V.L. Locey's Blog, page 46

Throwback Thursday Tune

Here's a classic windy song that always takes me back to my teen years. Who else loved Kansas?

Full Strength Cover Reveal!

I have to confess that as much as I am looking forward to this book coming out, I'm also dreading it. Saying goodbye to Victor and Dan is going to be really tough. I have fallen head over heels with these two men, the Cayuga Cougars, and the people who share Victor and Dan's world.

When I wrote the first book of this trilogy I never expected it to be such a success. Two Man Advantage has the most reviews/rankings of any of my books at Goodreads. That still amazes and humbles me.

I knew when I wrote Vic for the first time he was not your ordinary romance novel hero. I also knew that readers would either love him or hate him. And my gosh how the haters do hate him! I am so proud of him for pulling such strong emotions from people. I hope the final book in the Point Shot trilogy moves readers as deeply as the previous two have.

Now let's take a peek at the cover, blurb and an excerpt!




Buy Links:

Amazon

All Romance eBooks

iTunes

Goodreads Link: Full Strength

Blurb:


What a difference a year makes. Twelve months ago, Victor Kalinski was one of the best and most controversial ice hockey players in the pros. This year he’s playing in the minors, has a paternity case pending, and has just been vindictively outed to the world by one of his own teammates.
But he seems to find life in the tiny town of Cayuga to his liking. A large part of that is Dan Arou, the Cougars’ alternate captain and the man who now holds Victor’s heart. Surely venomous, viper-tongued Victor hasn’t been mellowed by love!
Well, perhaps a little. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t intend to get swee
An adult gay romance from Ellora’s Cave

Excerpt: R-rated


“Is there something about pregnant bladders?” I asked as Dan and I meandered through the convenience store while Heather used the bathroom.“You’re asking me?” He picked up a package of nacho cheese flavored chips and tossed them into the basket riding in the crook of his arm. “Want some blue cheese corn chips?”“Sure.” I followed the Munchkin with the killer ass. “So what the hell would have made her cry like that? I mean, is Manfred Mann that fucking sob-worthy?”Dan shrugged a meaty shoulder. “I’d never even heard of Manfred Mann before this car trip. Think we should try to find something nutritious?” His lapis eyes, those eyes that fill my dreams, scanned the inside of the gas station-stroke-convenience store. “You’ll be lucky to find doughnuts that haven’t been here since Nixon was in office,” I said as I lifted a box of uncooked macaroni and peered into the small cellophane window. “So is that normal? Crying over a fucking Manfred Mann song?""I think so,” he replied, then threw a box of powdered doughnuts into his basket. I yanked open a cooler on my right and extracted three bottles of milk, two chocolate and one white for Miss Weepy Britches in the powder room. “I’ve seen some shows about how women’s hormones are all over the place when they’re pregnant.” “Hmm.” I glanced up when the bells over the door jingled. Heather bounced in looking cheerleader pretty. “You okay with all this?” Dan looked up from the rows of snack cakes to me, then to Heather chatting up the kid behind the counter. She was all white-toothed smiles and flowing golden hair. I’d bet that teenager staring at her like a besotted beaver had a boner so big it was probably tapping the alarm button under the countertop. “With her, you mean?” Dan whispered. I nodded. He nudged me back a few steps, so Heather couldn’t hear us. “She’s okay,” Dan said glancing over his shoulder to make sure she wasn’t coming toward us then looking back at me. New whiskers covered his cheeks and neck. I had an urge to slam him against the wall and grind my face against his body, starting at his neck then making my way downward until his balls were pink and tender from the abrasion of my whiskers against them. “Stop thinking about sexing me up.” A sly smile tugged at my lips. Fuck, but he knew me well.


~~*~~
There will also be an excerpt tour from 3/23-3/30 hosted by Pride Promotions. I'll pass along the tour stops as soon as I have them so you can follow the tour and read all the exclusive excerpts! 





            

Tuesday Tales - Mirror

Hello! It`s time for Tuesday Tales.



Today we have the next issue in my historical M/M romance, Dear Jon, which is set in 1945. Every issue of this serial will be under 1500 words so they're quick reads.  Our word prompt today is 'Mirror'. This story contains mature language and gay sexual situations. If that offends now would be the time to move onto another Tuesday Tales offering. 
Don`t forget to visit the other talented Tuesday Tales authors. Thanks for stopping by!


            Charlotte had brought my oils up from Greenwich a few at a time. I had sold several to tourists, and had three new ones with a decided rural feel hanging in my lover`s shop. She had also sublet my studio for me.  Life was good. Ross and I had finally found some peace. We spent nights fishing or playing baseball with Andy then we would retire inside and listen to the radio until Andy drifted off. Ross and I would then slip off to make love after the boy fell asleep. I never once felt like the pulse of the city was missing. I simply could not imagine anywhere else I would rather be that angry librarian aside.            It was on a sweltering Friday evening that three of us men - Ross, me, and Andrew - were splashing in the creek that runs behind my place. George and Gracie stretched out their necks at us from time to time, but those two goofy birds in their down vests were too hot to honk. We were in shorts. I was seated on a large rock while Ross waded about in the swimming hole with his arms under Andrew`s pale belly. The lad was kicking to beat the band. His swimming lessons were going rather well. A car horn pulled my attention from Andy and Ross. I stood on the flat grey rock to see who was coming. Charlotte was sashaying across my yard, chunky heels to match her pink and black polka-dot dress. Even her hat had a polka-dotted band.            "Well, well, look at all the wet, gleaming muscles!" the redhead announced when she arrived at the creek bank. A dragonfly zoomed past my face.             "Aunt Charlotte! I got muscles too!" Andy yelled then flexed. Charlotte fanned her face with her gloved hand.             "Why you`re another Johnny Weissmuller," she remarked, to which the boy did his best Tarzan call. The geese took exception to the lad being louder than they were. They flapped off to lounge in the shade on the other side of the creek.             "I thought you weren`t coming up this weekend," Ross said then scooped Andy up for a ride out of the water. I followed behind in case the wild one toppled off Ross`s wide shoulders.             "Yes, well, the man I had planned to go to Martha`s Vineyard with went with his wife instead," Charlotte said with a scowl. The wind tugged some red strands out from under her hat. "So, I decided to come spend the weekend with more faithful boys. Come give Aunty Charlotte a smooch."            As soon as Andy`s bare feet hit the ground, he was kissing Charlotte dutifully on both cheeks.             "He smells like frog spit," the ginger said as she straightened with some assistance from me. She patted my wet arm then squeezed my bicep. "As do you. Tell me, Ross, do you smell of tepid creek water as well?"                       Ross lifted his armpit then sniffed loudly. "Yes, Ma`am, I do."            "Well to heck with all of you stinky men! I`m heading back into town for some food. What shall I bring us? No! Do not think to offer to pay Ross Coleman. I am celebrating getting rid of a philanderer."            Five minutes later Charlotte was speeding off to fetch us a rare take-out dinner. Cash wasn`t quite as tight now as it had been, but Andy and I were still living frugally.             "Uncle Ross?" the boy pulled on Ross` hand. We both glanced down at the sodden young man. Water trickled from his sandy blonde bangs down his nose. "What is a philanderer?"            "Don`t look at me, Uncle Ross," I chuckled then headed into the bungalow to gather some dry clothes for the three of us. He was on his own for that one.             "Well, Andy, a philanderer is someone who collects dinosaur bones." Ross`s answer drifted in the open windows. I snorted at the clever reply. That lover of mine was one quick thinker.            "Then I want to be a philanderer when I grow up!"                 Ross laughed long and hard. There was no suppressing my laughter either. God, did we both love that child. Our lives could not be much better. We were no sooner dried off and dressed when we heard a car rolling into the drive. Andrew went barreling out the front door as he always did when Charlotte was expected.             "That boy is infatuated with his aunt," Ross said as he pulled a sleeveless t-shirt over his dark, damp head.            "She`s a real doll," I said with a wink before grabbing a kiss. Out we went, to help Charlotte carry in her bounty. We both stopped cold. Andrew was still on the porch, the bare toes of his left foot fiddling with his old ball and glove lying beside his toy box.             A tall man slowly opened the door of a rather rough Chevrolet coupe. He was tall, fair-haired, and lean. So lean that he looked like he was just this side of starvation. His once handsome face held the dark hollows of someone who had recently come back from emaciation. He was in uniform, although it hung off his once strong shoulders. I tipped my head as he limped across the yard. His chin held my attention, as did the bold stroke of his eyebrows. I reached out to find Ross`s hand. The name over his heart read Corporal David Brooks. My throat grew tight. My grip on Ross increased.             "Evening," he croaked as he removed his hat," I - I`m sorry I came unannounced but, well, you have no phone. I just had to come as soon as I was discharged. I never got her correspondence, not until I was released from the P.O.W. camp. I was too sick to come then, after the war. They gave me all her letters. I read them over and over in the hospital.  I never knew about him . . . My God, he's the mirror image of her . . ."            "No, he's the mirror image of you," I told Andrew`s father.
Copyright 2013 ©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!

Sunday Snippet

Howdy! 

Today I'm sharing a snippet from Finding the Edge, the first book in the Brighton Woods Blades M/M hockey romance series. Our leading men are a retired defenseman, Corbin Hancock, and a young forward, Dance Coldecott. 
For this week's snippet we get to meet Corbin Hancock, the older half of this romantic couple. This book is just flying along so it's going to be a bit jumpy at times and I apologize for any confusion that causes. Generally I write quickly, but this story is one of those that will not let me rest! And I am loving every minute of it.  In this snippet we get a good peek into Corbin's mindset, the people in his life, and how he's feeling about a certain young man named Dance.
This excerpt is hot off the presses and has not been professionally edited. I've done my best to make it as tidy as I could but there may be some misplaced commas or other mistakes. Please be kind about any flubs you may find. When you're done reading today's snippet, skate on over to Cathy Brockman, Misty Harvey and Ellie Mack's blog to see what they've been up to recently. 

~~*~~
           "No, Pauline, it is not okay. What you did is not acceptable in the least. Go change and cash in your tips."            "Fuck you too." The saucy blonde threw her hair over her shoulder then flung the change in her apron on the bar. The coffee drinkers gave her a wary eyeball as I exchanged coins and ones for a twenty. Pauline then pulled her boyfriend out the door.             "Jesus H. Christmas tree balls," Lem said after the irate woman had left. "I don't think I have ever been witness to a woman dousing Becky-Sue from the Recorder of Wills office with a scotch and water before."            "At least Becky-Sue had the good graces not to get all het up with Corbin," Muzzy pointed out as my mother walked behind the bar topping off coffee mugs.             "I'm sure him offering to pay to dry clean her suit put her to ease. I warned you about hiring that Pauline Prattle. She and her family been nothing but trouble since that youngest boy of theirs clumb up that pine tree and fell out on his head. What was his name, Gloria?" Cole asked and poured a dollop of half-and-half into his coffee.             "Bertie," Mom replied without a moment's hesitation. "He married the Wilkes gal from over in Potter County. Her family ran that Black Angus farm for years until Pepper Wilkes got his arm caught in the hay tedder. I think the Carson's bought it after Pepper give up farming."            "I remember Pepper. He liked to sip on whiskey then ride his old Massey Ferguson through the fields without a stitch on," Angus said making the others snicker into their cups.            "As fascinating as all that information about Pepper Wilkes is, the fact is that we, once again, do not have anyone to wait tables at night," I told the giggly group at the bar. Mom frowned at my temper. My mother was the town marriage and child historian. If you wanted to know who wed whom, how many kids they had, and whom those kids married, just ring up Gloria Hancock.             "No need to get snippy," Mom chided as she squeezed around me. "I'll come in tonight."            "Mom," I called after her as she sailed into the kitchen. When she didn't stop I turned to the wall and introduced my head to it.             "You keep that up and you'll bruise your brain again," Lem pointed out while I bounced my brow off the paneling. "Last time that happened your ma said you didn't recall how to piss standing up for near onto a week."            Dear God, please find a way to make my mother stop passing along personal information to the patrons.             I straightened and stopped abusing the wall with my head. "It was only for a couple days. The problem is that my mother will be hustling burgers all night again. She's retired now. She's supposed to be relaxing at home knitting me those awesome slippers."            "They are some damn fine slippers," Angus said and the six of them all bobbed their ball caps in agreement.             "Guys, you're missing the point." They fell into a conversation about how incredible Gloria's crocheted slippers were when worn inside hunting boots. I gave up and decided to wash some glasses now that lunch was over. What a fucking day this had been and it was only one in the afternoon. First, my ex-wife calls to bitch about our daughter and her lack of respect for her stepfather. As if I give two twinkling fucks about Bill the insurance salesman and his issues with my little angel. I hoped Lisa was giving it to the uptight cretin Dee had married with both barrels as only a ten year old girl can. Then my new server douses a worker from the courthouse. All because Betty-Lou asked Pauline's moronic boyfriend what time it was since her watch had stopped. I had to imagine the day couldn't get much worse.             The front door opened, throwing a square of brilliant late August sun across my face. As I squinted into the blinding beam, I heard his voice.             "Oh for fucks sake," I moaned when Dance ran into my pub shouting at the top of his lungs. I lifted my gaze from the hot soapy water to see the twit rush unto my stage and wave a handful of papers over his head.             "I got a full roster, I got a full roster, I got a full roster," he chanted in that annoying singsong way eight years did when they were being asshats. The urge to chuck a mug at his stupid head was strong. I would have if not for the witnesses. And that fact that he looked damn cute shaking his firm ass as he crowed about his achievement. I'd never seen a kid who wore clothes with so much personality.




Don't forget to drop by Cathy, Misty and Ellie's blogs-
Cathy Brockman Romances
Author Misty Harvey
Ellie Mack's Blog

Throwback Thursday Tune

Keeping with our wind theme, this wonderful Disney song fits in perfectly. Enjoy Colors of the Wind from Pocahontas.

Tuesday Tales - Picture Prompt

Hello! It`s time for Tuesday Tales.


Today we have another snippet from Dear Jon. It`s our picture prompt and the excerpt must reflect the image and be under 300 words.  Don`t forget to visit the other talented Tuesday Tales authors. Thanks for stopping by!


            I`m sure you`re familiar with the song about summertime and how easy the living is. Sometimes songs just can`t do reality justice. For seven weeks, the lives of four men were about as easy as one could imagine. I would never be able to repay Charlotte for what she had done. In one glamorous swoop she had set both Ross and I free in a way that we ourselves could never have accomplished. She would breeze in on the weekends, to see Ross or so it was believed, thus clearing any question of his masculinity. What a man he must be to have stolen such a looker from a young hep cat like me! We picnicked, played in the nearby river, and flew kites.
            "I only want them to get along as brothers," Charlotte would declare during her visits to anyone who would listen. So, when people saw my car parked in a certain drive, they assumed we were striving to become friends to please Charlotte, for no one wished to see her upset. God, she was good. You cannot imagine how wondrous it was not to have to sneak anymore. Sure, we still had to be discreet. My car there overnight for days on end would raise eyebrows, but most folks now assumed we were buddies working to get along and please the woman we both loved.
            Social Services had dropped by three times in those seven weeks. With the help of Ross as well as Charlotte, my little bungalow was now painted inside and out. It also had new draperies to match a spiffy new pull-out sleeper for Andrew and I to slumber upon. My chances of legal custody were quite good I was informed.


Copyright 2013 ©by V.L. Locey
*~*~*
Click on the link below to return to the Tuesday Tales main blog for more great reads from the talented Tuesday Tales authors.
Tuesday Tales
See you next week!

Snippet Sunday

Howdy! 
My muse made up her mind. For the past week I've been working on the first book for an M/M hockey romance series, the Brighton Wood Blades! I'm so excited to be starting this series since I've been tossing the idea of it around for about two years now. I'm not yet sure if this will be submitted to a publisher of if I'll go the indie route yet. I'll be dipping my toes into the big scary lake of self-publishing again with a holiday M/M hockey novella in December. We'll see how that goes before I make a call on how to proceed with the Brighton Woods boys. 
Today I'm sharing a snippet from Finding the Edge, the first book in the Brighton Woods Blades series. Our leading men are a retired defenseman, Corbin Hancock, and a young forward, Dance Caldecott. 
For this week's snippet we get to enjoy a fun moment when Dance, the city boy, finds himself a wee bit lost in the mountainous rural area of Brighton Woods, Pennsylvania. 
This excerpt is hot off the presses and has not been professionally edited. I've done my best to make it as tidy as I could but there may be some misplaced commas or other mistakes. Please be kind about any flubs you may find. When you're done reading today's snippet, skate on over to Cathy Brockman, Misty Harvey and Ellie Mack's blog to see what they've been up to recently. 
~~*~~

           Being raised by my paternal grandfather and his sister had never been easy. They were so old and so set in their ways, and old-fashioned thinking, it was scary at times. When I had been young, it was just a matter of them not being able to keep up with a kid. As I got older, it became a matter of their world clashing violently with mine. Life sucked for Dance Coldecott, really it did. Did that sound whiny? Probably. I kicked the front tire just because I hated sounding whiny. There were probably thousands of people who would love to be in my boots.
            I mean, who wouldn't love to be a Caldecott? My grandfather, Durwin Edward Coldecott I, is the owner and CEO of the largest solar commercial and residential installer of solar heating systems on the east coast. Last year Caldecott Solar Energy's revenue had been forty-five million and change. We were sinfully, sickeningly rich.
            "I wish you were home, Dance. We miss you," Aunt Loolah was saying when I flopped back down into the front seat.
            "There's no coming home for me."
            "Maybe if you would just reconsid—"
            Dread crept over me. Jerking the iPhone out of the holder, I stared at the battery display in horror. I might have had a small panic attack, which included beating on the steering wheel with two fists while cussing out my grandfather, homophobia, and the world in general.
            "Oh fuck me royally." I slumped over the steering wheel in defeat. Bon Iver continued singing. I continued feeling sorry for myself. Then a noise broke through the music and old woe is me stuff. What it was I didn't know but I leaped out of the car, leaving Bon to do his thing, and stood beside my Kia. A strong wind blew down the dirt road, lifting the brick red scarf tied around my neck. A large farm machine rounded the corner. The wind shifted a bit. A terrible stink rolled under my nose.
            Jumping up and down like an idiot the farmer and his disgusting shit wagon stopped right beside my Kia. No kidding, I had to hold my scarf over my nose while I talked to the man.
            "Fancy yellow car," the farmer said as he eyeballed me as if I was a Yeti in skinny jeans who had flagged him down.
            "It's a Kia Exclaim," I yelled over the loud rumble of the tractor. "My phone died. Can you tell me how to get to Brighton Woods?"
            He studied me intently, nodded, readjusted his John Deere ball cap, and then pointed down the dirt road. The stench rolling out of the wagon he was pulling was seeping through my scarf. Gagging was not too far off.
            "Go down until you reach the old McArthur farm. Make a left onto the Keeley Road. Follow that to the next fork in the road. Go right, not left. If you go left you'll be in Little Fork Corners, then you'll have to double back 'cause the bridge is out over the Little Fork creek." I blinked at how thick his accent was. "After the right go about ten miles until the road switches from dirt to tar and chip, after that, you go another five miles until you hit blacktop. Keep on the blacktop 'till you reach the main road. Pull a left. Go through the hog back and you'll be in Brighton Woods. Got that?"
           "Can I borrow your cell phone just long enough to access a GPS?" I yelled through my scarf. The old man with the big nose sitting up on that torn seat laughed so hard he nearly fell off his tractor. 





Don't forget to drop by Cathy, Misty and Ellie's blogs-

Cathy Brockman Romances

Author Misty Harvey

Ellie Mack's Blog

Throwback Thursday Tune

Happy March! Since the winds are famous for roaring this month I thought we could do some windy songs for this months theme. This is one of the first ones that pops into my head when I think about wind, Windy, by the Association!

Twirly Girl Release Day!

I am so super excited! Today Twirly Girl, the second novel in my women's pro hockey series, the Venom, hits the ice! If you're a fan of hockey romances that deal with social issues, personal growth, team dynamics, and lots of lusty love then this is a book for you. Early reviews are coming in and readers are falling in love with Alicia, Dale and Wren! Here's an excerpt from a review from Julianne over at Goodreads--

"The characters are all so vibrant and real in their individual ways. Alicia, who is constantly struggling to be the best, to prove to her parents that she is a legitimate adult with her own life, meets a man who challenges her in ways that she never thought possible. You see that Dale starts to question exactly what he values but I love to see how Wren ALWAYS comes first in his life. And Wren ::sigh:: the name perfectly describes her personality and demeanor."

You can read more of Julianne's 5 star review by following the link below. Thanks to everyone who has supported me, hockey romance, and the Venom. I hope you enjoy Alicia and Dale's book. I look forward to hearing your thoughts.

Skate hard and love deeply

Vicki

Twirly Girl Goodreads Review






Buy Links

Amazon B & N
Smashwords



Blurb:Born into a prestigious and powerful political family, Venom captain Alicia Avery learned at a young age that appearances were everything. Alicia has now been molded into the perfect young woman; her only transgressions against the dictates of her parents to date are her dogged determination to play hockey and a rather radical new haircut. That was before Alicia met Dale Christie, a highly principled and deeply spiritual street performer who is raising his daughter, Wren Song, alone.
Now Alicia is finally opening her mind and heart to the knowledge that there is more to life than monetary success and ambitious goals. As her soul awakens, so does her desire for the man her parents - and society - would deem horrendously wrong for her. Can the Venom captain learn to walk a new path of serenity through life? Or will the pacifist and the hockey player be torn apart by a world that judges a person by the size of their bank account versus the largesse of their soul?

Tuesday Tales - Hip

Hello! It`s time for Tuesday Tales.


Today we the next issue in my historical M/M romance, Dear Jon, which is set in 1945. Every issue of this serial will be under 1500 words so they're quick reads.  Our word prompt today is 'Hip'. This story contains mature language and gay sexual situations. If that offends now would be the time to move onto another Tuesday Tales offering. 
Don`t forget to visit the other talented Tuesday Tales authors. Thanks for stopping by!



That evening was one of those nights that you never forget. Andrew and I had snuck over to see Ross after my day at work. What we found was Charlotte brazenly parked where I parked, as well as several other cars. I glanced down at my nephew. He shrugged a shoulder. Pulling off the road, I backed up to the last large pine lining the drive. Laughter greeted Andy and I as we walked past the partygoers jitney`s all lined up neat as pins.             The pond was filled with people I had never met. Ross was engaged in a rather lively conversation with Charlotte, who had changed into a swimsuit. Charlotte`s legs put Betty Grable`s to shame. The redhead waved her martini at me as she lounged on a chaise beside a record player that sat on the picnic table. Ross got to his feet, his cheeks turning pink when Charlotte patted his rump as he moved past.             “Looks like you two are getting along well,” I hissed like a doused cat. Andrew stood at my side, his fingers linked in mine. Ross began to speak but was overshadowed by the redhead in the bright blue swimsuit.             “Now, Jon darling, let`s not be priggish about things,” Charlotte called out from her chaise. “After all if you can dally behind my back, I can dally behind yours. Ross, would you fetch me another drink? This one seems to have evaporated in the heat.”            “Why don`t you come with me and tell me how your ex- lover likes her martini?”            I gaped at the man openly. Andrew shook free. I watched him run to Charlotte then stand beside her, staring at her like a love struck cottage cheese curd. We passed through hip folks milling around with cocktails. By the time Ross had steered me into the kitchen, I was stunned too stupid to talk.             “Before you start, this was her idea and I for one think it`s a fabulous one.”            “What idea?” I forced out, pulling my tie free then shoving it into my trouser pocket. Ross looked from the martini prep to me.             “Charlotte seems to think we can pass her off as my lover now, which will get the local squares off my back, while making you seem even more tragic thus giving you the excuse to never love again since you`ve lost her.”            “That sounds just like her,” I chuckled. Ross lowered the bottle of vermouth. Someone outside changed the record. Benny Goodman filled the airwaves.             “So you`re okay with this little farce until she leaves?” he asked, dropping three olives into Charlotte`s drink. I nodded with a smile.             “As long as you and she aren`t doing more than acting, hell yeah, I`m fine with it,” I told him, reaching over to pluck out an olive then eat it. He eyed me dryly, leaned in to steal a kiss, and then dug into the olive jar with his long, skilled fingers to find me another treat to eat.             “No one gets into my bed but you,” he assured me, placing the olive onto my tongue. “Now, let`s go celebrate.” And celebrate we did! By the time night fell, I was three sheets to the wind, and had lindy hopped until my hopper was exhausted. I had forgotten how great a dancer Charlotte was. That woman could cut the rug like nobody`s business! Ross declined to engage in the jitterbuggery that went on and on until we were all splayed in the grass, laughing and panting, our clothes wet with sweat and our hearts light as the glow bugs flittering past.             Sometime after three am Charlotte pronounced several of us too soused to drive. She lay down on the chaise, her long legs spread in a very unladylike manner, and then she dropped off instantly, snoring like a lumberjack. I scooped Andrew up off the picnic table where he had fallen asleep. Ross appeared at my side, took the sleeping boy, and then led us both inside. I went to his bedroom, bouncing off the walls then giggling behind my hand at my silliness. I felt the bed dipping when Ross slid into it, but my head was resistant to leaving the pillow.            “Love you, Boodles,” I grumbled then passed out. *~*~*
When dawn came, so did my nephew. Andrew arrived with a hearty shout followed by a knee in the middle of my back. I yelped. Ross came in then chided the boy for waking up the lush.             “What`s a lush?” I heard the lad ask. My gut began rolling. I did not recall being on a ship.             “That`s what you call a man who knows his limits but exceeds them,” Ross explained as they left the seafaring lush to his misery. It took me thirty minutes to be able to extricate myself from the bedding, piss, and find the kitchen. Charlotte was draped over the round kitchen table, her long legs at weird angles and her head resting on her breakfast plate. That the plate had eggs and bacon on it seemed of no concern to the drag queen.             “Shhh,” Andrew warned me as I tenderly sat down beside him, “Aunt Charlotte is so lushed she lost her hair.”            I glanced at the woman. Yep, her wig had left her skull, revealing the short, flat, dark hair beneath. My head was pounding. I felt slightly nauseous.             “When did . . . did she become ‘Aunt Charlotte’?” I asked then smiled up at my lover when he placed two aspirin in my trembling hand followed by a fresh cup of joe.            “Last night, right before that Jed fellow fell into the pond,” Ross said as he took his seat across from me.             “Please, stop talking or I`ll be . . . forced to vomit in my shoe again,” Charlotte croaked, never lifting her head from the table.             “Uncle Ross said that after breakfast we`re going searching for Aunt Charlotte`s hair! Whoever finds it gets to wear it all the way back to the house!” Andrew bubbled. I nodded, winced, sighed, and sipped at a cup of coffee.             “I don`t recall much after talking about a wedding ceremony,” I told the guys.             “Did someone catch . . . the. . .  the bouquet?” Charlotte asked. Ross informed her that yes, the goldenrod bouquet had been caught, by the daughter of the mayor of Hannity Hills, who in turn spun around and kissed the Negro man she had brought to the impromptu party.             “Bless her heart,” Charlotte groaned then slithered from the chair to the floor, where she resumed snoring.             “Who was it that tied the knot?” I inquired, my eyes drifting shut as hot coffee trickled down my throat.            “You and Uncle Ross,” Andy informed me between bites of egg. Once the sip of coffee had been pounded out of my lung, Ross bent down, kissed my cheek, called me sugar-cakes then winked at Andrew, who howled at our antics. If only he knew that this was how I dreamed my life could be.             Well, minus the drunken drag queen sleeping on my foot.

Copyright 2013 ©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!