Thursday, August 31, 2017

On Broadway - Free MM Hockey Romance

Last year I was thrilled to be a part of the Changing on the Fly MM hockey charity anthology. We raised over $3000.00 for a leading charity who strives to ensure inclusiveness in sports! My short story, "On Broadway", was the story of Riley Zeally, superstar center for the New York Nightwings.

This years collection has the second half of the Riley/Keiffer romance, "Rookie Moves", which is told from Keiffer's point of view.

Since many may have missed "On Broadway", I've put it up over at Instafreebie so readers will have the first installment in the Nightwings saga to enjoy before the second part releases on 10/4.


Money. Skill. Looks. Fame.

Riley Zeally, captain and star center for the New York Nightwings, has it all. You’d think his nights would be filled with wine, women, and song, but Riley isn’t what the world thinks he is. He’s a closeted gay man living a lonely, solitary life in the biggest city in the world. The lights of Broadway may shine brightly on him but they certainly don’t keep him warm at night.

Fate intercedes one blisteringly cold morning and tosses Riley into the path of a beautiful young man in shabby clothes and ancient skates who captivates the superstar. Then, just as unexpectedly as he appeared, the man of Riley’s dreams disappears, swallowed up by the city that never sleeps. In a city of millions, can two men from different worlds ever hope to find each other again?

RJ Scott's Birthday Treasure Hunt

Clue Two - The story of a boy, found on a bench, on a snowy Christmas Eve.

Answers to be entered on RJ's blog on September 3.

Monday, August 28, 2017

Tuesday Tales - Bean

It`s time for Tuesday Tales.

Today we have a snippet from the third Cayuga Cougars MM hockey romance book, Coach’s Challenge. In this excerpt, Victor and his son are trick-or-treating.

Our word prompt today is “Bean”.

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!

“Come on, sonny boy, let’s go hit up the neighbor.” I plodded along, oversized feet tangling up every five steps. When we hit the end of the driveway, Jack pulled me by the tail toward Mrs. Milken’s parcel of land. He loved the gnomes, which were now decked out in stupid Halloween costumes. Snow couldn’t come soon enough to bury the demented little things. “No, don’t touch them.”
Jack drew his hand away from a resin gnome in a witch’s costume. Did she sew them all by hand? If so, the old gal needed to get out more. Jack dropped my tail and raced to the front door, pounding on it with gusto. I finally arrived after a trip that nearly sent me into a congregation of gnomes worshipping Satan. The door opened and a skinny, old, black woman stepped out onto the porch. Jack held up his bag.
“Gimme some for my feets!” The kid shouted loud enough to wake the dead. I gave the Satanic gnome cult a concerned peek.
“It’s trick or treat, buddy,” I corrected him. Mrs. Milken gave me a long onceover then turned her attention to my son.
“What kind of person are you supposed to be?” She bent down close, her bowl of candy held away from the boy in the red-and-white, two-piece skirt and midriff outfit with a sidesaddle long black wig. I tried to step up onto the porch but my feet were too big.
“Pincess Moana!” Jack yelled. Why he was shouting I didn’t know. Kids.
Her gaze flew to me. “Isn’t this child of yours a boy?”
“Yeah, your point?” I gave her a lethal look. Or as lethal as it could be from inside my stupid costume. I was so ready for this. Dan had coached me on how to politely handle any comments about us letting our son dress like a girl. I had my own replies lined up and they were far less PC than my husband’s.
“Good on you, lad.” She smiled widely at me then dropped a handful of jelly beans into Jack’s bag. His face lit up. He ran off the edge of the porch, fell on his face, jumped up, and streaked away.
“Dammit,” I grunted, waved at the gnome keeper, and tried to chase after my son. I caught up with him at the next house. He’d joined a larger group of kids who were considerably older than he was. I nudged them aside, took my wild child by the hand, and made him wait his turn all while trying to get his wig back on his head. Jack had a minor meltdown when he saw all the other kids getting a treat while he had to wait. Oh, yay, the joys of fatherhood. Finally, it was his turn. He sniffled and pouted until a Snickers bar hit the bottom of his bag, then he was all sorts of happy-happy-happy. This time I was ready, and his little wrist stayed in my hand.

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.

Cover Reveal & Preorder Info for Improper Fraction!

Improper Fraction is the tale of childhood friends, broken hearts and shattered vows, and the power of love and understanding to heal even the deepest wounds.

Here's a peek at the stunning cover for this powerful new adult MM romance!

You can preorder your copy now. Release date is 10/18/17.



More to follow soon


O’Malley Ramsey, math aficionado, grew up next door to Garrison Rook, All-American athlete. While O’Malley dreamed of numbers and kissing Garrison, Garrison’s tastes ran to home runs and hot chicks. During a family celebration the night before both young men were heading off for college, O’Malley joyously discovers that Garrison isn’t quite as straight as the star athlete had been pretending to be. Vows to return to each other quickly followed a few clumsy kisses in the old treehouse in the Rook’s backyard.

O’Malley came home to Garrison. Garrison never returned to O’Malley.

Four years later, the two ex-friends meet up at a summer camp where O’Malley is serving as a counselor. Garrison is desperate to make things right with his childhood friend, but can O’Malley, still nursing the pain and mistrust of Garrison’s betrayal, ever forgive or love Garrison again?


            Hand shielding my eyes, I watched as the Silverado stopped in front of Professor Belshaw’s wildly decorated cabin right beside Lake Amalie. The professor had gotten all her wind chimes hung that morning. Each one was a brilliant and some would say garish color. They clattered and clanged with each touch of a breeze off the lake. She had made them all out of silver soup spoons and old silver teapots. Then she had painted them to match her whims. Professor Belshaw had incredibly colorful whims so it seems.

            When the passenger door opened, I felt a wide smile break free as I saw Emily Rook slide to the ground, her long brown hair pulled into a ponytail. I wasn’t familiar with the Silverado but had to assume that Mr. Rook had gotten a new ride. Since I hadn’t spent much time at home after graduation due to a graduation gift of a vacation in Palm Beach from my father, it was quite likely that he had. That old minivan he had owned had been creeping toward the junkyard for a couple of years. Emily spun in a circle and then found me standing in the gravel path. She waved frantically while jumping up and down. I did the same. Then Garrison Rook exited that massive blue Silverado. My arm crashed numbly to my side and all happy jumping died.

            My first thought was “God above but he looks amazing!” which was quickly followed by “I think I may puke!” but I managed to hold down my lunch. Emily pointed in my direction. The sloppy joe from my midday meal rolled over in my stomach. Garrison’s dark eyes found and held me. He looked incredible. Even more handsome now that he had lost those final touches of boyhood. Garrison was all man now. Every single, athletic, heartbreaking, lying inch of him.

            “Shit.” I groaned and swallowed. I was sure my sandwich and chips were going to come back up. Someone appeared beside me. I couldn’t rip my attention from Garrison as we stared at each other.

            “Never eat the fried oysters.” Professor Belshaw barked with glee then drove a sharp elbow into my side. “Ah, I see the Rooks have arrived!” She waved them over. I felt like a hare that the hounds had just sighted. “O’Malley, if you don’t close your mouth one of these damn deer flies is going to zip right in and land on your tongue,” she said as she waved a hand at a pesky fly buzzing around our heads.

            I forced my jaw to come up. Every step Garrison and Emily took made my pulse speed up. By the time the two Rook siblings stood in front of me, I felt woozy. Were my ears ringing or was that tinny noise just one of Belshaw’s wind chimes?

            “Hello there.” Professor Belshaw grabbed one of Garrison’s large hands and pumped it. It took two of hers to cover one of his. He had strong hands. I clearly recalled how they had felt when he had run them over me that night in the treehouse. “It’s a real honor to have a Carolina Cutter in the camp!”

            I glanced at Emily. She averted her gaze as the camp owner fawned over Garrison. Emily knew there was tension between her brother and me, but I had never revealed to her what kind of upset had occurred. Why should I tarnish Garrison in her eyes? No one but my father knew of how this man had shredded me into ticker tape and then tossed me into the wind.

            “It’s a real pleasure to be here, Professor,” Garrison said. My skin prickled just hearing his voice. Was it deeper? It sounded it. His brown eyes never left me as he talked baseball with Professor Belshaw. I worked on keeping up with the conversation they were having but my mind kept drifting back. To better days, days when Garrison and I were the best of buddies riding our bikes through mud puddles, sleeping out in the treehouse during the summer, working on making a comic book that starred a baseball player who used math as his super weapon. Those memories assaulted me as I stood there staring at his hand clasped so tightly by Belshaw.

            “Isn’t it exciting, O’Malley?” Hearing my name pulled me out of childhood remembrances. My gaze flew to her then to Garrison. He now had his hand back, which was good. Would it look bad if I slugged him in the face and then stormed off? Probably. 

Saturday, August 26, 2017

Saturday Story Spotlight - Long Change

Long Change ( Part of the Blue Line Collection #1)

#MM #NA#hockey #romance


Collegiate superstar goalie Boone Crockett seems to have the world at his feet. He’s rich, handsome, attends an elite college and is a hot prospect for the pros. Pity all that is a front for a deeply closeted and troubled young man.

All Boone’s life plans are shattered when flamboyant ex-figure skater Preston Gordon, an orange-haired twink, shows up to audition for the team’s mascot position wearing sequins, scarves and toe picks. His moves on the ice send Boone into his own pirouette of frustrated and reluctant desire.

As senior year progresses Boone slides deeper and deeper into a dangerous depression, Preston’s sensual strength the only thing he has to hold on to. If Boone can’t keep from plunging through the thin ice he’s skating on, it could take a twink to make the big save.


The day was long with gray clouds blowing over to drop tiny pellets of ice on those who had to shuffle from one building to another. By dinnertime I was totally done in. My right hip socket was on fire. I wondered if I had something else going on aside from the usual hockey aches and pains. Maybe I had flexed or rotated the wrong way in the crease. I had been pretty sloppy for the first thirty minutes. 

My books lay on the floor, closed, as was my laptop. I was backed up so badly on my coursework it would take a fucking miracle ever to get dug out. And with the searing pain in my hip, I truly didn’t care. Dropping out sounded good. Say fuck the sheepskin and the hockey. Just go off somewhere and live the life of a hermit. Grow out my beard, trap and eat raccoons…and fuck my toe pick lover every night. Yeah, right. I scoffed at the mental scenario. As if Preston Gordon would live in a cave with a stinky hermit dude who dined on roasted raccoon.

The pizza delivery twink arrived ten minutes later. No shit, it took me three minutes to get off my couch and to the door. I glanced up and down the hall then let Preston inside. His coat, as well as the hood pulled over his head, was covered with sleet. He handed me the pizza, then took off his coat. I made my way back to the sofa.

“You’re walking just like my grandfather,” he said. I grunted. “And you’re sounding like him as well.”

“Hockey. Stop worrying,” I said, then flopped onto the sofa, the smell of pizza making my mouth water. Or perhaps that was the sight of Preston in my space. “You look good.”

“Oh, this old thing?” He laughed then gave me a spin. Sure, he was only in black jeans, a white shirt with a purple vest over top and those ugly blue boots, but he looked beautiful to me. “So, how are you? I was terribly anxious all day but I told myself that not hearing from you was a good thing. Tell me about your day.”

He swished over, sat beside me, placed his tiny hand on my thigh and listened. And that was how nights went for the next three weeks. I survived late October and early November on pizza and Preston kisses.

My student advisor pulled me in two days before Thanksgiving break was to start. I was failing three classes and barely squeaking through the other two. If I didn’t hike up my GPA I’d be kicked off the team. That just wasn’t an option. Beside Preston, hockey was all I had that gave me any joy. The fear of being dropped from the team sent me back to my room. Preston found me that night, in my bed, my wet boots melting all over the covers. He got my boots and coat off, then crawled into bed with me.

“Boone,” he whispered as I played ocular catch-me-if-you-can with moon shadows. “Boone?”


“Honey, you need to talk to someone.” He lay curled under my arm. His hand rested on my stomach. We had not fucked yet. Hell, we hadn’t even sucked each other off. The farthest we had gotten was a heavy petting session on the couch one night after watching TV. Preston said we needed to move extremely slowly, for both our sakes. “Please come to a meeting with me. Just one. You don’t have to talk, just listen.”

I rolled to my left, away from him. He spooned up behind me, his hand resting on my abdomen.

“Why?” I asked.

“Why what? Come to a meeting?”

         “Yeah,” I said staring at the pulsations of the red numerals of my alarm clock. The light ebbed and flowed. His fingers flattened over my belly. I wanted him to go lower but he never would. He kept telling me I had to love myself first. 

Monday, August 21, 2017

Tuesday Tales - Bike

It`s time for Tuesday Tales.

Today we have a snippet from the third Cayuga Cougars MM hockey romance book, Coach’s Challenge. In this excerpt, Vic has just returned home after a bit of a tiff with Dan.

Our word prompt today is “Bike”.

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!

“I just want to hold you for now, okay?” I closed my eyes and breathed him in.

“God yeah, for sure. I was scared you went…somewhere other than the woods.”

“Like Lou’s Pub a few blocks over?”


“Thanks for the honesty. I thought about it,” I whispered over his jugular. I felt him stiffen a bit. “Thought real hard about it but I ended up sitting beside a puddle filled with rotting acorns and a dead toad. Which, you know, says a lot about where my head and life is right now.”

“Puddles are good places for thinking.” He pulled back a bit then reached up to swipe at something on my cheek. “Mud,” he said then showed me the smear of wet dirt on his thumb. Our gazes locked and I had to kiss him. I had to. I might have died if our lips hadn’t met. And holy fuck, that kiss. It was like locking lips with a nuclear reactor. Everything that Dan and me were was in that kiss. His lips parted and I slid in, sweeping hotly into his mouth, sucking on his fat lower lip, rolling my tongue over his until we were both mad with emotions we probably couldn’t explain if our lives depended on it.

We did make it to the bedroom – with only a slight stumble over a tiny bike - before we fell on each other like starving jackals. This is how it has always been with him and me. Match meet tinder. He didn’t seem to care that I was muddy or rumpled, or that I was the poster boy for mental problems, or that I touched him too roughly at times. 

“I need you inside me, Vic,” he groaned.

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, August 19, 2017

Book Spotlight - Reality Check (To Love a Wildcat #4)

#MF #IR #Hockey #Romance

 Amazon KU

The team owner/head coach relationship can be a tenuous one at times. Isabelle Lancourt can testify to just how stressful it can be. Ever since her husband passed away, leaving her his beloved Wildcats, she and Philip Moore have been at loggerheads. When the opportunity to sign a Russian hotshot presents itself, Isabelle leaps at the chance to prove herself as more than just a pretty face. 

Dealing with hot flashes, salary caps, and trade deadlines she can handle with ease. The aftermath of an ill-advised, but erotically superb, rendezvous in Siberia with the handsomely annoying Coach Moore? That was not in any Wildcats playbook. Can Isabelle and Philip handle the changes life is about to throw at them? Or will combining their personal and professional lives prove to be a misconduct penalty that the league simply cannot overlook?

Wednesday, August 16, 2017

Open Net - Cayuga Cougars #2 - Release Day and Review Tour Stops

#mm #hockey #romance #erotic

Buy Links:


August Miles has the world on a string professionally.

Augie, as his friends and teammates call the unassuming young goaltender, is on the fast track to the pros. The starting goalie for the Cayuga Cougars, he has a year or two in Cayuga to hone his skills and all his career dreams will have come true. Pity his personal life isn’t riding the same high. He’s the only one among his group of friends without that special someone to call his own.

Until he meets Salvatore Castenada at a lakeside party. The attraction is white-hot and more than a little wonderfully overwhelming for the romantically inexperienced goalie. August quickly discovers that Sal is everything he’s dreamed of in a man: mature, settled, sinfully handsome, and filled with gentle humor. Sal is also HIV positive. 

Will Sal’s revelation about his status end this budding relationship before it can even begin? Or will the two men be able to handle the challenges life—and a championship run for the Cougars—throws at them?

R-Rated Excerpt:

Several days later, trying to be nonchalant about things, I stood outside his door, empty container in my hand, features schooled not to reflect how scared I was.
He looked shocked to see me on his doorstep. “Hey,” he said.
I held up the empty dish.
His gaze darted to the container, then back to me, a smile tugging at the corner of his sensual mouth. “Looking for a refill or something more?”
He stepped aside to let me enter. I paused just inside the front door, turning to look at him after he shut it.
“I’d like to have more,” I said, and held out the container like some sort of orphan in a musical.
“More what?” he asked, and I heard the uncertainty in his voice.
“More food and more you.”
“Are you sure, August?”
I nodded.
He gently took the container, his eyes locked with mine. “Are you one hundred percent sure? Maybe you should take more time. I’m not a prime dating candidate for you. I’m seropositive and I’m fifteen years older than you are. I can almost guarantee you that some of your friends are going to be against us seeing each other.”
“I don’t need more time and I don’t need friends who would be so judgmental. Yes, I’m one hundred percent sure. I’ve spent days reading, watching videos, and then reading more. I even talked with a medical professional. I know what I’m going to be facing—what we’re going to be facing.”
He tossed the container onto a small table at the end of the sofa. “We can never have unprotected sex. Ever. Not even once.”
“I know,” I said as want began pumping through my veins.
“If a condom breaks you could get infected.” He stared deep into my eyes.
“I know,” I replied. “I know all the bad things that can happen. I still want to date you.”
“No, you just think you know all the bad things, Aug. There’s so much you don’t know.” He sounded sad and weary.
“Then I’ll learn. Sal, I want to be with you, okay? I mean, if you don’t want to be with me, then that’s fine. I’ll just leave and you’ll never have to look at my dumb face ever—”
Sal stepped up to me without a word and pushed my back against the wall. A shocked grunt escaped me right before his mouth dropped over mine. He ran his tongue over the seam of my mouth. I let him in. He was powerful, possessive and hungry. His tongue slipped around mine as his hands found the edge of my shirt.
Breaking the kiss, he jerked my shirt upward, not caring that it caught under my chin. He just tugged harder to get the neckband free. Once the material popped free, he grabbed the shirt with both hands and held my arms over my head, the soft cotton keeping my hands off him.
“I should tell you to leave now, but I want you too bad to be noble,” he growled.

He captured my mouth again, this time letting his body lean in to me from chest to knees. My fingers slipped out of the T-shirt and I pushed them between his. Sal gyrated against me. His hard cock slid over mine. I sucked in a heated breath. He moaned, then began feasting on my neck, collarbone, and finally a nipple. He slipped his hands out of my grip and his palms, flat to my arms, slowly slithered downward.

Monday, August 14, 2017

Tuesday Tales - Picture Prompt

It’s time for Tuesday Tales!

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 Coach’s Challenge, Cayuga Cougars #3, which gives us a peek at Dad and son time with Victor and Jack.

Thanks so much for dropping by!

Jack and I slid down a small incline, surrounded by bushes and trees that carried red and yellow leaves already. Heavy rain early in the month had left a huge puddle that my son – hell any kid – simply couldn’t resist. He found a stick – naturally – and started poking at the water. I dropped my ass to a rock jutting out of the incline and watched him investigate the world. He was such a happy kid. Bouncy, smart, full of piss and vinegar. And not once had his mother belted him for acting up or told him he was an accident. I mean, yeah, he wasn’t a planned child but he was the fucking earth and stars to me. Dan was my moon.
            “Dad, a squirrel!” he called. I lifted my gaze from the ripples his stick had made on the puddle. “A squirrel!” Jack ran at the tree the gray squirrel was barking at us from.
            “Don’t run with that stick,” I reminded him. He did anyway.
            “Dad,” he called again, his round cheeks as red as his hair which needed cut. “I kiss that squirrel!”
            I glanced up into the canopy. “Sorry buddy, you can’t kiss that squirrel. He’s too far up in that tree. And in all honestly, kissing squirrels probably isn’t a good thing to do.”
            He stared up at the squirrel who was chattering up a storm, his plush tail flicking in irritation. Probably Mr. Squirrel was pissed about not being able to get to the acorns lying under Jack’s little sneakers.
            “Dad, you kiss that squirrel?” Jack asked, pointing into the swaying yellow leaves with his stick.
            “Nope, I don’t kiss squirrels.”
He turned from the tree and folded his arms over his chest. “You kiss girls?”
            “Sometimes,” I replied, leaning up to rest my elbows on the ratty holes in the denim covering my knees.
            “You kiss boys.” That wasn’t a question, it was as statement. I nodded. “Like Papa?”
            “Yep, I kiss Papa.”
            “But no squirrels?”
            “No squirrels.”

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.

Cover Reveal - Ellie Mack's Roxy Sings the Blues


Scars tell the story of a past. Roxy's scars aren't visible but they have carved her deeply and the pain they caused pours out through her music. If facing an uncertain future after losing her mother wasn't enough, a failed relationship from the past returns to wreak havoc. Just when she was trying to build a new life for herself, the troublemaking ex Devon drags her into danger. Roxy sits in the spotlight of a pivotal investigation. Detective Devon Miller is hot on the case and stirring the embers of forbidden fires. 
Will Roxy hit the right note to help her old flame solve the case in time or will she be left singing the blues?

To be Released September 14th

Buy Links:


One phone call can change your life forever.

I’ve heard it said many times and I get it. If you are a ball player waiting for that call to the majors or if you are waiting for the call that you got that job you were hoping to land. I always thought however, that most people are just being overly dramatic and using that as a cliché’ statement.
What if you didn’t get this job, but instead got a call from a different company that ended up being a better job? What if, as a ball player you never get called to the majors but stayed in the minor leagues and ended up being a top-notch coach? What if that call was the worst thing that could happen?
It’s always been my view that there are multiple paths that our lives could take. There are numerous opportunities presented to us and that one phone call bit was a bunch of hogwash.
Until today.
Until I received the phone call that without a doubt, changed my life forever.


“Detective Miller, Detective Alvarez.”
Devon Miller nodded in acknowledgement. He hated these calls. He hated seeing veterans in the homeless shelter. It never made sense to him. “What have we got?”
“Two males. Looks like meth heads, but we need to find out what is going on. This is the fourth time this month that homeless guys have shown up dead. I am putting you two on the case. Check with Dickerson in narcotics, see if he has any leads.” Seargent Brenner stood, flipping the body bag back over the victim’s face. “I want to know what they are taking, who they are buying from, what the cause of death was. I want a full tox screen and have Simmons report anything out of the order. Anything! Talk to some of the regulars at the shelter up the street.” He tucked his hands into the pockets of his black leather jacket, eyes downcast to the ground. Hesitating as if he wanted to add something more, but then changing his mind. He added, “I want reports on my desk in the morning.”
Devon watched him walk away before bending to examine the body. He reached for a discarded straw in the pile of trash that the first body lay in. Using the straw, he opened the vics mouth, checking for missing teeth, foaming, anything. “Still got his teeth. That’s something.”
Alvarez stood with his hands shoved into his jacket. “This kid is too young to be here.”  He bent swiping the hair out of the eyes of the second body. “Both of them are. I’d lay odds that test results are going to be the same as the last guys. I think our best bet is going to be Dickerson. See if he knows who’s dealing the designer drugs down here and find out how bums can afford it.”


Author Bio:

Ellie Mack received her BS in cartography from Southeast Missouri State University. Since 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. Formerly a columnist for a local paper, her weekly column received a lot of attention. She lives near St. Louis, MO with her husband of 32 years and their college aged daughters. When she’s not writing she can be found bullet journaling, crocheting, or cooking.

You can find her musings on her blog:

Facebook  Ellie Mack author
Twitter- @Mack_Ellie
Pinterest- Ellie Mack
My blog- Quotidiandose