Monday, June 26, 2017

Tuesday Tales - Strap

It`s time for Tuesday Tales.

Today we have a snippet from my new MM contemporary nightclub book, The Bachelor & The Balladeer, Tales of the Scarlet Owl #1. In this excerpt, Cab has had his epiphany about The Scarlet Owl and is telling his partner about his exciting news.

This story may have gay erotic scenes, strong social issues addressed and mature language. If those things offend now is the time to move onto another Tuesday Tales blog. Thanks for stopping by!

Fifty minutes later, I was roaring into Maurice’s driveway out in Hidden Hills. I fairly leaped out of the Caddy, the safety strap never having been buckled, my bare feet slapping on the smooth driveway leading up to the stunning Santa Barbara style home. My partner was not exactly happy to see me at his door when he finally yanked it open. Small dogs barked madly upstairs.

“Cab, it’s six o’what-the-fuck in the morning,” he snapped while tugging his droopy boxers up a bit higher.

“Sorry about the early hour but I had a vision,” I told him as I pushed around him and stepped into the airy Spanish influenced foyer. Pale adobe walls, rounded archways, and a large brass and wood chandelier welcomed you warmly to the sprawling seven-thousand square foot mansion. Five beds, seven baths, Olympic sized pool, perfectly tended grounds, and a garage that housed a Bentley, a Lamborghini, a Rolls, and a Corvette from the early seventies. And those were just Maurice’s cars. Colette had a new Mercedes. Quite the step up from sleeping where you worked and naming the cockroaches that shared your abode.

“If you tell me you woke me up because you found God, I will kick your skinny black ass all the way back to Quebec,” he grumbled, what little hair he had left standing straight up.

“No, I did not find God, but I did find my destiny.” I grabbed his hands in mine. My gaze found his. “Maurice, I want to open a nightclub.” He stared at me, his face void of any emotion. “Did you hear me?”

“This is why I’m standing here in my underwear? A nightclub? Really? For fuck sake, Cab, go invest in a nightclub then.” He tried to pull free but I held onto his hands for dear life. 

Non, I don’t want to just invest in a nightclub, I want to open one. Build it from scratch. Make it mine, fill it with the music that we love. Hire the best singers and entertainers and gear it towards the gay market. The staff will dress like they did in the forties. The music will be live, the singers real, and the drinks top shelf!”

“Okay, fine,” he said around a jaw-cracking yawn. “We can find a place somewhere in LA for this new gay club. Can I go back to bed now?” He jerked on his hands again. I tightened my grip. His thick eyebrows knotted. “You have something stuck in your mustache. Is that a pimento? Also, you don’t smell so good.”

I wiggled my nose to try to dislodge the pimento from my mustache. “Apologies for the smell and the pimento. I threw Mateo out last night and dove into some Glenfiddich.”

“Ah, that explains why you look like something one of Colette’s pug dogs left in the back yard.”

“Probably, yes.” I wished I had showered, but the rush of excitement had pushed me out the door so that I could share my news with my friend. “But, I don’t want to open my club here in LA. I want away from this city. Far away. I need to begin anew. So, with that in mind, I am going to sell you my share of Cabriolet Music, move to the east coast, and be a club owner. I think I’ll unload the beach house as well. I never go there. And I will need the twelve million that I paid for it for start-up costs and incidentals. Ah, well, I will also have the money you pay me for my half of the business, so I should be sound financially until the club grows popular. What do you think?!”

“I think you just crashed right into a fucking midlife crisis,” Maurice stated and jerked his hands out of mine. I shook my head. Maurice gave me a questioning once over.

“I know I look a little hungover.” He pinched some air between his thumb and forefinger. Colette’s dogs were losing their minds up on the second floor. “And I am, yes. But, this is not the booze talking. Maurice, I woke up and Holiday Inn was playing. It’s a sign.”

He slapped a hand over his face.

Copyright 2017 ©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.

Friday, June 23, 2017

Book Spotlight - Playmaker

#lesbian #hockey #erotic #romance #venom

Buy Links:


Secrets. Sometimes keeping them in confidence is a good thing. Other times secrets can slowly allow a woman’s soul to rot. Whitney Beaupré has been hiding a big secret for years, one that’s beginning to wear her down both on and off the ice. Pretending to be something she’s not is exhausting. Wanting to be free but afraid to break out of her prison is terrifying. Seeking love but then hiding from it is crushing to the spirit, yet Whitney feels compelled to keep living the lie.

Until the night Hannah Kym appears in her life. Whitney’s attraction to Hannah is deep, fierce, and instantaneous. The Temple art major is everything Whitney has dreamed of and more. But those old fears keep clawing at the Venom center, keeping her locked in the closet despite the passion and affection she feels for Hannah. Can love finally break the shackles holding Whitney’s heart and soul captive?


My cosmopolitan arrived. I handed the server a twenty and continued to sit in the shadows, enjoying the dancers and my cocktail. Everyone seemed to be paired up already. Maybe that was for the best. Maybe I should just finish my drink and go home before someone recognized me as a Venom player and—

“Did anyone ever tell you that you have an amazing brow?” A small Asian woman sat down across from me, startling me out of my ruminations. She was adorable, I saw that right off. Her face was round, her hair short and dyed aquamarine. Her mouth was drawn into a studious pucker. She shoved her hand across the table. “Also, your mouth is perfectly aligned with your nose. Hannah Kym.”
“Thanks.” I muttered and shook her hand.

She smiled, and it lit up the club. “Would you consider posing for me sometime?” The music died off and applause broke out for the DJs choice. I cocked an eyebrow. Hannah Kym snickered as a white strobe light moved over our tiny table. When she smiled, her apple cheeks nearly obscured her beautiful brown eyes. It was beyond cute. She was beyond cute. “Okay, I know that sounds like some lame come-on that a guy would hit you with. I’m really an art student. I’m in my junior year at Temple, and I’d love to paint you some time. You have this amazing face. Sensual, sad, sophisticated, sullen.”

“Suspicious.” I tacked on. Another song, this one I didn’t know, kicked to life.

“Here, let me find my student ID.” She stood up and began pawing around in the various pockets of her baggy jeans and sweater, then finally in the overstuffed tote dangling off her shoulder. She pulled out a card on a lanyard and bounced around in circles to celebrate, her arms up over her head. The motion pulled her short sweater up and exposed her stomach. Her tummy was soft, not the hard and toned abs I was used to seeing in the dressing room. Her rump and hips were rounded and lush, and her breasts were small. Men would probably stick their noses up at her curves and tiny tits but I thought she was perfectly proportioned. “There. Total proof that I am indeed one Hannah Kym, starving college student slash artist striving for my BFA.”

 I took the ID card and glanced at it. Hannah plopped down across from me, rested her elbows on the table, placed her chin on her hands, and stared at me. The ID card showed a younger Hannah and the red plastic card was clearly a Temple University ID badge. I’d seen Greg Blue Blanket’s a few times.
“I know one of your professors,” I said as I returned the ID card to her. Hannah continued to appraise me. “Greg Blue Blanket?”

“That man is awesome! And so visually stunning. Kind of like you.” I blinked at Hannah, dumbfounded. Our server appeared and asked Hannah if she’d like something. “Oh hey, yeah, how about a rum and Coke?” I handed my empty glass to the waitress and tapped it to signal I’d like a refill. “So, what’s your name and when can I put you on canvas?” She winked impishly.

My body reacted with a flash of heat that made my breasts tingle. “Why would you want to paint me? I’m far from model perfect,” I shouted over the thumping of the current song.

 “That’s what makes you desirable,” she yelled, frowned, and then moved over to sit right beside me. Her perfume was fruity. It fit her. “I love women who are confident in themselves. Take that chick over there, totally refurbished from head to toe. When you strip her down, what you get is not at all what you see.”

I looked behind Hannah to see a tall brunette who should be a centerfold in some magazine for straight dudes. She certainly had enough female admirers fawning over her.

“She’s beautiful,” I replied, to which Hannah wrinkled her flat little nose in disgust.

“She’s a fake. You, on the other hand, are perfect in your imperfections. The sharp cut of your jaw, the gap in your teeth combined with the lushness of your lashes and the heavy sway of your big breasts is true feminine beauty.”

“Are you sure you’re not a poetry major?” Hannah laughed, her hand coming to rest on my thigh. A hot curling of desire ignited between my thighs.

“It might be my minor.”

Monday, June 19, 2017

Tuesday Tales - Picture Prompt

Welcome back! 

This week is our picture prompt week and all posts must be 300 words or under and reflect the chosen image. Today we have a snippet from my new MM contemporary nightclub book, The Bachelor & The Balladeer, Tales of the Scarlet Owl #1. In this excerpt, we see that Cabriolet Vermet, our leading man, is having a bad, bad night.

Thanks so much for dropping by!

“Why are you sitting here in the dark drinking that shit whiskey again?” He asked, his voice filled with derision.
“It suits me.”
“Yes, it really does,” he sighed dramatically then slipped behind the bar to begin mixing himself a Mai Tai.
“You don’t have to get the mix,” I said then turned on the leather stool to look into his indifferent eyes. “You’re not staying long enough to enjoy a drink with me.”
“Oh, I see. So, Maurice raced to you and tattled. Fine. I’m tired of keeping up the façade anyway,” he stated coldly, slammed his empty glass to the counter and huffed off in the direction of my bedroom.
My ass remained on the stool. He’d not steal anything that wasn’t his. He might be a prissy, cheating bitch but he was no thief. As he slammed around I drank my whiskey and counted the lovers who had left in a similar fashion over the years. I lost count at ten, or perhaps I just quit counting. It made no difference. When your heart embraced someone, it ended up broken. People left. Mama had left me with grandmama. Grandmama had died when I was just eighteen. It simply went on and on until it would be my time to leave someone behind. Piteously, or perhaps not, there was not a soul who would mourn me. Maurice and Colette perhaps. And Rachel, my personal assistant. Other than that? Non.
“I’ll be back for the rest of my stuff tomorrow.” Mateo stalked up to me, slapped his key onto the bar, and tossed out a slim hip. “And for your information, all of this is your fault.”
“Oh? How is that? I was faithful to you.”

Copyright 2017 ©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.

Saturday, June 17, 2017

Book Spotlight - Clean Sweep Venom #1

#MF #erotic #hockey #romance

Fiery, flame-haired Jane Bratkowski is catapulted from a small college town in Philadelphia to become head coach of a new women’s hockey team, The Venom. It’s a life-changing opportunity, a dream come true – in a cruel twist of fate that could turn into a nightmare – she comes face to face with her ex-husband Tore Ahlbreg, the Wildcats’ head of European Scouting. 

Suddenly, Jane’s faced with more challenges than she bargained for: Will she let him distract her – and derail her big chance to coach pro hockey? Can she build a team of relatively inexperienced, irrepressible young women into champions? Can she and Tore triumph over the gut-wrenching tragedy that ripped them apart – or will the shocking truth of their passionate past threaten to destroy them once again? 


Monday, June 12, 2017

Tuesday Tales - Stone

It`s time for Tuesday Tales.

 Welcome back! “Stone” is our word this week. Today I’m sharing a snippet from First Season, the second Harrisburg Railers book. I’m coauthoring this M/M hockey romance series with Rj Scott and am thrilled to be able to share excerpts with the Tuesday Tales readers!

In today’s post, Adler is in a bit of a dark place.

This story may have gay erotic scenes, strong social issues addressed and mature language. If those things offend now is the time to move onto another Tuesday Tales blog. Thanks for stopping by!

He thought I’d left. I guess I had in a way. I was no longer in his space or face but I was in the hall, staring at the door to his place, willing it to open and to see Layton calling me back in. Maybe he had changed his mind and wanted me around again. After thirty minutes, and no open door, I had to accept that he wasn’t ready for me now…or ever. I’d not been good enough again.

And that fear and anger and helplessness and regret and pain all started to coalesce in my breast. I wanted to do something for him but there was nothing I could do. I wanted to go back in time and find the motherfuckers who had hurt my man and beat them into paste. I wanted to punch holes in the walls of this nice corridor but couldn’t. So, I left his building and I drove around Harrisburg until I ran out of gas. Then I walked. Somehow, I ended up by the capitol building. It wasn’t open yet. I sat down on the west side on the grand stairs leading up the impressive white building. The ice on the steps made my ass cold. I got up after a bit, hands in my pockets, and continued walking.

I ended up by the banks of the Susquehanna River. There were big chunks of ice along the banks. The stones lining the shore were slick with ice as well. My breath fogged in front of me. I felt hollow inside. Hollow and angry. Angry at me, that stupid, hateful, homophobic fan for refusing to let his son have a puck from a queer player, the press, my parents, and myself. Somehow my love hadn’t been enough for Layton. I’d not been a good enough boyfriend. Probably because I was hiding the fact that I was his boyfriend. I was never good enough…

And so, the rage and self-disgust fed off the confusion and fear and it quadrupled. It was so large come evening that it was all there was of Adler Lockhart. I was a skating ball of chaos who was on the edge. All it would take would be a comment or a nudge. I got both ten minutes into the game with Philadelphia. The nudge was from Gabriel Marsan, a defenseman from Philly known for being one of those players who likes to push. He rarely made the mistake of being way over the line, but if he could instigate and pull a penalty then he would. He was good at both, pulling penalties and poking a humming hornets’ nest with his stick.

Copyright 2017 ©by V.L. Locey & Rj Scott


Click on the link below to return to the Tuesday Tales main blog for more great reads from the Tuesday Tales authors.

Blue Line Collection #1 Available Now!

Happy news! I've got four of my previously released MM erotic hockey books back! They've gotten a beautiful new cover and have been bundled into one reasonably priced collection. 


There’s no sport quite like ice hockey. The speed, the action, the physicality, the blood, and the rabid fans. Add in sizzling hot M/M romance and you’ve got the setting for some amazing romance tales! In the four stories contained in this collection, you’ll experience the ups-and-downs of finding that one true love through the eyes of four different men, ranging in age and experience, from collegiate players to the pros. 

Readers should be over 18 due to mature language and gay sexual situations. The set includes:

Crashing the Crease 
Long Change 
Shutdown Pair 
Heir Apparent 

Buy Links:

R-rated Excerpt: (From Crashing the Crease)

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe I'm secretly harboring lustful desires for you and so I hide them by hurling cutting comments at you."
I spun around to find his dark eyes latched onto me. While the acidity of his words could have eaten through a Sherman tank, the lust in his gaze was anything but corrosive. The knowledge that this man actually wanted me made my blood thump in my ears. My shoulders tensed.
 "What are you, five years old or something?" My fingers tightened around the hand sanitizer.
"If you had pigtails I would dunk them into an inkwell," J.D. countered. We stood facing each other. Something was crackling in the four feet of space that separated us. "Or maybe I should just jack you up against that tree and kiss you until you beg me to fuck you. You do know that's how it will be, right? This antagonistic 'I hate you!' crap is just a cover that we're both using because we want to get at each other. Yeah, you know. I can see it in those blue-green eyes of yours."
My breath hitched. I took a step in reverse. J.D.'s mouth curled into a predatory smile then he stepped closer.
"I have a boyfriend." It rolled out of me before I could think properly. The sensual smile that had been playing over his lips disappeared. "And you are not my type."
"You're lying," he said as he reached up to stroke my cheek. The feel of his fingers moving over my whiskers made my skin prickle. "I just can't figure out if I should pretend to believe that you don't like men who take charge or if you're just scared about meeting the first man to ever tell you just how shit will be."

Wednesday, June 7, 2017

Changing Lines Cover Reveal Party w/ Discount Preorder Link

Come join Rj Scott and I as we show off the mouthwatering cover for Changing Lines, Harrisburg Railers #1! There's a wonderful line-up of guest hockey romance authors, games galore, and giveaways.

The party runs from 5-7 pm EST and you can join us by following the link below --

Changing Lines Cover Reveal Party

Monday, June 5, 2017

Tuesday Tales - Purple

It`s time for Tuesday Tales.

 Welcome back! “Purple” is our word this week. Today I’m sharing a snippet from First Season, the second Harrisburg Railers book. I’m coauthoring this M/M hockey romance series with Rj Scott and am thrilled to be able to share excerpts with the Tuesday Tales readers!

In today’s post, we get to see some interaction between the two leading men, Adler Lockhart, a Railers player, and Layton Foxx, a social media expert working with the Railers. We also get some interplay with Adler and his best friend/PA Apollo.

This story may have gay erotic scenes, strong social issues addressed and mature language. If those things offend now is the time to move onto another Tuesday Tales blog. Thanks for stopping by!

He rolled his eyes. “Far too much information. But, I did pack about twenty clean handkerchiefs for your trip.” He closed the case, latched it, and turned to look at me. “Ad, do me a favor, okay? Try to keep a rein on yourself.”
“I know, you already told me not to buy anyone any more presents.” I shuffled the shrimp from one hand to the other.
“Yeah, there’s that, but I see how much you love this man.”
“I never said that. Never. Not once. Did I?” I didn’t recall saying the L word in any way that linked with Layton.
“You didn’t have to. It’s written all over your face. Mr. Foxx is nice and very good-looking but deeply troubled. Don’t let your desire to be loved override what he can give you, okay?”
“Yeah, sure, okay. I’ll go slow. I promise.”
“You don’t mean a word of that, I know.” He sighed, padded over to me, and gave me a chaste kiss on the lips. I wiggled the prawn platter out of the way. “I’m leaving now. I want to get home, sleep, and be able to do Christmas eve mass with my parents.”
“Cool. Tell them I wish them the best holiday ever. Seems funny not to be going with you this year.”
“It’s nice that you have someone else in your life now. Just don’t suffocate the man, okay?” He patted my cheek, snuck a shrimp from under the plastic wrap, and walked off making yummy sounds. I heard the doorbell ring. My body reacted instantly knowing it was Layton. I jogged to the door. It had been days since I’d last seen him. He looked so good. Relaxed, calm, smiling, casually dressed in a loose purple sweater and jeans.
“Missed you,” I said as his gaze moved over me then settled on the shrimp platter. “Treats for later. Come in. Can I kiss you?”
“Sure,” he said as he slipped in around me. I leaned in, stole a tiny smooch, and then jumped back out of the way when Apollo came charging at us with travel bags bouncing off his back.
“Hello, Mr. Foxx,” he smiled at Layton then wagged a finger at me as he hurried past. “You, remember what I said. Have fun. Merry Christmas, Ad, Mr. Foxx.”
“Same to you,” Layton said before I closed on the door on my best friend. “He doesn’t like me.”
“He does, he’s just worried about me falling for you too quickly. He seems to think I can’t control myself for some reason.”
“Your lack of a filter might have something to do with how he thinks,” Layton said then lifted the shrimp platter from my hand. “Why don’t we put these in the fridge. Warm seafood makes me nervous.”

Copyright 2017 ©by V.L. Locey & Rj Scott


Click on the link below to return to the Tuesday Tales main blog for more great reads from the Tuesday Tales authors.

Friday, June 2, 2017

Here a trope, there a trope...

Everywhere a trope! I, for one, don’t think that’s a bad thing despite what the powers to be may say.

For those who aren’t familiar with the term, a trope is basically a figure of speech, character, or plot element that’s been used many times.

There are a bazoodle of romance tropes such as dating the best friend’s sister/brother, the alpha hero, accidental pregnancy, or enemies to lovers. Even writing about athletes is considered a trope and it’s one that I fully embrace. *hugs her hockey players tightly*

Now you can find all kinds of dialog about avoiding tropes online and I agree that there are a few that should be skipped over. Overall though, tropes are a wonderful way to get your hero and his love together and most readers have favorite tropes as do authors.

I tend to really like those May/December stories. There’s something about an older man with a younger man that really sends me as both an author and a reader. I’m also partial to the hero being a bit flawed. *looks right at Victor Kalinski* Or in some cases really flawed. I love peeling back one layer at a time to expose the good heart under all the bluster and jerkish behavior.

I like a good case of opposites attracting as well. I have a couple of MM books in the queue that fit this trope. One is a romance between a math teacher and a baseball player and the other is a closeted hockey player falling head over heels for a drag queen.

Wait? What?! Vicki is writing about a sport other than hockey?! It’s a sign of the end times! Flee! Flee! Grab the cat and kids and get into the basement right now!

There’s a trope for every taste. Tell me about your favorites in the comment section.