V.L. Locey's Blog, page 43

Shutdown Pair Release Day!

It's here at last! I hope everyone who picks up a copy of Shutdown Pair enjoys Heath and Wyatt and the story they have to tell. Thanks so much for all the wonderful support I've gotten from friends, fans, bloggers and my publishing houses for my LGBTQ hockey romances. There are plenty more to come and I hope you'll be along for the journey. *hugs*






BLURB:
Slinging burgers in Minnesota in the dead of winter isn’t exactly the Hemingway lifestyle aspiring writer Heath has dreamed of. About the only thing the quick-witted wordsmith has going for him is his pick-up hockey league games every Saturday. Now it looks like even that’s gone south, along with the team’s AWOL goalie.That is until mysterious Wyatt Dickenson skates into town and announces that he can tend net. Heath isn’t the type to turn down such a generous offer from a Greek god with impressive equipment and all the right moves.Heath offers to share his rented room with the enigmatic drifter, and soon begins to suspect that Wyatt is harboring a secret. Can Heath get Wyatt to open up about his dark past? Is there a dark past? Or is Heath’s writer’s mind just spinning sexy, shadowy scenarios about the mystery man who has him so infatuated?
You can order your copy at the following retailers:

Amazon

B&N

All Romance

iTunes

Kobo

Throwback Thursday Tune

It only seems fitting to follow up a month of songs about rain with a month of songs about flowers. After all, all those April flowers do make May flowers! Today's flowery song is a great one from one of the premiere hair metal bands of the decade, Poison. Enjoy Every Rose Has it's Thorn.

Tuesday Tales - Picture Prompt

Hello! It`s time for Tuesday Tales.



 I'm still chugging away on an LGBTQ hockey romance titled Snap Shot. We're doing a picture prompt this week so all entries must be 300 words or less. To accommodate the word limit I had to whittle on this excerpt but next week we'll see exactly what the secret is that has Lila so shaken. 

This story contains crude language (they are hockey players after all) and gay sexual situations. If that offends now would be the time to move onto another Tuesday Tales offering. These excerpts have not been professionally edited so please be kind about any flubs you may find. 
Don`t forget to visit the other talented Tuesday Tales authors. Thanks for stopping by!


          "I'd been hoping to keep this from you until we had more time invested into our relationship. I was scared of losing you when you found out, Seamus."A small tingle of unease crept up my spine. The kitchen still smelled of primavera sauce. Usually that was a calming aroma but not this morning.
            "Lila, I'm not going anywhere. Well, I mean I am in the physical sense but not in the emotional sense. Soon as I can get a day free I'll be right back here begging for more of your sweetness." This was so unlike her. Usually my Lila was so sure of herself and her lifestyle.
            A trembling smile played on her full lips. "You might change your mind when I tell you this." She blew out an unsteady breath over pursed lips, took another sip of her sickeningly sweet coffee, swallowed several times, and then began her tale. "Once upon a time there was a little black boy named Joseph Lewis Abernathy who was born in Detroit but spent his childhood in Flint. Little Joseph was not a happy child because as soon as he was old enough to understand the concept of boy and girl he knew that God had put him in the wrong body."
            She had never once spoken of any of this to me. The past, hell, who cared, right? I wanted to say something but didn't know what so I sat there, mug resting between my big scarred hands and just let the woman talk.
            "Well, as soon as Joseph mentioned this to his parents, they told him that he was stupid and weird to want boobies since he was a boy. Therefore, Joseph, who did notwant to be stupid or weird, never told anyone about how badly he wanted to be a girl. He hid it deep inside and his parents thought he forgot about being weird and stupid. They were happy to see that phase pass. Joseph dated girls and went to college where he studied theater while his parents thought he was majoring in accounting."

            Copyright 2016 ©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
See you next week!

Silent Sunday

*Contented Cat*

Shutdown Pair Sneak Peek!

Holy hockey! Shutdown Pair comes out next Friday! I'm so excited to be able to bring you another LGBTQ hockey romance. I hope you fall for these two young men just as I did. To get us in the mood for release day here's another blog exclusive excerpt!





EXCERPT:

“Maybe he stepped outside. I’m going to go find him so he knows the wings are here,” I said as I tugged my coat on. They nodded. Off I went, Wyatt’s thick coat over my arm.

The air outside the popular pub was so damn cold it sent my system into shock. The first lungful was painful. I scoped out the parking lot. No Wyatt. He had ridden with me, so unless he was walking, he had to be around. Unease lifted the fine hairs at the base of my neck. I jogged around the clapboard side of the bar, fearing that I would find Wyatt beaten to death by some homophobes with tire irons. I’ve seen that movie. When I skidded around corner of the Puss, I saw nothing but several employee cars and a dumpster. Heart in throat, I ran across the lot, nearly going on my ass when I hit a hidden patch of ice the plows had uncovered earlier. Thankfully, no beaten body lay behind the dumpster in a widening pool of blood.

Where the fuck could he be? I walked behind a blue truck with a thick silver bumper, taking care not to let my feet get too close to the sharp drop-off. The moon was up, full and round, and so when I glanced down the embankment I saw a shape standing beside the river. Something told me it was Wyatt before I even made out the white glow of moonlight reflecting off his black hair. I went down the snowy embankment on my ass, fear coursing through me, calling his name at the top of my lungs. I hit the riverbank awkwardly, arms windmilling. Wyatt grabbed me before I went face-first into the turbulent Frost River. I stumbled back, his arms tight around my waist.

I tried to speak, but I was too winded, and yes, too fucking scared. People died in the Frost every year. A vicious waterway that sucked souls to a cold, terrible death without remorse or care was the Frost.

“Are you trying to kill yourself?” the man asked, his breath hot and pleasant beside my left ear. I should have pulled away, but I rather liked being in his embrace. Also, I feared that if he let go my legs would fold like a hotel sheet.

“I was going to ask you the same thing.”

We stood there beside the Frost, the water churning white as it slammed into the rocks. Water sprayed our cheeks, dampened our hair. I had to do it. I pulled away from his warmth to hold out his coat. He slid his arms into it in silence.

“I was just looking across the river. I mean, I started up there.” He motioned to the parking lot seventy-five feet or more above us. “But I couldn’t really see it clearly.”

“See what? Your imminent death?” I enquired, with a bit more bite than I had intended. Wyatt looked at me oddly. The moon did magnificent things to this man.

“Canada. Freedom.” Wyatt tipped his head to look around me.

“Freedom from what?” I asked, then threw a hand into the air. “No, please, don’t do it. Don’t just stand there with your teeth in your mouth. Forget I asked. You’re the most exasperating person I have ever met. I’m glad I went through your wallet. It serves you right for being so fucking close-mouthed all the time.”

“You went through my wallet?” he asked, his attention now on me instead of fucking Canada.

“Yeah, yeah I did,” I said, then folded my arms over my chest. The river roared behind me. I was slowly getting soaked. “You forced me into it being so mysterious and coy and whatnot.”

The shot to my face was so fast that I never saw it. I felt it, though. His fist clipped my jaw. I fell backward. The Frost rolled over my thighs. Wyatt yanked me out of the white water. I fell into him as we fumbled in reverse, both soaking wet and shuddering violently.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He kept saying that as we clung to each other, panting in terrified bursts, fingers digging tightly into each other’s sodden coats.

“Nah, I totally deserved it. Totally. Oh fuck, that was the scariest ten seconds of my fucking life.”

I buried my face in his neck. He put his hand to my wet head, held my nose to his jugular, and then began to cry. At least, it felt like he was crying. I closed my eyes while he held me. It was only for a moment, maybe not even a full sixty seconds, that Wyatt fell apart.

“It’s okay,” I whispered into his warm flesh, then lifted my head, despite him trying to keep me from seeing him. I took his face in my hands. His cheeks were as cold as ice. His lips trembled. I placed a kiss to his scruffy cheek, held it for a second, and ran my tongue over the water that rested on my lips. Salty. “It’s okay. This whole thing? It never happened. It never happened.”

Wyatt stared at me. He nodded. There was nothing I wanted more than to claim his mouth. Would he let me?

“I’m cold.”

“Yeah, yeah, me too.” I placed one last kiss to his cheek. He leaned in to me for this one, his chest resting against mine for a long moment. Then we stepped free from each other. “Next time we go swimming, let’s pick a better month. Like August.”

“Right. We’ll swim in August,” Wyatt said, then turned away.

I stood below him, watching him climb back up the steep incline. I had asked for something meaningful to share with the man. A punch to the kisser and a tumble in the Frost was not exactly what I’d had in mind. Perhaps sharing something powerful but not including a near-death experience was what I should ask for next.






BLURB:
Slinging burgers in Minnesota in the dead of winter isn’t exactly the Hemingway lifestyle aspiring writer Heath has dreamed of. About the only thing the quick-witted wordsmith has going for him is his pick-up hockey league games every Saturday. Now it looks like even that’s gone south, along with the team’s AWOL goalie.That is until mysterious Wyatt Dickenson skates into town and announces that he can tend net. Heath isn’t the type to turn down such a generous offer from a Greek god with impressive equipment and all the right moves.Heath offers to share his rented room with the enigmatic drifter, and soon begins to suspect that Wyatt is harboring a secret. Can Heath get Wyatt to open up about his dark past? Is there a dark past? Or is Heath’s writer’s mind just spinning sexy, shadowy scenarios about the mystery man who has him so infatuated?
You can preorder your copy at the following retailers:

Amazon

B&N

All Romance

iTunes

Kobo

Throwback Thursday Tune

To wrap up our rainy month of songs who better than one of the kings of classic country? Yep, let's sing April out with Willie's version of Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain.

The Mind of an Author

People tell me that writers have minds unlike the non-writerly folk. Sometimes I think to argue but then something pops into my world that silences me.
As you may or may not know, over the past few years I've been working on trying to live a healthier life. I quit smoking, gave up soda, started eating less and better, and took up yoga and walking. I've managed to whittle off 52 pounds so far! Now that it's warmer I'm going out for walks more. I always take my camera with me on my walks because I'm lucky enough to be able to stroll through Pennsylvania Game Lands, which are some of the most beautiful woodlands I have ever seen.
I will confess to having amazing fictional conversations while I walk. Generally, it's just my dog Maisy and me, so talking to myself in two different voices doesn't get me weird looks aside from the squirrels but who cares what they think? During a walk last week, I happened to glance to the left and saw something lying behind the lone house at located at the end of the road that weaves and climbs through the state woods. As soon as I saw this item lying tucked among some skinny saplings, a light bulb went off.  I yanked out my camera and took a snapshot, which I now have in my file for my next Lake Erie shifter book.
Hubby happened to go through the pictures on the camera a few days later and came upon this picture:


"Is there a reason you took a picture of this?"
"Yep," I replied smugly. "That's going to be a pivotal plot point in one of my shifter books."
"Oh-kay," he murmured while staring at the picture. "Exactly how is this child's ball going to be used in a gay romance about a skunk shifter?"
"Oh, I'm not sure yet.  I'm thinking it's going to be the inspiration for something wonderfully magical that Templeton finds on the grounds of Lupei Manor that will propel him into an adventure of some sort!"
He gave me and the picture an odd look then went off to do afternoon chores.  I thought to ask him what was wrong with that, but then I realized this might be one of those author mind things. *wink*

Tuesday Tales - Pill

Hello! It`s time for Tuesday Tales.


 I'm still chugging away on an LGBTQ hockey romance titled Snap Shot. This story contains crude language (they are hockey players after all) and gay sexual situations. If that offends now would be the time to move onto another Tuesday Tales offering.  Our word prompt for the week is "Pill". These excerpts have not been professionally edited so be kind about any flubs you may find. 
Don`t forget to visit the other talented Tuesday Tales authors. Thanks for stopping by!




            Ignoring the powder room fluff all around me I flipped up the lid and aimed carefully. Lila greatly disliked "man messes" as she called them. I rolled my neck then growled low in my chest when my sight touched on the bloody urine in the spotless white bowl.
            "I will find you Danielson and I will kill you," I snarled in a passable Liam Neeson imitation before flushing.  What kind of dick does that kind of shit in a preseason game? A shower followed and while it helped with the pain, it didn't take it away. Which flung us right back to "This Sucks Land" and the hours on the road followed by morning skate or was it a scrimmage? Maybe special teams drills?  Fuck if I could recall. I found then tossed back a couple more aspirin, wrinkling my nose when the pills began to melt on my tongue.
            When I was back in Lila's bedroom, I found my clothes neatly folded on top of her dresser. She enjoyed picking out my attire. After wrapping the colors of Clan McGarrity around my waist and pulling a black t-shirt over my head, I grabbed my duffel from the floor and made my way to the kitchen. Halfway there a smile tugged at my lips. She had put the country classics station on. My man Mel Tillis was singing "Good Woman Blues" which was one of my favorites. Lila, food, and Mel Tillis. That might make waking up at five bearable. 
            Lila was at the stove when I walked in. "Hey baby, what you got cooking?"
            She snapped out of the trance she must have been in and quickly began futzing around with a pot on the stove. "Silly me, standing here lollygagging when my man is awake and hungry," she giggled a bit too quickly. I walked up behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist. My nose burrowed into her hair.  She waved a hand in the air to shoo me away but that was a no go.
            "Everything okay, baby?" She nodded. I looked around her to see an empty pot on the stove.
            "You must think me the biggest fool in Scranton," she thickly replied. I ran my hands over her belly. "Standing here stirring an empty pot when you have to leave so soon. I'm a real distracted ninny." Lila may be many things but a ninny was not one of them. "You and your loving kept me up too late. My brain is all sorts of scattered."
            "Baby, you're never scattered. What's wrong? I wish you would tell me."
            Her back stiffened and she gently placed the spoon to the counter. When she turned in my arms to look at me, I saw fear in her eyes and that ramped up my concern tenfold.

Copyright 2016 ©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
See you next week!

Silent Sunday

*Mossy Rock in PA State Forest*

Shutdown Pair Sneak Peek!

My next LGBTQ hockey romance, Shutdown Pair, will release on May 6th. To get everyone in the mood for Heath and Wyatt's novella, let's have a blog exclusive excerpt and teaser! 







*~*
EXCERPT:


I needed to work on ways to build a lasting impression.

Sitting in a sports bar, still reeking of onions, while cheering on our pro hockey team is great. It’s super fun. Good-times buddy moments, male bonding and yadda yadda. It doesn’t help whittle away at a huge brick wall that stands between you and the object of your obsession. I mean devotion. And there were no ifs, ands or buts, Wyatt was rapidly becoming an obsession. When a man lies awake at night to watch another man sleep, that’s insane crazy. It’s wrong. It’s “teenage girl being scoped out by ancient yet eternally young and overly combed glittery vampire while she snoozes” sick. I’d done it two nights in a row. I was worse than an emo bloodsucker. For fuck’s sake, I embarrassed myself.

Yet I just kept watching him sleep while lurid, sexual fantasies spun madly inside my head. Around and around they went, dirty images in the washing machine of my mind. The only problem was that despite all the agitation, my thoughts were never clean. They were just as filthy as they were when the cycle started—sometimes even dirtier. I wondered if the Maytag repairman could fix that?

A roar went up from the crowd. We were playing Boston away. One of our wingers had taken a swing at the Boston captain. I raised my beer to our determined yet tiny player.

“Bless you, my son,” I murmured into my mug as the Boston captain pounced on our man.

Everyone inside the Pickled Puss was on his or her feet. Wyatt was seated beside me—the table we were at was packed with Fishers. We gathered there whenever we could during the week to watch hockey, drink beer and try to keep team spirit from flagging. When you only see each other on Saturdays, it’s tough to keep the right mentality. Wyatt was quietly eating salted cashews. He had nursed that one beer for over two hours. I was on my third. Fourth. Fifth, maybe? Hmm. Hard to recall. The man never truly relaxed. Not even at home. The only time he wasn’t guarded was when he slept. Then his features fell to reveal something that Donatello could easily have sculpted. And there I went again, getting weird.

“You want a fresh one?” I shouted to be heard. Wyatt shook his head and pushed to his feet.

“I’m going to go piss,” Wyatt yelled, then disappeared into the incensed crowd.

The five other guys at our table sat down. I reached for a pretzel. Don reached for the pitcher in the middle of the sticky table. I nodded when he held the pitcher over my mug.

“Got to give the man points for sheer courage,” Don said. I looked at the nearest wall-mounted set. Yep. Our man had gotten pounded but he did manage to bloody the nose of the Boston captain. Not a small feat. I raised my mug in respect. “I’d walk away from that dude. Where’d he go?” Don asked, waving his mug at Wyatt’s empty chair.

“Had to take a leak.” I grabbed a handful of nuts and dumped them into my mouth.

“What do you think about him?” Don asked, leaning his thick forearms on the table.

I chewed as I thought. It wouldn’t do to let something stupid slip out. Like that I thought I wanted to trade places with the sleeping bag that covered him nightly.

“I went through his wallet.”

Oh wow, that was so much better a thing to admit. I should have just confessed I wanted to try shaving my armpits to see if the smell after a hockey game would lessen. Really. That’s the only reason I think about it. It has nothing to do with admiring how women, and gay men who manscape, look. Nope. Not one thing. The team looked at me as if I’d just admitted I’d been the one to cancel Friends.


*~*







BLURB:
Slinging burgers in Minnesota in the dead of winter isn’t exactly the Hemingway lifestyle aspiring writer Heath has dreamed of. About the only thing the quick-witted wordsmith has going for him is his pick-up hockey league games every Saturday. Now it looks like even that’s gone south, along with the team’s AWOL goalie.That is until mysterious Wyatt Dickenson skates into town and announces that he can tend net. Heath isn’t the type to turn down such a generous offer from a Greek god with impressive equipment and all the right moves.Heath offers to share his rented room with the enigmatic drifter, and soon begins to suspect that Wyatt is harboring a secret. Can Heath get Wyatt to open up about his dark past? Is there a dark past? Or is Heath’s writer’s mind just spinning sexy, shadowy scenarios about the mystery man who has him so infatuated?
You can preorder your copy at the following retailers:

Amazon

B&N

All Romance

iTunes

Kobo