V.L. Locey's Blog, page 84
September 28, 2014
Reality Check Excerpt!
Here you go Wildcats fans!
I hope this taste will be enough to tide you over until October 8th when Reality Check hits the ice with skates flashing. You may wish to keep a sharp eye peeled on updates about preorder status on the Secret Cravings website, as well as on Amazon!
Just as an extra warning in case the mature content page didn`t get the point across: this excerpt is loaded with mature content such as explicit sexual content and dirty words. If this offends then read no further. You have been duly warned.
Now let`s get to the good stuff! Let`s see how our lovely owner handles not only her star players but her rapidly growing attraction to her head coach.
“And I thought coaching would be less physical than playing,” I heard Derrick say as I jogged past him and Petro. I caught up to Philip just as he was about to slam his office door closed. Seeing me in the doorway he jerked back on the door. I stepped inside, closing the door behind me.
“Philip, that was…”
He began circling the room like a freshly caged Bengal tiger. He flexed his right hand as he loped around the office. I stayed by the door, my ass on the doorframe. It struck me how cowardly I looked, so I threw my head upward and stepped into his path. We nearly went breast to chest. That damned nautical cologne of his wrapped its masculine fingers around my senses.
“If you’re here to bitch at me, I suggest you go back to that goon you brought back from Russia.” Philip snapped down at me.
“I was going to say that your actions were quite chivalrous. Thank you for defending my honor.”
His blue eyes narrowed momentarily. I raised one freshly plucked eyebrow.
“You’re welcome,” the man coughed, and then grabbed the back of my neck to pull me closer to him. Curse my stupid self all to hell. I should have pulled back, or mewled a weak ‘Stop…please’, but I didn’t. He pulled. I went willingly. His mouth captured mine. Sizzling tendrils of electricity raced from my epicenter to my extremities when his tongue slid between my lips. Grasping at him, I tugged until my breasts were smashed against his chest.
His hands were on my ass, fondling the round orbs. Slick with want, I began searching for his cock, which was plastered between us. My fingers were millimeters from the prize when several sharp knocks on the door sent us flying apart. Panting, disheveled, and staggered from the draw he had on me, I hurried to get my skirt down over my backside while Philip cursed vehemently. His problem was obvious. He took a seat at his desk then called for whoever was outside to enter.
Petro stuck his sweaty head in the door. His eyes roamed over me knowingly. My chin came up swiftly. He told us something. We both looked at him blankly. Alain Lessard shoved around the Russian in the doorway, his shoulder making solid contact with Shevenko’s. The Russian took offense instantly. Lessard and Shevenko then tumbled into a heated exchange that escalated rapidly into a pushing match. Philip flew from his seat, previous manly discomfort forgotten, to slide between the two powerhouses.
“Go!” Philip shouted at Petro, spinning him around. Lessard peppered Petro with French expletives until the head coach closed the door. Then the anger was thrown at me. Alain Lessard, who is most generally a very congenial young man, was irate. His knowledge of the English language had fled him, it seemed. The handsome defenseman’s hazel eyes were alive with ire. His hands flew around in wild circles as he mouthed off vibrantly.
“If you would simply calm down and tell me in English what your issue is…”
The Quebecer drove both hands into his thick, black curls, his jaw working to chew down his anger. Moore was seated on the edge of his desk, his arms folded over his chest, his blue eyes locked on me. He seemed far from ruffled now. I was still queasy, flustered, and warm in intimate places.
“That imbecile is not playing on my line!” Lessard blurted out, his accent so thick I struggled to understand him. “He is a menace. A drunk. A whore-man who will bring shame to my line. No!” Alain shook his head strongly, slicing the air between us with a hand like a machete. “I will not have that goon on my line.”
“That is not your decision to make, Mister Lessard,” I calmly informed my top player. Alain’s blue-green eyes widened. “Petro Shevenko will play on whatever line Coach Moore and I feel he is best suited for. If you do not wish to remain on the first line if Petro is placed there, please let me know and I will gladly find you a slot on the fourth line. They need some speed.”
“The first line is my line!” he argued. God, we Canadians do love a good spat.
“No, the first line is my line. As are all the lines. I own the team. Now, if you’re done acting like an immature little brat, I suggest you go home, curl up with your girlfriend, and plan what you’re going to do when it’s your day to have Lord Stanley’s cup.”
Lessard threw a look at Moore. I did the same. The air was so thick with frustration it nearly clogged my nostrils.
“Alain, Mrs. Lancourt has a point,” Philip said. It looked like it pained him to throw his backing to me. “Decisions about player placement are not up to the players, it’s a managerial call. Thanks for your input. Now go find Viviana in the PR department, ask her to join you for some coffee, and let the coaching staff worry about what line Shevenko is skating on.”
Lessard was fit to be tied. He muttered under his breath as Philip held his office door open. Out our star player went, leaving a thick cloud of dislike behind.
“We need to talk about this,” Philip said, his eyes on the backside of his door.
“There’s nothing to talk about right now. We’ll see how we do in the draft. If we can grab a free agent to…” Philip turned to face me, his Adam’s apple bobbing. I reached up to fiddle with my earring. “We can’t discuss player placement until—”
“I don’t give two shits about whose taking Andersson’s spot on the fucking first line!” he shouted. My hand slid down my neck to rest on my throat. My eyes grew round. He calmed when he saw my reaction to his profanity. “We need to figure out what the hell we’re going to do about us, Isabelle.”
I hope this taste will be enough to tide you over until October 8th when Reality Check hits the ice with skates flashing. You may wish to keep a sharp eye peeled on updates about preorder status on the Secret Cravings website, as well as on Amazon!
Just as an extra warning in case the mature content page didn`t get the point across: this excerpt is loaded with mature content such as explicit sexual content and dirty words. If this offends then read no further. You have been duly warned.
Now let`s get to the good stuff! Let`s see how our lovely owner handles not only her star players but her rapidly growing attraction to her head coach.
“And I thought coaching would be less physical than playing,” I heard Derrick say as I jogged past him and Petro. I caught up to Philip just as he was about to slam his office door closed. Seeing me in the doorway he jerked back on the door. I stepped inside, closing the door behind me.
“Philip, that was…”
He began circling the room like a freshly caged Bengal tiger. He flexed his right hand as he loped around the office. I stayed by the door, my ass on the doorframe. It struck me how cowardly I looked, so I threw my head upward and stepped into his path. We nearly went breast to chest. That damned nautical cologne of his wrapped its masculine fingers around my senses.
“If you’re here to bitch at me, I suggest you go back to that goon you brought back from Russia.” Philip snapped down at me.
“I was going to say that your actions were quite chivalrous. Thank you for defending my honor.”
His blue eyes narrowed momentarily. I raised one freshly plucked eyebrow.
“You’re welcome,” the man coughed, and then grabbed the back of my neck to pull me closer to him. Curse my stupid self all to hell. I should have pulled back, or mewled a weak ‘Stop…please’, but I didn’t. He pulled. I went willingly. His mouth captured mine. Sizzling tendrils of electricity raced from my epicenter to my extremities when his tongue slid between my lips. Grasping at him, I tugged until my breasts were smashed against his chest.
His hands were on my ass, fondling the round orbs. Slick with want, I began searching for his cock, which was plastered between us. My fingers were millimeters from the prize when several sharp knocks on the door sent us flying apart. Panting, disheveled, and staggered from the draw he had on me, I hurried to get my skirt down over my backside while Philip cursed vehemently. His problem was obvious. He took a seat at his desk then called for whoever was outside to enter.
Petro stuck his sweaty head in the door. His eyes roamed over me knowingly. My chin came up swiftly. He told us something. We both looked at him blankly. Alain Lessard shoved around the Russian in the doorway, his shoulder making solid contact with Shevenko’s. The Russian took offense instantly. Lessard and Shevenko then tumbled into a heated exchange that escalated rapidly into a pushing match. Philip flew from his seat, previous manly discomfort forgotten, to slide between the two powerhouses.
“Go!” Philip shouted at Petro, spinning him around. Lessard peppered Petro with French expletives until the head coach closed the door. Then the anger was thrown at me. Alain Lessard, who is most generally a very congenial young man, was irate. His knowledge of the English language had fled him, it seemed. The handsome defenseman’s hazel eyes were alive with ire. His hands flew around in wild circles as he mouthed off vibrantly.
“If you would simply calm down and tell me in English what your issue is…”
The Quebecer drove both hands into his thick, black curls, his jaw working to chew down his anger. Moore was seated on the edge of his desk, his arms folded over his chest, his blue eyes locked on me. He seemed far from ruffled now. I was still queasy, flustered, and warm in intimate places.
“That imbecile is not playing on my line!” Lessard blurted out, his accent so thick I struggled to understand him. “He is a menace. A drunk. A whore-man who will bring shame to my line. No!” Alain shook his head strongly, slicing the air between us with a hand like a machete. “I will not have that goon on my line.”
“That is not your decision to make, Mister Lessard,” I calmly informed my top player. Alain’s blue-green eyes widened. “Petro Shevenko will play on whatever line Coach Moore and I feel he is best suited for. If you do not wish to remain on the first line if Petro is placed there, please let me know and I will gladly find you a slot on the fourth line. They need some speed.”
“The first line is my line!” he argued. God, we Canadians do love a good spat.
“No, the first line is my line. As are all the lines. I own the team. Now, if you’re done acting like an immature little brat, I suggest you go home, curl up with your girlfriend, and plan what you’re going to do when it’s your day to have Lord Stanley’s cup.”
Lessard threw a look at Moore. I did the same. The air was so thick with frustration it nearly clogged my nostrils.
“Alain, Mrs. Lancourt has a point,” Philip said. It looked like it pained him to throw his backing to me. “Decisions about player placement are not up to the players, it’s a managerial call. Thanks for your input. Now go find Viviana in the PR department, ask her to join you for some coffee, and let the coaching staff worry about what line Shevenko is skating on.”
Lessard was fit to be tied. He muttered under his breath as Philip held his office door open. Out our star player went, leaving a thick cloud of dislike behind.
“We need to talk about this,” Philip said, his eyes on the backside of his door.
“There’s nothing to talk about right now. We’ll see how we do in the draft. If we can grab a free agent to…” Philip turned to face me, his Adam’s apple bobbing. I reached up to fiddle with my earring. “We can’t discuss player placement until—”
“I don’t give two shits about whose taking Andersson’s spot on the fucking first line!” he shouted. My hand slid down my neck to rest on my throat. My eyes grew round. He calmed when he saw my reaction to his profanity. “We need to figure out what the hell we’re going to do about us, Isabelle.”
September 27, 2014
Long Lost Lizard
Well, not toolong lost but lost for long enough that things got tense for a bit.
Meet Mushu, my daughter`s anole lizard.
Mushu came to live with us about three months ago. He was won at a fair by my daughter's boyfriend's cousin. When the cousin got home she quickly found out there was a 'No Lizard!' rule in place. So, being the kind thing my daughter is, she offered to take the lizard. Since we have had far worse, noisier, stinkier, and rambunctious things in our house *cough* goat kids *cough*a lizard was more than welcome. He's no worry, really. She tosses a couple crickets into his aquarium cage once a day, sprays the sides of the tank with water, and that is pretty much the upkeep for Mushu.
A few days ago I was writing and my hubby was outside landscaping when I heard this question being called from my daughter`s room--
"Has anyone seen Mushu?"
Yep. We had a six inch lizard that can change color to match his environment on the loose. In a house with two cats. We flew into action, closing her bedroom door first to keep all lizard-eating felines out. Then we began searching every nook and cranny. Under the bed, in the closet, behind the TV stand. Nothing. Nary a lizard to be found. Then my daughter turned off her fan. A faint little rustle could be heard among the papers stored in the cubby holes of her desk, which is where Mushu`s aquarium is found.
She slowly snuck over to the papers, pulled them out, and the chase was on! Over the desk that little stinker ran, fast as mercury! With my daughter in hot pursuit Mushu then leaped from the desk to the TV stand, zipped under the TV, ran up the back of the set, jumped down to the floor, and was finally caught with a slick move and cupped hands by my daughter. The wandering anole was placed back in his home, with a few stern words from his owner about his bad behavior. After his escape we got the lid settled properly into place. There will be no more walkabouts for Mushu.
The cats are disgruntled to say the least.
Meet Mushu, my daughter`s anole lizard.
Mushu came to live with us about three months ago. He was won at a fair by my daughter's boyfriend's cousin. When the cousin got home she quickly found out there was a 'No Lizard!' rule in place. So, being the kind thing my daughter is, she offered to take the lizard. Since we have had far worse, noisier, stinkier, and rambunctious things in our house *cough* goat kids *cough*a lizard was more than welcome. He's no worry, really. She tosses a couple crickets into his aquarium cage once a day, sprays the sides of the tank with water, and that is pretty much the upkeep for Mushu.
A few days ago I was writing and my hubby was outside landscaping when I heard this question being called from my daughter`s room--
"Has anyone seen Mushu?"
Yep. We had a six inch lizard that can change color to match his environment on the loose. In a house with two cats. We flew into action, closing her bedroom door first to keep all lizard-eating felines out. Then we began searching every nook and cranny. Under the bed, in the closet, behind the TV stand. Nothing. Nary a lizard to be found. Then my daughter turned off her fan. A faint little rustle could be heard among the papers stored in the cubby holes of her desk, which is where Mushu`s aquarium is found.
She slowly snuck over to the papers, pulled them out, and the chase was on! Over the desk that little stinker ran, fast as mercury! With my daughter in hot pursuit Mushu then leaped from the desk to the TV stand, zipped under the TV, ran up the back of the set, jumped down to the floor, and was finally caught with a slick move and cupped hands by my daughter. The wandering anole was placed back in his home, with a few stern words from his owner about his bad behavior. After his escape we got the lid settled properly into place. There will be no more walkabouts for Mushu.
The cats are disgruntled to say the least.
September 26, 2014
Reality Check`s New Pinterest Board
I`ll confess that I am a Pinterest junkie. I love creating storyboards for my books, as well as sharing images of cats, news about books, comic heroes, and hot hockey players. Today you can get your first peek at the Pinterest board for Reality Check! Wondering who the inspiration for Philip and Isabelle are? Looking for some tidbits about the upcoming book? Skate on over and satisfy your curiosity.
Reality Check Pinterest Board
Reality Check Pinterest Board
September 25, 2014
Throwback Thursday Tune
This song is the 90`s for me. Sadly, another talented soul that left us far too soon when Kurt Cobain died. Nirvana certainly changed the face of music, and will always be one of the best bands of their era, if you ask me. What say you?
September 22, 2014
Tuesday Tales - Picture Prompt
Hello! It`s time for Tuesday Tales again.This week we get a small snippet since it`s a picture prompt. The excerpt is written to reflect the image and must be three hundred words or under.
I'm still sharing White Moon, Yellow Leaves, my M/F contemporary multicultural romance. Last week we ended with Dana and Jonah on Thanksgiving day. Let`s see what happens next!
White Moon, Yellow Leaves*~*
Not to sound like a braggart, but Aunt Jo-Jo and I really outdid ourselves. The meal was delicious. The desserts afterwards were mouth-watering, although I can`t take credit for that. The two apple pies were all Aunt Jo. It was such an enjoyable time. We all ate slowly and talked long. Andy told us an exciting tale from his youth about an outing at a lake that involved an abandoned barn. I could see it clearly in my mind's eye.
We kept sampling small dabs of scalloped corn, stuffing, turkey, mashed potatoes, and cranberry sauce. Even Rhett ate well, proclaiming that he had lots of room since he had used the bathroom.
“Don`t look at me. I didn`t teach him to say that,” Aunt Jo said.
“It sounds like something my grandson would say.” Andy winked as he ladled gravy over his mound of potatoes. Andy looked much as I had remembered him: a huge bear of a man with a voice that sounded much like a bruin in depth and tone. His short hair was all silver now. He was using two crutches. His skin was deep sienna and covered with laugh lines. I chuckled and peeked to my left. It did not escape my notice that Aunt Jo-Jo had placed me next to Jonah.
“Hey now,” Jonah countered, pausing in his roll buttering.
“See how he assumes it`s him I`m talking about?” Andy said as he tucked a napkin into the front of his dress shirt. “I got ten grandsons and thirteen granddaughters, and yet Jonah-” he waved his fork at the man beside me, “-jumps right up and figures it’s him.”
“That`s because it generally is,” Jonah admitted, giving me a wink before we took a moment to say grace: one version in German and another in Seneca.
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 authors of Tuesday Tales.
Tuesday Tales
I'm still sharing White Moon, Yellow Leaves, my M/F contemporary multicultural romance. Last week we ended with Dana and Jonah on Thanksgiving day. Let`s see what happens next!
White Moon, Yellow Leaves*~*
Not to sound like a braggart, but Aunt Jo-Jo and I really outdid ourselves. The meal was delicious. The desserts afterwards were mouth-watering, although I can`t take credit for that. The two apple pies were all Aunt Jo. It was such an enjoyable time. We all ate slowly and talked long. Andy told us an exciting tale from his youth about an outing at a lake that involved an abandoned barn. I could see it clearly in my mind's eye.
We kept sampling small dabs of scalloped corn, stuffing, turkey, mashed potatoes, and cranberry sauce. Even Rhett ate well, proclaiming that he had lots of room since he had used the bathroom.
“Don`t look at me. I didn`t teach him to say that,” Aunt Jo said.
“It sounds like something my grandson would say.” Andy winked as he ladled gravy over his mound of potatoes. Andy looked much as I had remembered him: a huge bear of a man with a voice that sounded much like a bruin in depth and tone. His short hair was all silver now. He was using two crutches. His skin was deep sienna and covered with laugh lines. I chuckled and peeked to my left. It did not escape my notice that Aunt Jo-Jo had placed me next to Jonah.
“Hey now,” Jonah countered, pausing in his roll buttering.
“See how he assumes it`s him I`m talking about?” Andy said as he tucked a napkin into the front of his dress shirt. “I got ten grandsons and thirteen granddaughters, and yet Jonah-” he waved his fork at the man beside me, “-jumps right up and figures it’s him.”
“That`s because it generally is,” Jonah admitted, giving me a wink before we took a moment to say grace: one version in German and another in Seneca.
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 authors of Tuesday Tales.
Tuesday Tales
Gift Card Winner Announced
Before I announce the winner of my Reality Check Gift Card giveaway I`d like to thank everyone who dropped by for a peek! It's great to know that so many readers are excited for books with heroines that aren`t perky, twenty-two year old size two blondes. And now I`ll stop chattering in your ear and get on with the news!
Marcy Shuler has won her choice of either an Amazon or NHL Shop gift card! Congratulations, Marcy, I`ll be in contact with you shortly. And thanks once more to everyone who commented.
Don`t forget to drop by next Monday for your first taste of Reality Check!
Marcy Shuler has won her choice of either an Amazon or NHL Shop gift card! Congratulations, Marcy, I`ll be in contact with you shortly. And thanks once more to everyone who commented.
Don`t forget to drop by next Monday for your first taste of Reality Check!
September 21, 2014
Please Welcome Kenzie Micheals - Free eBook Giveaway!
I`m excited to have Kenzie here today. She's a fellow Secret Cravings author who is going to share a character interview with us! I always enjoy those, so sit back and get to know JeWal, leader of the planet Xaxa, and his co-husband, DuKar.
It is with some trepidation that I sat down with JeWal, leader of the Xaxa planet, whose culture is very different from Earth’s and TriJupe’s, in my new series, The Chosen. Since JeWal and his co-husband, DuKar are visiting TriJupe, for reasons you’ll discover at the end of Heart’s Last Chance, I decided to try to interview him without revealing too many secrets. JeWal would best be described as having a rather large girth; indeed, when he stands, he is only maybe five foot nine inches tall. His brown hair is disheveled, and his round face holds a sneer. DuKar, on the other hand, towers above him in military-style clothing with black hair and eyes. He seems impeccable about his appearance, where JeWal doesn’t seem to care.
Greetings, JeWal and DuKar. Thank you for agreeing to speak to me.
(JeWal adjusts his brown tunic and looks me over, then looks at DuKar, who nods): Hello, Kenzie. I see no sign of you belonging to any House. What business of mine do you seek?
I wanted to know if you were happy about the way I portrayed you. Did I leave anything pertinent out, that maybe needs to be changed?
(JeWal shakes his head, then readjusts his bulk in the chair.) I understand there may be those who haven’t read your little tale and that I am under a-what did you call it?-a ‘gag’ order?
Unfortunately, that’s true. I need you to speak in generalities, please, without giving away too much.
What’s the fun in that? As for the way you ‘portrayed’ me, as you put it, you reported what you observed, correct?
Yes-
Were you surprised at our customs? Since you don’t seem to belong to any House, your hair is that strange color and way too short, I suppose I could offer you to one of my junior officers.
No thank you. I’m happily married-er, joined, on my planet.
Where is he? I cannot believe he let you go traipsing off without his protection. Or it must be your short hair assures you no man will take notice of you.
(DuKar places his hand on JeWal’s arm and silent communication is observed)
DuKar says I am being too hard on you. My apologies; it has been too long since we shared a female and since you’ve traveled all this way, why not experience first-hand what BaRok’s sister SaLie has enjoyed?
Thank you, but no-
(A whoosh, then footsteps are heard behind me)
Kenzie, there you are! (BaRok places his hand on my shoulder, then pulls up a chair.) I’m sorry I was delayed.
J: BaRok, you surprise me. We were having a lovely conversation with your young friend here. (steeples his hands together)
I just came to assure her safety, JeWal.
DuKar: We meant no disrespect. But on our world, no female goes about unaccompanied, unless she is asking for an adventure. (smiles) Besides, I am most curious about some of the thoughts in her head.
I’m actually writing what happens next in the saga of BaRok’s family, DuKar, and yes, that includes the relationship the two of you hold with SaLie.
DuKar: Ah, my sweet SaLie. It is amazing what power she holds over me-
JeWal: Pah. You are too easy on her.
Okay, enough. I think this interview is over. Thank you for agreeing to meet me, gentlemen.
BaRok and I stand, then leave the table.
What were you thinking, agreeing to meet that animal after what you saw he did to my sister?
BaRok, I thought I could handle him. After all, I created him, didn’t I?
I think you unleashed a monster. Let’s get you back to the compound safely.
Here is a scene with JeWal, in which Brock finds out what’s been going on while he’s away.
Blurb:Everyone has an imaginary friend at some point, right? Well, what if you discover yours is actually an alien who is fascinated with Earth?
Tricia Alexander's dreams are haunted by a mystery lover. When she discovers the man she met in a nightclub is from another planet, will she accept his story or kick him out?
Brock was young Tricia's imaginary friend and confidant, and watched her grow up over the years. After gaining permission from the leaders of his planet, he sought to bond with her twice before, but with little results. When he's given a final chance, will he succeed? Or will a family crisis prove too much?
Excerpt: *In this excerpt, Brock’s sister and brother have been taken hostage. JeWal has allowed NiKoh to speak to Brock*“Greetings, brother. I am to tell you I will be returning after I witness the joining of SaLie to JeWal and DuKar. No sooner. Have you Bonded yet?”
“No. We go before the Elders today, for the initial consult. My Chosen is enjoying herself, and she and our baby sister are touring the city. Are you well?”
“I am banged up, but nothing seriously broken. Send Mother my love and apologies.” NiKoh bowed his head.
An image of SaLie strapped to a wooden frame entered Brock’s mind. He gasped, then saw NiKoh being pulled out of view, heard the crack of a whip.
JeWal scowled. “Your brother is strong. But since you’re so curious.” The screen changed and the image Brock had seen in his mind filled the screen. SaLie’s arms were strapped above her head and legs cuffed apart as JeWal flogged her buttocks. Another man stroked her breasts while shoving his cock into her.
Brock looked away, sickened.
“You don’t like the way I take my pleasure? DuKah and I had a nice time with her last night. She made no sound, only the cries of ecstasy as we shared her. Shall I turn her around and show you what her face looks like in this video?”
“That’s not necessary.” Brock forced back the bile in his throat. “When will the Joining take place?”
“I’ll have your brother returned in time for your ceremony. I guarantee ours is more entertaining though.” The connection was severed.
Brock bolted from his chair and vomited into the nearest garbage receptacle. “That is the second image a brother should never see.”
SCP: http://store.secretcravingspublishing...
Amazon:http://www.amazon.com/Hearts-Last-Chance-Chosen-Book-ebook/dp/B00NDZK64O/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1410986865&sr=8-1&keywords=heart%27s+last+chance+kenzie+michaels
Thank you for having me today VL! My contest is still going on, so comment to win your free copy of Heart’s Last Chance! I will be awarding a winner or two at the end of September, so don’t forget to leave your contact information.
Reality Check Cover Reveal & Giveaway!
It`s time! It`s time!
The day is finally here to share this amazing sexy cover for Reality Check, the fourth book in my To Love a Wildcat erotic hockey romance series! Release day is October 8th.
I am so excited to be bringing you this book. One reason is that I simply adore this team. Another is that our leading man and lady is an interracial couple in their fifties. Oh yeah, you heard right. Fifty years of age, or more, and smoking hot. How great is it that we have lovers that show the world that love, much like a fine wine, only gets better and tastier with age?!
To help celebrate this great cover by the wonderfully talented Dawne Dominique, I`ll be giving away either a $10 Amazon Gift Card or a $10 NHL Shop Gift Certificate to one lucky winner! The choice will be the winners. So let`s get to the new cover!
Talk about hot enough to melt the ice the Wildcats skate on!
Here`s a blurb about the book. I`ll be sharing excerpts on Sundays until release day, so drop in for a visit every week to get your Wildcats fix.
*~*
BLURB:
The team owner/head coach relationship can be a tenuous one at times. Isabelle Lancourt can testify to just how stressful it can be. Ever since her husband passed away, leaving her his beloved Wildcats, she and Philip Moore have been at loggerheads. When the opportunity to sign a Russian hotshot presents itself, Isabelle leaps at the chance to prove herself as more than just a pretty face. Dealing with hot flashes, salary caps, and trade deadlines she can handle with ease. The aftermath of an ill-advised, but erotically superb, rendezvous in Siberia with the handsomely annoying Coach Moore? That was not in any Wildcats playbook. Can Isabelle and Philip handle the changes life is about to throw at them? Or will combining their personal and professional lives prove to be a misconduct penalty that the league simply cannot overlook?
*~*
For those who wish to be entered for their choice of Amazon Gift Card or NHL Shop Gift Card all you have to do is comment below. Tell me which Wildcat book has been your favorite so far. That's all there is. No jumping around liking pages, tagging friends who may not wish to be tagged, or leaping through flaming hoops.
Please don`t forget to leave your contact information. If you don`t leave your email then I have to omit your comment. I hate to do so, but I simply do not have time to search the internet, so make sure you leave that email address! Thanks for dropping by and I hope to see you next Sunday for an exclusive excerpt from Reality Check.
The day is finally here to share this amazing sexy cover for Reality Check, the fourth book in my To Love a Wildcat erotic hockey romance series! Release day is October 8th.
I am so excited to be bringing you this book. One reason is that I simply adore this team. Another is that our leading man and lady is an interracial couple in their fifties. Oh yeah, you heard right. Fifty years of age, or more, and smoking hot. How great is it that we have lovers that show the world that love, much like a fine wine, only gets better and tastier with age?!
To help celebrate this great cover by the wonderfully talented Dawne Dominique, I`ll be giving away either a $10 Amazon Gift Card or a $10 NHL Shop Gift Certificate to one lucky winner! The choice will be the winners. So let`s get to the new cover!
Talk about hot enough to melt the ice the Wildcats skate on!
Here`s a blurb about the book. I`ll be sharing excerpts on Sundays until release day, so drop in for a visit every week to get your Wildcats fix.
*~*
BLURB:
The team owner/head coach relationship can be a tenuous one at times. Isabelle Lancourt can testify to just how stressful it can be. Ever since her husband passed away, leaving her his beloved Wildcats, she and Philip Moore have been at loggerheads. When the opportunity to sign a Russian hotshot presents itself, Isabelle leaps at the chance to prove herself as more than just a pretty face. Dealing with hot flashes, salary caps, and trade deadlines she can handle with ease. The aftermath of an ill-advised, but erotically superb, rendezvous in Siberia with the handsomely annoying Coach Moore? That was not in any Wildcats playbook. Can Isabelle and Philip handle the changes life is about to throw at them? Or will combining their personal and professional lives prove to be a misconduct penalty that the league simply cannot overlook?
*~*
For those who wish to be entered for their choice of Amazon Gift Card or NHL Shop Gift Card all you have to do is comment below. Tell me which Wildcat book has been your favorite so far. That's all there is. No jumping around liking pages, tagging friends who may not wish to be tagged, or leaping through flaming hoops.
Please don`t forget to leave your contact information. If you don`t leave your email then I have to omit your comment. I hate to do so, but I simply do not have time to search the internet, so make sure you leave that email address! Thanks for dropping by and I hope to see you next Sunday for an exclusive excerpt from Reality Check.
September 18, 2014
Throwback Thursday Tune
The times were simpler, and sweetly innocent, when this song was at the top of the charts. Johnny Mathis had such a lovely voice, and few could match him in singing a love song.
September 15, 2014
Tuesday Tales - Curly
Welcome back to Tuesday Tales! It's time for romance. Now that Dana has had a chat with her great Aunt Jo let`s see how that Thanksgiving dinner turns out, shall we?
Our word prompt this week is 'Curly'. Please do 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!
White Moon, Yellow Leaves
*~*~*
I felt like a teenager waiting for her prom date all Thanksgiving morning. Each sound made me glance at the steamed windows expecting a slamming car door to follow. By the time we had the potatoes peeled Aunt Jo had had enough of my nervous state. She banished me to my room to get ready. Rhett was splayed out over my bed coloring, Herr Poopbottom at his side.
I took a few minutes to compliment how well he had stayed in the lines. Glancing at the wind-up alarm clock I saw it was already past noon. Andy had called yesterday to accept the invitation and inquire as to meal time. It would be at one Jo-Jo had told him. I had less than an hour to get all cougar hot. Roar! Pfft. Shit on the roaring. I was ready to hide under the bed like some fraidy cat headed to the vet. Pushing myself I rose from the bed to find something to wear.
I didn`t want to be too sexy, which was good because sexy was not what I had packed for. I tugged the outfit I had planned to wear and eyed it critically. It was a bit wrinkled but those should fall out if I hung the black leggings and white eyelet blouse up while I bathed. The simple yet fey blouse was one of my favorites. It had a square neckline and wide belled sleeves. Grabbing my best underwear along with makeup and blow dryer I left my son to color then walked across the hall to the bathroom.
The process took longer than it should have. I shaved everything that needed shaving and a few parts that really didn`t. I scrubbed and lathered and rinsed and repeated. The floors were icy cold when I stepped from the tub. I danced a bit from foot to foot while shoving my arms into a thick terry robe. Swiping the steam from the mirror I began to pluck at a few stray eyebrows that taunted me. Makeup was carefully applied. My short blonde hair was tugged and flipped and blown dry, the ends curly and rather cute I thought. Perfume was spritzed onto pulse points. Small black hoop earrings were pushed through my earlobes.
The eyelet blouse had lost its wrinkles I was very happy to see. Wriggling into the leggings with skin fresh from a hot bath turned into my cardio for the day. The blouse fluttered down over me, dropping down past my hips, the tips of the sleeves brushing my wrists. I slipped my feet into a pair of black flats. I was done. A knock on the door yanked me from studying myself in the looking glass.
“Mom, I have to use the toilet!” Rhett called urgently from the other side. I opened the door. Steam rushed out into the short hallway. My son looked up at me. His blue eyes widened.
“How do I look?” I asked. He mumbled something and pushed me into the hall, the bathroom door clicking at my back. Jonah Big Deer stood in the kitchen. All manner of coherent speech failed me.
“You look good,” Jonah offered. I mumbled "thanks" and returned the compliment. He did look good. Damned good. Too damned good. He was wearing a pair of ebony jeans, a white shirt with long sleeves, and a gorgeous hand-beaded black leather vest. His hair was loose and the neatly cut ends brushed his waistband.
Aunt Jo laughed raucously at something Andy had said. The smell of the roasting turkey made my stomach rumble rudely. Knowing I couldn`t stand here in the hall staring at Jonah while the sides of my belly rubbed against each other I moved forward. Seven steps from the bathroom to the doorway leading to the kitchen. Seven of the longest steps I can recall ever making. Passing Jonah I caught a whiff of his cologne. A hint of musk joined with dark spices. It fit the man perfectly.
“I meant you look amazing,” Jonah amended as I passed. I gave him a fleeting look over my shoulder. His obsidian eyes held the promise of what could be. The tiny ember of attraction I had carried inside me since first seeing him ignited, engulfing me in a firestorm of want. One side of his mouth quirked upward. Did he feel the fire licking at his skin as well?
This promised to be a Thanksgiving dinner I would never forget.
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 writers.
Tuesday Tales
Our word prompt this week is 'Curly'. Please do 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!
White Moon, Yellow Leaves
*~*~*
I felt like a teenager waiting for her prom date all Thanksgiving morning. Each sound made me glance at the steamed windows expecting a slamming car door to follow. By the time we had the potatoes peeled Aunt Jo had had enough of my nervous state. She banished me to my room to get ready. Rhett was splayed out over my bed coloring, Herr Poopbottom at his side.
I took a few minutes to compliment how well he had stayed in the lines. Glancing at the wind-up alarm clock I saw it was already past noon. Andy had called yesterday to accept the invitation and inquire as to meal time. It would be at one Jo-Jo had told him. I had less than an hour to get all cougar hot. Roar! Pfft. Shit on the roaring. I was ready to hide under the bed like some fraidy cat headed to the vet. Pushing myself I rose from the bed to find something to wear.
I didn`t want to be too sexy, which was good because sexy was not what I had packed for. I tugged the outfit I had planned to wear and eyed it critically. It was a bit wrinkled but those should fall out if I hung the black leggings and white eyelet blouse up while I bathed. The simple yet fey blouse was one of my favorites. It had a square neckline and wide belled sleeves. Grabbing my best underwear along with makeup and blow dryer I left my son to color then walked across the hall to the bathroom.
The process took longer than it should have. I shaved everything that needed shaving and a few parts that really didn`t. I scrubbed and lathered and rinsed and repeated. The floors were icy cold when I stepped from the tub. I danced a bit from foot to foot while shoving my arms into a thick terry robe. Swiping the steam from the mirror I began to pluck at a few stray eyebrows that taunted me. Makeup was carefully applied. My short blonde hair was tugged and flipped and blown dry, the ends curly and rather cute I thought. Perfume was spritzed onto pulse points. Small black hoop earrings were pushed through my earlobes.
The eyelet blouse had lost its wrinkles I was very happy to see. Wriggling into the leggings with skin fresh from a hot bath turned into my cardio for the day. The blouse fluttered down over me, dropping down past my hips, the tips of the sleeves brushing my wrists. I slipped my feet into a pair of black flats. I was done. A knock on the door yanked me from studying myself in the looking glass.
“Mom, I have to use the toilet!” Rhett called urgently from the other side. I opened the door. Steam rushed out into the short hallway. My son looked up at me. His blue eyes widened.
“How do I look?” I asked. He mumbled something and pushed me into the hall, the bathroom door clicking at my back. Jonah Big Deer stood in the kitchen. All manner of coherent speech failed me.
“You look good,” Jonah offered. I mumbled "thanks" and returned the compliment. He did look good. Damned good. Too damned good. He was wearing a pair of ebony jeans, a white shirt with long sleeves, and a gorgeous hand-beaded black leather vest. His hair was loose and the neatly cut ends brushed his waistband.
Aunt Jo laughed raucously at something Andy had said. The smell of the roasting turkey made my stomach rumble rudely. Knowing I couldn`t stand here in the hall staring at Jonah while the sides of my belly rubbed against each other I moved forward. Seven steps from the bathroom to the doorway leading to the kitchen. Seven of the longest steps I can recall ever making. Passing Jonah I caught a whiff of his cologne. A hint of musk joined with dark spices. It fit the man perfectly.
“I meant you look amazing,” Jonah amended as I passed. I gave him a fleeting look over my shoulder. His obsidian eyes held the promise of what could be. The tiny ember of attraction I had carried inside me since first seeing him ignited, engulfing me in a firestorm of want. One side of his mouth quirked upward. Did he feel the fire licking at his skin as well?
This promised to be a Thanksgiving dinner I would never forget.
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 writers.
Tuesday Tales
