V.L. Locey's Blog, page 50

Author/Book Spotlight - Cathy Hirds' Before The New Moon Rises

Please welcome fellow Greek mythos enthusiast and author Cathy Hird! She's here to tell us about her latest book, Before The New Moon Rises!







My host today has a deep love of Greek mythology as she showed in her lovely book "Love of the Hunter." So I thought I'd explore a piece of the mythology that is important to what happens in my novel "Before the New Moon Rises." In that story, Poseidon feeds the ambition of Mycenae to try and get what he wants.
The ancient city of Mycenae stood as a giant among the mythical places in Greece. The kings were bigger than life too. The one we know best was Agamemnon who led the mission to rescue captured Helen. It is Agamemnon's father Atreus who enters the tale I tell.
According to some of the ancient poets, young Atreus followed the goddess Artemis. The wit and strength of the warrior goddess embodied the skills he sought. He promised her that if a sheep with a golden fleece appeared in his flock, he would offer it at her temple. When such a ewe appeared, however, the golden beauty seduced him. He kept the animal and its fleece for himself.
Family competition flared leading him and his brother Thyestes to murder their step-brother. The two were banished for this breach of family loyalty. Taken in by the king of Mycenae, they became his regents when he went to lead a battle against the sons of Herakles.
When that king dies in battle, both the brothers desire his throne. Thyestes suggests that the one who brings a golden fleece should rule. Atreus readily agrees given that he holds such a fleece. Alas, because his wife knew he betrayed Artemis, she has already stolen the fleece and given it to Thyestes, her lover. Though Thyestes takes the throne, Atreus believes that the king of gods wants him to rule this important city. He asks Zeus to make the sun rise in the west and set in the east. On the day this happens, Atreus is crowned king in Mycenae.
Thyestes seeks the advice of the oracle at Delphi to retrieve the place he thinks he earned. There by the light of fire he sees a beautiful girl bathing in a stream. He takes her by force, but leaves his sword with her to show the identity of the father of her child.  He does not know that this is his daughter Pelopia.
Things get complicated again because Atreus does not give up searching for his brother, either to welcome him back or take his revenge--different poets tell the tale differently. He comes upon Pelopia and takes her for his wife. He has already put aside the woman who was unfaithful to him by stealing the golden fleece. He believes the son Pelopia bears is his.
If only Atreus had let his brother disappear. Instead he sends his adult sons Agamemnon and Menelaus to Delphi to ask the oracle for help. They find Thyestes there, bind him and carry him back to Mycenae. Atreus orders his Pelopia's son to behead the captive, but when the boy draws his sword, Thyestes recognizes the weapon and claims that the boy is his son.
Pelopia is called and acknowledges to Atreus that she was already pregnant when they married.  Thyestes cries out in sadness and names his misdeed. Pelopia is horrified that she bore her father's son and kills herself on the sword.
Thyestes demands that Aegistus kill Atreus which he does with the same sword. Agamemnon and Menelaus escape, taking refuge in Sparta where they meet the king's two daughters, Helen and Clyemnestra. Another story begins.
Before the New Moon Rises takes place once Atreus has established a firm rule in Mycenae before he begins seeking his brother again.


blog: http://openonemore.com/twitter: @cathyhirdwriterFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/cathyhirdwriter/Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7391335.Cathy_Hird
Before the New Moon Rises: http://www.prizmbooks.com/zencart/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=1&products_id=111&zenid=68cf2d57210817a1baf5afed2edf2a20
Moon of the Goddess:http://www.prizmbooks.com/zencart/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=78

Snippet Sunday

Hello and welcome to another Snippet Sunday! 

Today we're getting another serving of Wildcat hockey romance as I share a snippet from the novella, Roster Addition. It seems as if things have become rather strained between Derrick and Veikko for some reason. In this scene we get to hear a conversation between Liz and Veikko, as they wait for Ashley to deliver their soon-to-be new daughter. Perhaps as we listen to them chat we can pick up just what is happening with both couples as the birth draws closer and closer. Maybe the stress of the situation is getting to everyone? Time will tell.

When you're done reading my offering, skate on over to Cathy Brockman and Ellie Mack's blogs to see what they're working on. This excerpt is unedited so please forgive any errors you may stumble across. 

Thanks for stopping by! 


*~*~*
            I sat at a small round table, sipping on a cup of coffee, staring at my husband's incredible golden hair. How did he train it to fall into place so well? It was a mystery for the ages. Mine must look like I had forgotten to comb it, which I had. The call had made me forget just about everything such as putting on a bra. Good thing my boobs were so small no one would notice.             Veikko was stirring a spoonful of sugar into a cup of coffee that was so strong we had commented on our fear of it eating through our mugs. He still had gone back for a third refill even though he made a face every single time he took a swig. The man was so polite it made me wince at times.            "You really don't have to drink that," I softly said. His light blue gaze moved from his coffee to me.            "That young man worked hard to make this coffee," he replied as he continued to stir."Do you think Derrick feels that we should have consulted with him and Maggie about naming the baby?"            I reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "Yeah, I kind of think he does feel that way. I don't know what to do about it either. I thought we had been really open about everything with them."            "I'm not sure we need to do anything to be honest, Piglet," he sighed then dropped his gaze back to his well-stirred coffee. The term of endearment helped make me feel a little better. I hated disharmony. It had a way of infecting people. That was a lesson that I had learned from living with a person who suffered debilitating social anxiety issues coupled with compulsive hoarding. Above all, keep the ship on calm waters even if that meant swallowing down anger and pain. Not a healthy way to live, I know, but it was all I knew. "Maggie and Derrick are not part of the legal equation."            "No, but they are part of the family equation," I said as an older couple walked past carrying bowls of soup and rolls on their trays. "Veikko, we can't just ignore their feelings or wishes. They're Marja's grandparents."            "Yes, they are, but they are not her parents. We'regoing to be her parents," he reminded me in a tone that made me bristle just a bit. "It is not my fault that Derrick never took the time to make children."            "And it's not Derrick's fault that you can't." As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew I had stepped on some extremely thin ice. Veikko's sight flew from his coffee to me then his lovely fjord colored gaze flicked around the tables located inside the gift shop. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that."            "Yes, I think you did," he whispered, leaning over the table to ensure that only I heard him. "This is not a question of whose sperm fertilized whose egg, Elizabeth."            "I know. I'm sorry, so sorry." I reached up to run my fingers along his scruffy jaw. The dark blonde whiskers were short and abrasive under my fingertips. "You know I would never use our problem to hurt you."             It felt odd to call his infertile state our problem but I had not yet found a way to say it that made it hurt the man less. Some creative fiction writer I am. Give me elves, wizards, and sexy times in the magical forest and I was golden, but hand me the job of trying to light upon a way to say "the fact that you cannot make a child" in front of my extremely proud, sensitive, and super masculine husband and I dried up like a husk.              "This is not the place to be tossing that around, Elizabeth," Veikko murmured, his broad shoulders looking a little bowed. I cupped his face before he leaned back into his chair leaving my hand to drop to the table. Our spoons rattled. "What we should be talking about is how to handle Derrick and Maggie's obvious troubles with our adopting their grandchild."            "I honestly don't think there are troubles, Veikko," I countered then pulled my hand back to my lap. I flattened out some wrinkles in my slacks, taking a moment to begin running a finger over the crisp crease. "I think they're just worried about us taking over."            "Shouldn't we?" I glanced up from the crease in my gray slacks to my husband. "Shouldn't we take over? We are Marja's parents, or will be as soon we attend to the final legalities. We have paid for all of Ashley's medical care, we have covered all the costs to the lawyers, we have set up a college fund for Marja's biological mother, and we have been as accommodating as we can. Many of those things we did were above and beyond what we were legally bound to do," he reminded me. I nodded dully. Everything he was saying was true. Veikko and I had gone out of our way to make sure not only Marja, but also Ashley, had the best start in life that we could give them. Yes, that meant making sure Ashley could go to college if she wished. The girl had not asked for that, Veikko had offered.             "I know," I sighed then went back to pressing my crease with my finger.             "But you think we should be doing more?"            I looked up at him. He wasn't being curt, he was just asking.             "I don't know to be honest," I confessed then forced my hand to flatten on my thigh. 





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

Cathy Brockman Romances

Ellie Mack's Blog

Twirly Girl Cover Reveal!

I hope you like surprises because . . .

SURPRISE!!





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 being 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 a 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 light of their soul?
~~*~~
Does that cover make you want some sexy hockey times or what?! I think it is super sensual and sultry. The cover designer for Gone Writing Publishing has created a stunning look for the Venom, using the team colors of red and black to perfection!

I generally make a much larger production of letting folks know in advance about cover reveals, but I just could not sit on this gorgeous cover any longer. For those fans of my M/F erotic hockey romances, this is the long-awaited second book in the Venom series. The Venom are a professional women's team who share the city of Brotherly Love with the Wildcats. Talk about your hot hockey romance cup overflowing! Two pro teams in the same city? I. Love. It.
I also adore how old favorites from the 'Cats can drop in for cameos. But don't think that the Venom are weak spin-offs. They're not. Each woman's book is a strong part of a huge hockey world. In Twirly Girl, we get to know the Venom captain, Alicia Avery, much better. We see what drives her, how she handles the stress of wearing the "C", and what her reactions are to meeting a man who will show her that there is more to life than monetary success. Dale Christie is the complete opposite of our Venom captain, a street performer who has found his spiritual center as he struggles to raise a daughter with Down's Syndrome alone.

I've nicknamed this book "The Pacifist and the Hockey Player" and I think that fits Alicia and Dale rather well. Over the next several weeks, as we build up to release day on March 2, I'll be sharing snippets, insights, play-lists, and excerpts. If you're interested in knowing all the news about all my upcoming releases, sign up for my newsletter! It's brand new and will be chocked full of news, games, trivia, hot hockey players, and some personal content. You can find the link to the sign-up form way up at the top of the right hand column. Look for the 'A slice from the ice' picture and click to follow!

If you'd like to join us for more Venom goodness, check out the event page for the Twirly Girl Release Party over on Facebook. The event is hosted by Author Classifieds so you know it's top-notch, and the list of authors coming to help celebrate is nothing short of amazing! There are writers from various romance genres so readers are sure to find something for every taste.




Twirly Girl Facebook Release Party


As an added treat, here's a small unedited excerpt from Twirly Girl. Thank you as always for all your support. Skate hard and love deeply!


V.L.

~~*~~
            What did one wear to a goat farm? I pushed aside cashmere sweaters, silk blouses, designer slacks and cocktail dresses. Not one single pair of bib overalls did I find hanging in the senator`s daughters wardrobe closet.             "Plan B," I muttered to myself. Since I also did not own any tie-dyed Grateful Dead t-shirts or billowy peasant dresses, I pulled on jeans and a plain blue sweatshirt. After wiggling into my clothes, I padded back into the bathroom. The steam from my morning shower had evaporated. I leaned over the sink to get a good look at myself. Since I had cut my hair, all that needed was fingers drawn through it. I loved it. I should have shorn off my locks years ago. It was so freeing. Now to decide about make-up. Normally I would apply a full regime when meeting a man for a date. Was touring a love child`s goat farm considered a date? Nothing was ever simple with Dale. I tipped my head to the left then to the right. The mirror showed me a young woman with a nice complexion sporting pink cheeks. Thinking of Dale had put the color into my face. I patted my rosy cheeks, smiled, and then decided to go mascara-only. This was a farm, so I had to assume they prided themselves on going back to nature and all that falderal.             I left the bathroom and sat on the end of the bed to lace up a pair of hiking boots that I had found buried amid the shoes in my closet. My phone started ringing. Thinking it might be Dale calling I grabbed the cell off the nightstand. It was my mother. I stared at the phone resting in my hand until the call went to voicemail. My mother`s picture disappeared after her message had been left. I returned the phone to the table and continued tying my boots as my mind spun wheelies. I had never before not picked up when one of my parents had called. Man, I was getting to be all sorts of rebellious. The next thing you knew I'd be switching political parties and sleeping with bearded singing liberals. A hot flare of desire came to life between my legs. I sucked in a weak breath, closed my eyes, and counted to ten. That helped until I emerged from my car, looked around the abandoned Houseman parking lot, and then snuck around to the front of the main gate to find Dale.             As soon as his sight touched me that flare of desire turned into an inferno of need. My breasts grew tight and tender. I returned his smile and then forced myself to slip through the knot of people listening to him play. I only caught a few notes before the song concluded. People clapped and threw change into his guitar case. A few folks placed bills on the well-worn gingham material lining the case. I clapped as I walked towards him. He straightened from his bow.             "May you walk a blessed path," he called to the crowd then lifted his guitar over his head. "Mine will be a sunny one despite the clouds above, for this winsome lass has gifted me with her presence for the day."Everyone looked at me. I wanted to slide into the storm drain. Several people made vague comments. I nodded at them as my cheeks burned. When the crowd had dispersed, I folded my arms over my chest. Dale, the peaceful fool, merely smiled at my show of anger. "Are you mad that I told those fine people that you were spending the day with me?"            "No," I said a bit too quickly. "I mean, of course not. It's just, well, okay yes maybe I was a little worried. If anyone recognized me word would get back to my father." God, I sounded like such a stupid little girl. "Not that I care what he thinks about what I do."            "What are we doing that would be so terrible for your father to hear?" he asked before crouching down to gather his donations then lay his six-string in the case. I stared at the top of his head while trying to come up with a reply. He glanced up while snapping the case shut. "The hardest part of the journey is that first step onto your own path."            "I'm on my own path," I informed him. A newspaper truck stalled on the road. With a curse from the driver and a loud backfire, the vehicle then moved along. My gaze raced over the hundreds of cars creeping past. "I play hockey for a living, don`t I?"            "That you do," he said as rose from his crouch.            "Then you can`t tell me that my foot isn`t on my own path."            "So it is. Shall we get walking? We need to make the train station in fifteen minutes."            "You don`t believe me," I said as we headed off at a brisk pace.             "Is what I believe or don`t believe that important?" he inquired. We hustled across the street amid a crush of people. It was only after we had crossed that we could talk to each other once again.             "No, it`s not important what you or anyone thinks." There. Put that in your chakra pipe and smoke it, Mr. Know-It-All. I peeked over at him. He wore a bemused smile. It was quite a kissable smile on that sensual mouth. "Why do you think I'm lying? I don`t give two shits what people think. I might just kiss you right here in front of the Philadelphia Inquisitor building to show you how many shits I do not give."                Dale stopped cold, glanced skyward at the glittering mirrored building that held Philly`s largest daily paper, and then looked at me.             "Alicia, you don`t have to prove anything to me," he said then shook some brown curls from his face. "Kiss me if you want to feel my mouth on yours. Don`t kiss me to make a point."            I stepped closer. His dark eyes narrowed just a bit. My sight darted down to his mouth then back to his eyes. A wild November wind whistled around the newspaper building. It ripped at his ugly scarf. I grabbed the fluttering scarf and pulled him that single step closer . . .

UGH! Why Did You Stop THERE?!

            As a writer, I find myself having to try to explain my mind quite often. That's a tall order because my mind, and my writing process, is hard to put into a nice little box. But since I hear readers asking me, and other authors, this question all the time, I thought I would touch upon things from my perspective.
            First, for non-writers to get a grip on how this author's mind works, you have to realize that I am a high priestess in the court of organic writers. I do not plot out books. If you're looking for extensive plot skeletons go peek into someone else's writerly closet. When an idea appears to me, it generally is a short burst of inspiration. A flash is the best way to describe it. In that flash will be the nugget of the story, a brief glimpse of the leading couple, and perhaps the overlying theme.
            That is it.         
            It then falls to me to gather the flash into a jar, sit it on a shelf, and study it. Sometimes the light withers and goes out. Then I dump the ashes of that dead idea out and put the empty jar back on my mental shelf. If the light continues to glow, then I'll examine the idea in more detail. I'll sketch out character bios, and perhaps fiddle with a title. Then I sit down and I start writing. As I work through the first chapter, I begin to know the leading man or lady better. They slither into my brain and there they stay until the book is done. This is why I can only work on one novel/novella at a time. Being possessed by a sarcastic ass such as Victor Kalinski kind of drowns out any other voices.
            Since we now know that I'm an organic writer all the way to my toes, we also must see that there is no set word count for any of my books. I will aim for 30-35 K for a novella and 50-55 K for a novel. Sometimes those novellas come in at 20 K when the ending is called for. I do not know ahead of time what the ending will be or when it will come. It just is there. I can feel it. The light in the jar begins to flicker and I know that the story, as it has played out in my mind, is nearly completed.
            This is why a book, no matter how much longer reader's wish it was, can never be longer than it is. The story has been told as far as my creative mind is concerned. Sure, I could pad things up. I could fill in with fluff but I'm not going to do that. I hated having to make chapters a certain length for an old house of mine. When the chapter is done, it's done. Don't make me add stuff just to reach a number. That's cheating the reader of the words that I felt deeply. Do you really want ten thousand shallow words just to make a set page goal or word count? Me either.
            That's why my books end when they do. If they are too short, I do apologize for that, but I do not apologize for not writing empty words to reach a number. Creativity is not something that can be automated or controlled. It must be allowed to run freely, touching the jars of inspiration and setting them aglow.


            

Throwback Thursday Tune

Welcome to 2016 and a new year filled with classic tuneage! I thought we would kick off the new year with a month long tribute to The King. No, I'm not talking about Henrik Lundqvist this time. I'm referring to Elvis Presley. His birthday is January 8th so for the next four weeks we're going to have some songs from a few of his movies. Get ready for some rock-n-roll and sexy pelvis action as only Elvis can do it!

Tuesday Tales - Wired

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 'Wired'. This story contains mature language and gay sexual situations. If that offends now would be the time to move onto another Tuesday Tales offering.

This week we get to find out exactly what problems Jon was referring to in our last episode.
Don`t forget to visit the other talented Tuesday Tales authors. Thanks for stopping by!


One of the concerns showed up at the bungalow late Friday afternoon.
Andrew and the feathered greeting committee announced the visitor`s arrival. I was seated in the kitchen, a cup of coffee at my elbow, trying to get my checkbook to say we had enough cash to cover the bills coming in at a steady rate. Tossing the pen, bills, and checkbook aside, I walked out onto the front porch to see a tall lean man in a dour brown suit exiting a black Buick hardtop. He held an alligator satchel like it was his lifeline. I immediately thought he was a travelling salesman.
He approached me waiting on that cluttered stoop, his dark brown eyes drinking in the bungalow, the kid, and the way I stood. He had a long face like a mule, and one thick eyebrow instead of two. The man was giving me a sour stomach before we had even shook hands.
“Mr. Jon Porter, I`m Augustus Smith, Child Welfare Worker out of the Chestnut Grove office building,” he said, snapping a card at me in lieu of a handshake. I read the business card several times, hoping the glob of fear behind my adam`s apple would go away before I had to speak.
“Mr. Smith, won`t you come inside?” I asked. He did. The man moved like a mongoose. He hurried inside, his dark eyes touching on the sparse furnishings and tattered wallpaper. 
“Is this one of your paintings?”
“Yes, I`ve been working on switching from cityscapes which I did in New York to something with a more rural-”
“Is this where you plan to live with the child?” he asked, his satchel tight to his chest.
“Well, for the moment, yes. Things are sort of up in the-”
            He ran a finger over the top of the radio. I called myself all sorts of a shithead for not cleaning up better. His long nose wrinkled then he entered the kitchen, me hot on his heels. At least I had washed the dishes up after lunch.
            “Would you care for some coffee?” I asked. I hoped he could smell the lingering aroma of the bacon I had fried for lunch. He shook his head, pulled out a seat, and sat down still holding his satchel as if it would shield him from a bullet. I sat down across from him.
            “Do you often leave the child unattended in close proximity of a river?”
            I blinked at him. “It`s a creek and Andy knows not to wade out too-”
            He placed his alligator satchel on top of my paperwork, flipped it open, and then pulled out a sheaf of vellum all nicely held together with paperclips. One of my receipts fluttered to the floor. I stood up, excused myself, and went out the back door in search of my nephew. I found him sitting on the creek bank poking a toad with a stick while the geese paddled about in the shallow water.
            “Andy, can you come inside? I think Superman is on.”
            The boy came, but it was a slow shuffle. I guess toads are more fascinating than the man of steel. Mr. Smith shot us a sour look when we hurried past into the living room. I got the lad settled, found Clark Kent on Mutual Network after I rewired a few loose connections in the back of the radio, and then returned to the kitchen with my nerves beyond frayed.
            My chair creaked when I sat back down. Mr. Smith had placed slim glasses on his nose.
            “According to our research you are still single, is that right?”
            I nodded.
            “Do you intend to remain single?” he asked, his eyes oddly distorted through the thick glass.
            “I haven`t really thought about it. Are you sure I can`t get you any-”
            “Perhaps you should think about it,” he informed me curtly. Did they know? My palms grew damp. No, if they knew he would have removed Andrew from my sick clutches instantly. “The courts look much more favorably upon married couples. And this house could use a woman`s touch.”
            “I know it isn`t much but it`s all the boy has known. I`m not even sure if I`m going to remain here much . . . is that a bad thing?”
            “Well, your address in New York leaves a great deal to be desired. I realize that you`re an artist, but perhaps if you would relocate to a less bohemian part of the city?”
            “But my studio is there. Greenwich is the heart and soul of the artistic world in New York,” I argued as gently as possible. His shoulders squared.
            “It is also an area that is filled with sick degenerates. Of course, these are just my suggestions, Mr. Porter,” he sniffed. I instantly began to try to fix the mess, promising I would look into a new neighborhood before I took Andrew anywhere. That eased the man somewhat.
            “Now, since being an artist is not what we in the Child Welfare System would term to be a meaningful career, I have taken the liberty of placing your name into several businesses in Hannity Hills, to show the judge who will preside over this case that you are trying to act accordingly with the laws of God and state.” Mr. Smith shoved several forms at me then handed me a fountain pen.
            “What is this you want me to sign?” I asked, my thoughts in such a fog even Superman wouldn`t be able to see through them, x-ray vision or not.
            “This is just a form for applying for legal guardianship for your nephew. If you could sign them at the X, I`ll begin the proceedings,” he explained. I nodded, signed where directed, stood when he replaced the forms into his satchel, and then walked him to his car.
            “I`d suggest fixing up the house to the best of your abilities,” Mr. Smith said as he carefully placed his satchel to the front seat like it were a precious child. “I`ll return several times over the next few months to see if things are being done to the courts satisfaction. Oh, and when you are gainfully employed in this state, I will need to be notified so that your income tax information can be forwarded to our office. Thank you for being so cooperative and have a nice day, Mr. Porter.” He tipped his hat then jumped inside to sit beside his satchel.
The taillights on his Buick disappeared before I could make my feet move. I went inside, grabbed a wrinkled jacket and my favorite Fedora, rounded up Andy, and jumped into my car. Ross exited his home when we slid into the dirt driveway.
“I wasn`t expecting you two until later today,” he smiled as he walked over to greet us. I was barely out of the car when his grey eyes grew dark with worry. 
Not giving two shits who might see, I threw my arms around Ross and held him right there in his driveway. Someone small tugged on my pant leg as I inhaled the aroma of Ross Coleman deep into my soul.
“Can I hug too?”
The young man was scooped up instantly.

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!

Snippet Sunday

Hello and welcome!

Today we have an excerpt from my current work-in-progress, Roster Addition, a To Love a Wildcat M/F erotic hockey romance novella! It's great fun to go back and visit the old gang once again. The birth of Ashley and Trevor's little girl is taking place in the following snippet, which is from Derrick Andersson's POV. I will be switching from Derrick to Maggie, then to Liz and Veikko, as all four adults try to come to grips with the baby and the adoption process.

Today we have some man banter! Nothing like sitting in the virtual backseat and listening to a couple guys talking about cars and sex, is there? This excerpt is unedited so please forgive any errors you may stumble across. It also contains mature language because hockey players.  I hope you enjoy the snippet and don't forget to visit Cathy Brockman and Ellie Mack's blogs to see what they're working on.


*~*~*

            "I was wondering if you'd be having a snack while you waited," the Finn said after he entered the shop. I held up a half-eaten peanut-butter crème filled. Aho smiled then walked up the counter. That little girl didn't seem to have any troubles chatting and blushing all over Veikko as he ordered drinks.             "I already got you some," I informed him when he walked over to the table by the window.             "Ah, well, we'll have refills."His eyes dropped to the open box of doughnuts.             "Dig in," I said then pushed the last bite of my peanut-butter crème filled into my trap.             "Thank you, but I'll have to pass," he said in that precise, refined way he spoke.             "I ain't playing no more so I can grab a sweet now and again," I informed him.            "It looks like you have grabbed five sweets," he countered then gave me a wink. I closed the lid then pushed to my feet. The man was just rubbing me wrong for some reason. Probably I was still pissed off yet about the train ride and was taking that out on him. "I envy you," Veikko added as I gathered up my dirty napkins. My sight jumped from the trash in my hands to the Finn. There wasn't one damn thing I could think of that Aho would envy me, or anyone else, about. "You're free now to enjoy the delights of life and not be so concerned about a few extra pounds and how they slow you down on the ice."            "Oh, yah, well being retired is about the best thing ever," I lied like a rug then whipped my garbage into a can by the front door. Out into the cold we went, both of us carrying containers with coffee, and me with a box of doughnut under my arm. "So where are we, you know, in terms of the baby coming?"            "Not far yet," he replied turning his face from a gust of wind that sent papers flying up over our heads. "Elizabeth tells me that first time births can take many hours."            "Yah, so I hear." We stopped by the blue BMW. "Where's the Jag? I didn't think you ever left home without her."            Aho grinned at me from across the roof of the Beemer. "That was before we were to be parents. As much as I love my Jaguar, it is not exactly the kind of car one carries a child in, is it?"            "Guess not," I replied then slowly lowered myself into the car. I looked into the backseat, hoping to find a place to put the doughnut box, and saw a brand new car seat all strapped in and ready for use. I kid you not, seeing that car seat hit me puck between the eyes. I placed the box of fried dough next to the car seat then turned around to stare out the windshield. Veikko slid behind the wheel, placed his coffee tray to the floor behind me, and then took a moment to loosen the white scarf around his neck.             "It was a tossup between this and a Volvo, both are reputed to be quite high in safety features. Since I have always like the way a BMW handles, I chose this one. Elizabeth likes the sound system," he chuckled as I worked real hard to give two fucks about the car, how it handled, or the sound system. There was a giant ball of something wedged into my esophagus.            "Have you ever taken one onto the Autobahn? When I was young and playing for Liiga, there was a pretty German girl who caught my eye. She had family in Finland, paternal grandfather I think is right and attended games when she was visiting. We dated for a few months and during the offseason, we would divvy up time between Finland and Germany. Her father had a BMW, an older one, an E9 from the mid-seventies in perfect condition. He let her drive it when she came of age. Once, when we were going back to Germany, I got her to allow me to get behind the wheel. It was a lively thing, kind of like Marelda," he gave me a look and a smile. I mumbled something around the ball of granite in my chest. We pulled into traffic smoothly, me holding coffee on my lap and trying to figure out what the shit was wrong with me.                "I don't think I ever been on the Autobahn," I finally managed to say.             "Ah, well, it is quite an experience," he replied then pulled up to a red light. "The first time you find a stretch that is unrestricted it is much like your first time making love to a woman. You push the accelerator and hold on."            "It's been so long since my first fuck I don't hardly remember it," I tossed out. Veikko chortled and we moved ahead once the light changed.             "Surely you must remember something about her," he prompted. I shuffled the coffees from one thigh to the other."Your head has not been concussed so often that you would forget your first woman."            "I do recollect that she had long legs and a laugh like a mule."            "Long legs on a woman will make up for a multitude of sins, like a mule laugh," Aho responded then made a left hand turn. "Hopefully she was not laughing too much while you were fucking her."            "Hard to work up a good belly laugh when the show's over in ninety seconds," I said and Veikko laughed loudly.            "God, yes, my first time I think I barely had my dick into the girl when I came."            "Hopefully you've gotten a little better with age," I joked, feeling the tight ball inside me loosening up a bit.             "Elizabeth has no complaints," he countered neatly as we pulled into the hospital parking lot and into a reserved slot. "I do hope you, old man, can remember what your prick is for?"            "Maggie made flash cards."            






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

Cathy Brockman Romances

Ellie Mack's Blog

Goals, Goals, and More Goals!

*starts singing Rangers goal song*
Ahem. Sorry. Rangers fever had me for a moment.
As exciting as it is watching my boy Mats scoring goals, my post today isn't about hockey...well, not directly anyway. Seems the beginning of the year everyone and their cocker spaniel make grand and sometimes unrealistic resolutions and, most generally, within two weeks most of those resolutions are broken.

This is why I don't make them. I'd rather set myself attainable goals, then when I reach them I feel good about myself. When I feel good about myself, I am more productive and happier. Why set yourself up to fail? If you feel the need to make resolutions, pick goals that you can attain and begin moving in a positive direction as opposed to a negative one. Success breeds more success, and the smallest goal met will empower you to try to reach another goal, and another, and another!
To that end, for 2016 I have but two goals. Both of these are within my reach. One is for my writing career and one is for my personal life.
For my writing goals, they're simple yes, but they are attainable and that's key. Remember, set yourself up for success not failure. For 2016, I am working toward these writing goals. Any other works aside from the main ones shown are pure gravy! So this is the part that is kind of about hockey. *winks*



Now, onto my personal goal for the year, and again it is one that I feel I can attain. My aim is to keep moving along on my personal goal of getting healthier. This is a slow crawl to the finish line. One that I knew would take years and I'm fine with that. This is my weight chart. It's nothing fancy, just a piece of notebook paper that hangs on the fridge.

Today I will flip it over and start jotting down my weekly results for 2016. As you can see, some weeks are good and some are not. I did gain a couple pounds over the holidays, and that's okay. I suspected I would. I try to stay away from saying "I am going to lose XXX by XXX date!" because if I don't, I'll feel like a loser. Bad energy breeds more bad energy and the self-hate will make more self-hate because I didn't make that darn numerical goal. Before you know it you've sunk into a pit and have no will to crawl out.


I've gained a new perspective on things from my yoga practices and reading some Toltec teachings. I now take one day at a time and try to do my best during that day. If I stumble, and I do because no one is perfect, I don't berate myself. I move onto the next day and try to do my best all over again. I know that many of you may scoff at yoga and meditation. Our Western world isn't geared toward finding the perfect balance of body, mind, and soul. In America, it's all about the body with little regard to the spirit residing inside that shell. If you look good, that's all that matters, right?
So take just a moment to reflect on your spirit as well as your body. Once you have your mind in a peaceful place you will find that reaching your goals - and please set realistic ones to avoid the bad karma place - brings you joy, peace, and harmony.
May 2016 be a year filled with happiness and great accomplishments for you.

V.L.

Throwback Thursday Tune

This is a perfect song for New Years Eve by the wonderful Dan Fogelberg. I hope you enjoy it and may you have a safe, joyous and prosperous 2016!

Life is a Stevie Wonder Song Release Day!

Happy New Years a day early! What a wonderful way to say goodbye to the old year. Nothing like a new book to bring in the new year! And what a lovely book this one is if I may toot my own horn. This novella was a delight to write from the moment of its conception to the last round of proofs. I loved both the leading men, the journey that Stephen makes, the joy and light that Declan provides, and the magical setting of the forest.




I hope you enjoy my first (but not last) Gay For You story. You can find Life is a Stevie Wonder Song at the following online retailers:


 Torquere Press StoreAmazonAll Romance eBooksKobo
iTunes

Thank you all so much for your support over 2015. Your feedback means the world to me, so please continue to read and review, not just my books but every book you read. Nothing inspires an author more than hearing from a reader who enjoyed your work. I'll see you in 2016 with more gay and straight romances for those who love a little hockey in their life. 
Skate hard and love deeply,

V.L.