipped on over to the NaNoWriMo site, and got my info for this year all plugged in. If you’re taking part, feel free to send me a buddy request—

I’m going to be writing the second book of my upcoming Brighton Wood Blades M/M hockey series, Breakout. I’m super stoked to start working on it! This story has been demanding to be written ever since I sketched out the book outlines for the BWB series. You’d think one of the leading men were some kind of queen or something. *wink* Now I just need to get my head into NaNo mode.

Why I do this to myself year after year is anyone’s guess. Obviously I love writing. Or stress. Or the knowledge that thousands of other authors are typing away like mad just like I am to meet that sixteen hundred word per day goal that spells success. And that brings me to another topic listed in that header.

Word counts. I have a love/hate relationship with them.

On one hand, I like them because they keep me motivated. I like seeing that little colored bar rise. I use word count meters on my blog to help my readers see how my current book is progressing, and to make me feel like I did something good when I watch the purple bar get longer. And I will frankly admit that participating in NaNoWriMo yearly has taught me discipline. In my humble, having discipline is one of the most important attributes an author can possess. So learning to churn out X amount of words every day is a good thing.

But, on the other hand, it’s a trial for me at times because of how my mind works.  You can ask my online sprinting group about my silly process. When we sprint my friends always come back with how many words they got in. Ole Organic Olivia here will mosey in and say “I got to the point where I need to stop and think about what happens next! Go me.” Which is about as vague as an answer from Donald Trump about any policy his campaign supposedly has. Oh snap. Vicki went there.

When I sit down to write, it’s all very loosey-goosey. I know what I want to say that day. Once what I have to say is down on the page, I’m pretty much done. That’s a problem if you’re working to put in two thousand words a day (my set goal for NaNo) and what I had to say only needed six hundred words. It’s at this point that I start calling NaNo and myself bad words.

Yeah, my head is a wonky place, I know. What about you? If you’re an author how do you feel about NaNoWriMo, word counts, and lapping Jell-O shots from Henrik Lundqvist’s navel? Bet you were wondering how I'd work that last header reference in, weren't you? 

Feel free to let your imagination roam...

Monday, October 17, 2016

Tuesday Tales - Picture Prompt

Hello! It`s time for Tuesday Tales.

It's time for more from my current WIP Playmaker, an F/F hockey romance This story might contain crude language and gay sexual situations. If that offends now would be the time to move onto another Tuesday Tales offering. Today the girls have their first date at a local hoagie shop. 

It`s our picture prompt week and the excerpt must reflect the image and be under 300 words.  Don`t forget to visit the other talented Tuesday Tales authors. Thanks for stopping by!

            “You look like a librarian,” Hannah said when I reached our table. I glanced down at the frumpy white blouse and brown skirt.
            “I have a dress code that I have to follow at work,” I explained, feeling as square as the tables.
            “I think it’s hot. If we put some glasses on you and had you bending over a stack of books I’d have wet dreams for a month,” she leaned over and kissed me. On the lips. In front of everyone in the hoagie shop. For some insane reason I leaned into the kiss, into her, and it was amazing. Her lips were soft, her breasts small but firm. When we broke apart a long, long moment later, my face was hot and Hannah was smiling like a cat who had just discovered a field of catnip. “Okay, I so have to paint you draped over a chaise wearing that look that you’re wearing right now.”
            I should have said something sexy, or provocative. Instead I went with this gem. “I play hockey for a living.”
            “Oh, so you’re not some uptight librarian. Well, that’s okay. I like hot jocks.” She sat down and patted the chair next to her. After scoping out the reaction of the patrons to the girl-on-girl kiss and seeing that no one seemed to give two shits, I sat down, grabbed a paper menu jammed behind the napkin holder, and stared at the food selections. I doubted anything on the menu would be as enticing as Hannah’s lips.

Copyright 2016 ©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, October 16, 2016

Silent Sunday

*Mushroom on a Stump*

Thursday, October 13, 2016

The Perils of Penelope Pantser

I am finally, finally, finally done with Open Net. Excuse me while I slither from my chair to the floor like an exhausted asp. *slips silently to the floor*

Never have I struggled so with a story. I have quite a few books to my credit now, and most fly along at a remarkable speed. Not this one. And I know that all the serious plotters out there are giving me “That Look” and thinking that anyone who writes as organically as I do is a big ole fool. After three revisions, I might tend to agree with them. Pity my muse does not.

Actually, the problem with Open Net wasn’t the storyline, it was one character. August’s love interest, Sal. For some reason he was terribly resistant to giving up his secrets. The book started out as a May-December. Salvatore quickly set me straight about his age. Okay, fine, we'll change that. So we did some revisions and made him twenty-four to my sweet Augie’s twenty-two.

I thought he was happy, but nope. There was something stewing with the plotline that he didn’t like. He dug in tenaciously and slowed the words down until I threw up my hands and once again switched things around. Now, he seems to be content with his role and my boys can have their happy, happy, happy.

That’s the curse of being an organic writer. Sometimes when you’re letting the characters decide how things run, they act up. Many will lead you down a side path that ends up somewhere south of "How Did We End Up Here?" and others will just flatly refuse to let the story flow. Such was the case with Salvatore Castenada. And he’s generally such a sweet, sexy young man. Look at this face. Does this look like the kind of fellow who would stir up such a stink?

Now Victor, yeah. I could totally see Vic tossing himself around until he got his way. To be honest, I find Victor one of my easiest characters to write. What that says about me I don’t wish to dwell on. Yep, being an organic writer is tough sometimes. It does make for more work when things veer off the well-scripted path. On the other hand, when the character is totally in charge  it is a damn wondrous thing! Being the vessel through which a fictional voice speaks is amazing.

Even with the occasional difficult character, I know I won’t be changing to being a deep plotter any time soon. My muse will not write the same story twice, so deep plotting is a death blow to any book I hope to write. It’s amazing how one authors precise and plotted process is another authors slow and painful death.  

To help celebrate the fact that Sal, August, and I have finally written "The End", here’s an exclusive sneak peek at Open Net, Cayuga Cougars #2. This excerpt hasn’t been professionally edited yet, so if you stumble over any glaring errors, blame it on Sal. *wink*

 Oh, by the way, this is my inspiration for August. I know, he and Sal are one beautiful couple. Trust me, these two young men are going to hit you right in the feels. And yes, there is gay sexual stuff and dirty talk coming round the bend. You know the drill...

“You know when you make that face you look just like your mother?”
I threw the man jogging at my left a dark look. Sal’s laugh was a sharp bark.
“You do recall that I’m adopted?” I asked with attitude as we ran up to the border of Lake Marten. Sal slowed and then stopped when the lake came into view. “Pretty, huh?”
“Wow,” he panted, his sweaty hair stuck to the side of his head. “Oh my God, is that a moose with a baby?”
I trotted up to stand beside him, looked at where he was pointing, and then nodded.
“Yeah, it’s a moose.” I bent down to touch my toes and stretch my hamstrings. When I straightened, Sal was taking pictures with his cell, his face glowing from either the two mile run or the sight of the mama moose with her calf. Maybe both. “Not too many of them wandering around Elmira, huh?”
“Not a one,” he laughed then walked to the edge of the lake. I moseyed up to stand beside him. A gentle wind moved over the water, moist and fresh, kind of chilly when it rustled over damp clothing. “It really is beautiful here.”
I studied his profile. “Yeah, it is.” He threw me a sideway glance, smiled, and returned to snapping images of moose, lake, towering pines, and a long pier that ran out into the water. “You about done taking pictures?” I asked while pulling my shirt over my head.
“Um, maybe?” Sal turned to face me. I toed off my sneakers then bounced around on one foot, then another, peeling off my sweaty socks. His dark eyebrows shot up his brow when I wiggled out of my running shorts and briefs. “Is this some sort of pagan Canadian tradition?”
“Sure, we can call it that. Or we can call it skinny dipping.” I ran out into the lake. The water swirled around my thighs and splashed up over my balls. It was brutally cold. My nuts ascended into my body as fast as they could. I heard Sal laughing at my squeals from the shore. Needing to show him that I really owned my shit, I drew in a deep breath, and dove into the freezing water. When I surfaced about six meters from the rocky shore, I cleared the water from my face, then paddled around to face Sal. Who was still on the shore, the coward.
“You coming in or what?” I shouted while treading water. He began stripping and with a shout that scared the moose and her calf, leaped into the water. He came up right in front of me.
“Holy fucking shit, this water is frigid!” Sal gasped as lake water ran down his face and neck. He swam a little closer. I stole a kiss. Then another. And then one more. “You think we could get out of this ice plunge?”
“Will you fuck me on the shore?”
“If my junk hasn’t frozen off and fallen to the bottom of Lake Antarctica, sure.”
“Drama queen,” I tossed back at him after I broke for shore. He followed along with ease. I reached the shore first. Lake Marten slapped around my thighs. I turned to watch Sal rise out of the cold, clear lake like a water god.
He stepped right into my arms. He was cold, his skin pimpled with gooseflesh but his mouth, oh his mouth was hot. As was his touch. Every caress of his hands over my skin set me on fire. He cupped my naked ass while rubbing his tongue over mine. Our cocks, rising slowly now that we were out of the bitter cold lake, bumped together.
I was hot and so horny. We hadn’t had sex for something like a week. I grabbed his hips, pulled with a grunt, and ground my cock against his. Sal groaned into my mouth, his teeth dragging over my tongue. I took him by the arm to the first bit of grass we could find.

If you’re an author, are you a plotter or a pantser? What process works best for you? I'd love to hear what you think in the comments below.

Wednesday, October 12, 2016

Great M/M Hockey Romances for a Great Cause!

You can get your copy of Changing on the Fly today!

I am so proud of this collection and all the love and hard work that went into it. When Avon Gale and I discussed this idea well over a year ago, I thought it might just be a passing fancy. A wishful thought. But when we put out the call to see if any authors would be interested, we were thrilled to find so many generous writers willing to take part! And more are signing up for next year! 

Remember, all the stories, editing, and cover art was donated. All monies raised will be given to a charity that promotes inclusiveness in sports. With your help we're hoping to send a sizable check to our charity and help gay athletes and coaches find acceptance in the locker room. 

Thank you ahead for your support of this worthy cause. 

Buy Links:

Changing on the Fly is a celebration of romance, featuring six M/M stories about hockey players falling in love on – and off – the ice. All proceeds from the anthology will be donated to a charity that supports inclusiveness in athletics.

The anthology will be available starting in October, 2016, for a limited time only.

It includes the following stories:

Even Strength by Cherylanne Corneille
Next Season by Avon Gale
Going Home by Heather Lire
On Broadway by V.L. Locey
The Brother and the Retired Player by Mary Smith
Take a Shot by Samantha Wayland


V.L. Locey’s On Broadway:

"You're about as far from being just a guy as I am from being able to play “Rocket Man” on harmonica.”
                "Is that the song your mom named you after?" I fell back to the bed, feet dangling to the floor and hands clasped behind my head.
                "Good guess." He appeared behind me after a moment. I tipped my head back to look at him. His green eyes were darker now, smoky jade and hot with desire. "You're really sexy in a Toby McGuire Spider-Man kind of way."
                "I don't have any superpowers," I replied as he leaned over and placed his hands on either side of my head.
                "Not true," Rocket whispered before covering my mouth with his. My eyes drifted shut as my fingers knotted up the bedding. His mouth was hot and wet, his tongue skilled, his taste a subtle blend of Korean buffet. "You're Riley Zeally," he murmured between nibbling kisses that made my heart pump faster, "the face of professional hockey."
                I reached up from the duvet to push my fingers into his hair. "I want you," I panted between his short, maddening sweeps of my mouth.

Samantha Wayland’s Take a Shot:

 “There already is someone who loves to spend time with you, who loves hockey and your friends and their ridiculous pranks. Who gets that you have to travel and that you’re tired!”
Tim blinked, appearing utterly bewildered. “Who?”
“Me, you asshole! Me.”
Tim threw his hands in the air. “What about you?”
“I appreciate you exactly as you are. I love our life. Our friends. You. Even the super fucking irritating things, because apparently there is something wrong with me. I love that you can’t hide what you’re feeling, almost ever. And that you say what you’re thinking, even when I can’t do the same. I like living with you, a fucking neat-freak nudist, and working with you, and there’s never been a time, not once, that I was tired of being around you. You’re gorgeous and you’re kind and you’re the best person I know. So shut up about there not being someone who can appreciate everything about you. There already is. And unfortunately for you, it’s me.”

Heather Lire’s Going Home

“What the fuck, man?” Blake growled at Dex.
“What?” he asked, innocently. Too innocently. “I was just making conversation with an old friend from high school. One who helped both of us graduate.”
If he’d known when he started this trip down memory lane that he’d be running into the person who’d had a staring roll in the epic disaster that had been his last night in town, he’d never have started it. Micah had also held a staring roll in every single one of his sexual fantasies back then as well.
“Fuck you, Dex.”
“Think about it like this…this is a new start for both of us. A chance to fix the things in our lives that we fucked up. Me with my career and you with Micah.”

Cherylanne Corneille’s Even Strength

He took a few laps around their end of the rink to loosen his legs. On his fourth pass around the net, he picked up a stray puck and carried it on his stick before shooting it into the net. Boone bumped his shoulder and nodded toward the glass as they rounded their end of the rink again.
What the hell? He glanced in the direction his teammate indicated. Two men around his age wearing New York’s jerseys held up a brightly colored sign that said simply, “Thank you, Nate.” He puzzled on the meaning until he made another lap. One of them also held a small rainbow flag.

Mary Smith’s The Brother and the Retired Player

Our lips touch, and the spark is struck. He pulls me closer and grips my hips. I can feel his hardness already, and my dick twitches at the contact. Our kiss intensifies as our tongues touch. I hold him closer, and the light scruff of his pale beard tickles me. I never want to leave this spot, but finally, I pull back.

Avon Gale’s Next Season

Nick stopped as Sparrow went to get into his Escalade, which he’d somehow remote started the second they got out of the building. Nick drove a 2002 Ford Focus and was lucky if it started when the key was in the ignition.
“So, uh,” Nick said, not wanting to just walk off but still as uncertain as he’d been in the locker room about what to say. “See you in Philly, I guess.”
“Yeah,” Sparrow muttered, yanking the door to his luxury SUV open with too much force. “See you in Philly, kid.”
Nick managed to get his own car door open, grabbed his ice scraper, and turned the car on so he could blast the heat. He watched Sparrow drive away, leaving tire tracks in the snow.

V.L. Locey
V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, yoga, belly laughs, walking, reading and writing lusty tales, Greek mythology, the New York Rangers, comic books, and coffee. (Not necessarily in that order.) She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, one dog, two cats, a flock of assorted domestic fowl, and two Jersey steers.
When not writing spicy romances, she enjoys spending her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania with a cup of fresh java in hand. She can also be found online on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and GoodReads.

Avon Gale

Avon Gale was once the mayor on Foursquare of Jazzercise and Lollicup, which should tell you all you need to know about her as a person. She likes road trips, rock concerts, drinking Kentucky bourbon and yelling at hockey. She’s a displaced southerner living in a liberal midwestern college town, and she never gets tired of people and their stories -- either real or the ones she makes up in her head.

Cherylanne Corneille

Cherylanne Corneille has been writing almost as long as she has loved the game of hockey, so it was inevitable that she would eventually combine two of her favorite pastimes into one hobby. She will watch almost any game but prefers to cheer on the Carolina Hurricanes, Anaheim Ducks, Tampa Bay Lightning, and Tyler Seguin.
When not writing or watching hockey, she enjoys running and has completed 18 half marathons.  She also loves Stars Wars, Lord of the Rings, and Captain America.
Cherylanne lives in Central Florida with her cat, who was almost called Puck or Hanifin but sometimes answers to the name Phasma.

Heather Lire

Heather has traveled all over the world, speaks several languages, collects romance books like they’re going out of style, and has multiple book boyfriends. Ok, she hasn’t been all over the world, except in her mind. She does however speak multiple languages and collect romance books. Her long-suffering husband and sons roll their eyes at all her book boyfriends. When she’s not busy on her next novel she can be found in her classroom where teaches one of those many languages, at one of her sons many sporting events or on twitter talking about what else, romance books.

Samantha Wayland

Samantha Wayland has three great loves in life; her family, writing books, and hockey. She is often found apologizing to the first for how much time and attention is taken up by the latter two, but they forgive her because they are awesome and she clearly doesn’t deserve them.
Sam lives with her family—of both the two and four-legged variety—outside of Boston. When she’s not locked away in her home office, she can generally be found tucked in the corner of the local Thai place with other socially-starved authors and an adult beverage. Her favorite things include mango martinis, tiny Chihuahuas with big attitude problems, and the Oxford comma.

Mary Smith
Best Selling Author, Mary Smith, has been coming up with stories her whole life. She has written A HOCKEY TUTOR and THE NEW HAMPSHIRE BEARS SERIES along with numerous other titles, as well as co-authored THE PENALTY KILL TRILOGY, OH CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN SERIES, and THE NINTH INNINGS SERIES with Lindsay Paige. When not busy writing or rooting for the Chicago Blackhawks you can find her with her nose stuck in her Kindle.