V.L. Locey's Blog, page 111

Tuesday Tales - Sun

Hello! It`s time for Tuesday Tales again. This week I`ll be sharing an excerpt from my WIP (Work In Progress) Pink Pucks and Power Plays, an M/F sports romance, starring my sassy curvaceous society page reporter, Viviana Land, and defenseman for the Philadelphia Wildcats professional hockey team, Alain Lessard.
In today`s excerpt, Viviana has tracked Alain down at the Main Line mansion of Veikko Aho, the Wildcats goalie and Alain`s closest friend on the team. She is there to discuss the news that the youth hockey league plans to close down the program, since Alain left them without a coach after his departure from Green Hills.
This week our word prompt is ‘Sun’. Since this is a rough draft there may be some mistakes. I do apologize for any boo-boo you may find.
Please do check out the other wonderful writers after you`re done reading by clicking on the Tuesday Tales link at the bottom. Thanks for stopping in!


“Did Veikko tell you why I`m . . .” I snapped my mouth shut when he showed me his back and stormed off. I hurried up the carpeted steps and followed him down a hall lined with oils by provocative newcomers to the art world. Alain sailed into a room at the end of the corridor. I entered a moment later, giving the masculine area a quick scan.
Dark paneling, heavy furniture in blues and hunter greens, trophy cases filled with golden cups and silver pucks and all sorts of memorabilia from a career that was just now in its prime, much like the goalie himself filled the study. I had to wonder what Alain`s life would be like when he was in his early thirties like Veikko was now. I`d have to keep track of him as the years moved past. But now just hearing him breathe across the room was shredding my insides into ribbons. I stared at a picture of the Philadelphia Wildcats posed like school children.
“Say what you come here to say.”
I looked away from the team win to locate Alain standing by a case of glass that held hockey sweaters from days gone by as well as old sticks.
“The youth hockey league is saying they are going to shut down the program because you left,” I told him, hoping he didn`t hear the tremor in my voice. His jagged brow climbed upward a bit. I wanted nothing more than to hold him. I dug my fingernails into my palms instead.
“That is stupid. You call them and tell them someone will be there from this team to coach for the rest of the season,” he announced.
“Why don`t you come back? The kids love you and . . .”
“I do not want to see you every day, Viviana. But, peut-etre, a self-centered woman like you can`t understand this, no?” he asked sharply. That cut went deep.
“I`ll resign,” I countered quickly. He shook his head. “Yes, it`s better that I step down than for those kids to lose you as their coach. They idolize you. The boys and girls both want to be you when they grow up. You`re kind and funny and sweet and patient and gentle yet firm. You`re the perfect man for me – I mean them. Perfect for them,” I whispered.
He stared at me for so long I had to avert my eyes. “Good then. Yes, you step down and I will come back.”
I smiled because I had won, right? Alain was coming back. The kids would learn from one of the best professional players there was, and all I had to do was turn in my beret since I had let Oscar burn the Queen Bee costume.
“Thank you. The kids will be thrilled to hear it,” I walked to the door, my eyes firmly on the curved doorknob and not the hunk of French Canadian man staring at the ceiling. It hurt terribly to know that he couldn`t bear to even look at me. “For what it`s worth, I deleted the article.”
I waited for a second or two. Maybe five or six even. Alain said nothing so I opened the door and walked through, making sure it closed soundly on him. I held myself together nicely as I walked outside to find Veikko and his guests chatting about the Wildcats` chances of winning the Stanley Cup this year. Badger and Veikko were chatting, I should clarify. Liz was staring up at Veikko as if he were a Norse god, a long shank of hair dangling from her lips and her dark eyes all but hidden behind her overgrown bangs.
Badger had decided to spend the night. I thanked him for his help and grabbed my Goth girlfriend by her skinny wrist. We both made a beeline for my Honda. Once I got the driver`s side door closed I lost it. I fell apart totally and sat there crying like a flaming jackass. Finally I had to climb out and hand the keys to Liz because there was no way I could drive.
“I hate rich people who don`t even know you`re there,” Liz kept mumbling as we drove around the fountain with care, “This night is a total FML night, you know?”
“Yeah, I do know,” I gasped, blew my nose, and then let my head thud into the side window. “Thanks for sharing this FML night with me. You`re a nice girl, even if you are spindly.” Liz made a goofy snuffling sound like Sheldon Cooper`s when he laughs.
“You`re pretty okay even if your boobs weigh more than I do,” she countered then sniffled as if she had been tearing up too.
“I hate love,” I moaned as we headed back, the sun cresting over Philadelphia. 

Copyright 2013 ©by V.L. Locey
*~*~*
Thanks for stopping in to visit! For more free reads by great authors follow the link back to the Tuesday Tales main blog.
Tuesday Tales
See you next week!

Celebrating 22 years in Goatherder style!

Morning all! If you`ve followed this blog for awhile, or know me, you know my family and I are living the rural dream. Raising dairy goats, chasing chickens, getting pinched by the occasional irate goose. Yesterday, Mister and I celebrated our twenty -second wedding anniversary. We decided to do this in true rural fashion  by staying home and doing the things that we enjoyed when we were first sparking. We didn`t have cash to burn then and we still don`t, but we still enjoy the same things - more or less - that we did so many years ago.

So, here`s how a goofy goatherder and her fuzzy-faced hubby spent their special day this year.

First thing bright and early we hit the bass pond!



Pretty up here in the Laurel Highlands, isn`t it? No fishing trip is complete without an oarsman. This is mine, just as handsome as he was twenty-two years ago, but with considerably more gray hair in his beard.



And who catches the first bass of the day? Me. Eat your heart out Jimmy Houston.



We - or I should say I - had a wee fright during our fishing trip. I was casting along merrily when my husband says -

"Now don`t freak out but . . ."

Of course, when someone says that to me, I assume a swarm of killer bees have landed on my back. I have a terror of bees and stinging things that goes beyond any rational explanation. I reply to his statement with my own.

"Get it off me!"

"No, it`s not a bee, it`s a snake under the boat seat," he informs me. Letting loose a huge sigh of relief I peek down to see the snout of a grass snake peering out from under the seat. His little red tongue was flickering as he tried to figure out why his cozy home was now floating instead of resting upside on the bank.

"Okay, cool, I like snakes," I smiled and resumed casting for bass.

"Just wanted you to know in case he went up your pant leg," my spouse said.

Yes, I would imagine a snake up my pant leg might very well result in the boat being capsized. Fortunately, the snake stayed under the seat, and Mister and I stayed dry. After a lovely few hours we returned home, got to say goodbye to Miss leaving for a graduation party and a night at her boyfriend`s house, and did a few chores.

Dinner was a delicious pot of Chicken Chow Mein, something we usually never have because Miss dislikes Chinese.



And to wrap up this lovely day, a really funny movie on pay-per-view.



So that`s how we elder goatherder`s celebrated our anniversary. Well, that`s not all the celebrating we did, but I`m not sharing everything with you! *winks naughtily*

Wind in White Birch - Issue # 26

It`s time once again for another issue in my free contemporary romance Wind in White Birch. 

I hope you`re enjoying reading this romance as much as I`m enjoying writing it for you.


Storytime Trysts

Two-Fer Book Review!

I`ve been slacking in my book reviews. Blame it on a certain series of hockey romance books that my muse is obsessed with writing. I do apologize for not getting these out quicker. So, without further ado or muse blaming, let`s get rolling with a couple short reviews of the last two books I read.
First we`ll start with Retribution Falls by Chris Wooding-


Holy cow and wowzers! This was an amazingly entertaining read! My first steampunk novel that was not also a paranormal romance literally blew me away. The story centers on the airship the Ketty Jay and its crew. The captain, Darian Frey, hasn`t had an easy life, nor has he made good choices along the way. Seems like everyone onboard his ship is running from something. Crake is a deamonist hiding from some terrible dark past that travels with an armored golem. Jez, the new navigator will do anything to keep her secret safe from the crew. Malvery is a surgeon living in disgrace at the bottom of a hip flask.
So when Frey is offered the chance to steal a chest filled with gems from a vulnerable airship, he leaps on the chance. Finally! Here is the chance to be the rich man he has always dreamed of. And besides, it`s an easy job. What could possibly go wrong?
Plenty. The heist goes terribly and suddenly Frey finds himself the most wanted man in Varnia. He and his motley crew are being hounded by bounty hunters, Century Knights, and the dreaded queen of the sky, Trinica Dracken, who Frey has a past with. Frey now knows he has been set up, but by who and why? The answer might just be found in the hidden pirate stronghold known as Retribution Falls. Now all he has to do is get there without being blasted out of the air.
This was a five star read from beginning to end. Fast paced action, swashbuckling adventure, well-written characters with painful pasts, superb world-building, and romance. It has it all and delivers the tale in a fast, exhilarating pace. Grab a copy. I promise you won`t be disappointed.
Now onto the second book-
A few weeks ago on my blog I wrote a post about the first romance I ever read. I vowed to find a copy and reread. Well, here is my copy and I just wrapped up reading Nakoa`s Woman for the second time.


Oh yes, this book has been read and read and then read again. The lovely lady that runs my local Indie bookstore found me a copy, with the same cover as I remembered! Opening the yellowed pages instantly took me back to that first time I read this historical romance back in the early seventies.
We start the book with Nakoa having his vision quest, where he sees a white woman and accepts her as his Nitosan, a vision from Napi that will protect and guide him. Years pass. A brutal attack on her wagon train finds the lovely Maria Frame as the only survivor. Running for her life she is taken captive by the Blackfoot warrior, Nakoa. From the initial moment of her capture, Maria fights not only her growing feelings for her captor, but the scorn from the Blackfoot tribe. The two lovers soon find themselves challenging not only their people, but the Blackfoot and White customs as well. This is a powerful, bittersweet, violent, depressing, uplifting romance.
I will admit that I had slightly different thoughts about the protagonist Maria this second time around. She worked on my nerves in places with her stubborn, ditzy, immature ways. Of course, this change in thinking is based on gathering over forty some years of life experience. Reading a book at thirteen and then reading it again at fifty-two is likely to bring about some changes in how you relate to the characters involved.  Maria reminded me a good deal of Bella Swan, who set my teeth on edge throughout her own series, because of her immaturity. Yes, I know, these are young women both in their late teens, and so this type of behavior is to be expected.
There was a very funny tidbit I read on the internet written by Andy Rooney, where he praised women over forty. One particularly hilarious line that I have passed along to my dear hubby went something like this –
“A woman over the age of forty will never wake you up in the middle of the night to ask what you`re thinking. She doesn`t care what you think.”
Bazinga! I`m at that stage in my life, and admittedly I find it grueling to read young women throwing themselves around, whining and plotting and whimpering when the man they love doesn`t devote himself to them twenty-four seven and three sixty five. But, this is my problem to deal with. The author did a wonderful job of bringing the angst of a young woman`s first love to life. The romance moved me as it did all those years ago. The secondary characters made me laugh and weep. I really enjoyed taking this walk through such a moving physical and spiritual love. Yes, the writing style is dated. That didn`t detract from the experience one bit for me.
As a historical Native American romance, I happily give Nakoa`s Woman four stars. And I plan to gently retire this book to my shelves of never to be traded novels.
Oh, you`d like to see those shelves? Okay, in two weeks I`ll share my keeper books with y`all. Maybe we have a few shared tastes! At the very least you`ll get to know why certain books never leave my hands.

Tuesday Tales - Hand

Hello! It`s time for Tuesday Tales again. This week I`ll be sharing an excerpt from my WIP (Work In Progress) Pink Pucks and Power Plays, an M/F sports romance, starring my sassy curvaceous society page reporter, Viviana Land, and defense-man for the Philadelphia Wildcats professional hockey team, Alain Lessard.
In today`s excerpt, Viviana confronts Bert having lunch with the owner of the country club. There is some adult language in this excerpt, so don`t be shocked. You`ve been warned.
This week our word prompt is ‘Hand’. Since this is a rough draft there may be some mistakes. I do apologize for any boo-boo you may find.
Please do check out the other wonderful writers after you`re done reading by clicking on the Tuesday Tales link at the bottom. Thanks for stopping in!





I can`t imagine what a sight the three of us must have been stalking through the country club with our sights locked and loaded on Bert. Hell, I hadn`t even put on makeup or did my hair. That`s how many fucks I did not give.  Bobby, the owner of the country club, is a dashing man, in his late sixties with a wife of over forty-five years, three kids and more grandkids than he has fingers and toes. He also is a terrible ass-grabber and titty-pincher. Trust me, I`ve covered enough faux aristocratic shit happenings at this country club to know. Bobby`s eyes widened in appreciation. Bert turned in his captain`s chair and his face dropped like a lead dirigible. I shoved a waiter aside.
I was at the table before Bert could extricate himself from the tablecloth he had tucked into the waistband of his green polyester pants.
“Viviana, how delightful to see you!” Bobby exclaimed and shoved his seat back as he stood up, no doubt to try to paw my backside. I threw a glare at the lecherous swine that made his knees fold. His ass hit his seat soundly. I placed my hands to the table; fingers splayed over glittering silverware and precisely folded cloth napkins of royal blue to match the carpeting and drapes.
“You pathetic, insecure, little fucker,” I whispered. Bert opened his mouth then snapped it closed as he jerked the corner of the tablecloth free.
“You can`t talk to me like that.”
“You want to bet? I`ll say what I have to say and then Bobby can call security and throw me out.”
“Now Viviana, I wouldn`t throw out a woman who possesses such a great pair of . . .”
“I`d watch what I say, Bob, there are witnesses this time and they both work at the paper,” I sneered at the grinning jerk. Liz and Oscar stepped up to flank me. He stopped grinning instantly. Then I turned my attention back to Bert. Grabbing a butter knife from the table I waved it at him. His skin paled noticeably. “As for you, what you did with Alain was below contempt. It was unprofessional, disgusting, hurtful, and showed just what a tiny dick you really have!”
“Fuck you, Land!” he snapped and slapped the butter knife aside. “You`re just pissed off that someone with some moral fucking fiber put an end to that slap-and-screw assignment you were milking in more ways than one. You`re a fat, loud-mouthed whore who got caught with her slut panties down around her ankles. The next time you think to step out of the fucking society page you`ll remember just how it feels to get fucked by a real man and not some kid from Moose Balls, Saskatchewan!”
I slapped the smug look off his face so hard his comb-over flew back to its original side.  Then I leaned in real close, so he could look into my eyes and I could smell the garlic in the ranch dressing he had ingested not five minutes ago.
“FYI, Bert, you pathetic jerk-off, I have been fucked by a real man and even at his tender age he is more man than you will ever be. You better enjoy this lunch,” I waved the silver butter knife at the table, Bobby, and the two waiters who were standing behind the owner of the golf course with their mouths open, “Because when the I get done with you and your microscopic prick, you`re going to be writing about the quilt guild in . . . where was it? Oh yes, Moose Balls, Saskatchewan.”
“Fuck off, Land, you got nothing on me,” Bert snickered as I flung the knife over my shoulder.
“Keep laughing asshat.” I grabbed the pitcher of martinis and dumped it over his head before making my exit. It must have been a grand exit despite my casual attire of jeans, white peasant top, and sneakers. Several members of the serving staff were waiting by the doors, clapping discreetly while Bert roared like a gin-soaked lion. I nodded regally as my entourage and I sailed out into the oppressive humidity that only August and rain can make.
Copyright 2013©by V.L. Locey
*~*~*
Thanks for stopping in to visit! For more free reads by great authors follow the link back to the Tuesday Tales main blog.
Tuesday Tales
See you next week!

Wind in White Birch - Issue # 25

It`s time once again for another issue in my free contemporary romance Wind in White Birch. 

I hope you`re enjoying reading this romance as much as I`m enjoying writing it for you.



Storytime Trysts

Silly Goose

Yes, I have one. Well, actually I have five, but for this short story we`ll stick to just the one.
It all started about five weeks ago when my two geese decided it was time to sit. I was all sorts of cool with that. After all, I do love my web-footed friends! Their nests had a nice amount of eggage ( adding the –age there was for all my friends from Minnesota) and so we let them do their thang. Well, as it worked out somehow, a week ago Diane, my eldest goose, hatched out one gosling, who we named Smitty.


Only one gosling out of about seven eggs? Hmm, that`s rather odd, and very unlike my ganders. I saw them doing their gander duties quite often, so the fertility rate should have been higher. Upon further investigation in the goose coop (at risk of flogging and pinching since Zoey was still on her nest and in a fowl mood) we discovered that Zoey had snaggled a few eggs from Diane somehow. What happened to the rest we don`t know. We`re assuming a few got broken but it`s a mystery.
Well, as you can see Smitty is darn cute. Heck, I`d hang with him if I could, but I can`t since his bodyguards are known to throw hissy-fits all the times if I get near him. It seems that Smitty is SO cute that he can even draw sitting geese off their nests. Uh-huh. Zoey abandoned her nest to chill out with Smitty and his posse. Being the kind of people we are, Mister and I gathered the nine eggs and put them into the magic box. A few days ago the eggs hatched. Out of the nine original we had seven after candling. Out of those seven only four hatched, but oh-my-gosh what an adorable gaggle of fluffy butts they are!











Cute as buttons, aren`t they?

Tuesday Tales - Picture Prompt

Hello! It`s time for Tuesday Tales again. This week I`ll be sharing an excerpt from my WIP (Work In Progress) Pink Pucks and Power Plays, an M/F romantic-comedy, starring my sassy, curvaceous society page reporter, Viviana Land, and defenseman for the Philadelphia Wildcats professional hockey team, Alain Lessard.
In today`s excerpt, we see just a bit of the aftermath of the break-up as Viviana gets by with a little help from her friends.
This week we`re writing to a picture prompt and the excerpt must not be longer than 300 words.
Since this is a rough draft there may be some mistakes. I do apologize for any boo-boo you may find.
Please do check out the other wonderful writers after you`re done reading by clicking on the Tuesday Tales link at the bottom. Thanks for stopping in!


“No, I don`t think so.” Liz crawled onto the stool beside me. “He is furious. Bert is pushing him pretty hard to . . .” She paused at the hate-filled growl that rolled from me at the mention of Bert Anderson.
“Anderson called Alain, that shit-faced douche radish,” I snarled, staring at my coffee and turnover with unfettered abhorrence. “He told him who I was and what I was doing. I was going to go tell Alain the truth, you know? I had it all worked out as I drove down that lovely lane to his farm house. ” I looked at the sad young woman patting my arm. “I was going to run to Alain and confess how much I love him, and then tell Frank I was pulling out of the assignment. But Alain had already been told. He found the entire article and read it. I couldn`t begin to make him see anything besides my lies and – and betrayals.” I gasped as a sloppy sob bubbled out.
“Oh, poor Viv,” Liz drew me into her arms. “Poor, poor, Viviana,” she kept crooning. Normally I would have shied away, but I was so miserable even this gothic waif`s meaningless platitudes made me feel better. For a moment. Then I would recall Alain and me preparing something to eat or that we nearly made love right here on the counter.
“Personally, I think that bitch Bert Anderson needs his nuts kneaded with a pointy-toed boot,” Oscar interjected, “And I have just the boots, too.”
“Thanks,” I sniffled, pulling away from Liz. “Go tell Frank that I`ll be in before the end of the day.” I lifted my coffee mug carefully. “Either of you have any ideas where I can find Bert today?”

Copyright ©by V.L. Locey
*~*~*
Thanks for stopping in to visit! For more free reads by great authors follow the link back to the Tuesday Tales main blog.
Tuesday Tales
See you next week for from Viviana and Alain!

Happy Father`s Day

Wind in White Birch - Issue # 24

It`s time once again for another issue in my free contemporary romance Wind in White Birch. 

I hope you`re enjoying reading this romance as much as I`m enjoying writing it for you.


Storytime Trysts