V.L. Locey's Blog, page 48

February 11, 2016

Throwback Thursday Tunes




My love of metal is showing this week! We have one of my favorites, Ozzy Osbourne, joined by the amazing Lita Ford! Oz is the letter O in our monthly spelling of the word love. So sit back and enjoy one of Ozzy's most popular ballads. Rock on!!

 •  0 comments  •  flag
Share on Twitter
Published on February 11, 2016 01:00

February 8, 2016

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!



            His mouth roamed over my abdomen, nipping in a most placating manner. I was not going to be seduced out of my pique that easily. My fingers lingered in his hair as he tasted my skin. The bed groaned slightly when his weight shifted. I hoped Andy stayed asleep for just a little while longer.
            “You`re in a tiff yet, I take it?” Ross murmured, his voice vibrating through my belly. My silence spoke volumes. The man exhaled as if he bore the weight of the Pharaoh after Moses began bringing about plagues and other assorted bad things. Even a quick lap of my navel didn`t break the ice. Ross sat up. I lay on his bed, the birds singing merrily just outside his window, and looked up at him. My fingers itched to rake through the hair on his chest. “Jon, I hate to say this, but you`re behaving like a child.”
            My eyes narrowed. I threw myself from the bed. Ross flopped to his back. Padding around the small but neat room, my eyes kept flickering back to him stretched out over his mattress with just his denim work pants on. His arousal was evident, as was mine, but I had a nit to pick and pick it I would.
            “I`m really mad at you about this whole librarian dating scheme,” I said. The man folded his thick arms over his chest. One dark eyebrow went up.
            “I would have never guessed.”
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!

 •  0 comments  •  flag
Share on Twitter
Published on February 08, 2016 19:00

February 7, 2016

Author/Book Spotlight - Jeri Williams' Hurt Me

In the highly anticipated continuation of Harley and Deklan's story comes an equally gripping novel.


HMFBCover.v1

Blurb:
What happens when you wake up from the nightmare that you’ve been living? Do you start living a happy normal life, one that you’ve always dreamed of, or do you start a new nightmare? Harley did it. She survived, thanks to Deklan, but now...she is left with hard truths and different emotions; what she thought was the end, was only the beginning. Harley has to navigate through these changes while deciding on who she is and where she fits in Deklan’s life because she is coming to learn that when someone saves you, even from yourself, you hero worship them. You hero worship them so much they become your everything. Their wants turn into your needs, their needs into your obsessions, their obsessions into your life. Finally you come to a point where this worshiping, this obsession, will either heal you or hurt you. Will Harley be healed from her past or hurt by it?

  HurtMe.Ebook.Amazon
Excerpt: My thoughts are so mixed up it’s causing my head to swim. Thoughts. Thoughts. Thoughts help people process things, they form into actions, ideas or opinions and are supposed to be helpful. My thoughts are helpful in letting me know my thighs are ugly, my hair is too limp and dull, my eyes too far apart, my nails are chipped and broken, my skin rough and my body is disgusting. My thoughts, these thoughts are always with me like a scratched CD, repeating the same thing over and over. They solidify my reasons for feeling the way I do, which I can't put into words, so I say nothing, I do nothing, I feel nothing. The only time I feel is when Deklan is moving deep inside of me, whispering things in my ear, holding me close smothering out all the bad thoughts in my head. Only then do I feel. I feel what I do to him, his body shaking as he brings both of us to our breaking point. I feel his grip on me tighten, like he will never let me go, his heart pounding as he's about to explode inside me, I feel everything in that moment; hope, pain, love, sorrow, grief, anger, happiness, I feel all of it with him. I feel him. I read somewhere that people need people. Weather is was implying that they need contact, affection, companionship or just interaction that statement could not hold more true to me than now. I need Deklan, need him like the air I breathe, like the water I drink or the food I pretend to eat. I need him. I know he needs me too, maybe not as much but he does. And it's scary because, one day he won't need me and I'll have to let him go, still needing him. And that will break me for good. Buy Links:Hurt Me:AmazonBreathe Me now $.99 and free on Amazon KU!:

BMebookAmazonAmazonAbout the Author:me
Jeri Williams lives a super fabulous lifestyle (by fabulous, she mean’s kinda lame) in the hot Florida sun and loves reading of any kind (except instruction manuals and cereal boxes). She has always written stories and made her family listen to them since she was young, although this is her first book she has ever published. She is a mom of an up-and-coming Jerry Seinfeld (in girl form) and also enjoys being right and knowing everything, although she is hardly ever right and really doesn't know anything and is obsessed with inventing miniature zoo animals you can carry around in your pocket
(although not really). Jeri Williams.v2
 •  0 comments  •  flag
Share on Twitter
Published on February 07, 2016 21:00

February 6, 2016

Snippet Sunday






Hello and welcome to Snippet Sunday! 

 Today I've got more from the fourth Venom novel, Angle Play.  In this book we get to know the Venom goaltender, Stephanie Huschuk, better. While Stephanie struggles to carry the burden of being the starting goalie, her attraction to Greg Blue Blanket, her goalie coach's divorced twin brother, is only adding to the weight the young woman carries.  

In this week's snippet Stephanie is about to have her first taste of the public relations whirlwind that is Viviana Land. I just love being able to have my Wildcat characters dropping into the Venom books! I hope you do as well. 

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 and Ellie Mack's blog to see what they've been up to recently. 

**~**
       To that end, here I was on Saturday morning, trying to find a greater purpose and stop striving for my own fame.  Having twenty-some special needs kids surrounding me, vying for attention and help sure did keep my mind from the competition between Judith and me. I found Veikko at the other end of the ice. He saluted me with a two-finger tap to his brow and I did the same back.
     "There she is! Stephanie!"     I glanced up from tying a young boys skate to see Viviana Land, Alain Lessard, that Bruno guy who was always tight to Lessard's side, and a tall black man in a bright yellow beret heading my way. I patted the boy's head after getting his laces situated then I rose to greet the group. It felt like veryone in the rink was looking at me. I wished I could melt into the ice.      "Hey Ms. Land," I replied sheepishly then skated over to the Wildcat bench.      "You look perfect." Viviana pecked Alain on his scruffy cheek. The Wildcat star gave me a lopsided smile then joined the kids on the ice. "Wish we could do something with that hair. It's not really what a poor coal miner would wear. What do you think, Oscar?"     "I think she is just precious," Oscar the beret man said. Was that a half-moon beauty mark by his left eye? "And what an upbeat hairdo! It's what all the young ones are wearing, Viviana, which is probably why you're not familiar."     My eyes flared at the dig.      "It's too early for sassy gay banter," Ms. Land replied as she zipped up her thick plum coat. "Bruno, would you be a love and go find us something hot to drink?"     I thought to point out that there was hot chocolate right inside the Zamboni door, provided and served by some of the Wildcat and Venom spouses with proceeds going right back to the Special Skates program, but Bruno made me too leery to speak. The man looked like he'd sooner chew off my head than talk. He turned away from the free cocoa. That seemed odd to me. Probably he just wanted to be spiteful and spend his money in a machine. He seemed the type.      The massive man went off silently. I jumped when someone tapped my shoulder.      "You scared the living daylights out of me," I panted after I spun around to find Oscar smiling down at me.      "I'm sorry, dumpling," he said then took my hand and led me off the ice. "Let's have a seat here on the bench."      "Try to look less hip and more introspective. Oscar, can we do something with her hair? It's just not working for the poor Pittsburgh girl."     "Karrie suggested it," I said as Oscar began fiddling with my hair.      "That figures," Viviana commented then sat down beside me. "So, I've been working on a few Tweets and Facebook posts. You do go on social media?"     "Not really." I winced when Oscar gathered up the mop on top of my head and pulled it into a small ponytail. "I thought we were supposed to stay away from social media."     "Oh no, no, that looks like she's some sort of cartoon samurai or something," Ms. Land told the photographer. Oscar rolled his blue eyes dramatically and let go of my hair. I had to work hard to cover my laugh. "Just tuck it behind her ear. As for social media, we in PR have never said to stay away from it. Social media is like the press. You have to know how to use them. Oh thank you, Bruno." She reached up to take the Styrofoam cup from the grumpy ex-defenseman. "Now, take Alain for instance. He abhors the press and never visits social media sites. While we all know he's one of the best players in the league he's hurting his marketability by being so reclusive. Veikko, on the other hand, works the press and social media to his advantage, which is why he has so many endorsements and a cameo in a movie coming up."     "Oh okay."      Oscar gathered up my hands and folded them on my lap. Bruno shoved a Styrofoam cup of hot chocolate at Oscar who shook his baldhead.      "Unless that's sugar free I'm not allowed. I do not want to gain any weight. I have a wedding tuxedo to fit into," Oscar told Bruno. The "Bruiser" held the cup out to me. I reached for it then remembered that I was already in a pose. My hands went back to my lap.      "Let me hold it," Viviana said then removed the cup from Bruno. "You did well on the choice of clothing. It's very subdued and meek. We do not want any of the Venom to be seen as looking too wild or tacky."     "Shouldn't how we play hockey be the most important thing?" I asked before Oscar tipped my head upward slightly. "I mean, is what we wear really all that important?"     "In an ideal world, no, our clothing should not have any impact at all but we don't live in an ideal world. We live in a world where a woman is damned is she does and if she doesn't," Viviana flatly explained. Bruno had the good grace to stare at the ice during Ms. Land's little speech. I wondered if the man ever smiled. Oscar held up some sort of light sensor contraption. "I personally don't care if you wear a sack around town or sleep with a squid although I will say that the man you're dating is a much better choice than a squid. He's such a handsome, well-established older man."     I opened my mouth to reply but a flash going off stunned me into silence. 




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




Cathy Brockman Romances




Ellie Mack's Blog
 •  0 comments  •  flag
Share on Twitter
Published on February 06, 2016 21:00

February 4, 2016

Throwback Thursday Tunes



It's the month of love! Join me as we enjoy love songs from artists who are not only singing about love, the first letter of their first or last name will spell out the word LOVE. I am just too clever! *snort* Not really.

Enjoy a snappy ditty by Mr. Lenny Kravitz, our L letter for the month, who just happens to be singing about Love, Love, Love.


 •  0 comments  •  flag
Share on Twitter
Published on February 04, 2016 01:00

February 1, 2016

Tuesday Tales - Stolen



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 'Stolen'. 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!



            The shit didn`t hit the fan until after my date for Saturday night left. Boy, I tell you, it took every fucking ounce of self-control I possessed not to deck Ross Coleman. The only thing that kept me from clocking the man was Andy sitting on the floor playing and the fact that I was nutso about him.             “What the hell is the matter with you?” I snapped, pulling on Ross until we were once more ensconced in the back room with the door cracked.             “I`m just trying to make you appear a little less questionable,” he assured me, picking up a small block of wood. I wanted to slap the chunk of pine out of his hand. He flipped open his penknife, leaned against his old beaten-up desk, and started to whittle.             Talk about not knowing if I should shit or wind my watch. How the hell could he be so blithe about all this?            “You do realize that you set me up with a woman?” I asked, my brown loafer tapping the hardwood floor steadily. Ross nodded and whittled. Tiny slivers of white pine drifted downward with each pass of his knife over wood. I glared openly. “Have you forgotten I don`t like dating women? That`s why I`ve been sneaking into your bed as often as possible?”             He looked up from his whittling when I poked his wide chest soundly.             “I did notice you in my bed, yes,” he replied so calmly my noggin nearly blew off. One corner of his mouth ticked upward. “Jon, it`s only to keep up appearances. If the good folk of Hannity Hills see you escorting Miss Jenkins to social events, the scrutiny will lessen.”            “And this is spoken from your vast knowledge about tricking the good folks?” The playfulness left his smoky eyes.             “Let`s just say I`ve learned from my mistakes.” He turned to place his whittled wood block on top of his desk, and then came back to face me. “We don`t want them whispering about you like they do me. Jon, it`s only a date perhaps once a week at the most. You`ll enjoy yourself. Abigail is a lovely young woman who is incredibly well-read and--”            “Of course she`s well-read.  She`s a librarian!” I sniffed before stalking out to gather up my nephew. I heard Ross chuckling as he ambled out into the display area. Andrew clung to me like a monkey with his arms around neck and legs around waist. “Say goodbye to Mr. Coleman, Andrew.”            “Goodbye!” Andy yelled beside my ear.             “Happy trails!” Ross replied, his voice trembling with laughter. He was enjoying my temper far too much. Out I sailed with my chin aloft just like Scarlett O`Hara leaving a tittering Rhett Butler in her wake. “Damned man!”            “Damned man,” Andy mimicked. This child would have a vocabulary to shame a dockworker soon. ***
            I know how wrong it is to be thinking ‘Dear God, get this date over with!’ before it even starts properly. I had never dreaded seeing a person more, and that was in no way due to Miss Jenkins. She was a lovely young woman, filled with that youthful blush that young women have. The sticking point here was the fact that she was a young woman and not an older man who was too clever by half.            Yes, it was a clever way to lessen the curiosity about me. And yes, this coupled with the job I would start Monday at the tax collectors office would certainly get me in good stead with the child welfare people. But every time I smiled at Abigail, or nodded at someone as they danced past, I felt my tie getting that much tighter. Come midnight I would be garroted and blue around the lips. Most of my breath had been stolen already.            “You seem quite preoccupied, Mr. Porter,” Abigail said as we waltzed smoothly in a circle amid several other young couples. I flushed in embarrassment instantly.            “I`m so sorry, Miss Jenkins,” I effused, “I suppose it`s just that I`m all beside myself with the new job, and having to care for my nephew, and now being able to dance with the prettiest girl in Hannity Hills.”            Her smooth cheeks grew pink. The compliment was no lie. She was the most attractive woman here. Smart and refined with an easy humor, blue eyes, dark brown hair in a neat bob, and a well-turned ankle. The librarian in my arms was a real dreamboat. I just happened to be sailing in a different ocean.             “The other ladies at the library agree that you stepping in to raise Andrew was a wonderfully gallant thing to do,” she told me. I dipped my head in thanks. “You keep this up, and you`ll be up to your elbows in young ladies trying to drag you down the aisle.”            I stepped on her open-toed shoes. Once more, I apologized. By the time we were pulling into the driveway of Miss Jenkins' small but tasteful home, I could barely suck in a breath.             “It`s turned off warm,” I said, pushing my hat back from my brow. “Mind if I loosen my tie?”            “Let me,” she said, sliding over the seat. Next thing I knew the back of her fingers were brushing my throat as she undid the crisp Windsor knot. She smelled lovely, like flowers in a window box in spring. My fingers tightened on the steering wheel. When the knot was loose, her eyes met mine. The invitation was in her gaze. If I didn`t make a move she`d question my lack of interest. Have I ever mentioned how much I hate having to lie about who and what I am? As my lips pressed against Miss Jenkins` I realized that conformity had me right by my cleanly shaved balls.
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!



 •  0 comments  •  flag
Share on Twitter
Published on February 01, 2016 20:00

January 31, 2016

Snippet Sunday






Hello and welcome back for another Snippet Sunday! 
Can you believe the first month of 2016 is almost over? I'm not sure where the times goes but it can slow down just a bit. Today I've got more from the fourth Venom novel, Angle Play.  In this book we get to know the Venom goaltender, Stephanie Huschuk, better. While Stephanie struggles to carry the burden of being the starting goalie, her attraction to Greg Blue Blanket, her goalie coach's divorced twin brother, is only adding to the weight the young woman carries. 

In this week's snippet Stephanie and Greg are touring the Society hill row home our handsome professor just bought. To say that Greg's twin sister Alice is not in favor of this May/December romance would be putting it mildly. But, the heart wants what the heart wants no matter the age gap or the disapproval of family or friends. This snippet has some spicy sexy type stuff. There. It's a warning for the delicate ones. Although if you're visiting my blog sexy stuff should be a given, right? 

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 and Ellie Mack's blog to see what they've been up to recently. 
*~*~*
      "Yeah, it does. I'm sorry to hear about your father."
     "Thank you," he said with a small incline of his head. "And I'm sorry to hear about your father. I didn't bring you here to make you feel small or insignificant Stephanie. I wanted to get your thoughts on the place because I was hoping that you'd like it and want to spend some time here."
     "I like it," I was quick to say as a blush rose into my cheeks. "It's so nice…and old."
     "Kind of like me, huh?"
     "Professor Blue Blanket, are you fishing for compliments?" I asked as a smile tweaked the corners of my mouth.
     "Maybe," the man admitted then gave me a wink. "Or maybe I'm just trying to lighten the mood. And it worked because now you're smiling and Stephanie, when you smile, my world seems a whole lot brighter."               Hand to God I did not know what to say in reply. My brain felt as if it had lost its edge. My body, though, it knew how to react. My skin grew warm; a flush crept up my neck, and my breasts felt tight and sensitive, the nipples peaking into hard tender flesh chafed by the soft cups of my bra.
     "Yeah, me too," I eventually responded. Greg unfolded his arms and sat up. I held my ground on the bench, wishing and hoping that he would lean in to kiss me full on the mouth. To hell with pecks on the cheek. I can get those from my brother. My heart thumped inside my chest when he lifted his hand to push a strand of dirty blond hair back from my eye. A shaky breath escaped me when he ran his fingertips down my cheek. His hand settled tenderly on my neck. There was a moment when I desperately wanted to jump on him, push his back flat to the hard window bench we were sitting on, peel off our clothes and cover his sexy body with mine. Instead of doing that, I reached up to place my hand over his. His dark eyes ignited.
     "I find myself torn over you," he said as his touch made me yearn for so much more. "There's the side that wants to take this slow, and in slow I mean like a sloth, so that people won't be casting dispersions at us."
     "What does the other side want to do?" I asked as his thumb began to stroke my jugular. He had fine lifelines around his eyes and mouth that I found wildly appealing.
     "That side wants to spread out the blanket that I brought for our dinner, lay you down on it, and make love to you until we're both cross-eyed."  
     "Wow, that's–yeah, wow," I stammered. The room felt warmer. His eyes dropped to my mouth then slid downward, lingering for just a second on my breasts before they returned to my face.
     "Exactly," he said then moved in to put his lips to mine. It was a firm, sweet kiss. His fingers softly dug into my neck. I wanted the pressure of his mouth to deepen. I needed it to. But he pulled back after a moment. My lashes lifted from my cheeks. "Yeah, slow is good. What's slower than a sloth?"
     "Molasses in January," I offered. He mulled that over for a second then nodded.
     "That will work." He pulled me closer for another kiss. This one had real heat behind it. I wiggled around more to angle my body properly. Greg's hand moved lower on my neck, his thumb now rubbing my collarbone. His breaths were short little puffs when the kiss ended. I didn't dare look down to see if he were as hard as I was wet. If I did, and I saw his cock straining against his zipper, I would probably not be moving in sloth mode. "We need something slower, much slower. Like glacier creeping slow."
     "Snail slow," I whispered then kissed him.
     "Department of motor vehicle driver license renewal line slow," he replied then stole another taste.
     "Chess game slow," I parried as my lips danced over his. The bench creaked when his weight shifted. I slid closer, my breasts pressing into his chest now.
     "Customer with five thousand items ahead of you in the checkout line slow," Greg said before sliding an arm around me. I moved willingly over and onto his lap, my tongue flicking out to meet his.
     "A lecture from a professor slow," I panted and settled my ass on his thighs.
     "Hey now," he chuckled, the hand on my shoulder pulling me in as close as he could get me. His mouth moved over mine as the kiss deepened. I rolled my hips and made him groan. That was when he gently but firmly removed me from his lap and stood up. I blinked at him, my sight caressing his body as he turned to walk off the lust, as if that were a thing you could do. I mean, yeah, I'd seen players walk off taking a slap shot to the leg but walking off an erection? Was that even possible?






*~*~*


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


Cathy Brockman Romances


Ellie Mack's Blog
 •  0 comments  •  flag
Share on Twitter
Published on January 31, 2016 01:00

January 29, 2016

Twirly Girl News & Excerpt!


In just over a month Twirly Girl, the second Venom book, will be released!

Could you please take just a moment to add it to your Goodreads Want To Read shelf? 

In appreciation for your adding it to your shelf, you'll find an exclusive excerpt below. This snippet is unedited but I wanted to share a special moment between Alicia and Dale with you in thanks, so be gentle of any flubs you may find. 

Many hugs and thank you! XXOO



Twirly Girl at Goodreads
heart emoticon 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?
Excerpt:
            "Open your mind to new things, Sunny New Face. That's the first step to discovering who you really are."            That was easy for him to say, it wasn`t his world being made into a frappe. We walked side-by-side out into the cold air. It was invigorating and cleansing after being in that warm barn for so long. I held out my hand for the milking bucket. Dale passed it to me then switched the heavier milk tote to his right hand. Night was not far off. I guessed it to be close to five in the afternoon. Winter brought long, lonely nights. I peeked to the right at Dale. He seemed to be in that world he usually moves in - inhaling any bad karma on the wind then exhaling peace. I thought to say something, but it was too serene of a moment to murk up with talk. Instead, I gave the farm one long look before darkness would envelope the fifty-acre homestead. You could see several houses from the pasture we meandered through, the homes of the old hippies/off-the-grid commune members now long empty. Dale had explained how back in Sage`s day everyone on Dew Fall pitched in to help with the farming and gardening, and all shared the bounty.             It was a lovely little system. Pity the ideal never worked outside of the property boundaries of Sage`s farm. The real world did not move on harmony, cooperation, and the ideals of the sixties. It was dog eat dog, and those peace-loving pugs hadn`t stood a chance against the inner city Dobermans.            "You`re frowning," Dale commented then opened the gate on the woven-wire fencing.             "I was just thinking about how different it is here," I said as I stepped through the gate then ran my sight over the various barns and coops. The huge communal garden sat about fifty yards to our left, now covered with thick mulch in preparation for winter. "I've never seen a group of people working for a common goal like they used to do here. Even now, outside, in the mean real world, you and your fellow organic bohemians wouldn`t last a day," I stated as we walked to the big farmhouse Sage and Dale called theirs. It was in rough shape, and needed painted, but as soon as you stepped onto the front porch, you could feel something special radiating from it.             "You really think that we're just herb-smoking lambs out here, don`t you?" he asked, stopping just this side of the front door.             "Well, you have to admit that your way of thinking kind of lends itself to being devoured by people in power." I passed the empty milk pail from my left to right hand. Wren`s dirty yellow boots laid beside the front door. "If the zombie plague hit tomorrow, you and your peace loving friends would be the first to go."            "Maybe you`re looking at things the wrong way," he offered. The overcast sky combined with the setting sun made the porch seem darker than it truly was. "Perhaps when society falls apart the people who were too busy being megalomaniacs to appreciate and harvest the earth gently will starve to death. It might be us herb-smoking lambs that enjoy the fruits of our labors and the graces bestowed upon us by the goddess."            "The meek and the earth thing again, huh?"             "Something like that."He pulled the front door open and a wonderful aroma billowed out on a warm cloud of heat. My belly roared as I inhaled garlic and basil. I hadn`t realized how cold my cheeks were until that hot air touched them. "Let`s wash up and eat. Your stomach sounds like it would appreciate some of Sage`s vegan bean sprout soufflé. We can talk at length after the meal is done," he stepped into the light of the house, "and if you clean your plate I may even play a song for you."            "A bribe from a beatnik," I giggled as I stepped inside as well. "How can any woman refuse?"            "It is pretty tempting, isn`t it?" Dale winked, the door hinges creaking as the front door closed behind me. I could hear Wren and Sage talking in the old-fashioned kitchen.             "It sure is," I replied earnestly.




 •  0 comments  •  flag
Share on Twitter
Published on January 29, 2016 00:30

January 28, 2016

Throwback Thursday Tune



To wrap up our month of Elvis movie songs, I thought we would go with something the exact opposite of last week's smoldering song. I hope you enjoy Wooden Heart, a delightfully sweet song from The King.


 •  0 comments  •  flag
Share on Twitter
Published on January 28, 2016 02:00

January 25, 2016

Tuesday Tales - Wood



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 'Wood'. This story contains mature language and gay sexual situations. If that offends now would be the time to move onto another Tuesday Tales offering. 
Today's issue has a graphic gay sexual scene. 
Don`t forget to visit the other talented Tuesday Tales authors. Thanks for stopping by!




We left the radio on in the living room. The soft strains helped Andy sleep it seemed. In addition, it aided in setting the mood while helping to muffle the sounds of two men stealing a precious hour or two of pleasure. Our clothes had been shed hastily. There was not much time to spare on seductive slow-paced strip teases. The lad could wake up at anytime, or a car could go past and spy my car hidden behind the low hanging pine boughs. Paranoia was a living breathing thing for men like Ross and me. I arched upward, trying to take more of my lover inside of me. His mouthed covered mine; his hands clutched my wrists as he held my arms above my head. His chest rubbed over mine enticingly. I wrapped my legs around his waist. Ross growled low and deep, his teeth nibbling my lower lip. He released my wrists then sat back, nearly withdrawing from me. “Take yourself in hand.” I trembled at the command then gripped my prick tightly. He nodded, grabbed my knees, pushed them into my chest, and then began to move in a rhythm that soon had me begging for more while pleading for him to stop. “Which is it?” Ross panted as we dallied dangerously close to the summit. “Don`t stop,” I whimpered. He didn`t. We both exploded within a moment of each other, Ross reaching his release first. It was the sight of him finding his ultimate satisfaction that helped me tumble. We collapsed to his dark green coverlet, sweaty and covered with semen, arms and legs intertwined, and breathing labored. He grew flaccid and slid out. I bemoaned the loss. He kissed me quickly then pulled the sheet over our damp bodies. His big rough hand moved over my chest. “Do you know how exciting your body is to me?” he asked raggedly, his fingertips finding a nipple that puckered at his touch. “I think I have a pretty good idea.” I was fair-skinned, young, and possessed little body hair. “Would you like me to shave?” I had done so before for lovers and would gladly do so for Ross. He nodded then kissed me so passionately my toes curled like a recently prodded woolly bear caterpillar. “Jon, no matter where this goes or what happens, I want you to know that I am madly in love with you.”“Ditto,” I said as my fingers crept through his salt-and-pepper hair. “Think you`re up for another round before I take Andy home?”“I really wish I could wake up next to you. Do you know how badly I desire that?”“Yeah, I really do,” I sighed, grabbing a handful of hair then pulling his mouth to mine. Why waste time talking about things that could never be? Moonlight was burning and so was our passion for each other.
***
“I feel like a vampire.”Andy looked at me curiously as we bounced into Hannity Hills. “What`s a vampire?” he asked, his cheeks pink with health. So exhausted was I that I almost told him vampires were bats that sucked the blood from people that had to be killed with a wooden stake. Thankfully I didn`t. Who wanted the kid scared of brown bats? “A vampire is a movie actor like Bela Lugosi,” I told him as we pulled into my lawyer’s office. Andy didn`t seem interested in such things. He climbed out of the car then took my hand, holding his wooden Trigger in his other hand. Miss Sourpuss the receptionist didn`t seem overly thrilled to see us. I sat down gingerly. Andy clambered into the stuffed chair next to me. I wondered if our lack of suit, tie, and Fedora was what was getting us the evil eye from the receptionist. We were clean, if not a little wrinkled. I needed to purchase an iron, but that had to wait. Flat broke meant no extras. Good thing Ross enjoyed feeding us. We had barely gotten comfortable when we were told to go in. Attorney Bartlett was behind his desk, his pudgy fingers steepled, and his critical eyes sharp. We shook hands and then I told him why I was here. “So you need someone to watch the boy while you`re working,” Bartlett smiled, the disapproving mood lifting as I conformed – I mean talked. “That shouldn`t be an issue. For a small fee I`m sure I can locate a willing housewife.”“That would be fine,” I said eying his phone. “I`m going to fill out applications at several businesses in town, and with Mr. Coleman agreeing to sell my paintings for me in his shop I-”Bartlett leaned into his desk. His stomach was too large for him to lean over it while seated. “Mr. Porter, I surely cannot tell you who to befriend in Hannity Hills, but I would caution you about Ross Coleman.”I sat slack-jawed. Andy made soft whinnies and snorts. Someone in the reception area sneezed.“Uhm, why is that?” I inquired crossing one leg over the other than instantly changing my mind. Bartlett looked at Andrew then me. “He`s a man well into his fifties who has never been wed. And you with a young boy to protect . . .” “I`ll stop by before I leave town to find out about a babysitter. Thank you for your help. ” I grabbed my nephew by the arm and left, nodding at the grim woman at the desk as I passed. I could not get outside quickly enough. We drove to the shop. Andy was oblivious. I grabbed the completed landscape from the back seat, nabbed Andy as he dallied on the sidewalk, and rushed into the shop to find Ross laughing with an attractive young woman with dark hair. “Hello, Mr. Porter!” Ross smiled, motioning me to join them. I did, my eyes darting from Ross to the blue-eyed woman then to the back room. “Mr. Porter, this is Miss Abigail Jenkins, our town librarian.”“Pleasure,” I said with a nod of my head. “I brought the landscape. Perhaps we could take it into the storage room and discuss a suitable consignment plan?”Ross studied me closely. “That would be fine. If you`ll excuse us for just a moment, Miss Jenkins?” “Of course.” She smiled warmly. Andy had found the stash of other handcrafted toys and was seated on the floor behind the cash register. Miss Jenkins sauntered off to browse. We slid into the backroom but left the door cracked in case Andrew called. “Ross, the people of this town know about you,” I whispered as he took the oil from me. “I know,” he said, tipping his head left then right as he drank in the painting. I blinked several times. Ross glanced at me. “You look stunned.”“I am. I`m stunned that you`re not worried about it.”“They don`t know anything, all they have are suspicions and as long as I keep my nose clean-”“Clean as in having my car parked at your house every night?”“Jon,” he whispered, turning to peek through the cracked door then giving me a hard look, “you need to calm down. Suspicions are just that, suspicions. I`ve heard the whispers for years. How you heard them is the question.”“I was talking to Bartlett about selling some paintings in your store. He cautioned me to make sure I protect Andrew from you.” The thunder and lightning erupted in his stormy eyes when I passed thathorrid detail along. I wanted to hold him and rain kisses along his sternly set jaw. I folded my arms over my chest instead. “I won`t even dignify that disgusting comment with a reply. We doneed to make the fog a bit denser though. Miss Jenkins! I`ve just discovered something I think you`ll be pleased to hear!”I stared at Ross`s wide back as I fumbled along behind him, lost as a man could be. Miss Jenkins came bustling over. She wore her frock nicely. Ross took her hand and placed it in mine.“Mr. Porter has just said that he was grievously disappointed not to have a date for the dance at the community center this Saturday. Would you be willing to go with him?”Miss Jenkins blushed prettily and bobbed her head. I felt my hand grow cold as it cradled her feminine one.
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!


 •  0 comments  •  flag
Share on Twitter
Published on January 25, 2016 20:00