V.L. Locey's Blog, page 64

Throwback Thursday Tune

One of the most influential bands to ever play and one of the first "super groups", they set the tone for many other groups that followed. To this day I still love their sound. How can you beat Eric Clapton on guitar and Ginger Baker on drums?

Tuesday Tales - Old

Hello! It`s time for Tuesday Tales.


Today we have another chapter for Wind in White Birch and our word prompt is "Old". Don`t forget to visit the other talented Tuesday Tales authors. Thanks for stopping by!



I turned to look at Jonah. He was just as strikingly handsome as always, even with the firm set of his jaw and those plump lips in a tense line. Light green flannel coat, old jeans, free flowing hair, and sunlight dappling the sharp angles of his face.  He took my breath away. “I think you probably have things to do at home. Thanks for the help," he said to his sister.            Julia mumbled something that sounded unpleasant in her native tongue. Jonah stalked around us both and entered his dream. I honestly didn`t know what to do. Julia did. She put a finger to my chest and pushed sharply.            “I`m not sure what kind of game you`re playing, but if my brother comes back to me in the shape he did two weeks ago --”            “I think you have things to do,” I said. A long moment ticked off second by second. She stormed over to her Jeep and left, never once looking at the lodge or me. That was just as well. I would have hated for her to have seen me hyperventilating. After my erratic breathing was under control, I climbed the steps slowly. At the open doorway, I hesitated. Jonah was kneeling by the massive stone hearth adding pungent green pine logs to the fire.             “Come in, you`re letting all the heat out,” he said without looking at me. I stepped inside and turned to close the wide door softly. Various smells tickled my nose. Varnish, wood smoke, pine, and Jonah`s cologne. “What are you doing up here?”            “I wanted to-” I cleared my throat. I hated the stiffness between us. “I wanted to talk to you. I missed you,” I said, staring at his wide shoulders covered with silky ebony hair. All I could think of was touching it – touching him. He peeked over his shoulder then laid another fat round log into the flames, his sight going back to the fireplace.            “You drove all this way just to say that? Why not call?”             “I didn`t know if you would answer,” I said candidly. “I`m not sure what happened but . . . I`m sorry. I didn`t mean to make you feel as if you weren`t a very important person to Rhett and me,” I hurried to clarify. I could see his shoulders tensing then relaxing as he fiddled with the fire. “This wasn`t all my fault, you know? This fight, you carry some blame too. You never gave me time to explain you just stalked off. How is it fair to walk away like that?”            “It`s not,” he said. I closed my eyes in thanks. “I shouldn`t have left, that was wrong, but I was pissed.”            “Yeah, it was wrong but I understand. I was hurt and angry too.” I stepped around a fat blue couch done in a western pattern. He stood up and closed the fire screen. It was a lovely thing with two huge bucks facing each other worked into the metal screening. Sparks and sap sizzled and danced behind the deer pawing the ground aggressively. Jonah turned from the fire to look across the room at me. I could not have guessed what he was thinking. The man was quite adept at hiding his emotions. "You can`t just walk away, Jonah. If we're going to make this work you have to stay and hash things out."            "Even if I say something stupid? Because my mouth was filled with stupid things."            I nodded. "Yes, even if you say something stupid. At least we'll be talking."            “Okay. I see what you`re saying. I'm sorry, I just wasn`t sure how to handle it. This is all new to me. So now what?” he asked. We stared at each other.             “We both say we`re sorry and you go get my bags?”            “You`re here for the weekend?”             I nodded.             “Alone?”            I nodded once more. He seemed fastened to that spot. Funny, but my feet were rather reluctant to move too. “You go first,” he said, the corner of his mouth ticked upward briefly. “Don`t argue, because I got you on the ladies before gentlemen thing.” God, he was such a wise ass. “Jonah,” I said looking right into his coal black eyes, “I am sorry.”“I didn`t want you to apologize,” he grunted and opened his arms. “I wanted you to come over here and let me try to make up for being such a smacked ass." My sticky feet suddenly found freedom. I ran across the spacious lounging area and launched myself at him. He caught me neatly and covered my mouth with his. Ah, the taste of him! The feel of his mouth moving over mine! That kiss felt like a nourishing drink after a crawl through a desert. I was parched and I drank greedily, digging my fingernails into his neck and scalp. His tongue moved in sinful sensual ways, slipping into my mouth to explore and then sliding out to tease. My toes began to cramp from standing on them. Jonah`s teeth moved down my neck, his hands cupped my ass. “My bedroom is right upstairs,” he huffed beside my ear. That was all he said. He didn`t push me physically or mentally, he just let me know and then returned to tasting my jugular and massaging my backside. “Is there a fire lit?” I panted, rubbing myself wantonly against his erection. Raucous spring winds blew outside the stout lodge.“Don`t worry, I`ll keep you warm.”Of that, I had no doubts.



Copyright 2013 ©by V.L. Locey
*~*~*
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Tuesday Tales

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Monday Author/Book Spotlight-Muffy Wilson`s The Para-Portage of Emily

Please welcome a lovely new friend and fellow Secret Cravings author to our corner of the interweb! Today Muffy Wilson drops by to share some info about her novel, The Para-Portage of Emily.




Emily Macque, a young, beautiful junior partner in her father’s law firm, is but a heartbeat away from love or destiny. Duty brings Emily to a frozen Island estate two hundred and fifty miles north of Chicago. Devotion requires she delve into the property history to settle an estate probate. Death lures her into the arms of the shadows seduction created by the flickering light and dark shadows.
What flames the timeless passions spanning the decades? Love, desire or obsession?
Colin Jorgenson, once a Great Lakes mariner, is a strong man haunted by love and loss. How long will he return each night, gripped by desire, hoping to find the woman he has loved for a century?
Beneath the pristine Island beauty, passions hungered, lingered in the ardent darkness. His passions, fueled by decades of loneliness and longing, could no longer be denied. Will they face eternity together or love in secret as dark things are to be loved between the shadows and the soul?
Loved it! I just finished The Para-Portage of Emily. Quite the page-turner!! I was gifted a free copy by the author and found it to be a cleverly woven plot with descriptive characters you won’t soon forget. I’m not one to give out spoilers, but if you like paranormal intrigue, hot romance, and mystery, you will love it. Looking forward to more works by Muffy Wilson as I’m sure they will be just as brilliant. ~ By  Love To Read
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“Tell me what you know about Mariner’s Maiden please, Kirby.”Kirby took a long draw on his beer before he began his narrative.“It was years ago, around 1800 Miss Emily, when the original land owner arrived on the Island with settlers from Norway. He’d claimed five hundred acres on this southern point of the Island for himself. He became wealthy in cattle, wheat, timber and cheese. As his family grew and were educated on the Mainland, they moved, one by one, off Island. They were a wealthy, hard-working lot, but needed less and less of the acreage they owned. Much of the original plot was donated to the Town throughout the years. Some sections were sold.“It got down to the last hundred acres when Colin Jorgenson bought the property, around 1890 or 1900. I am not exactly sure. The main house was much smaller and less grand than it is now, for sure.“Now, Colin was a Maritime Captain and often he’d be gone for months at a time. He sailed the Great Lakes several times a year with supplies, spices, fancy goods and ‘fortunes of bounty’. That’s what they called it then. It was for sale to rich settlers throughout the Great Lakes. He’d earned all his wealth in trading by the turn of the century. He came and went for several years until, in his mid-thirties, he met and married a much younger woman, Amalya, and came back to the Island with her.”Kirby sat back, drained his beer and continued. “The property was called Mariner’s Cove then. He spent two years with Island tradesmen rebuilding this house for his wife. To honor her, and before his return to the water, he commissioned a maritime woodcarver to create the figurehead of Amalya you saw yesterday on the tree marking the entrance.He had the figure of Amalya mounted on the bow of his ship and apparently felt she was always with him in his travels. She died one summer, pregnant with their first child, shortly after his returning from his last trip of the season. He shut himself away in this house—a broken man, left forlorn and alone, to die years later of a broken heart as a recluse. It’s said he returns night after night trying to find his Amalya, his beloved.”“But that’s just old folklore, Miss Emily, there’s nothing to it but made up stories from the past by gossips and romantics. This place has never been haunted—no one has ever said it was, anyway. Even though he was long dead, this property was held in Old Colin’s estate until your uncle bought it around 1955, I think. I suppose there is more you can find out at the Archives office in the Island library at the town offices, if you want. That’s about all I know and it ain’t much.”Refusing a second beer, Kirby was off to finish his chores. “Thank you, Miss Emily,” Kirby said as he stood to leave.Emily walked him to the door with Barkley in tow.“Oh, there is one more thing” he added. “There is supposed to be a crypt on the property somewhere. I heard tell that Old Colin buried his Amalya in there and when he was dying, he crawled into it to die on her casket. Creepy, but no one’s ever found it to my knowledge—and between me and my dad, we’ve covered this property as caretakers for over fifty years.”Emily extended her hand in gratitude for the information and company. “Thank you, Kirby. All of that is so very interesting. He must have been deeply in love with Amalya.”Kirby, a middle-aged man, stood and shook Emily’s hand. He turned to leave, stopped and dropped his head as he hesitated at the bottom of the steps. A simple country man, this time was no different.“Miss Emily…” He looked up at her rather sheepishly, and stuttered slightly, “Forgive me, Miss Emily, if I offend you. I have been a bachelor all my life and never had a way with women or much of a need for them. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I like ‘em well enough, but I never was able to pick the right words in their presence. If…if you don’t mind my saying…you look an awful lot like those paintings in the house of Miss Amalya.”“Oh my word, Kirby, how you flatter me! It is purely a coincidence, I assure you.” Emily smiled, as she dismissed the compliment and waved good-bye at Kirby. As he left, she thought about the love shared between these two remarkable people, Colin and Amalya. Amalya and Colin.She had forgotten to ask what became of the baby…
Fall in Love with the Island and Mariner's Maiden This is a story to savor. Ms. Wilson's descriptions are poetic and enthralling, placing the reader in the midst of the story, and the relaxed pace of the story does not lessen the power of suspense. Shrouded in mystery, romance, and eroticism, "The Para-Portage of Emily" is a treat for the senses, a haunting indulgence. Despite hints throughout, the ending still surprised me, and though satisfied, I regretted the literary journey's end. Highly recommended. I look forward to more from this promising series. ~ By  Jordan Stringfellow
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Author Bio and Links: Muffy, author of erotic, romantic stories about love, sex, hope and passion, was born in San Antonio, Texas, to traditional parents. With two older brothers, she was the youngest, the family "princess," indulged and pampered. She adored her older brothers, following them everywhere and was surrounded by love, stimulation, and pets. Her father was a career Colonel and pilot in the U.S. Air Force which required the family to travel extensively. The family lived in most points between Alaska and France. Muffy spent her formative years in Europe and came of age in France.Returning from France with her family, Muffy finished high school in Northern California and attended the University of California, Davis, and majored inBusiness Management. Muffy entered the work force, independent with a fierce work ethic, and retired at 39 from IBM as a Mid-West Regional Director in the Real Estate and Construction Division. She and her husband moved to a small Island in northern Wisconsin where they owned a historic tavern, restaurant and resort business which they since have sold. They now live a charmed life by the water in SW Florida. Muffy pretends to be a serious real estate business person but, in real life, indulges her private interest in writing sexy short stories and sensual literotica ~ Live, Laugh, Love with Passion.                                               I really enjoyed the Para-Portage of Emily I really enjoyed the Para-Portage of Emily... a skillfully and imaginatively told tale of love, lost and found. Mysterious twists kept me turning the pages until the end. Love conquers all, AND it was hot! ~ By  Barbara A. Lyle
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Website  |  Blog  |  Twitter  | Email |  Facebook  |  FB Fan Page  |  Mailing List Sign-Up  |  Google+  |  Triberr  |  Wordpress  |  Amazon  |  Ganxy  |  XinXii  |  Kobo Books   | iTunes Books  |  Barnes and Noble  |  All Romance eBooks  |  Smashwords   |  Goodreads  |  Yellow Silk Dreams Publishing  |  Secret Cravings Publishing  | 
Previously Published:Secret Cravings, Oysters & Chocolate, Decadent Publishing, Ravenous Romance, Yellow Silk Dreams
Coming Soon:Moonbeams of Unintended Consequences ~ TBA Spring 2015Cheerleaders in Heat ~ TBA Summer 2015
Other Novels and Contributions:
                                    Buy Link                  Buy Link                ***FREE***

Cross Genre Paranormal Erotic Mystery Should John Grisham and EL James have a secret love child, she would no doubt pen legal thrillers with a luscious layer of the erotic. They would name their child Muffy Wilson and send her to Stephen King for some pointers in the paranormal.Wilson, in the obliquely titled "The Para-Portage of Emily", interweaves these three diverse genres into a compelling, magic carpet of a novel that takes Emily Macque from Chicago to a bitter island estate two hundred miles north in the frozen sea. Emily is the striking junior partner in her father’s law firm, her mission, to settle the probate on an estate, her destiny to fall into the arms of Colin Jorgenson, a seaman haunted by a past love that torments his life.Intelligent, well-written, with fully fleshed out characters and a story with more twists than a spiral staircase, "The Para-Portage of Emily" had me gripped until the very last page. ~ By  Chloe

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Live ~ Laugh ~ Lovewith Passion

Remembering Pop on Father`s Day

It has taken me a couple weeks to find the inner fortitude to write this post. I knew it would not be easy to find something to say that sounded important, moving, or dramatic on Father's Day. I mean, the stores are filled with cards that express emotions much better than I ever could and I'm an author. Perhaps it requires the soul of a poet.
This is the first Father`s Day since Pop died in November. It seems so bizarre not to be handing him his usual gifts of pipe tobacco, a new pipe, and perhaps a new shirt. Pop didn`t like a fuss made over him on any holiday.
"Christmas is for kids," he would say. Or . . .
 "I'm not a father now, I'm a grandfather. This day isn`t for me, it's for your husband."
"I'm too old to celebrate birthday's anymore."
Seems Pop always had something planned to shuttle the attention away from him if he could. Those ploys didn`t work often, for he always had gifts on Xmas, his birthday, and Father`s Day. I also always had him over for dinner. After my mother passed, those home-cooked meals seemed to make him happier than any new pipe or tie did. Perhaps his loss is so hard because now I have no living parents to turn to when I need advice. We never really outgrow needing that shoulder to lean on, now do we?
Yes, it seems very strange not to have Pop here today. True, he was not my biological father, but he was the only father that I ever knew. He was the one that tried to teach me to drive a stick, gave me away, and bounced my daughter on his knee.

I miss you, Pop. I miss your silly sayings, your love of old cars, the smell of your vanilla pipe tobacco, and yes, even your stubborn streak. I miss your tales of World War 2, of your days in the Indian motorcycle group, and your jokes. We all feel your loss every day. Tell Mom I said "hi!" since I know you two are together. 
Love,
Vicki



Memories of Dad I will take this special moment
To turn my thoughts to Dad
Thank him for the home he gave
For all the things we had.We think about the fleeting years
Too quickly, gone for good
It seems like only yesterday
I’d go back if I could.A time when Dad was always there,
No matter what the weather.
Always strong when things went wrong
He held our lives together.He strived so hard from day to day
And never once complained.
With steady hands, he worked so hard
And kept the family name.He taught us that hard work pays off,
You reap just what you sow.
He said that if you tend your crops,
Your field will overflow.My life has been bountiful
He taught me how to give
In his firm and steadfast way
He taught me how to live.Dad dwells among the angels now
He left us much too soon
He glides across a golden field
Above the harvest moon.I see him in the summer rain,
He rides upon the wind
And when my path is beaten down
He picks me up again.Poet Unknown

Throwback Thursday Tune

A wonderfully lovely and classy lady! Who doesn`t love Diana Ross and the Supremes?

Long Change Cover Reveal and Exclusive Excerpt!

Hockey season may be officially over but that doesn`t mean that hockey romances are! I am thrilled to present the super amazing cover for Long Change, the second of my three gay hockey romances contracted with Ellora's Cave.





You can preorder Boone and Preston`s story now at the Ellora`s Cave site-

Long Change by V.L. Locey

Amazon

Don`t that just sharpen your skates?! How about the blurb followed by an excerpt? Be warned! The following excerpt is a heavy R rated snippet and contains gay sexual situations and mature language. If that offends now would be the time to leave.





Blurb:

Collegiate superstar goalie Boone Crockett seems to have the world at his feet. He’s rich, handsome, attends an elite college and is a hot prospect for the pros. Pity all that is a front for a deeply closeted and troubled young man.
All Boone’s life plans are shattered when flamboyant ex-figure skater Preston Gordon, an orange-haired twink, shows up to audition for the team’s mascot position wearing sequins, scarves and toe picks. His moves on the ice send Boone into his own pirouette of frustrated and reluctant desire.
As senior year progresses Boone slides deeper and deeper into a dangerous depression, Preston’s sensual strength the only thing he has to hold on to. If Boone can’t keep from plunging through the thin ice he’s skating on, it could take a twink to make the big save.
Reader Advisory: This story has graphic sexual language and scenes—no closed bedroom doors (or other rooms) here!


R Rated Excerpt:(Explicit Language, Gay Sexual Situations):
“Turn around.”
“I’m not stripping down in the corridor!” Preston announced, then swayed off. I stood there, dog head in hand, gaping at his elegantly tiffy departure. Fuck. Me. I stalked along in his wake, slamming the slowly closing door to the men’s room open. I whipped our mascot’s head into a corner. It bounced off a tall silver trashcan then rolled into a stall. Preston skewered me with a filthy look. “I know you’re hovering on the edge of a breakdown because you’re afraid of coming out, but—”
“What the fuck?” I snarled, then spun around to force the door shut. When I rounded on the thin twink, he had dropped down to pick up the dog head. He didn’t bend over like a dude. No. He dropped down into a prim crouch like a chick in a skirt who didn’t want to flash her panties. “You keep that to yourself!”
“No one is here.” He frowned as he rubbed at a wet spot between the mascot’s ears. “I wouldn’t have said it if someone were. I’m not as ignorant as some people,” he tacked on, then straightened up. “Give me a minute to change into my undergarments, and then you can zip me up.”
He placed the furry brown head on the top of the trash then entered a stall. I stared at the closed door for at least a full minute, my hands clenched into fists, my heart rate spiked. Fuck, but he pushed my buttons. What if someone had overheard that snippy comment?
“You promised you’d be cool. Discreet.”
“Yes, I did.” I heard him sigh. It was an exhalation heavy with guilt. “I’m sorry. I lashed out and used the one thing I knew would hurt the worst.”
My eyes were burning slightly from the thick smell of urinal blocks. “Don’t do it again.”
The door to the stall opened. Preston stepped around it in a pair of bright-orange compression leggings over black socks. All that anger? It drained away to be replaced with lust. He was thin but cut, his abdomen showing a nice rippled look that was enhanced by the lack of hair anywhere. He could easily wear youth size. His thighs were toned, well-muscled. All skaters have muscular legs, but his weren’t nearly as thick as a hockey player’s.
“I promise I will never use that against you again,” he vowed. My gaze lingered on the on the bulge of his crotch then swept upward. He looked sincere. He was beautiful, with those pink lips and dewy emerald eyes. I think Preston felt the undercurrent changing as well. He stepped back, his gaze sweeping over me. “Those damn bulky pads,” he whispered, then one side of his mouth, that lush cotton-candy colored mouth, tweaked upward. “They hide that tasty body of yours.”
I was inside that stall before he could rescind the invitation his eyes, lips and body were sending. I jacked him against the partition. The door creaked slowly shut. He gasped in shock at the cold metal meeting his bare back. Or maybe it was the aggressive way I was manhandling him. His hands dove into my hair. Preston pulled my mouth over his. I clapped my sweaty hands to his cheeks, enjoying the baby-smooth flesh under my fingertips. There was really no way for me to feel anything else, not geared up as I was. But that was good. It was okay. If I’d been able to rub my cock against his, I would have burst right inside my cup. As it was I could barely handle the soft touch of his tongue against the seam of my lips.
He wanted more. So did I. I wanted to fuck him right there and then. He led and I followed. Like some entranced rat being led along by a twinkly flautist, I fell under his spell. His rounded nails bit into my scalp. I felt his sides, rubbed his ribs, squeezed his hips. His mouth opened, tongue darting out to dare mine to play. Our panting breaths sounded twice as loud in the acoustically tiled bathroom. I leaned my pelvis in to him. He liked that. It got me a nip on the bottom lip that made my balls contract.
Something hit the other side of the wall. What it was I’ll never be sure. One of the Allegheny State players? Fate? A warning shot from God? Who knows. It was a loud enough thump that my mind, drenched in desire as it was, recognized what a phenomenally asinine thing I was participating in. I stumbled away from Preston. 

Tuesday Tales - Picture Prompt

Hello! It`s time for Tuesday Tales.


Today we have another snippet from Wind in White Birch. 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!



            “If I can just explain before you flay me alive,” I said, meeting Julia`s cold black eyes of hers.             “This should be interesting,” Julia commented coldly. “I’m very anxious to hear your explanation for why you treated Jonah like shit.”“Now just wait a minute!” I snapped at the woman looking down at me. The breeze blew through the white birch trees, tossing her hair and mine into our faces. “I did not treat him like shit.”So much for my fantasy of a finding Jonah along here and making up with a bottle of wine in front of a fire. Darn protective older sisters.“Right,” she scoffed, planted firmly with arms folded tightly. “What happened? Did your little white girl fantasy about being with the big Indian brave go sour when you discovered he wasn`t some cheap ass romance novel hero?”“How dare you accuse me of such a thing?" I gasped, shaken to my core at her brutally harsh and cutting words. “What`s between Jonah and me has nothingto do with anything like that!”“Huh, you could have fooled me,” Julia sneered coming down the steps slowly. I held my ground. “Jules, that’s enough.” We both went rigid at the sharp command when Jonah walked around the side of the lodge carrying some firewood.

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!

Monday Author/Book Spotlight - Tricia Andersen`s The Assassin

Please welcome my fellow Secret Cravings author and Tuesday Tales buddy, Tricia Andersen, to our corner of the interweb! Today she's sharing a character interview between two of her wonderful characters! Sit back and enjoy and then check out The Assassin - Black Irish #5!




Hi there! Thank you for having me on your blog today!I will admit I was at a loss at what to write for this blog post. Just as I started banging my head on the keyboard in frustration, I was offered a proposition. By a tall, dark, sinfully sexy, rich Irishman. Unfortunately it wasn’t that kind of proposition. It was Sloan O’Riley, the hero of my Black Irish series, and he offered himself to be interviewed. He thought that you readers (especially the ladies) would appreciate getting to know him more…intimately.Now, I know Sloan too well. I’m not about to interview him. He knows that I fall for his charms at the drop of a hat. I searched for the perfect person to talk to him and found her. A Marine. One married to an MMA fighter. Here’s what happened when Sloan sat down with Avery Choate from Breaking the Silence (Hard Drive #2)…
Avery: (sitting in a chair) Good evening, Sloan.Sloan: (sits in chair. Stretches his long legs out in front of him. Lets his ice blue eyes wander over Avery then grins) Hello, lass. So you’re the one Tricia let interview me?Avery: You’re here. I’m here. So I guess that’s a yes.Sloan: (turning away to find me) I enjoy your choice, Tricia.Avery: What?Sloan: (turning back to her) Pardon?Avery: I’m deaf. I read lips. Look at me for the rest of the interview please.Sloan: A little demanding, aren’t you? I like strong women.Avery: (not looking amused) Tricia warned me about you. Tell me about yourself.Sloan: I’m rich. I own Sloan Enterprises. I’m from Belfast, Northern Ireland. I have other deep dark secrets I would love to share with you in a more…private setting.Avery: And your wife, Abbey, would approve of that?Sloan: I love my wife. I wouldn’t do anything to betray her. But that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate (motions towards Avery) the beautiful scenery.Avery: (definitely not amused) Really.Sloan: Of course. You are in fantastic shape. You’re a member of that gym, Hard Drive, right? In Minneapolis? Sloan Enterprises is in Minneapolis also. I may just have to come join you.Avery: Yes. I work out at Hard Drive. With my husband.Sloan: Rico’s no match for me.Avery: Beg to differ.Sloan: Want to wager?Avery: Why doesn’t Tricia just kill you off in the next book?Sloan: Because she loves me. Why doesn’t she kill you off? Or better yet, your beloved husband?Avery: (grinning) Because she loves Rico more than you.Sloan: Does not. Do you, Tricia?Me (how’d I get roped into this conversation???): I don’t play favorites, Sloan. But if I did I’d have bad news. I have a new book boyfriend. His name is Reese Cooper and everyone will have to check him out at Secret Cravings Publishing this fall. And Avery might be right. Rico doesn’t brood when I need him to talk to me. And what was that Fifty Shades threat you gave me last week?Sloan: Wait…what? You love them both more than me? Since when?Avery: Sloan, what’s the name of your newest book?Sloan: (clearly distracted) The Assassin.Avery: Where can readers find it?Sloan: Sweet Cravings Publishing and where all fine e-books are sold.Avery: Great. Thank you for your time. (Stands, leaving a baffled Sloan still looking around. Grumbles) That’s the last time I do a favor for Tricia. Non-negotiable.Sloan: Hey, that’s my line!

The Assassin (Black Irish #5)Release Date: May 25, 2015Publisher: Sweet Cravings Publishing ( www.sweetcravingspublishing.com )Genre: Contemporary/Sports/Sweet Romance NovelBlurb:Can Sloan tame his raging jealousy or will it tear him from the woman he loves forever?
There’s trouble in paradise…Torn by jealousy, Sloan leaves Abbey behind to run Sloan Enterprises when the CIA sends him and Bartholomew on a secret mission looking for an arms dealer doing business out of an Army encampment in Afghanistan.  The couple’s paths cross overseas and Abbey is ordered to join her husband on the mission.  Tension flares between them in the hot Afghani sun fueled by the camp’s commanding officer hell bent on turning the two against each other.  Can Sloan overcome his emotions long enough to find the smuggler or will his raging jealousy tear him from the woman he loves…forever?
Excerpt One:Sloan looked down, locking eyes with his wife. She took his breath away. Her brown locks were pinned up on top of her head and cascading down around her shoulders in curls. Her body was wrapped in a silver evening gown that fell to a matching pair of silver stilettos and hugged her curves just the way he liked.She held his gaze for a moment before offering a hand to Angelique. “My name is Abbey O’Riley.”“O’Riley?” Angelique questioned.“Yes, O’Riley. And you can tell by my accent that I’m American so, needless to say, we’re not blood relatives. So please take your hands off my husband.”“Husband?” Angelique screeched.“Yes, darling. Husband. As in the father of my children. Three of them.”Sloan watched Abbey as she glanced up at those gathering. Sloan followed her gaze to find the other women he had slept with surrounding them.A smug, satisfied grin spread across his wife’s lips. “Actually, I need to thank you, Angelique. And the rest of you. Had you not treated Sloan like a toy you could play with then throw away, he never would have learned to despise women. He never would have come to New York and met me, and we never would have fallen in love and had our family. He’d still be here in Prague. So, thank you, Angelique. Thank you for being the selfish, gold-digging monster that you are and sending me the love of my life.”“Monster?” Angelique protested.“Well, I can think of other names to call you. But I’m a mommy, and we don’t say such things.”Angelique looked up to Sloan with a pleading expression. “Sloan, my love. Tell this thing to go away and leave us alone.”“I can’t. She’s telling the truth. This is my wife, Abbey. I fell madly in love with her when I met her in New York.”Angelique’s sweet expression of adoration melted away as she slipped her hands from his arm. She shot Abbey one last look of disgust before stomping away with the other women. Sloan did notice each of them eyeing him intently. Not the scrawny lad you used to know, am I?Abbey sashayed to him with a big grin. “I don’t think your old girlfriend likes me much.”“Impressive, luv,” Sloan complimented. “But I was supposed to get the key to the lockbox from her.”“You mean this key?” Abbey held up the key on a plain, rusty chain that she had clenched in her fist.Sloan took it from her and studied it. “Abigail, how…?”“I slipped it from her little handbag while she was pawing you.”“You are brilliant, luv.”Abbey wrapped her arm around his. “How about a drink before we go?”“An excellent idea.” Sloan escorted her to the bar and ordered a whiskey and a glass of wine. He could feel the eyes of everyone in the room burning him. The whole place had witnessed Abbey’s scene. He chuckled as he took a sip. He didn’t care. He stood by what he had stated before. His woman was simply brilliant.The others met up with them at the bar, chatting and laughing together. Once they finished, they made their way from the ballroom to the van waiting for them outside. Sloan helped Abbey into the vehicle before following her. Inside, each member of the team changed into dark clothing as they moved to their next destination.Thin slivers of moonlight cut across the marble floor of the bank. Four dark shadows briefly slit the beams as they prowled through the building.“Do you know where you’re going?” a voice through each earpiece questioned.“Yes, Gordon,” Sloan answered, as he concentrated his focus in front of him. “Twenty paces ahead is the gate to the vault.”“Abbey, are you in place?”“Yes, sir,” she chirped.“Luv, can you even see the lock?” Sloan queried.“It’s in my scope. No worries. Give me the signal, and I’ll blow it open.”“Go ahead.”The muffled shot was followed by a soft whistle. Metal ripping apart echoed through the silent space. Sloan motioned to Robert, Bartholomew, and Logan to follow him as they rushed through the now-open gate. “Abbey, meet us outside,” he ordered.“Will do,” Abbey agreed. “It might take me that long to get out of these rafters.”“Be careful.”“I will.”“Sloan, the alarm is disabled for two more minutes. Get that stick and get out,” Gordon demanded.“Yes, sir.” Sloan shuffled into the vault, with the others following. He glanced at his partners then nodded toward the gate. “Cover me.”“Sure thing,” Robert answered. The three men stood sentry as Sloan ventured deeper.Searching each of the brass tags on the boxes, he stopped and smiled. “Number seventy-three,” Sloan crooned softly to himself. He stepped back then dug in his pocket. Pulling free the key that Abbey had lifted off Angelique, he slipped it into the lock and turned it clockwise. He tore open the door, analyzing the contents. Reaching in, he grasped the USB stick then spun on his heel. “I have the stick. Everyone out.”“I’m covering the door. There’s a patrol officer outside,” Logan reported.Sloan could hear Robert curse over the earpiece followed by the sound of a chamber of a rifle opening. “Abbey, what are you doing?”“I don’t kill, Sloan.”“I know that. What are you doing?” Sloan demanded.He heard the chamber lock again then another muffled shot. “Sleep tight, sweet prince. Coast is clear. Let’s go.”“Sloan, you have fifteen seconds. Move,” Gordon warned. “Fourteen…thirteen…”The four men ran across the bank lobby for the exit as Gordon kept counting down. They found it slightly propped open with Abbey’s body. She pried it apart farther as they passed through. Sloan grasped her hand and tugged her with him, slamming the door shut.Gordon’s voice softly spoke through their earpieces, “One. Good job all. Get to the airport and come home.”
Excerpt Two:Abbey studied the display in front of her as she cradled a cup of coffee in her hands. She had been staring at one screen after another since four o’clock that morning. She nibbled at an apple and banana when she had a moment. Finding Torelli was far more important. She watched the soldiers around her compute the information they had on hand.Shortly after her interview at the CIA headquarters in Langley, they had moved her to Fort McNair. Here, they could leave immediately if they got a location on Torelli. Plus, Abbey was sure the CIA wouldn’t appreciate her using their office for rifle practice.Agent Dunham approached her with a chuckle. She gave him a half-smile. “What’s so funny?” she asked.Dunham put his phone on speaker for her to listen. The voice of a very irritated Irishman blared out, demanding to be let in. Abbey sighed.“You knew he’d be coming,” Dunham reminded her.“Yes. I suspected he would. I would have liked to find Torelli first though.”Dunham turned as the gate guard pleaded for orders. He laughed again as he took the cell off speaker and held it to his ear. “Let Mr. O’Riley and Mr. Evans in. Show them to their barracks and then bring them here. And make sure they are officer barracks, please.”“Yes, sir.”Dunham hung up his phone and slipped it in his pocket. He patted Abbey on the shoulder. “Only a matter of time. Good luck.”“Thanks.” Abbey turned back to the screen ahead of her, scrutinizing the lines across the world map indicating the confirmed paths Torelli and the weapons had taken.Abbey knew he was there before he said a word. The dominating presence, the electricity his body gave off, sent shivers through her. Her heartbeat sped up, not from fear, but sweet anticipation. It was how her body reacted around the Irishman.“I thought I said we were done with this,” Sloan warned. “Dunham showing us to barracks was pointless. We’re going home immediately.”Abbey took a deep breath to settle her quaking nerves then spun to face her husband. “I don’t think so. Thank you for checking on me. You can go home now.”“Like hell I am!” Sloan roared.“Then grab a file and help.”Sloan took hold of her arm and pulled her against him. Abbey sucked in her breath. The sensation of his body against hers set her on fire. It was difficult for her to keep her bravado.“What is it going to take to get through that thick skull of yours, Abigail?” His brogue was pure silk.“Whatever it is, you don’t have it, Sloan.”“Are you sure of that, little girl?” Sloan scooped Abbey into his arms and tossed her over his shoulder like a rag doll. Without another word, he spun on his heel and stormed from the control center.Abbey kicked her feet the best she could as she pounded her fists on his back. “Let me down!” she screamed.Her protests were met with a firm swat on the rear. “Quiet,” Sloan ordered.Abbey was furious as she glanced around at the soldiers witnessing the scene. “How dare you show up here—”Another smack. “That’s for taking off and worrying the entire family.”Warmth radiated across her rump. “Put me down!”She squealed a little at the next spanking. “That’s for making me chase you halfway across the country.”“I didn’t ask you to follow—”She yelped as he slapped her behind once again. “That’s for disobeying a commanding officer. I told you to be quiet. And believe it or not, Abigail, I amyour commanding officer in whatever faction we belong to.”Abbey swallowed back a sob. Between the embarrassment of being disciplined in front of half of the camp and her now blistering backside, tears burned her eyes. She went limp over his shoulder as he stormed into his barracks, not stopping until he reached his bedroom. He gently laid her on his bed then stretched out beside her.Sloan’s mouth trailed over her cheek, gently kissing the tears away. “This is for losing you. This is for collapsing at your gravestone and realizing I would never look into your eyes again, or kiss your lips, or make love to you. This is for listening to your confession on your knees on that ridge in Afghanistan. Abbey, baby, forgive me for what I’ve done. Please.”Sloan’s wandering lips set Abbey’s nerves ablaze. She shuddered as his strong hand tenderly massaged her wounded rear. She turned against him, capturing his mouth with hers, slipping her tongue between his lips to tangle with his. She heard him moan in surrender.She struggled to tug her T-shirt off. Once she accomplished it, she tossed the fabric on the floor then unzipped her pants. “Please, Sloan.”

Buy LinksSecret Cravings Publishinghttp://store.sweetcravingspublishing.com/index.php?main_page=book_info&cPath=4&products_id=271&zenid=vqibpclm1tei89cbtocho8tsp2Amazonhttp://www.amazon.com/The-Assassin-Black-Irish-Book-ebook/dp/B00XAM5TECBarnes and Noblehttp://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-assassin-tricia-andersen/1121921738?ean=2940151937825Smashwordshttps://www.smashwords.com/books/view/545500All Romance E-bookshttps://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-theassassin-1801177-149.html


Author’s Bio:Tricia Andersen lives in Iowa with her husband, Brian and her three children – her sons, Jake and Jon, and her daughter, Alex.  She graduated from the University of Iowa with a Bachelor of Arts in English and from Kirkwood Community College with an Associate of Arts degree in Communications Media/Public Relations.  Along with writing (which she loves to do), Tricia practices mixed martial arts, coaches and participates in track and field, reads, sews and is involved in many of her children's activities.
Author Links:www.triciaandersen.comwww.insidethiswritersmind.comwww.facebook.com/t.l.andersenauthorwww.twitter.com/triciaandersenwww.youtube.com/channel/UC-urTJQmAbPpgO4aJ6PooMQwww.pinterest.com/tricialandersen

Time To See What Was In The Mystery Box!

Congratulations to Sula for winning a copy of Early to Rise in my "What`s in the Box?" giveaway! I'll be in contact with Sula to set everything up.

And now to reveal what kind of poultry was in the box.

Drum roll please . . . I now own ten new guinea fowl!



Thanks to all who participated and/or dropped by to check out the fun! *hugs*

Happy Flag Day

 


To all my US friends!