V.L. Locey's Blog, page 77
January 12, 2015
Tuesday Tales - Picture Prompt
Welcome back to Tuesday Tales!
It's time for more romance. We have a picture prompt this week so the excerpt is written to reflect the image and must be three hundred words or under. Please check out the other wonderful writers after you`re done reading by clicking on the Tuesday Tales link at the bottom. Thanks for stopping in!
Wind in White Birch
Apparently Jonah Big Deer`s charm was not limited to thirty-something divorced mothers. It also swept women in their eighties and nineties off their feet. He was like champagne and glittery presents on Christmas. Pity I hadn`t found him naked under my tree. All kidding aside, I was very pleased to see Jonah doing so well with the old gals. His confident yet humble manner had even taken some of the pinched distrust away from my grandmother`s thickly colored lips. He was pleasantly flirtatious with those who would play along like my aunts Mary and Jo-Jo. With the other three less giggly Zajac sisters, he was polite deference and respectable good grace. At the moment he was engaged in a lengthy discussion with Aunt Elizabeth. “He seems nice enough,” I heard my grandmother say. I buried the ‘No Shit!’ smile that wanted to break free before turning to look at her. “He`s a very nice man,” I said. She patted her hair, although it was just an affectation. There was enough Aqua-Net on the mound of red curls to hold the beehive in place during a hurricane. Honestly. I saw it happen once on vacation. “He needs to cut his hair,” she said. The statement didn’t surprise me.“Lots of Native American men have long hair,” I pointed out. She sucked on that like statement as if it were a lemon drop. “I think it`s sexy,” I added just to be that way. Her nostrils flattened. “You thought Rhick`s hair was sexy too, and look where that got you!” the woman snapped, spun around as neatly as possible given her rather low center of gravity and artificial hip, then stalked to the food table for another halupki. Ouch.
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
It's time for more romance. We have a picture prompt this week so the excerpt is written to reflect the image and must be three hundred words or under. Please check out the other wonderful writers after you`re done reading by clicking on the Tuesday Tales link at the bottom. Thanks for stopping in!
Wind in White Birch
Apparently Jonah Big Deer`s charm was not limited to thirty-something divorced mothers. It also swept women in their eighties and nineties off their feet. He was like champagne and glittery presents on Christmas. Pity I hadn`t found him naked under my tree. All kidding aside, I was very pleased to see Jonah doing so well with the old gals. His confident yet humble manner had even taken some of the pinched distrust away from my grandmother`s thickly colored lips. He was pleasantly flirtatious with those who would play along like my aunts Mary and Jo-Jo. With the other three less giggly Zajac sisters, he was polite deference and respectable good grace. At the moment he was engaged in a lengthy discussion with Aunt Elizabeth. “He seems nice enough,” I heard my grandmother say. I buried the ‘No Shit!’ smile that wanted to break free before turning to look at her. “He`s a very nice man,” I said. She patted her hair, although it was just an affectation. There was enough Aqua-Net on the mound of red curls to hold the beehive in place during a hurricane. Honestly. I saw it happen once on vacation. “He needs to cut his hair,” she said. The statement didn’t surprise me.“Lots of Native American men have long hair,” I pointed out. She sucked on that like statement as if it were a lemon drop. “I think it`s sexy,” I added just to be that way. Her nostrils flattened. “You thought Rhick`s hair was sexy too, and look where that got you!” the woman snapped, spun around as neatly as possible given her rather low center of gravity and artificial hip, then stalked to the food table for another halupki. Ouch.
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
And The Winner Is . . .
Congratulations to Jody Faltys for winning the free copy of Pink Pucks & Power Plays in the SCP 4th Anniversary Blog Hop! I'll be getting in contract with Jody shortly to set things up. Thanks to all who hopped into my little corner of the internet. See you next year when Secret Cravings celebrates their 5th anniversary!
January 10, 2015
Secret Cravings 4th Anniversary Blog Hop! Free Book Giveaway!
Welcome to the Secret Cravings 4th Anniversary Blog Hop!
My name is V.L. Locey and I write erotic hockey romances for SCP. It`s amazing how quickly the time rolls past. It was just last year, in January, that my first book with Secret Cravings, Pink Pucks & Power Plays, released on 1/22/14.
It has been a wonderful year, which has seen five Wildcat novels and a Weekend Getaway erotic short published by Secret Cravings. The latest addition to the Wildcat series, Language of Love, just came out on Monday. You'll find an exclusive peek at Margarite and Petro`s book at the bottom of this post, so don`t miss it! Final Shifts, the 6th and final Wildcat novel, will hit the ice in March. I recently signed a contract with Secret Cravings for a new erotic hockey series, this time centered on a woman`s professional team, the Venom, coming to Philadelphia. Check out this wicked cool Venom logo!
The Venom series of nine novels will launch in August of 2015 and I am thrilled to say the least! I am incredibly lucky and thankful to a part of this wonderful family of authors and staff, and am looking forward to many more years of bringing you the hot hockey romances that you love.
To help celebrate Secret Cravings` anniversary, I'm going to give away a digital copy of the book that started the Wildcats craze, Pink Pucks & Power Plays! Just tell me if you make resolutions or not. You don't have to share what that resolution is, unless you want to, of course. Leave your comments and contact information and I'll pick a winner on Monday morning.
Please make sure you leave your email address so I can get in touch with you. If you don`t leave your contact information, I'll be forced to omit your comment. I hate to skip anyone but I simply do not have the time to track down folks on the internet. So, tell me if you`re a resolution maker or not (I'm not by the way) with an email address, and good luck in the free book drawing! Make sure you go back to the SCP main blog and visit all the other great Secret Cravings authors who are taking part in this hop. There are lots of great books and prizes to be won!
Secret Cravings Blog
May 2015 be a love-filled year for you and yours. Skate hard and love deeply,
V.L. Locey
*~*~*
Tapping gently on the door to the master suite, I was surprised to see it swing open. Mama was very tight about her room being private. Then the two youngest Moores raced past, nearly knocking me aside. I looked up to see Philip standing before me.
“Hey, slow down, “Coach Moore yelled at his grandsons. “Sorry, Margarite. Someone fed them candy and coffee before dropping them off by the looks.” Philip smiled then set off in pursuit of his grandies. No golf togs today on the baby daddy. Simple khaki shorts and a polo shirt. I watched the man trot down the steps. He sure was feeling springy. I rapped on the doorframe. Mama appeared in the open doorway, looking disreputable considering she was due to leave in fifteen minutes. Her hair was a mess, her makeup only half done, and her skirt was hanging lopsided on her round hips. I asked her where her blouse was.
“I have no idea.” She spun from the door. I stepped in. My eyes went round. The bedroom had been hit by two typhoons, both named Moore. I looked over at my mother. She was sitting on the edge of her unmade bed, one shoe in her hand staring at me with despondency. “I just threw up my dinner, I can’t find my other shoe, the newspapers are making an ass out of me, the commissioner is displeased, the League is pissed off, the other owners are tittering at me behind their backs, and my mother*#*#*#* skirt won’t zip.”
She started to cry. Mama hardly ever cried. I ran over to sit beside her. My arms went around her. I made sounds to try to soothe her as I rubbed her slim back. She gathered herself remarkably quickly. A weak smile tugged at her lips as she wiped her cheeks with one of Philip’s socks.
“I’m too old to have a baby. Those boys have only been here for thirty minutes and I’m a weeping, wiped-out mess. Dear God, what kind of stupid am I?”
I held onto her until she was done berating herself. Granted, I thought having a baby at fifty was insane, but what was done was done. I kissed her cheek.
“Do you think that your hormones might be a little crazy?”
She laughed then dropped her ratty head to my shoulder, signing back that I always made her laugh. Then she sucked in a huge breath, sat up straight, threw the man-sock aside then turned all her attention to me. Maybe I should have encouraged her to dwell on her own problems for a bit longer?
“Are you coming back home?” she asked directly. My reply stalled on my tongue. I had planned to. It was part of the agenda. Last night I had been all about getting the hell away from Petro as quickly as possible. Then we did what we did on the sofa of sin. Heat raced to my cheeks. I reached up to cover my flaming face with my hands. My mother stood up then walked into her closet. Out she came a minute later with several skirts draped over her arm. “Help me find one that will fit,” she said. I lowered my hands. After four tries, I handed her a dark green skirt that had a delicate bit of embroidery at the hem. When she took it from me our eyes locked.
“Are you sleeping with him?”
I nodded. My face was searing hot but I was not going to lie to her.
“Are you still on the pill?”
Another nod.
“Has he been tested?”
“I think he has been, but the language barrier is making it hard to make sure.”
“Margarite, for the love of God, why would you sleep with a man without taking precautions?” she snapped. I pointed at her gently rounding stomach. She threw the green skirt to the bed. I stood my ground. “Do not seek to use my mistake to make yours look any less stupid. That man is a walking venereal disease, Margarite. He is not good enough for you.”
I let her have it. My hands were moving so fast she finally grabbed them to still them.
“I know I gave him the contract. And yes, I wanted him for the team. I was blinded by his stats, okay. If I had known that he would be bedding my daughter, I would have left his ass back in that miserable whorehouse he and Olaf called home. That damned trip has turned out to be the worst mistake that I have ever made!”
Mama dropped my hands then spun around. There in the doorway stood Coach Moore. He looked like someone had reached into his chest then yanked out his heart.
“That’s a lovely way to think of our child, Isabelle,” he said then stormed off. Mama went after him. I stood amid the skirts and blouses, my hands shaking I was so mad, hurt, and scared. Life had become a whirlwind of confusion.
Amazon
Secret Cravings Store
All Romance eBooks
My name is V.L. Locey and I write erotic hockey romances for SCP. It`s amazing how quickly the time rolls past. It was just last year, in January, that my first book with Secret Cravings, Pink Pucks & Power Plays, released on 1/22/14.
It has been a wonderful year, which has seen five Wildcat novels and a Weekend Getaway erotic short published by Secret Cravings. The latest addition to the Wildcat series, Language of Love, just came out on Monday. You'll find an exclusive peek at Margarite and Petro`s book at the bottom of this post, so don`t miss it! Final Shifts, the 6th and final Wildcat novel, will hit the ice in March. I recently signed a contract with Secret Cravings for a new erotic hockey series, this time centered on a woman`s professional team, the Venom, coming to Philadelphia. Check out this wicked cool Venom logo!
The Venom series of nine novels will launch in August of 2015 and I am thrilled to say the least! I am incredibly lucky and thankful to a part of this wonderful family of authors and staff, and am looking forward to many more years of bringing you the hot hockey romances that you love.
To help celebrate Secret Cravings` anniversary, I'm going to give away a digital copy of the book that started the Wildcats craze, Pink Pucks & Power Plays! Just tell me if you make resolutions or not. You don't have to share what that resolution is, unless you want to, of course. Leave your comments and contact information and I'll pick a winner on Monday morning.
Please make sure you leave your email address so I can get in touch with you. If you don`t leave your contact information, I'll be forced to omit your comment. I hate to skip anyone but I simply do not have the time to track down folks on the internet. So, tell me if you`re a resolution maker or not (I'm not by the way) with an email address, and good luck in the free book drawing! Make sure you go back to the SCP main blog and visit all the other great Secret Cravings authors who are taking part in this hop. There are lots of great books and prizes to be won!
Secret Cravings Blog
May 2015 be a love-filled year for you and yours. Skate hard and love deeply,
V.L. Locey
*~*~*
Tapping gently on the door to the master suite, I was surprised to see it swing open. Mama was very tight about her room being private. Then the two youngest Moores raced past, nearly knocking me aside. I looked up to see Philip standing before me.
“Hey, slow down, “Coach Moore yelled at his grandsons. “Sorry, Margarite. Someone fed them candy and coffee before dropping them off by the looks.” Philip smiled then set off in pursuit of his grandies. No golf togs today on the baby daddy. Simple khaki shorts and a polo shirt. I watched the man trot down the steps. He sure was feeling springy. I rapped on the doorframe. Mama appeared in the open doorway, looking disreputable considering she was due to leave in fifteen minutes. Her hair was a mess, her makeup only half done, and her skirt was hanging lopsided on her round hips. I asked her where her blouse was.
“I have no idea.” She spun from the door. I stepped in. My eyes went round. The bedroom had been hit by two typhoons, both named Moore. I looked over at my mother. She was sitting on the edge of her unmade bed, one shoe in her hand staring at me with despondency. “I just threw up my dinner, I can’t find my other shoe, the newspapers are making an ass out of me, the commissioner is displeased, the League is pissed off, the other owners are tittering at me behind their backs, and my mother*#*#*#* skirt won’t zip.”
She started to cry. Mama hardly ever cried. I ran over to sit beside her. My arms went around her. I made sounds to try to soothe her as I rubbed her slim back. She gathered herself remarkably quickly. A weak smile tugged at her lips as she wiped her cheeks with one of Philip’s socks.
“I’m too old to have a baby. Those boys have only been here for thirty minutes and I’m a weeping, wiped-out mess. Dear God, what kind of stupid am I?”
I held onto her until she was done berating herself. Granted, I thought having a baby at fifty was insane, but what was done was done. I kissed her cheek.
“Do you think that your hormones might be a little crazy?”
She laughed then dropped her ratty head to my shoulder, signing back that I always made her laugh. Then she sucked in a huge breath, sat up straight, threw the man-sock aside then turned all her attention to me. Maybe I should have encouraged her to dwell on her own problems for a bit longer?
“Are you coming back home?” she asked directly. My reply stalled on my tongue. I had planned to. It was part of the agenda. Last night I had been all about getting the hell away from Petro as quickly as possible. Then we did what we did on the sofa of sin. Heat raced to my cheeks. I reached up to cover my flaming face with my hands. My mother stood up then walked into her closet. Out she came a minute later with several skirts draped over her arm. “Help me find one that will fit,” she said. I lowered my hands. After four tries, I handed her a dark green skirt that had a delicate bit of embroidery at the hem. When she took it from me our eyes locked.
“Are you sleeping with him?”
I nodded. My face was searing hot but I was not going to lie to her.
“Are you still on the pill?”
Another nod.
“Has he been tested?”
“I think he has been, but the language barrier is making it hard to make sure.”
“Margarite, for the love of God, why would you sleep with a man without taking precautions?” she snapped. I pointed at her gently rounding stomach. She threw the green skirt to the bed. I stood my ground. “Do not seek to use my mistake to make yours look any less stupid. That man is a walking venereal disease, Margarite. He is not good enough for you.”
I let her have it. My hands were moving so fast she finally grabbed them to still them.
“I know I gave him the contract. And yes, I wanted him for the team. I was blinded by his stats, okay. If I had known that he would be bedding my daughter, I would have left his ass back in that miserable whorehouse he and Olaf called home. That damned trip has turned out to be the worst mistake that I have ever made!”
Mama dropped my hands then spun around. There in the doorway stood Coach Moore. He looked like someone had reached into his chest then yanked out his heart.
“That’s a lovely way to think of our child, Isabelle,” he said then stormed off. Mama went after him. I stood amid the skirts and blouses, my hands shaking I was so mad, hurt, and scared. Life had become a whirlwind of confusion.
Amazon
Secret Cravings Store
All Romance eBooks
January 8, 2015
Tamara Hoffa`s Hers To Bear
Hot dog, a shifter book! Or perhaps I should say hot bear. Please give Tamara Hoffa a warm welcome back greeting as she introduces us to her brand new release, Hers To Bear. Just as an added warning in case the adult content page wasn`t enough, there is a mature excerpt down below with explicit language. If this offends now is the time to mosey along to another blog.
Tag line: Mating with the Alpha Bear of Honey Corners is sweet, until danger HUNTS the happy couple.
Blurb :Twenty-five and never been kissed, Jenna Raynes is a beautiful woman with a rubenesque figure often overlooked by men. In the mood for a little honey, the sassy new schoolteacher is stopped in her tracks by one growled word from an alpha bear…“Mine.” Bern Helms’ inner bear catches the scent of his destined mate. His animal’s desire is drawn to her curves, but Jenna is human, and not lured to him by instinct. Convincing her begins as a sizzling, sweet affair that is soon spoiled by danger. In their small backwater town, nerves are strung taut. Someone is abducting shifter children. When confronted, Jenna is as protective of her students as a mamma bear. For Bern, all bets are off when the kidnapper’s take Jenna too. Nothing will keep a bear from his mate. The hunters will become the hunted…
Excerpt 1 Bern had come into the store for his daily honey fix. He admitted it, he was addicted to the stuff. He had just bought two dozen biscuits at the bakery and he was going to drown them in honey, along with a nice piece of salmon for dinner.When he stepped through the door he stopped in his tracks. His nostrils flared and his heart began to race. What was that fabulous scent? Like honey and vanilla, but something else too. Something that was making his cock stand up and do a happy dance in his pants.Mate. Oh my God and goddess, his mate was in this store. He couldn’t think. Instinct took over and his legs carried him to the source of the tantalizing scent that had his libido raging and his bear roaring. He was beside her before his brain had caught up with his body. He had to touch her. She was his. His hand covered hers as she reached for a jar of honey on the shelf. “Mine,” he growled. When she looked up at him with crystal blue eyes he thought he’d fallen into them and drowned.Flawless porcelain skin covered a face that could have been painted by Botticelli. Pale blonde lashes framed her startled eyes and her cheeks were flushed an enticing pink. She bit her bottom lip and he wanted to kiss away the sting her torment caused the luscious flesh.“There’s more than one jar,” she said, and her voice was husky and sweet.She took a step back and a low growl escaped his throat. His bear didn’t like their mate backing away from them.“I beg your pardon?”“You are mine. You are my mate.”
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Author Bio
Tamara Hoffa lives in central Tennessee, with her husband of 30 years, her parents, 2 dogs and 2 cats. She started reading at four years old and has rarely been seen without a book since. At home you will usually find her in “nana’s chair” with her kindle, her laptop or one of her precious, precocious grandson’s in her lap. Tamara is an author, an editor, and reviews/promotions coordinator for Secret Cravings Publishing. Tamara is proof positive that it’s never too late to reach for your dreams.
Contact Links:
Website- http://tamarahoffa.com/Facebook : https://www.facebook.com/AuthorTamaraHoffaTwitter: https://www.twitter.com/TamaraHoffaTsu: https://www.tsu.co/TamaraHoffaGoodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6537898.Tamara_HoffaBlog: http://sslyblog.wordpress.com/Pinterest http://www.pinterest.com/tamarahoffa/Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Tamara-Hoffa/e/B009FG9PCE/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1398090026&sr=1-1Goggle + https://plus.google.com/u/0/100155539737780435355/posts
Other books by TamaraHeart of a Soldier
Throwback Thursday Tunes
This lovely lady is one of my favorite female performers. Her voice is heavenly perfection in my humble. Enjoy Ms. Ronstadt singing one of her top sellers, Blue Bayou.
If anyone has a request, please feel free to let me know down in the comment box. I'll even put your name up in the header box the week your requested song is featured!
January 5, 2015
Tuesday Tales - Gray
Welcome back to Tuesday Tales!
It's time for more romance. Today we have issue five of my multicultural romance serial Wind in White Birch. Our word prompt this week is 'Gray.' Please check out the other wonderful writers after you`re done reading by clicking on the Tuesday Tales link at the bottom. Thanks for stopping in!
Wind in White Birch
St. Clare of Assisi ParishClairton, PA
I kept checking my watch. My grandmother kept checking me. I wanted to chalk it up to her overprotective nature but I felt it was something else, something that related directly to Rhett and me going off with Jonah Big Deer if I was reading her correctly. I could understand her reticence and unease. She didn`t know Jonah or his grandfather Andy. She flatly refused to go to Mud Puppy Lake, citing her desire to stay right on State Street and not get lost in the woods ‘with wild Indians roaming around’ was always dangling silently at the end of her derogatory statement. That was her loss. The Big Deer men were outgoing, kind, considerate, and in the case of Jonah, hot as hell. The birthday party was in full swing. A local polka band was belting out the Too Fat polka. Rhett was racing around the bingo hall with cousins of cousins. I was hiding in the corner behind the food tables, my plate overflowing with three fat halupki. Rhett was supposed to eat one of the pudgy stuffed cabbages but he was running on high octane and couldn`t stop long enough. I was nibbling at the cabbage rolls, tasting Aunt Anne`s touch in the fine mix of meat inside the cabbage.
No wonder I`m a size sixteen. The tables were groaning under the weight of halupki, halushki, pierogies, ham hocks, kielbasa, and desserts of every conceivable kind. Even as I chewed a forkful of cabbage, ground beef and pork I eyed the various individual fruit rolls dusted with confectioner`s sugar.This is what those of us with Zajac blood consider finger food. When I was a teenager I`d have homemade pierogies for a snack at night. Yep. My ass and mashed potato filled dough balls are on first name terms and sadly resemble each other.“Damn, something smells good.” A very familiar and husky voice purred beside my right ear. I drew in a shaky breath through my nose.“It`s the pierogies,” I replied, feeling the heat of Jonah Big Deer searing through the thin material of my party dress. “No,” he said, his breath blowing over my ear and rustling a few strands of blonde hair that I had left loose, “It`s you.”The wolf comparison of last night came roaring back with enough fire to ignite the gray print material of my dress. If he kissed the back of my neck, I would not be held responsible for what happened next. Not wishing to have Father Wikowski witness such a depraved act in his bingo hall, I slowly turned around. Perhaps I should have kept facing forward. Jonah was just as tall, just as wide of shoulders and lean of waist, and just as sensually magnetic as I recalled. His black hair was pulled into a ponytail. He was bundled up in his heavy black wool coat. His eyes were black diamond pools sitting squarely astride a wide Seneca nose. He was absolute male prowess and sensuality wrapped up in a sultry six foot two inch package of younger man. Rowr! I dug my claws – I mean my fingernails – into my palms to keep from using him as a sexy scratching post. His lips split into an appreciative smile, perfect white teeth set off brilliantly against russet flesh. My bra grew restrictive. “You look great.” He leaned closer to be heard over the singer and accordions. I blushed and mumbled thanks. “Are you hungry?” I shouted then wiggled my fingers at the birthday boy and his wife as they danced past with quizzical looks. “Yeah, as a matter of fact I am,” Jonah said sheepishly. “I was in such a hurry to get down here I didn`t eat anything. Just showered to get the stink of diesel fuel off and dove into the truck. Looks like a great party,” he added as I shifted around him.“If there`s one thing my people know how to do, it`s party and eat.” I grinned while handing him a glass plate from atop a tower of green and white salvers. He winked down at me. Desire unfurled in my lower abdomen. It was probably a good thing that Rhett spied Jonah at that moment. Otherwise, wild and sexy things may have occurred on top of the halupki platter. My son, and several cousins, came tearing through the adults on the dance floor. Rhett arrived in a whirlwind of young boy enthusiasm. “Hey Jonah!” the dervish called breathlessly.“Hey little man, long time no see,” Mr. Big Deer countered, knocking knuckles with my son. “You got taller since I saw you last,” Jonah noticed, reaching down to ruffle the lads sandy hair. “Yah, I think I grew another foot or something. Hey, thanks for those mitts, they`re awesome! I brought them along so we can play catch! Mom`s kind of afraid of the ball,” my son said with utter shame for his maternal catching partner. Jonah quirked a dark eyebrow at me to which I shrugged in response. I wanted to say something in reply but the Clairton Corp came swooping across the bingo hall at that moment like the fabled Norse Valkyries riding down upon a dead Viking to carry him to Valhalla.“Jonah Big Deer, you take off that coat then give me a hello hug!” Aunt Jo-Jo cried as the band quieted. Poor Jonah was stripped of his coat with haste then whisked down the food line, his plates filled to the ‘Needing Sideboards’ capacity. He was then herded to a long folding table, shoved into a collapsible chair, and surrounded by old women with sharp eyes and dull hearing. I meandered over with Rhett at my side.“Mom, are they going to pinch Jonah`s cheeks like they do mine?” the boy asked.I caught my grandmother`s constipated look. “I kind of doubt it, but with Aunt Jo, you never know.” Of course with Aunt Josephine, it wasn`t the cheeks of Jonah`s handsome face that might be pinched.
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
It's time for more romance. Today we have issue five of my multicultural romance serial Wind in White Birch. Our word prompt this week is 'Gray.' Please check out the other wonderful writers after you`re done reading by clicking on the Tuesday Tales link at the bottom. Thanks for stopping in!
Wind in White Birch
St. Clare of Assisi ParishClairton, PA
I kept checking my watch. My grandmother kept checking me. I wanted to chalk it up to her overprotective nature but I felt it was something else, something that related directly to Rhett and me going off with Jonah Big Deer if I was reading her correctly. I could understand her reticence and unease. She didn`t know Jonah or his grandfather Andy. She flatly refused to go to Mud Puppy Lake, citing her desire to stay right on State Street and not get lost in the woods ‘with wild Indians roaming around’ was always dangling silently at the end of her derogatory statement. That was her loss. The Big Deer men were outgoing, kind, considerate, and in the case of Jonah, hot as hell. The birthday party was in full swing. A local polka band was belting out the Too Fat polka. Rhett was racing around the bingo hall with cousins of cousins. I was hiding in the corner behind the food tables, my plate overflowing with three fat halupki. Rhett was supposed to eat one of the pudgy stuffed cabbages but he was running on high octane and couldn`t stop long enough. I was nibbling at the cabbage rolls, tasting Aunt Anne`s touch in the fine mix of meat inside the cabbage.
No wonder I`m a size sixteen. The tables were groaning under the weight of halupki, halushki, pierogies, ham hocks, kielbasa, and desserts of every conceivable kind. Even as I chewed a forkful of cabbage, ground beef and pork I eyed the various individual fruit rolls dusted with confectioner`s sugar.This is what those of us with Zajac blood consider finger food. When I was a teenager I`d have homemade pierogies for a snack at night. Yep. My ass and mashed potato filled dough balls are on first name terms and sadly resemble each other.“Damn, something smells good.” A very familiar and husky voice purred beside my right ear. I drew in a shaky breath through my nose.“It`s the pierogies,” I replied, feeling the heat of Jonah Big Deer searing through the thin material of my party dress. “No,” he said, his breath blowing over my ear and rustling a few strands of blonde hair that I had left loose, “It`s you.”The wolf comparison of last night came roaring back with enough fire to ignite the gray print material of my dress. If he kissed the back of my neck, I would not be held responsible for what happened next. Not wishing to have Father Wikowski witness such a depraved act in his bingo hall, I slowly turned around. Perhaps I should have kept facing forward. Jonah was just as tall, just as wide of shoulders and lean of waist, and just as sensually magnetic as I recalled. His black hair was pulled into a ponytail. He was bundled up in his heavy black wool coat. His eyes were black diamond pools sitting squarely astride a wide Seneca nose. He was absolute male prowess and sensuality wrapped up in a sultry six foot two inch package of younger man. Rowr! I dug my claws – I mean my fingernails – into my palms to keep from using him as a sexy scratching post. His lips split into an appreciative smile, perfect white teeth set off brilliantly against russet flesh. My bra grew restrictive. “You look great.” He leaned closer to be heard over the singer and accordions. I blushed and mumbled thanks. “Are you hungry?” I shouted then wiggled my fingers at the birthday boy and his wife as they danced past with quizzical looks. “Yeah, as a matter of fact I am,” Jonah said sheepishly. “I was in such a hurry to get down here I didn`t eat anything. Just showered to get the stink of diesel fuel off and dove into the truck. Looks like a great party,” he added as I shifted around him.“If there`s one thing my people know how to do, it`s party and eat.” I grinned while handing him a glass plate from atop a tower of green and white salvers. He winked down at me. Desire unfurled in my lower abdomen. It was probably a good thing that Rhett spied Jonah at that moment. Otherwise, wild and sexy things may have occurred on top of the halupki platter. My son, and several cousins, came tearing through the adults on the dance floor. Rhett arrived in a whirlwind of young boy enthusiasm. “Hey Jonah!” the dervish called breathlessly.“Hey little man, long time no see,” Mr. Big Deer countered, knocking knuckles with my son. “You got taller since I saw you last,” Jonah noticed, reaching down to ruffle the lads sandy hair. “Yah, I think I grew another foot or something. Hey, thanks for those mitts, they`re awesome! I brought them along so we can play catch! Mom`s kind of afraid of the ball,” my son said with utter shame for his maternal catching partner. Jonah quirked a dark eyebrow at me to which I shrugged in response. I wanted to say something in reply but the Clairton Corp came swooping across the bingo hall at that moment like the fabled Norse Valkyries riding down upon a dead Viking to carry him to Valhalla.“Jonah Big Deer, you take off that coat then give me a hello hug!” Aunt Jo-Jo cried as the band quieted. Poor Jonah was stripped of his coat with haste then whisked down the food line, his plates filled to the ‘Needing Sideboards’ capacity. He was then herded to a long folding table, shoved into a collapsible chair, and surrounded by old women with sharp eyes and dull hearing. I meandered over with Rhett at my side.“Mom, are they going to pinch Jonah`s cheeks like they do mine?” the boy asked.I caught my grandmother`s constipated look. “I kind of doubt it, but with Aunt Jo, you never know.” Of course with Aunt Josephine, it wasn`t the cheeks of Jonah`s handsome face that might be pinched.
Copyright 2013 ©by V.L. Locey
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Tuesday Tales
Language of Love Release Day!
Today is the day, Wildcats fans!
You can finally get your fix of erotic hockey romance, and Petro Shevenko, when you crack open a copy of Language of Love. This is a powerful story that deals with some serious issues that professional athletes, as well as millions of others not in the limelight, battle on a daily basis.
I suspect that we will see Margarite really come into her own in this book as a woman and a partner to someone who struggles with personal demons. If you have yet to pick up your copy, you can do so by following one of the buy links listed below.
Secret Cravings Store
Amazon
All Romance eBooks
January 4, 2015
Allie Kincheloe and Sean`s Sweetheart
Please welcome another fellow Secret Cravings Publisher to our little corner of the interweb. Allie has a new book that just looks fantastic! Find out all about Sean`s Sweetheart, and Allie, below!
Tagline:Layer by layer, Talia peeled away his resistance.
Blurb:Sean has spent five years cleaning up his life. He’s shoved his past behind him and built a profitable business in the town’s most popular dance club. Falling in love with a college sophomore wasn’t in his plans. But, from the moment he rescued Talia, she brings out his every protective instinct. He tries to resist getting involved on a personal level. Talia’s persistence, however, is stronger than his will.Despite just ending an abusive relationship, Talia finds an instant connection with a man unlike any she’s dated before. Older, tattooed, and totally inappropriate for her, Talia couldn’t keep Sean off her mind, especially once he calls her “sweetheart” in that deep drawl of his.When Talia is in danger, they discover just how strong their relationship is. Can Sean and his sweetheart make things last when horrors from their pasts come back to haunt them and family seems determined to keep them apart?
Excerpt 1With his hand on the small of her back as a guide, he directed her out the back door to the service alley. He led her over to a big black Harley and held a helmet out to her.“Uh…” A motorcycle? Why couldn’t he have a sports car or a truck? Of course a tattooed bartender would drive a motorcycle.The smug look on his face made her want to prove his assumptions wrong. Prove to him she wasn’t a goody-goody, scared shitless to climb on top of a motor with wheels and fly down the road under someone else’s control.“It’s this or you call someone.”Screw that.She snatched the helmet from his hand. Talia gave him the address and fiddled with the strap, trying to figure out how to adjust it. His hands came up to tighten it for her and their fingers brushed. She sucked in a deep breath at his touch. His low chuckle took that spark of anger and kindled it into a blaze of desire. With the street lamps behind him, she couldn’t read his expression. His hand closed over hers for a brief second before he jerked it away. He straddled the bike and pulled his own helmet on.She climbed on behind him and he started the motor. Talia jumped at the sudden roar of the engine and clung tight to his broad back. His chest shook with laughter beneath her hands. Talia relaxed a bit as the bike moved and they didn’t crash. She slid her arms around his waist and started to enjoy the ride, to enjoy the feel of holding a man.She’d never been on a motorcycle before. Had never wrapped her arms around a complete stranger like this, either. She didn’t know his name, but she knew the strength in his muscles and the rhythm of his breathing. When she hugged him tighter, her fingers slipped through the button placket on his shirt. Instead of removing her hand, she combed through the tangle of hair on his chest, surprising herself with her boldness. His hand dropped back to squeeze hers for a moment, but he didn’t pull her hand away.The ride ended too soon when he rolled the bike to a stop in front of her house. She stumbled getting off the bike, but he caught her before she face-planted on the sidewalk. He even walked her up to the door and waited behind her on the porch while she tried to unlock it. Her trembling hand dropped the keys and he bent to grab them before she could react.“My name’s Sean, by the way.” He unlocked the door for her and handed her keys back.“Sean. That’s a very nice name. It fits you. I’m Talia.” Did he expect to come in? They had just met and she still had a boyfriend, at least until she could find the nerve to dump the jerk. She’d never been the cheating type.He leaned one broad shoulder against the wall next to the door and stared down at her. Shadows hid part of his face from her, but his eyes glittered in the dim light.Sean’s chest rumbled with a deep chuckle. “Would you’ve said the same thing if I’d told you that my name was Bruno?”A giggle snuck out. Bruno? Not a chance Bruno would fit him.
Buy links:http://www.store.secretcravingspublishing.com/index.php?main_page=book_info&cPath=4&products_id=944https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-sean039ssweetheart-1634017-153.htmlhttp://www.amazon.com/dp/B00NT3K3CUhttp://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/seans-sweetheart-allie-kincheloe/1120419145?ean=2940046402681http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/sean-s-sweetheart
Author Bio:As a busy mother of five, Allie sneaks time to write between breakfast and tickles. Always a Kentucky girl at heart, she currently makes her home near Nashville. Author links:http://www.alliekincheloe.com
Tagline:Layer by layer, Talia peeled away his resistance.
Blurb:Sean has spent five years cleaning up his life. He’s shoved his past behind him and built a profitable business in the town’s most popular dance club. Falling in love with a college sophomore wasn’t in his plans. But, from the moment he rescued Talia, she brings out his every protective instinct. He tries to resist getting involved on a personal level. Talia’s persistence, however, is stronger than his will.Despite just ending an abusive relationship, Talia finds an instant connection with a man unlike any she’s dated before. Older, tattooed, and totally inappropriate for her, Talia couldn’t keep Sean off her mind, especially once he calls her “sweetheart” in that deep drawl of his.When Talia is in danger, they discover just how strong their relationship is. Can Sean and his sweetheart make things last when horrors from their pasts come back to haunt them and family seems determined to keep them apart?
Excerpt 1With his hand on the small of her back as a guide, he directed her out the back door to the service alley. He led her over to a big black Harley and held a helmet out to her.“Uh…” A motorcycle? Why couldn’t he have a sports car or a truck? Of course a tattooed bartender would drive a motorcycle.The smug look on his face made her want to prove his assumptions wrong. Prove to him she wasn’t a goody-goody, scared shitless to climb on top of a motor with wheels and fly down the road under someone else’s control.“It’s this or you call someone.”Screw that.She snatched the helmet from his hand. Talia gave him the address and fiddled with the strap, trying to figure out how to adjust it. His hands came up to tighten it for her and their fingers brushed. She sucked in a deep breath at his touch. His low chuckle took that spark of anger and kindled it into a blaze of desire. With the street lamps behind him, she couldn’t read his expression. His hand closed over hers for a brief second before he jerked it away. He straddled the bike and pulled his own helmet on.She climbed on behind him and he started the motor. Talia jumped at the sudden roar of the engine and clung tight to his broad back. His chest shook with laughter beneath her hands. Talia relaxed a bit as the bike moved and they didn’t crash. She slid her arms around his waist and started to enjoy the ride, to enjoy the feel of holding a man.She’d never been on a motorcycle before. Had never wrapped her arms around a complete stranger like this, either. She didn’t know his name, but she knew the strength in his muscles and the rhythm of his breathing. When she hugged him tighter, her fingers slipped through the button placket on his shirt. Instead of removing her hand, she combed through the tangle of hair on his chest, surprising herself with her boldness. His hand dropped back to squeeze hers for a moment, but he didn’t pull her hand away.The ride ended too soon when he rolled the bike to a stop in front of her house. She stumbled getting off the bike, but he caught her before she face-planted on the sidewalk. He even walked her up to the door and waited behind her on the porch while she tried to unlock it. Her trembling hand dropped the keys and he bent to grab them before she could react.“My name’s Sean, by the way.” He unlocked the door for her and handed her keys back.“Sean. That’s a very nice name. It fits you. I’m Talia.” Did he expect to come in? They had just met and she still had a boyfriend, at least until she could find the nerve to dump the jerk. She’d never been the cheating type.He leaned one broad shoulder against the wall next to the door and stared down at her. Shadows hid part of his face from her, but his eyes glittered in the dim light.Sean’s chest rumbled with a deep chuckle. “Would you’ve said the same thing if I’d told you that my name was Bruno?”A giggle snuck out. Bruno? Not a chance Bruno would fit him.
Buy links:http://www.store.secretcravingspublishing.com/index.php?main_page=book_info&cPath=4&products_id=944https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-sean039ssweetheart-1634017-153.htmlhttp://www.amazon.com/dp/B00NT3K3CUhttp://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/seans-sweetheart-allie-kincheloe/1120419145?ean=2940046402681http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/sean-s-sweetheart
Author Bio:As a busy mother of five, Allie sneaks time to write between breakfast and tickles. Always a Kentucky girl at heart, she currently makes her home near Nashville. Author links:http://www.alliekincheloe.com
January 3, 2015
Top 5 Classic Movie Leading Men
Who among us doesn`t love those classic movie star leading men? While the new batch of Hollywood hunks are quite eye-catching, there is just something about the old stars. What that special something is I cannot say, but I'm never happier than when I'm plunked down in front of a classic film starring one of these fantastic men. This is my top five. I would love to hear yours! Which classic leading men make your heart beat a little faster?
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1-Humphrey Bogart
Bogie just sends me even though he isn`t one of those perfectly chiseled leading men. I think it`s his voice and the way he carries himself. He oozed gruff masculinity that I still find incredibly sensual. While there may be handsomer men on my list, Bogie gets top honors as my #1 classic leading man.
2-Clark Gable
From It Happened One Night to Gone with the Wind, Clark Gable set the bar for romance heroes in my mind. Those eyes . . . that mouth . . . the mustache *fans face* A woman did not stand a chance.
3-Sidney Poitier
They call Mr. Poitier an icon for a reason. All you have to do is watch just one of his movies and you can see why he is on this list. His wit, good looks, talent, charm, and bearing shine through every role he plays.
4-Spencer Tracy
Spencer is another leading man who may not have been the prettiest belle at the ball, but that didn`t matter, at least not to me. He had this incredibly sexy self-confident way. And once he began to speak, well, who needs a face like Rock Hudson when Spencer Tracy is acting?
5-Cary Grant
What can I say? Just look at that face. Now close your eyes and let the memories of that voice of Cary`s wash over your senses. *sighs dreamily* They didn`t make too many men easier on the eyes, either in his day or in the years to come.
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So, what did you think of my list? If you agree or disagree let me know. Share your picks for your top 5 classic leading men with us!
January 1, 2015
Throwback Thursday Tune
I know, this song is technically a few hours off the mark but that`s okay. It`s a wonderfully sad song from a true musical great. Folks may poke fun, but I always enjoyed Mr. Manilow and his music. I hope you do as well.
Happy 2015!!
