V.L. Locey's Blog, page 22
July 11, 2017
Changing Lines Release Day!
It's been a wonderful experience working with Rj Scott. I've learned so much from her and have found a true friend and Wonder Twin soul sister. I hope you can feel the love we have this genre, the sport of hockey, and our characters as you read each of the Railers books.
Tennant and Jared will always hold a special place in my heart as their story - and the battles they face to be honest about their love - have shaped the series into one of passion, hope, and acceptance in my eyes. Thank you for all your support, as always. It is because of you that this old chicken-herder can live out a dream.
Skate hard and love deeply,
V.L.
Changing Lines (Harrisburg Railers #1)
Blurb:
Can Tennant show Jared that age is just a number, and that love is all that matters?
The Rowe Brothers are famous hockey hotshots, but as the youngest of the trio, Tennant has always had to play against his brothers’ reputations. To get out of their shadows, and against their advice, he accepts a trade to the Harrisburg Railers, where he runs into Jared Madsen. Mads is an old family friend and his brother’s one-time teammate. Mads is Tennant’s new coach. And Mads is the sexiest thing he’s ever laid eyes on.
Jared Madsen’s hockey career was cut short by a fault in his heart, but coaching keeps him close to the game. When Ten is traded to the team, his carefully organized world is thrown into chaos. Nine years younger and his best friend’s brother, he knows Ten is strictly off-limits, but as soon as he sees Ten’s moves, on and off the ice, he knows his heart could get him into trouble again.
eBook
US - http://amzn.to/2scv9X1UK - http://amzn.to/2rHtQglCan - https://goo.gl/NfD90uAus - https://goo.gl/zqF613Smashwords - https://goo.gl/gt6Ve8B&N - https://goo.gl/Azrt6iKobo - https://goo.gl/Dc6LviiBooks - https://goo.gl/BbycG6
July 10, 2017
Tuesday Tales - Earth
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, we get to meet one of the two leading men, Trent Hanson, a famous figure skater who has fallen on hard times.
Our word prompt today is “Earth”.
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!
Gayle sat down behind her desk, smiled at me yet again, and folded her hands in front of her. I raised a freshly plucked eyebrow. She was still trying to get a handle on me. Tobey & Troy was the largest athletic representation firm in Philly. They handled most of the Eagles, Sixers, and Flyers as well as several tennis players. And now they had me. Trent Lawrence Hanson. Famed gay figure skater and next in line to be a Dickens character in real life. Please, Sir, can I have more? Ugh. As if I’d eat gruel. What if I had too? What on earth would I do? The thought was too much to bear.
“I think that now that the legal issues with your father—”
“Stepfather,” I quickly reminded her.
“Yes, sorry, stepfather. Well, now that he’s been convicted and is serving his time I think it’s time we start working on marketing you in a positive light.” She smiled again, nervously, and leveled light blue eyes at me. “Where are you in terms of returning to competitive skating?”
I glanced out the windows at Ben Franklin standing atop City Hall. I began running my hands over the flaps of thin cotton lying over my thighs.
“I have no money, my professional reputation is shot, and my rink and my mother’s house are both two months away from foreclosure. Do you honestly think that I could find the mental clarity and focus to skate again?” As soon as I heard how bitchy I sounded I placed a hand over my mouth. “I’m so sorry,” I mumbled into my fingers.
“It’s quite understandable,” she replied. She was far too nice to be saddled with a miserable cow bag like me. I wanted to cry but didn’t. I’d do that later when I visited Mom and Lola.
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
July 5, 2017
Book Spotlight - Snap Shot Cayuga Cougars #1
With Open Net - Cayuga Cougars #2 coming out next month, I thought we should take a look at Snap Shot, the first of the Cayuga Cougars books.
#trans #bi #hockey #romance
Buy Links:
Nook: http://tinyurl.com/mj8srsbiBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id1223664737Amazon: http://tinyurl.com/lc6mngbAmazon UK: http://tinyurl.com/l5pnpvdKobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/snap-shot
Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/34429408-snap-shot
Blurb:
Mario McGarrity has been around the block – and rink – more than a few times.
He’s creeping up on retirement age, has some dings and dents, and says what’s on his mind. Not exactly what most would consider a luxury ride, but his beautiful Lila - the transgender woman who stole his heart - loves him like no other woman ever has despite a little rust here and there.
Everything is good - no, great - aside from the distance issue, until a surprise from Lila’s past crops up and moves in with her. Can Mario be the family man that Lila needs, or is this one game the old vet is unable to skate in?
July 3, 2017
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
July 1, 2017
New MM NA Series Announcement!
I'm all kinds of tickled rainbow colors to share the news that Rj Scott and I will be coauthoring an MM new adult hockey series that will spin off our Harrisburg Railers books.
The first novel Freshman Year - Owatanna U #1 - tells the story of Ryker Madsen, the son of Jared Madsen from Changing Lines. Look for it on 2/14/18!
Add to Goodreads : FreshmanYear -Owatanna U #1
June 26, 2017
Tuesday Tales - Strap
It`s time for Tuesday Tales.
Today we have a snippet from my new MM contemporary nightclub book, The Bachelor & The Balladeer, Tales of the Scarlet Owl #1. In this excerpt, Cab has had his epiphany about The Scarlet Owl and is telling his partner about his exciting news.
This story may have gay erotic scenes, strong social issues addressed and mature language. If those things offend now is the time to move onto another Tuesday Tales blog. Thanks for stopping by!
Fifty minutes later, I was roaring into Maurice’s driveway out in Hidden Hills. I fairly leaped out of the Caddy, 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 strapping 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
June 22, 2017
Book Spotlight - Playmaker
#lesbian #hockey #erotic #romance #venom
Buy Links:
Amazon: http://tinyurl.com/l75y6lzSmashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/718060
B&N: http://tinyurl.com/ke9bm9q
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/34753120-playmaker
Blurb:
Secrets. Sometimes keeping them in confidence is a good thing. Other times secrets can slowly allow a woman’s soul to rot. Whitney Beaupré has been hiding a big secret for years, one that’s beginning to wear her down both on and off the ice. Pretending to be something she’s not is exhausting. Wanting to be free but afraid to break out of her prison is terrifying. Seeking love but then hiding from it is crushing to the spirit, yet Whitney feels compelled to keep living the lie.
Until the night Hannah Kym appears in her life. Whitney’s attraction to Hannah is deep, fierce, and instantaneous. The Temple art major is everything Whitney has dreamed of and more. But those old fears keep clawing at the Venom center, keeping her locked in the closet despite the passion and affection she feels for Hannah. Can love finally break the shackles holding Whitney’s heart and soul captive?
Excerpt:
My cosmopolitan arrived. I handed the server a twenty and continued to sit in the shadows, enjoying the dancers and my cocktail. Everyone seemed to be paired up already. Maybe that was for the best. Maybe I should just finish my drink and go home before someone recognized me as a Venom player and—
“Did anyone ever tell you that you have an amazing brow?” A small Asian woman sat down across from me, startling me out of my ruminations. She was adorable, I saw that right off. Her face was round, her hair short and dyed aquamarine. Her mouth was drawn into a studious pucker. She shoved her hand across the table. “Also, your mouth is perfectly aligned with your nose. Hannah Kym.” “Thanks.” I muttered and shook her hand.
She smiled, and it lit up the club. “Would you consider posing for me sometime?” The music died off and applause broke out for the DJs choice. I cocked an eyebrow. Hannah Kym snickered as a white strobe light moved over our tiny table. When she smiled, her apple cheeks nearly obscured her beautiful brown eyes. It was beyond cute. She was beyond cute. “Okay, I know that sounds like some lame come-on that a guy would hit you with. I’m really an art student. I’m in my junior year at Temple, and I’d love to paint you some time. You have this amazing face. Sensual, sad, sophisticated, sullen.”
“Suspicious.” I tacked on. Another song, this one I didn’t know, kicked to life.
“Here, let me find my student ID.” She stood up and began pawing around in the various pockets of her baggy jeans and sweater, then finally in the overstuffed tote dangling off her shoulder. She pulled out a card on a lanyard and bounced around in circles to celebrate, her arms up over her head. The motion pulled her short sweater up and exposed her stomach. Her tummy was soft, not the hard and toned abs I was used to seeing in the dressing room. Her rump and hips were rounded and lush, and her breasts were small. Men would probably stick their noses up at her curves and tiny tits but I thought she was perfectly proportioned. “There. Total proof that I am indeed one Hannah Kym, starving college student slash artist striving for my BFA.”
I took the ID card and glanced at it. Hannah plopped down across from me, rested her elbows on the table, placed her chin on her hands, and stared at me. The ID card showed a younger Hannah and the red plastic card was clearly a Temple University ID badge. I’d seen Greg Blue Blanket’s a few times. “I know one of your professors,” I said as I returned the ID card to her. Hannah continued to appraise me. “Greg Blue Blanket?”
“That man is awesome! And so visually stunning. Kind of like you.” I blinked at Hannah, dumbfounded. Our server appeared and asked Hannah if she’d like something. “Oh hey, yeah, how about a rum and Coke?” I handed my empty glass to the waitress and tapped it to signal I’d like a refill. “So, what’s your name and when can I put you on canvas?” She winked impishly.
My body reacted with a flash of heat that made my breasts tingle. “Why would you want to paint me? I’m far from model perfect,” I shouted over the thumping of the current song.
“That’s what makes you desirable,” she yelled, frowned, and then moved over to sit right beside me. Her perfume was fruity. It fit her. “I love women who are confident in themselves. Take that chick over there, totally refurbished from head to toe. When you strip her down, what you get is not at all what you see.”
I looked behind Hannah to see a tall brunette who should be a centerfold in some magazine for straight dudes. She certainly had enough female admirers fawning over her.
“She’s beautiful,” I replied, to which Hannah wrinkled her flat little nose in disgust.
“She’s a fake. You, on the other hand, are perfect in your imperfections. The sharp cut of your jaw, the gap in your teeth combined with the lushness of your lashes and the heavy sway of your big breasts is true feminine beauty.”
“Are you sure you’re not a poetry major?” Hannah laughed, her hand coming to rest on my thigh. A hot curling of desire ignited between my thighs.
“It might be my minor.”
June 19, 2017
Tuesday Tales - Picture Prompt
Welcome back!
This week is our picture prompt week and all posts must be 300 words or under and reflect the chosen image. Today we have a snippet from my new MM contemporary nightclub book, The Bachelor & The Balladeer, Tales of the Scarlet Owl #1. In this excerpt, we see that Cabriolet Vermet, our leading man, is having a bad, bad night.
Thanks so much for dropping by!
“Why are you sitting here in the dark drinking that shit whiskey again?” He asked, his voice filled with derision. “It suits me.”“Yes, it really does,” he sighed dramatically then slipped behind the bar to begin mixing himself a Mai Tai. “You don’t have to get the mix,” I said then turned on the leather stool to look into his indifferent eyes. “You’re not staying long enough to enjoy a drink with me.”“Oh, I see. So, Maurice raced to you and tattled. Fine. I’m tired of keeping up the façade anyway,” he stated coldly, slammed his empty glass to the counter and huffed off in the direction of my bedroom. My ass remained on the stool. He’d not steal anything that wasn’t his. He might be a prissy, cheating bitch but he was no thief. As he slammed around I drank my whiskey and counted the lovers who had left in a similar fashion over the years. I lost count at ten, or perhaps I just quit counting. It made no difference. When your heart embraced someone, it ended up broken. People left. Mama had left me with grandmama. Grandmama had died when I was just eighteen. It simply went on and on until it would be my time to leave someone behind. Piteously, or perhaps not, there was not a soul who would mourn me. Maurice and Colette perhaps. And Rachel, my personal assistant. Other than that? Non. “I’ll be back for the rest of my stuff tomorrow.” Mateo stalked up to me, slapped his key onto the bar, and tossed out a slim hip. “And for your information, all of this is your fault.”“Oh? How is that? I was faithful to you.”
Copyright 2017 ©by V.L. Locey
*~*~*
Click on the link below to return to the Tuesday Tales main blog for more great reads from the Tuesday Tales authors.
Tuesday Tales
June 18, 2017
June 16, 2017
Book Spotlight - Clean Sweep Venom #1
#MF #erotic #hockey #romance
Fiery, flame-haired Jane Bratkowski is catapulted from a small college town in Philadelphia to become head coach of a new women’s hockey team, The Venom. It’s a life-changing opportunity, a dream come true – in a cruel twist of fate that could turn into a nightmare – she comes face to face with her ex-husband Tore Ahlbreg, the Wildcats’ head of European Scouting.
Suddenly, Jane’s faced with more challenges than she bargained for: Will she let him distract her – and derail her big chance to coach pro hockey? Can she build a team of relatively inexperienced, irrepressible young women into champions? Can she and Tore triumph over the gut-wrenching tragedy that ripped them apart – or will the shocking truth of their passionate past threaten to destroy them once again?
Amazon
