Tuesday Tales - Chain

It`s time for Tuesday Tales.

Today we have a snippet from a new MM hockey romance book, Lost in Indigo. In this excerpt, Mat shows off his bear imitation but Indigo seems impervious to the snapping and snarling.

Our word prompt today is “Chain”.

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!

“Who is driving?” I snapped, arms folded over my “Ride the Surge” t-shirt.

They all looked at each other as if they were leery of crawling into the cart with an angry golden bear.

“I’ll drive you up.” Indigo skipped around the back of the cart, tossed my bags into the back, then planted his ass behind the wheel, an impish smile playing on those rouged lips.

“Does that grumbly grizzly yanking on his chain act always work on people?”

“Not always.” Apparently Indigo Neu wasn’t scared of the big bad bruin. I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. “Usually not.” I grimaced as I tried to find a comfortable way to sit in the tiny cart. My legs were too long to stretch them out.

“We’ll be at the house soon.” Indigo slowed a bit, following the sharp curve with care. When we rounded the bend, my house stood before me, welcoming me.

“Wish I had a dog,” I mumbled as I wriggled around. My leg was paining me terribly now, that hit on the bumper flaring things up, I assumed. 

“Yeah? I’ve always wanted a bird. A pretty one the color of watermelon that would dance and say dirty things.”

I looked over at my driver. His profile was appealing. My whole leg hurt now, not just from the knee down. Even my toes were curled in protest.

“A watermelon bird?” Indigo nodded then gave me a quirky little inclination of his head as we rolled into the shade. Trees swayed in the strong wind, the rustling of the thick canopy music to my ears. 

“Christ, my damn leg hurts.”

“Sorry. I’m going as slow as I can.”

“No, it’s not you.”

We crawled to the front porch, the golf cart barely moving now. I groaned in misery viewing that ugly wheelchair ramp sprawled over the five steps on the side of the porch.

The cart rolled to a stop. “Just sit there and let me run inside to get the wheel—”

“I don’t need that chair.” I reached behind me, found the crutches, and got to my feet. I clumped up over the new boards, glaring at them and mumbling. “Fucking played half a period three years ago with a broken rib. Had my fingers busted from a slash and played. Had to pull out my own teeth a time or two. Never had no chair for any of that.”

Indigo appeared at my side, whistling a tune that tickled some old memory. I threw him a look as he walked at my pace, my bag over his lean shoulder, his hat riding at a jaunty angle.

“One time I took a header over the handlebars of my bike and tore all the skin off my chin.” He bounced around in front of me, tipped his head up, and showed me a delicate patch of pale skin under his chin. A few wispy whiskers coated his chin and jaw line. When he lowered his head, his dark eyes glittered with good humor. Did he not get that I was trying to be miserable?

Copyright 2017 ©by V.L. Locey

*~*~*

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Tuesday Tales

Tuesday Tales - Box

It`s time for Tuesday Tales.

Today we have a snippet from the third Harrisburg Railers MM hockey romance book, Deep Edge, that I’m coauthoring with Rj Scott. In this excerpt, Trent is having some troubles trying to come to grips with this wild new passionate thing growing between himself and Deiter.

Our word prompt today is “Box”.

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 sent me a text that said, ‘It’s done’. Just that. Just those two words. What the flying fuck does that mean? Is he in rehab? In the hospital? Hockey players,” I huffed and gave the ceiling of my rink a sour look as I kept talking. “So, I called Adler Lockhart who tells me that he’s having surgery. Which is good, he needs to attend to his knee, but what about the pain afterward? He looked sober when he was here yesterday but…well, yeah, but. And now I’m even more lost and confused because every damn fiber of my being is screaming at me to go to Harrisburg and see him, you know?”

The Tennant Rowe bobblehead Layton and the Railers had presented me with bobbled its head in reply. Wonderful. So helpful. I should shove it back into its box.

“Do you think I should?” I lifted the tiny resin figure from my lap and shook it. It just bobbled as any good bobblehead should. I sighed and set it down on the cold, plastic seat beside me, right next to the check I’d also gotten from the Harrisburg Railers in attendance. The players who’d come to this debacle of a training session/reality show had handed me a personal check for ten thousand dollars for the rink, the real Tennant Rowe trying to put the check into my palm just two hours ago, before they’d left to return to their lives for the rest of the summer.

“What you’re doing here is important,” he’d said as I tried to gracefully not take their money.

“Showing a bunch of orangutans how to shave a few milliseconds off their time?”

The group gathered around me had chuckled.

“No, what you’re doing with the kids. Giving them a haven, a place to train without being judged or hated on. That’s the important thing.” He pressed the check into my chest. And held it there, right over my fluttering heart. How had I gotten so attached to this pod of apes so quickly? They’d certainly showed me that not all hockey players were lumbering cretins bent on humiliating the little figure skater with the perfectly applied eyeliner and gloss. Imagine that. Giving people a chance and not judging on past experiences. What a novel concept.

“And turning us all onto Pilipino food,” Arvy chimed in.

“Good Pilipino food,” Stan enthused. Another round of laughter.

      “I’ll be happy to take this for the children. Thank you.” I hugged Tennant and Jared then went down the line, giving each of them a hug and a soft kiss on the lips. Not a sexual kiss just a friendly one. The sexual kisses were reserved for the Railer that wasn’t here.

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.

Tuesday Tales

Tuesday Tales - Firecracker

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 discovers his balladeer, and the man who will win his heart. Le sigh...

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!

“If I hear one more Beiber imitation, I’m going to physically assault someone,” I snarled as another fool exited stage left. “Do these idiots not know what a balladeer is? Did they not do any research before coming to the auditions?”

            “The music world is full of auto-tuned asswidgets,” Maurice mumbled while pillaging through the empty burger bag for something.

            “And you wonder why I left the recording business,” I huffed and threw a hand in the air as yet another twit in baggy jeans and skater shoes ambled onto the stage.  I stood up as Mr. Not-A-Clue tapped the old-style microphone, his expression that of a person coming face to face with a troglodyte in line for the bus. Maurice began shredding napkins then pushing the torn paper into his ears. Smart man. “Excuse me, young man on stage?”

            Blue-and-yellow hair looked directly at me, then smiled. “Dude, yo!”

            “God save me,” I whispered to the ceiling. “Did you bring sheet music for the band?”       

             He looked over his shoulder at Skip and the boys. A few wiggled their horns at the numpty.

            “So they’re a real band?”

            “NEXT!” I roared. Titters rose form the band. Numpty shuffled away hopefully never to be seen again. I flopped down next to Maurice and tugged a wad of napkin from his leaf ear. “I’m going to close my eyes and stick my fingers into my ears. If the next singer even looks like a Jonas Brother, shoot him and then me.”

            “I don’t have a gun but I could probably beat you to death with a clarinet.”

            “That’ll be fine.” I wiggled down into my seat, stuck my fingers into my ears, and closed my eyes. I could just hear Maurice yelling for the next singer to take the stage. That one was not any better than the previous one.

            “I’m going to the bathroom,” I abruptly announced as some fool on stage was trying to convince Maurice that Drake was a balladeer. “Before I hurt someone.”

I shot to my feet like a firecracker, climbed over my partner and stalked up the aisle, frustration broiling and bubbling inside me. How was it possible that singers today did not grasp what it was we were looking for? Where had all the professionalism gone? I threw the door to the men’s room open and nearly tripped over one of those large industrial yellow mop buckets. Why were there no signs warning incoming men of this possible danger to their - was that someone singing a song that Vic Damone was famed for?! The acoustics in here were lovely as was the voice of the man singing. He reminded me of a young Sinatra or Como, and that is not a comparison I would toss about lightly.

I raced around the corner anxious to find this man with the perfect voice. The singer was wearing a blue shirt and dark work trousers. The back of his shirt had the logo of a cleaning company. His head jerked up when I cleared my throat. To say he was beautiful would be a gross understatement. Yes, his nose was a little crooked compared to my ex-lovers, and his mouth wasn’t painted to entice. It didn’t need any enhancement. His lips were full. His nose perfect for his face. His eyes big and brown, his black hair loose and framing his face. He had a lean build that was lost in the baggy uniform. He appeared to be mid-twenties.

            “I just need a couple more minutes and I’ll be done in here,” he said. I shook my head. He arched a brow. “Uh, well, if you have to go that bad…”

            “No, I don’t have to go at all. You were singing a Vic Damone song, and doing it amazingly well,” I said then walked to him, hand out. He eyed my extended hand cautiously but shifted his mop to his left and shook. Up close he was even more attractive. “How would you like to audition?”

            His eyes flared and he pulled his hand from mine. “You mean like those guys out there?”

            “Yes, exactly like them only you actually know the genre of music that I’m looking for. And your voice is wonderful if a bit weak and in need of training.”

            “Who the hell are you?” Now I had his attention. I could see it in the way he was assessing me.

            “Cabriolet Vermet, owner of The Scarlet Owl. I need a singer, a balladeer, and you have a voice that’s perfect for the genre. What’s your name?”

            “Julian Baez,” he mumbled, his gaze darting from me to the bathroom door then back to me. “You really think I have a good voice?”

            “Julian, it’s like nothing that I’ve heard in years. Come and sing a song for me and my partner. Get the band behind you. You’ve nothing to lose, correct?” I wheedled a bit. I’d drop to my knees and polish his old work boots if he’d just leave the damn mop and sing me a full song with accompaniment.

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.

Tuesday Tales

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.

Tuesday Tales

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.

Tuesday Tales

Tuesday Tales - Life

It`s time for Tuesday Tales.

 Welcome back! “Life” is our word this week. Today I’m sharing snippets from my new M/M shifter romance, An Erie Uprising, which will be the final novella in the Lake Erie shifter series.

In this snippet, we get enjoy the homecoming scene between our hero, Templeton Reed, a skunk shifter, and his life mate, Mikel Lupei, the alpha of the Lake Erie pack.

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!

Rugby, Margaret, and I sauntered down the grand staircase. I gave the portraits of Vaclar Lupei a sour look, something I did every time I passed Mikel’s hateful father. Eru and Mrs. Dunrite, our Dwarven halfling cook, waited off to the side of the stairs. Rugby hurried to the front doors, pulled the massive things open, and bowed deeply to the four massive wolves padding through the doors. Dead leaves whipped into the foyer, skittering over the smooth marble floor. Eru and Mrs. Dunrite gave the pack a curtsey. The largest wolf, a gorgeous brindle the size of a chest freezer, dashed up the stairs and leaped on me. Wet, muddy paws resting on my shoulders, Mikel’s heft knocked me to my backside on the staircase. Then the licking began.

“Oh, Mikel, stop, stop! This is a new suit. Ha-ha! Ah, no, get your tongue out of my ear.”

He lapped at my face and then, as gently as if I were a new babe, took my wrist in his mouth and tugged ever-so-tenderly. I got to my feet then knelt on the stairs to embrace him. His head rested on my shoulder, long snout snuffling in my hair.

“Let’s take this to the library. Rugby has some snacks and your clothing laid out in front of the fire.” The chilly air blowing in disappeared when the major domo closed the doors. Mikel chuffed an affirmative and then loped off, his plush tail wagging gently.

I stopped to pet each wolf – Havel first as was fitting his station as a Lupei - and then Eddie and Dave. Each licked my fingers then Havel rushed up to greet his lady love while the other two pups padded off to do whatever it was they would do. I suspected David, our big brown wolf, would end up down by the lake. He and a certain merman had grown quite close over the summer months. How that would go I couldn’t guess. And Eddie, our scarred member would probably end up trailing after Eru, with whom he seemed quite smitten.

Mikel had beaten me to my second favorite room in this old manse, our bed chamber being the first. When I entered the huge room, I found him standing in front of the hearth, naked as the day he had been born. Oh, but the light of the fire did marvelous things for him. The firelight made his reddish-black hair glow. He turned to look at me as I shut the door. A smile pulled up the corners of his lush mouth. I stood by the door, slightly muddy and disheveled, and simply admired him. He was a tall male, thick with muscle, long-legged, and endowed with a tremendous cock which even now was standing stiff and ready. I wet my lips as my eyes roamed over my life mate.

“Two weeks from you is too long, Templeton,” Mikel said. It was good to hear his voice again. I adored the slight Slavic accent that flavored his speech.

“I feel the same,” I replied then motioned to the rolling cart filled with treacle tarts, hot coffee in a thermos, cream and sugar, and two heavy mugs. “Mrs. Dunrite baked those for you just a few hours ago.”

“They look delicious, but not nearly as tasty as you. Come to me, Templeton. Leave your clothes on the settee with mine. You won’t need them for some time.”

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.

Tuesday Tales

Holly & Hockey Boots Release Day!

Jingle bells! Jingle Bells! Jingle all the way! Holly & Hockey Boots is available today!


That's right, you can pick up your copy of Holly & Hockey Boots, my first M/M holiday hockey romance. Adam and Cason are simply adorable. It's a lovely little read, perfect for those of us who love our man-man romance with some real zip and a lot of humor. I hope you enjoy the book and I'd like to thank you for all your wonderful support. You'll never know how much it means to me. *hugs*

Buy Links:

Amazon--http://tinyurl.com/jocqgj7

Amazon.uk----http://tinyurl.com/jswtvpn

Amazon.ca--http://tinyurl.com/zfz5jqm

Amazon.au--http://tinyurl.com/h9ub4qq

B&N-http://bit.ly/2eTXVoY

iBooks--https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id1169491363

Kobo--https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/holly-hockey-boots

Goodreads Link--https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/32790117-holly-hockey-boots

Blurb:

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?