V.L. Locey's Blog, page 115
April 15, 2013
Tuesday Tales - Chocolate
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.
Today you – and Viviana - get to meet Alain, my sexy and much younger leading man for this hockey-filled romance. Viv and her Busy Bee Scouts walk to a nearby ice rink after her car overheats on the way to a basket weaving class.
This week our word prompt is ‘Chocolate’. 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!
“Busy Bees, your Queen needs you!” I called. The shouts of youthful men and the slap of many someone`s hitting something with a stick overpowered my plea. It`s so hard to find fitting drones. I pulled myself along; climbed ten stairs which was ghastly let me tell you, and then tripped into an open area with bleachers that looked down on an ice rink.
I glanced around looking for my girls but they were not sitting on the bleachers like good little bees. Nope, they were down with their faces smashed against some wall of glass. I gasped when I saw how filthy the glass was. Limping down the cement steps that broke up the lines of blue plastic bleachers I hissed at the girls to remove their fingers and faces from that glass instantly.
“Who knows what’s been smeared on that!” I scolded as I bumbled down the steps before losing a flip-flop in my haste. I stopped to find my footwear. It was lying under a bleacher next to a discarded soda can and a half-eaten hot dog. “Wonderful,” I huffed then wriggled my top half under the bench.
My breast dragged through something wet. I didn`t dare to pull out to look. My fingers skipped over my runaway blister-maker and then the seven bells of hell erupted. A loud buzzer filled the rink. I screamed and started violently, my head slamming into the bench. The exuberant shouts of young boys bounced off the plain concrete walls. Someone tapped my ass.
I grabbed my flip-flop then withdrew myself from under the bleacher with haste. The substance I had dragged my rather substantial boob through looked like it had been a chocolate milkshake.
I slowly took off my sunglasses and looked over at a huge pair of stocking-covered feet. The feet led to legs that were long and muscular and hugged by lovingly worn denim. I tipped my head back while holding the wet spot on my left breast out with two fingers.
The jeans waistband was covered with an oversized jersey that had some sort of wild looking cat on it and was done in shades of emerald and black. It was a rather fetching color scheme that set off the man`s wavy black hair and stunning hazel eyes to perfection. His face was a chiseled masterpiece, something an ancient Grecian sculptor could have carved from marble to show us what a god might look like. A perfect straight nose placed between huge blue/green eyes surrounded with thick dark lashes, cheekbones fashion models paid for, and a mouth that was both strong and sensual with a plump bottom lip just right for suckling on.
He tipped his head to study me and a lock of black hair slid down over his forehead. If he were over twenty-five I would eat my flip-flop. Something very warm unfurled inside me as a tiny smile tweaked at the corners of his tempting mouth.
“Did you lose something?” he shouted over the youthful exuberance of the young men on the ice. I nodded dully and held up my flip-flop. One expressive dark (Oh my God was that a scar dissecting his eyebrow like Jason Momoa has?!) eyebrow climbed up his brow as the lights overhead caught the sequins.
“My shoe,” I squeaked then glanced down to see that the hem of my atrocious costume was nearly at my waist. Heat exploded under my skin and raced up my neck.
“Ah well, I am glad you have found it,” he said. Someone on the ice blew on a whistle and the raucous rowdies quieted instantly. “There are strange things spilled on the floor. I would not suggest you go without shoes in case you squish a French fry between your toes.”
All my bees giggled like the school girls they are. He smiled at them. They sighed. I had a mini-gasm at the white teeth his smile exposed. I wriggled my hem down to hide any possible flushing on my inner thighs then bumbled to my feet. His hand on my elbow made my breasts feel even more constricted. He was a towering man Madame Munchkin here couldn`t help but notice. I also had to mentally note just how enormous the Reebok skates hanging over his shoulder were. You know what they say about men with big feet. Another sizzling rush of heat ran to my extremities.
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 some sizzle!
Today you – and Viviana - get to meet Alain, my sexy and much younger leading man for this hockey-filled romance. Viv and her Busy Bee Scouts walk to a nearby ice rink after her car overheats on the way to a basket weaving class.
This week our word prompt is ‘Chocolate’. 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!
“Busy Bees, your Queen needs you!” I called. The shouts of youthful men and the slap of many someone`s hitting something with a stick overpowered my plea. It`s so hard to find fitting drones. I pulled myself along; climbed ten stairs which was ghastly let me tell you, and then tripped into an open area with bleachers that looked down on an ice rink.
I glanced around looking for my girls but they were not sitting on the bleachers like good little bees. Nope, they were down with their faces smashed against some wall of glass. I gasped when I saw how filthy the glass was. Limping down the cement steps that broke up the lines of blue plastic bleachers I hissed at the girls to remove their fingers and faces from that glass instantly.
“Who knows what’s been smeared on that!” I scolded as I bumbled down the steps before losing a flip-flop in my haste. I stopped to find my footwear. It was lying under a bleacher next to a discarded soda can and a half-eaten hot dog. “Wonderful,” I huffed then wriggled my top half under the bench.
My breast dragged through something wet. I didn`t dare to pull out to look. My fingers skipped over my runaway blister-maker and then the seven bells of hell erupted. A loud buzzer filled the rink. I screamed and started violently, my head slamming into the bench. The exuberant shouts of young boys bounced off the plain concrete walls. Someone tapped my ass.
I grabbed my flip-flop then withdrew myself from under the bleacher with haste. The substance I had dragged my rather substantial boob through looked like it had been a chocolate milkshake.
I slowly took off my sunglasses and looked over at a huge pair of stocking-covered feet. The feet led to legs that were long and muscular and hugged by lovingly worn denim. I tipped my head back while holding the wet spot on my left breast out with two fingers.
The jeans waistband was covered with an oversized jersey that had some sort of wild looking cat on it and was done in shades of emerald and black. It was a rather fetching color scheme that set off the man`s wavy black hair and stunning hazel eyes to perfection. His face was a chiseled masterpiece, something an ancient Grecian sculptor could have carved from marble to show us what a god might look like. A perfect straight nose placed between huge blue/green eyes surrounded with thick dark lashes, cheekbones fashion models paid for, and a mouth that was both strong and sensual with a plump bottom lip just right for suckling on.
He tipped his head to study me and a lock of black hair slid down over his forehead. If he were over twenty-five I would eat my flip-flop. Something very warm unfurled inside me as a tiny smile tweaked at the corners of his tempting mouth.
“Did you lose something?” he shouted over the youthful exuberance of the young men on the ice. I nodded dully and held up my flip-flop. One expressive dark (Oh my God was that a scar dissecting his eyebrow like Jason Momoa has?!) eyebrow climbed up his brow as the lights overhead caught the sequins.
“My shoe,” I squeaked then glanced down to see that the hem of my atrocious costume was nearly at my waist. Heat exploded under my skin and raced up my neck.
“Ah well, I am glad you have found it,” he said. Someone on the ice blew on a whistle and the raucous rowdies quieted instantly. “There are strange things spilled on the floor. I would not suggest you go without shoes in case you squish a French fry between your toes.”
All my bees giggled like the school girls they are. He smiled at them. They sighed. I had a mini-gasm at the white teeth his smile exposed. I wriggled my hem down to hide any possible flushing on my inner thighs then bumbled to my feet. His hand on my elbow made my breasts feel even more constricted. He was a towering man Madame Munchkin here couldn`t help but notice. I also had to mentally note just how enormous the Reebok skates hanging over his shoulder were. You know what they say about men with big feet. Another sizzling rush of heat ran to my extremities.
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 some sizzle!
April 12, 2013
Wind in White Birch- Issue # 15
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
April 9, 2013
Love Amid the Azalea - Issue # 2
As a special spring treat, I`ll be sharing a new M/M mini-series with my fans and friends every Wednesday over at Storytime Trysts for a short time. I hope you enjoy Love Amid the Azalea.
Storytime Trysts
April 5, 2013
Storytime Trysts - Wind in White Birch Issue # 14
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
Tuesday Tales - Noisy
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.
Today you get to meet Viv and her younger sister Violet. This scene takes place at the very start of the book, after Violet has broken into a spontaneous crying jag.
This week our word prompt is ‘Noisy’. 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!
*~*~*
“Violet, are you okay?” I asked after a nice gust of freshly cut June lawn blew the stink of dirty diaper away. She nodded, tears quietly coursing down her cheeks. I walked over to her, my heels making a lovely staccato on her hardwood floors until I stepped on a pile of spilled Toasty-O`s cereal, then the staccato turned into a soft-shoe. “Yes, you look just fine standing there weeping into your son`s formula,” I said, thinking of leaning on the counter then deciding against it when I saw the grape jam booby-trap someone had set for a woman in an crème skirt.
“I think I need some coffee,” she hiccupped. I brushed a wet strand of long, light brown hair from her damp cheek, removed the whisk from the frothy formula, and then led my baby sister to a seat. She fell into it with a weak sniffle," I`m so sorry, Viv, I don`t know what came over me!”
“I do,” I said over the shoulder of my ebony blazer. “It`s called being a mother.”
“Our mother never cried like this,” she pointed out then gave her nose a noisy blow on a paper napkin decorated with lime slices.
“Maybe she did,” I said adding some sugar and two percent, “Lord knows what went through her mind at times.”
I wasn`t being cruel. Our family is blessed with what we term 'eccentricities'. Those on the outside call it being crazy as a shit-house rat. Mom was a glorious woman, a brilliant painter, and a severe eccentric who ended up leaving Violet and me with our two aunts so that she could move in with a Portuguese woman that made macramé owls for a living. She and the woman broke up but she stayed in Portugal to paint and discover what it was that would make her happy. Obviously it hadn`t been motherhood. She was still searching at age sixty.
We never knew our father but apparently he was a brunette with light green eyes the color of white grapes. Both we girls look like our mystery father while mom looks like Debbie Reynolds in How the West Was Won - minus the gingham of course - with her golden hair and sparkly blue eyes. It had been a lively childhood to say the least living with Penny and Patty, my mother`s sister`s. Lively is a term we use in front of Violet`s kids in place of nuttier than a cashew plantation.
“Well if she did, I can understand why,” Violet murmured as she took the mug of coffee from me with trembling hands. I sat down beside her after removing a small truck smeared with peanut butter from the chair. “There are some days I think I`m losing my mind, Viv.”
“You`re fine,” I calmly reassured her, crossing one leg over the other. “You`ve just got four kids under ten in a six hundred by seven hundred bungalow. My condo has more space and lots less people,” I began rubbing her upper arm. She smiled at the gesture then slurped loudly.
“You know we`re only renting this place while we save for a down payment on a bigger house.”
“I know,” I said. Personally, I didn`t think they would ever get the money saved, despite Chris working two jobs unless my sister had her husband neutered.
“I just need a hand,” she said into her mug, “Someone to help out with just one of the little things the kids are involved in. Could you help?” she asked, turning those lovely light green eyes on me. I faltered in my arm rubbing and glanced down at the dark rose camisole under my blazer.
“Uhm- what did you have in mind?” I asked warily when I finally looked back up from my breasts. “I do have a fulltime job and a fish.”
I know how pathetic that sounded compared to what Violet was dealing with, but we both had made our choices. She got pregnant as soon as her and Chris got married nine years ago and hasn`t stopped getting pregnant. I, on the other hand, chose to give birth to stories for the local newspaper weekly. Society events are far less messy than caesarian sections and episiotomies.
“Could you serve as Clara`s Queen Bee over the summer?” she asked, lashes spiked with tears, eyes watery, lower lip trembling just a small bit. If she thought that would work now like it did when we were kids, she was in for one rude awakening. I flicked a fast look down at my black pump, looked at my slim gold watch, and then stood up while telling Violet I would be happy to be a Queen Bee for the summer.
I`m such a miserable push-over at times.
“Thank you!” she glowed so brightly I feared the varnish on the beaten cabinets might be blasted off by the solar light. Violet leaped to her feet, hugged me tightly and kissed my cheek.” You are a real life saver, Viviana! Be here tomorrow at eight to pick the girls up.”
“I do hope you mean eight at night, not eight in the morning.” I drew back from the woman who smelled strongly of dog, baby vomit, and dollar store strawberry shampoo. Oh but did she laugh merrily at my statement while leading me to the front door, her arm around my waist after she set her mug of calming juice on her kitchen table beside a robot that turns into a car.
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 when we meet our leading man.
April 3, 2013
Love Amid the Azalea
As a special spring treat, I`ll be sharing a new M/M mini-series with my fans and friends every Wednesday over at Storytime Trysts for a short time. I hope you enjoy Love Amid the Azalea.
Storytime Trysts
April 1, 2013
Tuesday Tales - Funny
Hello! It`s time for Tuesday Tales again. This week I`ll be sharing an excerpt from my WIP (Work In Progress) All I Want for Christmas, a holiday themed M/M romantic comedy that was born from a previous picture prompt here on Tuesday Tales. This story is completed and is now in the final round of editing.
This week our word prompt is ‘Funny’. 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 jogged back into the center, already having decided to do my paperwork tomorrow morning before heading over to my folks place. Gert was filling the sink with soapy hot water for coffee mug and glass washing. She did not believe in putting glasses and mugs into a dishwasher. Spots, you know. I hurried to close the back door then gently nudged her away from the sink.
“Finish getting the dishwasher filled, I`ll do these.” I pulled on some rubber gloves, turned off the steaming hot water, and began scrubbing the mugs. After a few moments I felt her assessment. Glancing from a particularly sugar-crusted mug I found her brown eyes staring holes through me. “What?”
“You plan on telling me what exactly happened during the storm?” she inquired while she lined plates up like Corelle soldiers. I quickly went back to the mug in my hand.
“I already told you what happened,” I countered without raising my voice. You never raise your voice to Gert in her kitchen. She will roll you like one of her delicious meatballs.
“You told me the generic version, the story you told the others, “I caught her straightening up in my peripheral. I kept scrubbing at the hardened sugar on the rim of the mug. “I know you better. You and this painter fellow, something went on between you, didn`t it?”
I inhaled to refute the claim. Her palm in front of my nose silenced me.
“Don`t lie,” she warned, nudging the dishwasher closed with a substantial hip. “Now, tell me what went on with this artist. Don`t think to try to cover up or feed me some funny line because I`ll know.”
“You`re really gifted aren`t you?” I had to ask. Obviously the woman could peer into a man`s eyes and decipher his soul and the secrets within it.
“No, you just can`t lie for shit,” she countered, folding her arms over her large bosom. I thought to try to argue that as well but didn`t. So, I inhaled through my nose and let every detail of my time spent with Cooper bumble out. The woman next to me in a red skirt and festive green and red sweater said nothing until I ran out of story to tell. Then she walked over to the fridge and poured us two paper cups of Egg Nog.
“So he just left you with the tow truck driver?”
“Yeah,” I said, stacking steaming mugs into the dish drainer. “We had just shared this incredible, passionate experience that knocked my world off its axis. Then he went into Jekyll/Hyde mode and called his mechanic. Within half an hour I was driving back home wondering that the hell had just happened.”
“Maybe he was overwhelmed.”
I snorted. “Overwhelmed? You`ve never met Cooper Robinson. I don`t think he is ever out of control or in a situation that he doesn`t have well in hand. No, he just decided I was too emotional for him and his plans to avoid anything that may skirt close to the shores of Lake Commitment.”
“Huh?”
“Oh yeah, he was quite clear about his disdain about getting involved with someone. He feels that no one is capable of being faithful over the long term.”
“Sounds to me like the man got his heart ripped out and is terrified of being hurt again. I`m betting that what you two shared scared him to his core, so he panicked and pushed you out the door, literally and figuratively.”
“Hmm, that`s possible I suppose,” I said, deep in thought. “So what do I do about it?” I asked, leaning my hip against the counter. Gert sipped her eggnog and pondered the situation.
“Well as I see it, you don`t have too many options. He`s obviously not emotionally ready for anything other than sex. Knowing you, I don`t think that`s going to satisfy you.”
“It would be very satisfactory for a few sweaty hours, but no, I want more. I want something special with someone special. I was kind of hoping it would be this man. We had such chemistry and the sex . . .” I sighed forlornly then finished my cup of Egg Nog.
“Well, then you either have to lower your standards, which I don`t suggest, or move on.” Gert finished her drink, patted my shoulder, tossed her cup into the trash and went to get her coat. I remained in the kitchen, listening to the whirring hum of the dishwasher and sipping at my holiday drink. “Or you could try calling him and seeing if he`ll meet you somewhere in the middle to talk,” she called in as she passed the doorway.
“I don`t know, it`s awfully chilly along the state border.”
Copyright ©by V.L. Locey
*~*~*
I hope you enjoyed getting to know Alex and Cooper a little. To find out if these two have a happy-ever-after you`ll have to grab a copy of the All I Want for Christmas when it comes out around the holidays.
Next we`ll have excerpts from my newest WIP, Pink Pucks and Power Plays, an M/F romantic comedy where you`ll meet Viviana Land and Alain Lessard. Viviana is a reporter at a small town paper who finds herself suddenly thrust into the rough and tumble world of ice hockey. Viv, and her unique pee-wee hockey team, meet one tall, dark, and handsome professional defenseman volunteering his time to coach during the summer. Will love blossom amid hockey sticks, merit badges, and penalty boxes?
For more great free reads by talented writers just click the link below-
Tuesday Tales
See you next week!
This week our word prompt is ‘Funny’. 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 jogged back into the center, already having decided to do my paperwork tomorrow morning before heading over to my folks place. Gert was filling the sink with soapy hot water for coffee mug and glass washing. She did not believe in putting glasses and mugs into a dishwasher. Spots, you know. I hurried to close the back door then gently nudged her away from the sink.
“Finish getting the dishwasher filled, I`ll do these.” I pulled on some rubber gloves, turned off the steaming hot water, and began scrubbing the mugs. After a few moments I felt her assessment. Glancing from a particularly sugar-crusted mug I found her brown eyes staring holes through me. “What?”
“You plan on telling me what exactly happened during the storm?” she inquired while she lined plates up like Corelle soldiers. I quickly went back to the mug in my hand.
“I already told you what happened,” I countered without raising my voice. You never raise your voice to Gert in her kitchen. She will roll you like one of her delicious meatballs.
“You told me the generic version, the story you told the others, “I caught her straightening up in my peripheral. I kept scrubbing at the hardened sugar on the rim of the mug. “I know you better. You and this painter fellow, something went on between you, didn`t it?”
I inhaled to refute the claim. Her palm in front of my nose silenced me.
“Don`t lie,” she warned, nudging the dishwasher closed with a substantial hip. “Now, tell me what went on with this artist. Don`t think to try to cover up or feed me some funny line because I`ll know.”
“You`re really gifted aren`t you?” I had to ask. Obviously the woman could peer into a man`s eyes and decipher his soul and the secrets within it.
“No, you just can`t lie for shit,” she countered, folding her arms over her large bosom. I thought to try to argue that as well but didn`t. So, I inhaled through my nose and let every detail of my time spent with Cooper bumble out. The woman next to me in a red skirt and festive green and red sweater said nothing until I ran out of story to tell. Then she walked over to the fridge and poured us two paper cups of Egg Nog.
“So he just left you with the tow truck driver?”
“Yeah,” I said, stacking steaming mugs into the dish drainer. “We had just shared this incredible, passionate experience that knocked my world off its axis. Then he went into Jekyll/Hyde mode and called his mechanic. Within half an hour I was driving back home wondering that the hell had just happened.”
“Maybe he was overwhelmed.”
I snorted. “Overwhelmed? You`ve never met Cooper Robinson. I don`t think he is ever out of control or in a situation that he doesn`t have well in hand. No, he just decided I was too emotional for him and his plans to avoid anything that may skirt close to the shores of Lake Commitment.”
“Huh?”
“Oh yeah, he was quite clear about his disdain about getting involved with someone. He feels that no one is capable of being faithful over the long term.”
“Sounds to me like the man got his heart ripped out and is terrified of being hurt again. I`m betting that what you two shared scared him to his core, so he panicked and pushed you out the door, literally and figuratively.”
“Hmm, that`s possible I suppose,” I said, deep in thought. “So what do I do about it?” I asked, leaning my hip against the counter. Gert sipped her eggnog and pondered the situation.
“Well as I see it, you don`t have too many options. He`s obviously not emotionally ready for anything other than sex. Knowing you, I don`t think that`s going to satisfy you.”
“It would be very satisfactory for a few sweaty hours, but no, I want more. I want something special with someone special. I was kind of hoping it would be this man. We had such chemistry and the sex . . .” I sighed forlornly then finished my cup of Egg Nog.
“Well, then you either have to lower your standards, which I don`t suggest, or move on.” Gert finished her drink, patted my shoulder, tossed her cup into the trash and went to get her coat. I remained in the kitchen, listening to the whirring hum of the dishwasher and sipping at my holiday drink. “Or you could try calling him and seeing if he`ll meet you somewhere in the middle to talk,” she called in as she passed the doorway.
“I don`t know, it`s awfully chilly along the state border.”
Copyright ©by V.L. Locey
*~*~*
I hope you enjoyed getting to know Alex and Cooper a little. To find out if these two have a happy-ever-after you`ll have to grab a copy of the All I Want for Christmas when it comes out around the holidays.
Next we`ll have excerpts from my newest WIP, Pink Pucks and Power Plays, an M/F romantic comedy where you`ll meet Viviana Land and Alain Lessard. Viviana is a reporter at a small town paper who finds herself suddenly thrust into the rough and tumble world of ice hockey. Viv, and her unique pee-wee hockey team, meet one tall, dark, and handsome professional defenseman volunteering his time to coach during the summer. Will love blossom amid hockey sticks, merit badges, and penalty boxes?
For more great free reads by talented writers just click the link below-
Tuesday Tales
See you next week!
March 31, 2013
March 29, 2013
Wind in White Birch - Issue # 13
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
March 28, 2013
A Book and a Cuppa - Lover At Last
I am so very proud to be a fan of J.R. Ward at this moment. Yes, I said it. And I`ll say it again. I am so proud to be a fan of J.R. Ward at this moment. She did it. She did not back down. She did not let the voices of hate dissuade her. She stood firm and she wrote one of the best M/M romance novels I have ever had the privilege of reading. Thank you, WARDen, for Lover At Last.
I promised in my last review that the next one would be a para-rom, and here it is gang! Purchased the book Tuesday, finished it Thursday. Five hundred and ninety-one pages of what Ms. Ward does best: romance, drama, action, humor, and angst. Dearest Scribe Virgin the angst! But all the suffering was worth it. The epilogue found me weeping like a young.
If you haven`t read this book, or are in the process of, beware of things being revealed.
I thought I might do this review a bit differently since I`ve been hearing so many differing complaints about the book and some of its various aspects. I thought I`d address the complaints and talk about them as they affected me as a reader.
Yes, Qhuinn and Blaylock`s tale deals with men having sex with other men. If you find that distasteful, then please, don`t read this book. It`s very simple. Or, just skip over the gay sex. For the life of me I do not understand folks buying a book that contains stuff they dislike, and then bitching because they read something they didn`t like. That confuses me. If I know a book has say graphic torture or rape depicted I don`t buy that book because I don`t like to read about such things. Simple, yes? Yes.
As a writer of M/M romance, I found the love story of these two males to be simply stunning and handled perfectly. As in any Ward book, our lovers are put through the wringer before coming together, but would we want it to be easy for them? Nah, we wouldn`t. If they fell into each other’s arms first thing out of the gate that would make a damned short and rather boring book, don`t you think? We are treated to seeing a man working through a crushing amount of history until he finally realizes who he really is. I could not help but to cheer for Qhuinn when he got to that place where he could admit to himself that he was gay. I honestly hugged the book at that moment.
Now, onto the blitzkrieg of complaints about too many sub-plots and how jarring that was for many readers. Personally I didn`t find it a problem at all, but, I have read nearly every Game of Thrones novel except for the last one, which is waiting patiently for me on my Kobo. Maybe it`s due to leaping from one character to another in Mr. Martin`s books that makes me less easily aggravated by lots of sub-plots. I liked them. It shows that the author has lots of plans for her series and characters, it brings new blood into the world, and it helps lessen the ‘Dear God The Angst!’ level a bit. If I had five hundred and ninety-one pages of nothing but Q & B`s misunderstandings, I might have gotten a slight migraine. So to me, the sub-plots weren`t a problem at all.
Speaking of sub-plots, how about Trez?! Woo and hoo, how nice to see the Shades getting some face time. This is one baby girl who is happy as a lark about this new development and can`t wait to learn more about the s`Hisbe.
Also we got a much deeper look into Assail and met a new character named Sola. I`ll be frank and say I had a little trouble getting into this relationship for some reason. As it went along Sola, the cat burglar, grew on me. Assail I found enjoyable at times, but the similarities between him and Rehvenge were rather obvious. Vampire drug lord with twins as muscle . . . we`ve kind of been there and done that, haven`t we? This is the only thing that brings the book down just a tiny notch for me. Hopefully, as this sub-plot grows in the coming books I can warm up to Assail, and he won`t be a knock off of The Reverend.
And I can`t not mention Xcor and Layla as they have what I think will turn into a huge stake in the future of this series. I like Xcor. I think he will find redemption in Layla. That doesn`t mean I trust him, after all, it was his band of Bastards that put the bullet into Wrath`s neck. But I suspect that things are going to blow up with the Lessening Society and somewhere down the line, it`s going to have to be vampires VS. slayers flat out, and that may be where we see Xcor and his motley crew step into being the kind of men the Brothers need to battle this darkness. Or I could be out in left field with a hockey stick.
Oh, and lest I forget, thank goodness Layla is showing some spine. I like it! It`s about damned time we see a Chosen getting some gumption. Maybe it will spread through her to her sisters somehow and infuse them with chutzpah. She has a long road to go with this pregnancy. My fingers are crossed for her, Qhuinn, and their young.
What have I forgot to touch on? Let`s see . . .the action is great. Plane crashes into yards?! This is Bruce Willis ‘Yippee-Kai-Yay Mother Fooper!’ type of action and I loved it! A new fore-lesser which generally means trouble, sticks his nose into the mix. We touch base with all our favorites from past books. It`s like sitting down in The Pit with family. Oh yes, and we touch lightly on Beth`s desire for young while others are plotting to use her half-human blood in yet another scheme to try to toss Wrath to the side. Ah, plots and back-stabbings and secrets and lust and lies and sex and liaisons and murder and yet more sex. And the sex is hot, hot, hotter than hell to quote KISS. If you`re a fan of man on man love, make sure you have a few fans going or a snow bank to dive into.
If I didn`t know better I`d think I stumbled out of Caldwell right into King`s Landing. Yes, that is a compliment of the highest caliber. Lover At Last had everything I could ask for. I am thrilled to be able to slap a five star rating on this book and recommend it highly.
