V.L. Locey's Blog, page 99
February 17, 2014
Tuesday Tales - Meat
Welcome to Tuesday Tales! This week I`ll be sharing excerpts from my 2013 NaNoWriMo novel, Laco Law – The Gnarled Oak. Laco Law is an M/M historical western romance, set in the fictional county of Laco, Texas in 1867.
This week our word prompt 'Meat’. In this excerpt Clayton and Zeke find themselves in the foreman`s cabin on the Price ranch. Two and two finally begin to make four, or does it?
A note for my readers: This is a gay romance novel, and so the romance that occurs is man on man. If this is not your cup of tea, no one will think less of you if you read no further.
As this is my NaNo work, it is quite rough. I do ask that you overlook any glaring mistakes you may find. 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!
There were four drawers to go through. The first, a long thin one, was situated directly under the scarred and ink-stained top of the desk. The remaining three ran down the right side, two smaller ones atop a large bottom drawer. I went for the long, thin one. The drawer pulled easily outward. Inside was nothing but a broken cedar pencil, two mangled goose-feather quills with broken nubs, and one empty jar of Scribe`s Black liquid ink. I glanced at Zeke. He met my look then returned to his duties.
Moving with as much haste as possible, I opened the remaining drawers. A field mouse skittered up and out of the large bottom drawer, leaving her nest with its three hairless babies to make a hasty escape. I closed the drawer after my heart settled down. Then I reopened it. The mouse nest was made out of shredded paper. I apologized for my actions, dumped the tiny rodents out of the nest then closed the drawer.
“Stinks like mouse piss,” Zeke commented as I began tugging thin strips of paper from the nest. Mama Mouse had done a good job. Twigs, small clumps of cow hair, several long strands of horsehair, a chunk of dried meat, and a generous helping of fluffy seed pods had made one lovely place for her and her children. The babies would probably die from exposure now.
“Damned mice piss on everything,” I replied. Zeke walked over to the desk.
“Need help?”
“That would not be looked down upon.” I pushed the soaking wet nest across the desk. He flicked it back with three fingers.
“I`ll flatten. You paw in the piss,” he said. Gruff, strained, and forever rough his voice may now be, but I was growing to know him well enough to pick out an arrogant cast when it appeared.
“Hmm,” I grunted. Together we worked at that desk for quite a long time. My fingertips were sticky with rodent urine when we were done, but we had managed to piece together a shipping manifesto from last year’s roundup, minus a few small parts that had been ingested by Mama Mouse. The mangled missive was nothing of import: a listing of how many steers, calves, heifers, etc. that had been branded then shipped off in search of buyers.
Texas cattlemen had been suffering terribly due to the thought that their cattle might carry Texas fever, a disease that killed the northern breed of cattle but only seemed to sicken the longhorns. What appealed to us as we read over the ratty paper was the name of a shipping company down in Galveston. Price Cargo & Shipping Co. leaped out at us.
“Pretty convenient that he owns his own shipping fleet,” Zeke said as he worked the kinks out of his back. I ruminated on that for a moment.
“Could he have taken the longhorns to Galveston to avoid the problems overland to Kansas?” I asked as I looked up at my deputy. He ran a hand over the back of his neck. It slid under his hair. I really wished it could be my hand working at the knots under that ebony mass.
“Anything is possible,” Zeke said. “I would have. Why run the risk of being turned away at the Kansas border with Texas beef when you can fill up a ship and sail up the coast? The beef still gets to the markets in the east, and you avoid the middle man. Pretty damned smart if he did to be honest.”
“Big cow hide small package,” I whispered, my fingers tapping steadily on the edge of the mouse-chewed paper. “Is Charlie saying that Price is somehow sending more than cattle east?”
Zeke`s black eyes widened when what I said sank in. His body tightened like an over-wound clock. I watched in amazement as he exploded verbally. He paced the tiny cabin, his hands gesticulating wildly, his hair bouncing off his back his strides were so clipped and angry. I understood nothing that he said but a translation wasn`t required. The man was livid. I did cut into the tirade after another moment to ask what exactly had set him off like a faultily wired stick of TNT.
“For years I`ve been hearing tales of children disappearing. Many say it was the spirits of the dead who had not been buried properly. They move against the living, bringing illness and misfortune. The old women blamed the missing children on the walking spirits,” he said as he stood in front of the window.
“And you? I don`t suppose you cotton to such superstitious beliefs.” I got to my feet. A small bag flew across the room, hitting me in the chest before it fell to the desktop.
“You asked about totems before? Those are my herbs. Peony Rose gave them to me. I keep them close to appease her." I lifted the small bag crafted out of finely worked deer hide. I sniffed the soft doeskin. It was filled with fragrant herbs but what they were I could not discern. I tossed the bag back to Zeke. He stuffed it into the front pocket of his trousers.
“Are we purposing the idea that Brooks Price is in the business of taking children then selling them into slavery?” I asked. The accusation was a large one. Incredibly large since the 13th Amendment had just passed into law less than two years ago.
“I don`t know.” Zeke growled then exhaled in an effort to calm his heated blood. “It warrants checking out. Why they would take a white child? It seems reckless. Indian? Yes. One less redskin to have to deal with would be considered a blessing. But a white child would be reported to the law. The government would search for a missing white boy.”
“Not if the people who took him thought that the boy’s kin were dead,” I said. My words hung in the stuffy air like a vile cloud. “They took Boyden after they thought they had killed me. Then – then they made sure they killed his mother. I bet he would bring a fine fat purse.” I snarled, my lips rolling back in a feral, hateful expression.
“We ride for Galveston?” Zeke asked in the face of my rage. I saw the same drive and longing for blood glittering in his Stygian eyes.
“We ride for Galveston.”
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
See you next week with more from the old West!
This week our word prompt 'Meat’. In this excerpt Clayton and Zeke find themselves in the foreman`s cabin on the Price ranch. Two and two finally begin to make four, or does it?
A note for my readers: This is a gay romance novel, and so the romance that occurs is man on man. If this is not your cup of tea, no one will think less of you if you read no further.
As this is my NaNo work, it is quite rough. I do ask that you overlook any glaring mistakes you may find. 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!
There were four drawers to go through. The first, a long thin one, was situated directly under the scarred and ink-stained top of the desk. The remaining three ran down the right side, two smaller ones atop a large bottom drawer. I went for the long, thin one. The drawer pulled easily outward. Inside was nothing but a broken cedar pencil, two mangled goose-feather quills with broken nubs, and one empty jar of Scribe`s Black liquid ink. I glanced at Zeke. He met my look then returned to his duties.
Moving with as much haste as possible, I opened the remaining drawers. A field mouse skittered up and out of the large bottom drawer, leaving her nest with its three hairless babies to make a hasty escape. I closed the drawer after my heart settled down. Then I reopened it. The mouse nest was made out of shredded paper. I apologized for my actions, dumped the tiny rodents out of the nest then closed the drawer.
“Stinks like mouse piss,” Zeke commented as I began tugging thin strips of paper from the nest. Mama Mouse had done a good job. Twigs, small clumps of cow hair, several long strands of horsehair, a chunk of dried meat, and a generous helping of fluffy seed pods had made one lovely place for her and her children. The babies would probably die from exposure now.
“Damned mice piss on everything,” I replied. Zeke walked over to the desk.
“Need help?”
“That would not be looked down upon.” I pushed the soaking wet nest across the desk. He flicked it back with three fingers.
“I`ll flatten. You paw in the piss,” he said. Gruff, strained, and forever rough his voice may now be, but I was growing to know him well enough to pick out an arrogant cast when it appeared.
“Hmm,” I grunted. Together we worked at that desk for quite a long time. My fingertips were sticky with rodent urine when we were done, but we had managed to piece together a shipping manifesto from last year’s roundup, minus a few small parts that had been ingested by Mama Mouse. The mangled missive was nothing of import: a listing of how many steers, calves, heifers, etc. that had been branded then shipped off in search of buyers.
Texas cattlemen had been suffering terribly due to the thought that their cattle might carry Texas fever, a disease that killed the northern breed of cattle but only seemed to sicken the longhorns. What appealed to us as we read over the ratty paper was the name of a shipping company down in Galveston. Price Cargo & Shipping Co. leaped out at us.
“Pretty convenient that he owns his own shipping fleet,” Zeke said as he worked the kinks out of his back. I ruminated on that for a moment.
“Could he have taken the longhorns to Galveston to avoid the problems overland to Kansas?” I asked as I looked up at my deputy. He ran a hand over the back of his neck. It slid under his hair. I really wished it could be my hand working at the knots under that ebony mass.
“Anything is possible,” Zeke said. “I would have. Why run the risk of being turned away at the Kansas border with Texas beef when you can fill up a ship and sail up the coast? The beef still gets to the markets in the east, and you avoid the middle man. Pretty damned smart if he did to be honest.”
“Big cow hide small package,” I whispered, my fingers tapping steadily on the edge of the mouse-chewed paper. “Is Charlie saying that Price is somehow sending more than cattle east?”
Zeke`s black eyes widened when what I said sank in. His body tightened like an over-wound clock. I watched in amazement as he exploded verbally. He paced the tiny cabin, his hands gesticulating wildly, his hair bouncing off his back his strides were so clipped and angry. I understood nothing that he said but a translation wasn`t required. The man was livid. I did cut into the tirade after another moment to ask what exactly had set him off like a faultily wired stick of TNT.
“For years I`ve been hearing tales of children disappearing. Many say it was the spirits of the dead who had not been buried properly. They move against the living, bringing illness and misfortune. The old women blamed the missing children on the walking spirits,” he said as he stood in front of the window.
“And you? I don`t suppose you cotton to such superstitious beliefs.” I got to my feet. A small bag flew across the room, hitting me in the chest before it fell to the desktop.
“You asked about totems before? Those are my herbs. Peony Rose gave them to me. I keep them close to appease her." I lifted the small bag crafted out of finely worked deer hide. I sniffed the soft doeskin. It was filled with fragrant herbs but what they were I could not discern. I tossed the bag back to Zeke. He stuffed it into the front pocket of his trousers.
“Are we purposing the idea that Brooks Price is in the business of taking children then selling them into slavery?” I asked. The accusation was a large one. Incredibly large since the 13th Amendment had just passed into law less than two years ago.
“I don`t know.” Zeke growled then exhaled in an effort to calm his heated blood. “It warrants checking out. Why they would take a white child? It seems reckless. Indian? Yes. One less redskin to have to deal with would be considered a blessing. But a white child would be reported to the law. The government would search for a missing white boy.”
“Not if the people who took him thought that the boy’s kin were dead,” I said. My words hung in the stuffy air like a vile cloud. “They took Boyden after they thought they had killed me. Then – then they made sure they killed his mother. I bet he would bring a fine fat purse.” I snarled, my lips rolling back in a feral, hateful expression.
“We ride for Galveston?” Zeke asked in the face of my rage. I saw the same drive and longing for blood glittering in his Stygian eyes.
“We ride for Galveston.”
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
See you next week with more from the old West!
February 16, 2014
Writing Process Blog Tour
This is what my process generally looks like, only less neat:
Today I`m participating in a Writing Process Blog Tour. Now this isn`t your usual blog tour, this one is a tour where authors answer questions about our process. My good buddy Lynn Townsend posted hers last week. You can find it here:
http://paidbytheweird.blogspot.com/
Now it`s my turn. Here are my replies to the four questions. I`ll say now that these were much harder than I had anticipated.
1-What am I working on? I know that I seem to be working on multiple projects, but in reality I crank out one at a time. At the moment (Which is this week) I`m working on a rewrite for the next installment for my Toms & Tabbies M/M romantic-comedy series. This novella has been giving me some fits, but I finally got the kinks worked out. It took me leaving it sit for a few days while I worked on a short story for a shifter anthology I want to submit to. I think I finally have things ironed out for Early to Rise.
2-How does my work differ from others of its genre? I try to put the right combination of snarky fun into my erotic romances. I like to enjoy the work, and not take myself ,or the novel, too seriously. Unless it`s supposed to be serious, of course.
3-Why do I write what I do? My muse tells me too. Honestly. I am being straight-up honest. I am at her mercy. That`s why I`m a multigenre author. I enjoy reading books that are varied, so I suppose that might carry over into what I`m inspired to write. One day it might be gay shifters, the next it might be hot hockey men and the women that they love. It`s all good!
4-How does your writing process work? It`s funny that this question has come around. I just discussed this very thing in a promotional bit for my Pink Pucks & Power Plays blog tour. Since I am always one to save on work whenever possible, I`m going to snag that from the promo post and use it here. This segment explains how the To Love a Wildcat series came into being. My process it generally the same for each book or series, and I am a pantser with a capitol P.
One of the best things about being an author, aside from being able to kill off people that aggravate you in real life in your books, is being able to create something from scratch. I'm not sure how the creative process for all writers works, but for me it begins with an idea or notion. Generally this notion isn`t firmly rooted in anything solid, it`s kind of a free floating apparition that bounces around inside my mind. Sometimes the ghost of a novel disappears when I shine the light of reason on it.
'Uhm yeah, zombie cats that ride OCC choppers is cool, but I`m not sure that a cat could pass the written part of the motorcycle licensing exam. They have no thumbs to hold the pen.'
Other ideas are specters just waiting for a blank page to bring them to life. That was the case with my To Love a Wildcat series. After writing Goaltender`s Penalty, an M/M hockey novella, I knew I wanted to pen more ice hockey romance. Being a big fan of the New York Rangers, my love of the sport, and the men that play it, was already in place. Now, I needed a team. Since I`ve lived on the east coast of the United States all my life, I placed my new team in a city I had visited numerous times, Philadelphia.
Then I had to ascertain if this series would be male/male or male/female, as I do pen both. That decision was an easy one, for most of my work comes to me with the sexes of the leads already in place. So, the Wildcat series would be male/female. Check. Now we needed the starring male and the female.
I knew that I wanted the ladies of the Wildcats to be different from the typical mold of romance heroines. So Viviana was created. Viv is a sassy, curvy woman who has embraced her plus size. Her leading man, the handsome, and younger, defenseman Alain Lessard, contrary to what many would have us believe, finds Viviana highly enticing and erotic. I knew Alain was from Quebec the moment I wrote him. I could hear that sensual accent in my mind.
I bet you think we`re done now, right? Wrong. Now we needed to create an entire hockey team and organization. From scratch. That is a lot of people! It took a great deal of time but was well worth it. From owner to equipment manager the Philadelphia Wildcats are neatly laid out on virtual paper. After that, I could dive into writing this erotic romance.
***
Thanks for dropping in to read my post. You can check out the writing processes of two of my author buddies who will post next week:
Cathy Brockman-Cathy Brockman has a childlike side. Cathy Boyd that is the author of Luke's Dragon
which is available at: Luke`s Dragon - Amazon
Cathy has decided to never grow up and loves to crochet, sew, turn trash into treasures, cook, and garden.
She also likes to spend time with her eleven grandchildren,a doggie that thinks she is one of the kid,s and her six cats.
Cathy Brockman Romances
Ellie Mack-After a successful professional career, I changed jobs for one of the most rewarding jobs - mother. Now that my children are approaching adulthood I'm in revision 3.0 - fiction author - my true passion since childhood.
Regardless of what career path you choose, pursue it with all your heart. Defeat only occurs when you don't try. I'm no longer entertained by watching life pass me by, I can't stand the bleacher seats. I'm thoroughly engaged, down in the mud and grime sleeves rolled up living it now!
Quotidiandose
Today I`m participating in a Writing Process Blog Tour. Now this isn`t your usual blog tour, this one is a tour where authors answer questions about our process. My good buddy Lynn Townsend posted hers last week. You can find it here:
http://paidbytheweird.blogspot.com/
Now it`s my turn. Here are my replies to the four questions. I`ll say now that these were much harder than I had anticipated.
1-What am I working on? I know that I seem to be working on multiple projects, but in reality I crank out one at a time. At the moment (Which is this week) I`m working on a rewrite for the next installment for my Toms & Tabbies M/M romantic-comedy series. This novella has been giving me some fits, but I finally got the kinks worked out. It took me leaving it sit for a few days while I worked on a short story for a shifter anthology I want to submit to. I think I finally have things ironed out for Early to Rise.
2-How does my work differ from others of its genre? I try to put the right combination of snarky fun into my erotic romances. I like to enjoy the work, and not take myself ,or the novel, too seriously. Unless it`s supposed to be serious, of course.
3-Why do I write what I do? My muse tells me too. Honestly. I am being straight-up honest. I am at her mercy. That`s why I`m a multigenre author. I enjoy reading books that are varied, so I suppose that might carry over into what I`m inspired to write. One day it might be gay shifters, the next it might be hot hockey men and the women that they love. It`s all good!
4-How does your writing process work? It`s funny that this question has come around. I just discussed this very thing in a promotional bit for my Pink Pucks & Power Plays blog tour. Since I am always one to save on work whenever possible, I`m going to snag that from the promo post and use it here. This segment explains how the To Love a Wildcat series came into being. My process it generally the same for each book or series, and I am a pantser with a capitol P.
One of the best things about being an author, aside from being able to kill off people that aggravate you in real life in your books, is being able to create something from scratch. I'm not sure how the creative process for all writers works, but for me it begins with an idea or notion. Generally this notion isn`t firmly rooted in anything solid, it`s kind of a free floating apparition that bounces around inside my mind. Sometimes the ghost of a novel disappears when I shine the light of reason on it.
'Uhm yeah, zombie cats that ride OCC choppers is cool, but I`m not sure that a cat could pass the written part of the motorcycle licensing exam. They have no thumbs to hold the pen.'
Other ideas are specters just waiting for a blank page to bring them to life. That was the case with my To Love a Wildcat series. After writing Goaltender`s Penalty, an M/M hockey novella, I knew I wanted to pen more ice hockey romance. Being a big fan of the New York Rangers, my love of the sport, and the men that play it, was already in place. Now, I needed a team. Since I`ve lived on the east coast of the United States all my life, I placed my new team in a city I had visited numerous times, Philadelphia.
Then I had to ascertain if this series would be male/male or male/female, as I do pen both. That decision was an easy one, for most of my work comes to me with the sexes of the leads already in place. So, the Wildcat series would be male/female. Check. Now we needed the starring male and the female.
I knew that I wanted the ladies of the Wildcats to be different from the typical mold of romance heroines. So Viviana was created. Viv is a sassy, curvy woman who has embraced her plus size. Her leading man, the handsome, and younger, defenseman Alain Lessard, contrary to what many would have us believe, finds Viviana highly enticing and erotic. I knew Alain was from Quebec the moment I wrote him. I could hear that sensual accent in my mind.
I bet you think we`re done now, right? Wrong. Now we needed to create an entire hockey team and organization. From scratch. That is a lot of people! It took a great deal of time but was well worth it. From owner to equipment manager the Philadelphia Wildcats are neatly laid out on virtual paper. After that, I could dive into writing this erotic romance.
***
Thanks for dropping in to read my post. You can check out the writing processes of two of my author buddies who will post next week:
Cathy Brockman-Cathy Brockman has a childlike side. Cathy Boyd that is the author of Luke's Dragon
which is available at: Luke`s Dragon - Amazon
Cathy has decided to never grow up and loves to crochet, sew, turn trash into treasures, cook, and garden.
She also likes to spend time with her eleven grandchildren,a doggie that thinks she is one of the kid,s and her six cats.
Cathy Brockman Romances
Ellie Mack-After a successful professional career, I changed jobs for one of the most rewarding jobs - mother. Now that my children are approaching adulthood I'm in revision 3.0 - fiction author - my true passion since childhood.
Regardless of what career path you choose, pursue it with all your heart. Defeat only occurs when you don't try. I'm no longer entertained by watching life pass me by, I can't stand the bleacher seats. I'm thoroughly engaged, down in the mud and grime sleeves rolled up living it now!
Quotidiandose
February 15, 2014
Please Welcome Katie Kenyhercz
I`m happy to have a new friend, and fellow hockey lover/author, Katie Kenyhercz visiting today! Take it away, Katie!
After a bum knee ended her soccer days, Alexandra—Allie—Kallen has dedicated her life to helping injured athletes cope and get back in the game. As the new team sports psychologist of the Las Vegas Sinners, she starts out with just one player, but he’s a handful. Goalies are stubborn, and she would know. She’s determined to figure him out and return him to the net good as new, especially after she sent her last patient back to the ice too soon. The problem is, she sees so much of herself in Shane, and their chemistry is off the charts. Falling for him isn’t in the plan. Is love worth losing her career?
Shane Reese’s entire identity has been wrapped up in being a goalie since he was five years old. When he gets a high ankle sprain right before playoffs, he doesn’t exactly take it well. After putting his fist through the physical therapy room wall and hitting a few joking teammates, he’s ordered to see the new shrink. All he has to do is convince her he’s seen the light, and he can get back to defending his team as soon as his ankle heals. The problem is, she sees through him like no one he’s ever met, and the more time he spends with her, the less hot he is to get back to the ice. Could something mean more than hockey?
And here are some inside facts about Full Strength and the Sinners world in general:
I put at least one X-Files reference in every book. In On the Fly, Carter is named after XF creator, Chris Carter. In Full Strength, Dana (Mac) MacGuire is named after Dana Scully J
Mac’s married name, Sickavish, is the last name of minor league hockey player, Kelly Sickavish, whom I watched play when he was with the Youngstown Steelhounds. He was breathtaking.
Allie’s favorite sweets, chocolate covered gummy bears, are my favorite too.
Saralynn, Shane’s sister, is named after two of my favorite people: My sister-in-law, Sara, and my friend and now cousin, Lynn. Love you ladies!
The official Sinners song and the one the dance team performs to is “Vegas Girl” by Conor Maynard.
You will never see the Sinners play the Penguins in the Stanley Cup Finals because I couldn’t bear for my Pens to lose even to my Sinners.
The character of Dylan Cole, the young phenom and new NHL “It” boy/ youngest captain, is based on Sidney Crosby. I’m intrigued by the maturity, inner strength, poise, and attitude it takes to handle that kind of pressure. Can’t wait for Dylan’s book! Madden gets book 3, but Cole gets dibs on 4.
When I’m plotting, I write out the dates, teams and outcomes of every playoff game even if I’m not writing out that scene. I do it so I can keep track of how a win or loss will affect a player’s mood and the main plot.
https://www.facebook.com/katiekenyherczauthor
http://www.katiekenyhercz.com
http://lovemewrite.blogspot.com/
http://www.pinterest.com/xjezzebelle/full-strength-inspiration/
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6924349.Katie_Kenyhercz
And the only buy link available at the moment (though it's up for pre-order on iBooks too):
http://www.amazon.com/Full-Strength-Sinners-Crimson-Romance-ebook/dp/B00I31Y004/ref=la_B00BG0LA8Y_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1391370267&sr=1-2
You can get the first book of this series, On the Fly, for only $1.99 on Amazon for all of February so readers can catch up with the Sinners before book 2!
After a bum knee ended her soccer days, Alexandra—Allie—Kallen has dedicated her life to helping injured athletes cope and get back in the game. As the new team sports psychologist of the Las Vegas Sinners, she starts out with just one player, but he’s a handful. Goalies are stubborn, and she would know. She’s determined to figure him out and return him to the net good as new, especially after she sent her last patient back to the ice too soon. The problem is, she sees so much of herself in Shane, and their chemistry is off the charts. Falling for him isn’t in the plan. Is love worth losing her career?
Shane Reese’s entire identity has been wrapped up in being a goalie since he was five years old. When he gets a high ankle sprain right before playoffs, he doesn’t exactly take it well. After putting his fist through the physical therapy room wall and hitting a few joking teammates, he’s ordered to see the new shrink. All he has to do is convince her he’s seen the light, and he can get back to defending his team as soon as his ankle heals. The problem is, she sees through him like no one he’s ever met, and the more time he spends with her, the less hot he is to get back to the ice. Could something mean more than hockey?
And here are some inside facts about Full Strength and the Sinners world in general:
I put at least one X-Files reference in every book. In On the Fly, Carter is named after XF creator, Chris Carter. In Full Strength, Dana (Mac) MacGuire is named after Dana Scully J
Mac’s married name, Sickavish, is the last name of minor league hockey player, Kelly Sickavish, whom I watched play when he was with the Youngstown Steelhounds. He was breathtaking.
Allie’s favorite sweets, chocolate covered gummy bears, are my favorite too.
Saralynn, Shane’s sister, is named after two of my favorite people: My sister-in-law, Sara, and my friend and now cousin, Lynn. Love you ladies!
The official Sinners song and the one the dance team performs to is “Vegas Girl” by Conor Maynard.
You will never see the Sinners play the Penguins in the Stanley Cup Finals because I couldn’t bear for my Pens to lose even to my Sinners.
The character of Dylan Cole, the young phenom and new NHL “It” boy/ youngest captain, is based on Sidney Crosby. I’m intrigued by the maturity, inner strength, poise, and attitude it takes to handle that kind of pressure. Can’t wait for Dylan’s book! Madden gets book 3, but Cole gets dibs on 4.
When I’m plotting, I write out the dates, teams and outcomes of every playoff game even if I’m not writing out that scene. I do it so I can keep track of how a win or loss will affect a player’s mood and the main plot.
https://www.facebook.com/katiekenyherczauthor
http://www.katiekenyhercz.com
http://lovemewrite.blogspot.com/
http://www.pinterest.com/xjezzebelle/full-strength-inspiration/
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6924349.Katie_Kenyhercz
And the only buy link available at the moment (though it's up for pre-order on iBooks too):
http://www.amazon.com/Full-Strength-Sinners-Crimson-Romance-ebook/dp/B00I31Y004/ref=la_B00BG0LA8Y_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1391370267&sr=1-2
You can get the first book of this series, On the Fly, for only $1.99 on Amazon for all of February so readers can catch up with the Sinners before book 2!
February 14, 2014
Giselle Renarde Pays a Visit!
Please help me in welcoming the talented author, Giselle Renarde, to our little corner of the internets. She`s here to talk about the return of Kinksters! What`s Kinksters you ask? Check out Giselle`s post to find out.
*~*~*
Special Announcement: Kinksters is Back!
Did you hear that? KINKSTERS! IS! BACK!
Hmm… Two questions:a) What’s KINKSTERSb) Where’s it back from?
Well, Kinksters is an anthology of kinky queer ménage stories that was published one year ago. The book’s full title is Kinksters: 12 Stories of Wild Group Sex, Bisexual Fun and Kinky Pleasures. Unfortunately, Kinksters’ original publisher went out of business only a few months after its release. The book hasn’t been available since June.
Until now! Until yesterday, to be precise--February 14th 2014. Yay! You get another crack at it.
But wait… there’s more!
The original anthology only had ten stories. The second edition has two additional erotic shorts and also a shuffle in the line-up. I’ve secured rights to the first edition’s wonderful cover by award-winning artist Dawné Dominique, so it’s going to look the same on the outside, but on the inside you’ve got more than 50,000 words in these twelve stories:
1. Knowing the Ropes 2. Five Body Blade 3. Elementary, My Dear Kathryn 4. Honey Trap 5. In the Eye 6. Waxing is for Pussies 7. The Other Other Woman 8. Tisha and Narine’s Afterhours Fetish Party 9. Wonderful Wing Boys10. Debbie Does Dalhousie 11. Rainbow Night 12. Lesbukake
Feel free to get excited. These are some great stories. If you like lesbian threesomes and moresomes you’ll love this collection. We’ve also got some MMF ménage in there—Wonderful Wing Boys is a story about an overworked older woman who gets to spend the night with two hunky young angels; In the Eye follows two pansexual guys and a girl who share a storm fetish as well as a distaste for the word “bisexual”; and in The Other Other Woman, an art school student gets a shock when she finds out her lover’s past paramour is a man.
I could go on and on and on because I love Kinksters like crazy. So do readers, judging by how well it sold the first time it was on the market. Now you can snag it in print and as an ebook.
If you want to try out a story or two, most are available as short ebooks. You can buy them at Amazon, Smashwords, All Romance, and many other retailers.
Freebie Alert! If you head over to Smashwords, you can get one of my lesbian ménage shorts, LESBUKAKE, for free with coupon code GV42T (valid until March 1, 2014). Here’s the link for that one: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/395728
Or you just go for it and buy the entire collections. The choice is yours!
Kinky couples are great, but nothing beats a group of kinksters!
In this anthology by kinky queer Canadian Giselle Renarde, a lesbian Domme and sub share their anal fetish with an old friend while a sword collector pays five young men to fulfill her sex swing fantasy. Geeky grad students chase tornados and tails while an unapologetic cougar gets licked by three college girls.
A gorgeous restaurant manager plots to take down her boss, only to discover he’s two steps ahead. There’s an all-girl waxing session, a vintage clothing enthusiast who’s shocked to discover her lover’s “other woman” is actually a man, and a bureaucrat whose male escorts happen to be angels.
Six socialites switch partners for a Rainbow Night to remember, but not before an athletic team takes bondage to the next level. To top it all, a room full of lesbians lose it over a tattooed femme in Lesbukake.
Ready… set… KINK!
Kink it up at: Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/kinksters-giselle-renarde/1118605549?ean=9781495460258Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/KINKSTERS-Stories-Group-Bisexual-Pleasures/dp/1495460258/Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/405431Coffee Time Romance: http://www.coffeetimeromance.com/BookStore/pubs_product_book_info/indie-authors-giselle-renarde-c-152_193/kinksters-wild-group-sex-bisexual-fun-and-kinky-pleasures-p-11807CreateSpace (print only): https://www.createspace.com/4657279
Giselle RenardeCanada just got hotter!
Visit me online
http://donutsdesires.blogspot.com
http://www.wix.com/gisellerenarde/erotica
http://twitter.com/GiselleRenarde
*~*~*
Special Announcement: Kinksters is Back!
Did you hear that? KINKSTERS! IS! BACK!
Hmm… Two questions:a) What’s KINKSTERSb) Where’s it back from?
Well, Kinksters is an anthology of kinky queer ménage stories that was published one year ago. The book’s full title is Kinksters: 12 Stories of Wild Group Sex, Bisexual Fun and Kinky Pleasures. Unfortunately, Kinksters’ original publisher went out of business only a few months after its release. The book hasn’t been available since June.
Until now! Until yesterday, to be precise--February 14th 2014. Yay! You get another crack at it.
But wait… there’s more!
The original anthology only had ten stories. The second edition has two additional erotic shorts and also a shuffle in the line-up. I’ve secured rights to the first edition’s wonderful cover by award-winning artist Dawné Dominique, so it’s going to look the same on the outside, but on the inside you’ve got more than 50,000 words in these twelve stories:
1. Knowing the Ropes 2. Five Body Blade 3. Elementary, My Dear Kathryn 4. Honey Trap 5. In the Eye 6. Waxing is for Pussies 7. The Other Other Woman 8. Tisha and Narine’s Afterhours Fetish Party 9. Wonderful Wing Boys10. Debbie Does Dalhousie 11. Rainbow Night 12. Lesbukake
Feel free to get excited. These are some great stories. If you like lesbian threesomes and moresomes you’ll love this collection. We’ve also got some MMF ménage in there—Wonderful Wing Boys is a story about an overworked older woman who gets to spend the night with two hunky young angels; In the Eye follows two pansexual guys and a girl who share a storm fetish as well as a distaste for the word “bisexual”; and in The Other Other Woman, an art school student gets a shock when she finds out her lover’s past paramour is a man.
I could go on and on and on because I love Kinksters like crazy. So do readers, judging by how well it sold the first time it was on the market. Now you can snag it in print and as an ebook.
If you want to try out a story or two, most are available as short ebooks. You can buy them at Amazon, Smashwords, All Romance, and many other retailers.
Freebie Alert! If you head over to Smashwords, you can get one of my lesbian ménage shorts, LESBUKAKE, for free with coupon code GV42T (valid until March 1, 2014). Here’s the link for that one: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/395728
Or you just go for it and buy the entire collections. The choice is yours!
Kinky couples are great, but nothing beats a group of kinksters!
In this anthology by kinky queer Canadian Giselle Renarde, a lesbian Domme and sub share their anal fetish with an old friend while a sword collector pays five young men to fulfill her sex swing fantasy. Geeky grad students chase tornados and tails while an unapologetic cougar gets licked by three college girls.
A gorgeous restaurant manager plots to take down her boss, only to discover he’s two steps ahead. There’s an all-girl waxing session, a vintage clothing enthusiast who’s shocked to discover her lover’s “other woman” is actually a man, and a bureaucrat whose male escorts happen to be angels.
Six socialites switch partners for a Rainbow Night to remember, but not before an athletic team takes bondage to the next level. To top it all, a room full of lesbians lose it over a tattooed femme in Lesbukake.
Ready… set… KINK!
Kink it up at: Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/kinksters-giselle-renarde/1118605549?ean=9781495460258Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/KINKSTERS-Stories-Group-Bisexual-Pleasures/dp/1495460258/Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/405431Coffee Time Romance: http://www.coffeetimeromance.com/BookStore/pubs_product_book_info/indie-authors-giselle-renarde-c-152_193/kinksters-wild-group-sex-bisexual-fun-and-kinky-pleasures-p-11807CreateSpace (print only): https://www.createspace.com/4657279
Giselle RenardeCanada just got hotter!
Visit me online
http://donutsdesires.blogspot.com
http://www.wix.com/gisellerenarde/erotica
http://twitter.com/GiselleRenarde
February 13, 2014
A Gift From the Heart
Happy Valentine`s Day! This holiday is akin to a high holy day for romance writers. It`s the day that we celebrate love, and all that entails. I knew I wanted to celebrate Cupid`s favorite day, but was stymied as to just how to go about it.
When I asked my friends over on my Facebook author page what they wished to see I got mixed replies. And one superb idea! Thanks Kimberly! We have a great time over at Facebook, and I truly treasure all the friends I`ve made there. Feel free to drop in, give the page a 'Like', and then join in the fun!
V.L. Locey Facebook Author Page
So, without further ado, here is a peek into the most romantic of holidays as seen through the eyes of a certain handsome offensive defenseman. I hope you enjoy this little tale told from Alain`s point of view.
*~*~* Sometimes I think we men try too hard.
I love women, do not think me wrong. Truly they are the most wonderful, yet maddening creatures on this planet. And hints are nice, in a way. Valentine`s Day? I have to wonder about such a holiday. I think it is made just to drive men crazy. For two weeks my Viviana has been dropping hints. If you know her, you will know that her hints are as subtle as a Zamboni being dropped onto your head.
First it was big red circles around lacy things in catalogs. She knows I am fond of seeing her big breasts spilling out of a bustier, or running my hands over her lovely legs when they are in sensual stockings held up with pretty garter belts. I put the shopping aside, as there had still been time. Then, I wake up today to find it is Valentine`s Day, and I have nothing for my Viviana. I decide to spend the morning at the gym, as that is a daily must, then go out after lunch for the things I want to get.
I am filled with good feelings as the day begins. With my plans in mind I do as any man would. I find the red circle in the magazine that is now in the bathroom. I shove the magazine inside my jacket, then I meet Viviana in the kitchen while I pretend that today is just another day. We both hear an ad on the radio. I say nothing. Viviana leaves for work, her pretty brows furrowed. She thinks I forgot, I can tell. I smile at my wicked ways then I head out to face this special day.
After working out followed by lunch at the Black Boar with Derrick, Veikko, and Maurice Oliver, our back-up goalie, I drive to the nearest mall. I find the lingerie shop on the second floor. I am appalled at what I find. Not one of the sexy lady things hanging off scented, padded hangers will fit my woman. When I ask why this is so, I am told that they do not carry plus sizes. For those, I must look online. I am mad when I leave. Do these people not think that women with curves wish to find something locally to wear to please their men?! I go to four malls. Each one tells me the same thing. I go home after stopping at a corner store for ingredients for dinner. I am still angry about the lack of lingerie for Viviana, and the underlying message from those stores.
I greet the dogs then take them out for quick pee time. When we return home what do I find lying on our kitchen table? Another magazine with yet another gift circled! This time it is chocolates. Since I have no lingerie for Viviana, I decide to purchase her the biggest box of chocolates I can find. I head out in a hurry to find a chocolatier in Philadelphia. Only the best for my Viviana. I locate one on my cell that is across town. The traffic is bad. It takes me over an hour to arrive at the shop. The name is spelled out on the windows in fancy letters with many curls. It is in French. I smile.
Un Blush de Sinful Bonbons
A Blush of Sinful Sweets. Yes, that is my Viviana. Sweet, sinful, addictive.
I pull on the door. It does not open. I knock. I knock again. I begin pummeling the glass door, calling the door, as well as the owner who closes promptly at five on Valentine`s Day, a horrid curse word. Another hour it takes me to fight the five o`clock quitting time. When I enter our apartment, Viviana is not home from work yet. I am pleased. That gives me time to shower, shave, and dress after I make dinner for her. I want this Valentine`s Day to be special. It is our first. I have already bungled the candy and lingerie. Will she grow mad that I do not have sweets or sexy under-things? Damn. I wish I could know how she will react. I hurry to get the dogs out for another walk.
They take forever! Each dog smells and fiddles about. I tell them to find a place quickly. The small park across from our apartment building is empty aside from a puck pusher with his dogs. Snow flurries are in the air. The dogs finally find the proper spot. I clean up after them, then hurry across the street, dragging dogs by their leashes as I wave at the cars stopping to let us pass. I wonder if they are so polite because they recognize me, or if they can tell I am becoming anxious. This night is to be perfect, and I am so late already. Next year, I will shop earlier I vow.
Once back in our home, I dash into the kitchen to wash my hands. I am going to make a special dish. It is one my mother always made for me to celebrate special days like my birthday, the day I was drafted into the NHL, things of that nature. I wish my mother could meet Viviana. I think she would like her.
The dogs are under my feet as I work on preparing the Reveillon Tourtiere, a delicious meat pie filled with pork, mushrooms, garlic, and spices. I open my mother`s tattered recipe book. I brown the pork. The kitchen is soon filled with the mouthwatering aromas of onions, peppers, and cloves. I put the meat filling off the fire then work on making a pie crust. This I struggle with, but after a few attempts, I have the crust rolled out. It looks nothing like Maman`s pie when I am done, but it smells good, so that is something, yes? Into the oven it goes to cook for forty-five minutes. I turn the radio on then search for love songs. I find a station playing only romantic music, both old and new. Maybe I can salvage things yet!
I see that it is after six now. Viviana will be home within thirty minutes. Panic sets in. I run around, setting the round table in the dining room. The dogs follow me back and forth, wondering what is my problem. I light the candles then stand back to admire the table. It is romantic. The plates are my mother`s china. They have tiny roses along the edge of the . . .
Mon Dieu! I forgot the flowers! I run out the door then skid into the elevator. My neighbor smiles, making chit chat as we ride down. I bounce from one foot to the other as we crawl down to the lobby.
"You Canadian`s are a tough breed," he says then points out that I have no coat. I agree to save face. Out into the bitter cold I go. I jump into my car, glad for the heat that finally blows in my face when I pull up in front of the florist. I leave the Porsche idling along the curb. That is how stupid upset I am. Into the flower shop I run. I can barely elbow my way in there are so many men buying flowers last minute. I swear in French under my breath. When it is finally my turn to be waited on, there are no roses left. Not one. I end up with a stupid bouquet of yellow tulips with some green leafy stuff. Next year, I shop for this day in December! Thankfully no one stole my Porsche. Things are looking upward now!
When I get back home, I realize that the smoke I smell when I open the front door is not a sign of looking upward. I lunge for the kitchen. Daisy, my tiny white dog is dancing on her back legs. I nearly step on her I`m in such a hurry.
My eyes are watering. I call the dogs many bad names as I push through the smoke billowing out of the kitchen. When I trip into the kitchen I find Viviana standing by the sink, still in her long purple winter coat, tossing what remains of my dinner into the sink. She turns to find me in the doorway. Her bottom lip is caught in her teeth. I exhale deeply. The radio is playing that Huey Lewis song about how much power love has.
"I thought the house was on fire," she says. I can see the look of pity in her lovely eyes. "It`s okay, Alain," she hurries to say. I shake my head then hold the yellow flowers out to her. Her plump lips curl up into a smile. "They`re lovely."
"No, they are not. They are tulips, not roses. I am so sorry, Viviana," I say as she takes the battered bouquet from me. She lifts the dumb tulips to her nose to smell them. "I had planned to have a nice dinner with Maman`s Reveillon Tourtiere,two dozen roses on the table, and . . . I put off the shopping. I promise next year our Valentine`s night will be good."
She places the flowers on the counter, eyes full with promise, the tiny card from the ugly tulips between her fingers.
"I kind of forgot to get you anything as well," she says. I do not believe her. This is the woman who was circling gifts. I suspect she came in, found the catastrophe and hid her presents for me to make me feel less the ass. It is a kind gesture. I love her even more for it. She hands me the little card then begins to unbutton her coat. She takes a long time. I grow more interested with each button she undoes. When the coat slips off her shoulders I see that she wears one of my Wildcat sweaters. I wet my lips. She does the same. "I hope you`re not too disappointed?"
She lifts the side of my jersey a few inches, to show me that she has removed her underwear. All I see is bare, pale hip. My mouth begins to grow moist. I shake my head as the fan over the stove helps to clear the smoke from the room.
"No, I am not disappointed at all," I tell her as she walks over to me, her breasts jiggling with each step closer she takes. Her nipples are hard already. I am as well. "You didn`t read your card," I say as she steps into my arms. She reaches up to swipe her finger under my eye. I see what looks like a glob of butter on her fingertip.
"You`re a mess," Viviana purrs then licks the butter from her finger. I pull her closer. I want her to feel how much I want her. Her green eyes darken slightly when I grind my desire against her hipbone. "Maybe we should go get you cleaned up?"
"A shower sounds nice." I tap the end of her nose with the florist card."Read this first."
"Okay," she smiles, her eyes smoky green. My fingers are now cupping her bare buttocks tightly. Viviana moans softly then tugs the tiny card from the envelope. "It`s in French," she whispers, my fingers slipping down between her legs to find a hot, wet, moist treat better than anything I could have found at the chocolatier. "Can you translate?"
"Two love birds are we," I say then pick her up from the floor. One high heel then the other falls from her tiny feet as we weave among dogs, my aim the bathroom . . . or perhaps the bedroom?
"Huey`s right," she says on a hot whisper that floats over my neck. The little card with the two lovebirds flutters to the carpet. "Who needs gifts? All I need is you in our bed."
ThatI can give her.
February 12, 2014
Lydia Michaels is Here!
I`m very excited to have Lydia Michaels visiting today. Here`s some info about her latest release, Chaste.
*~*~*
Title: CHASTE {McCullough Mountain 3}
Author: Lydia Michaels
Chaste is currently the #1 Bestseller on the publisher’s site, www.secretcravingspublishing.com
Genre: Erotic Romance
Heat Level:Romance (graphic)
Book Length: 384 pages
Date of Publication: February 3, 2014 (Available on Amazon, B&N, and other retailer sites by 2/12/14)
Blurb:
Kelly McCullough has always gotten every woman he’s wanted. Of all the McCullough men, his charm and magnetism is unmatched. However, there is one woman he cannot have.
Ashlynn Fisher is everything Kelly McCullough is not. She is quiet, shy, and—above all—virginal. After losing her heart to Kelly in grade school, no other man compares. Paths cross and temperance is put to the test when Ashlynn decides it’s time for her to find love. Kelly offers Center County’s sweetest brown-eyed girl all the guidance he can, but finds himself in a situation he never expected to face. Through chaste kisses and stolen secrets, his virility is tested and he must learn what love truly means as his selfish ways are transformed in the face of a selfless need to give her everything she wants.
Buy Links:
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Lydia-Michaels/e/B0071ZV41G
· B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/c/lydia-michaels
iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/artist/lydia-michaels/id577453828?mt=11
· Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/Search?query=Lydia%20Michaels&fcsearchfield=Author
· ARe: http://www.allromanceebooks.com/storeSearch.html?searchBy=author&qString=Lydia+Michaels
Excerpt:
His body nudged closer. She sucked in a breath and tried to focus on speaking, but the press of him was incredibly distracting.“That’s the…um…” She caught her breath. “Um…” Her eyes shut. What was the question? “I can’t concentrate when you touch me,” she blurted.He didn’t move. His breath tickled the back of her neck, as the soft press of his tongue traced over the curve leading to her shoulder. Her spine stretched as her skin drew tight. His lips made a smooching sound. “Mmm, you taste like hard work and sunshine.”“Kelly…” she rasped, silently panting. Her insides vibrated so rapidly she worried she’d shatter into a thousand pieces of flesh and bones. Never had anyone aroused her the way he did.He nuzzled her ear with his nose. “Have I ever told you how sexy you are? The glasses make me crazy. And I love the way your hair looks different every day. You remind me of a little garden nymph.” The weight of his palms closed over her baggy overalls, low on her hips, and she grew aware of every part of her body.His lips sealed over her ear and she quivered, her body tightening and trembling. Her hands gripped the edge of the worktable with her leather-clad fingers, her knees turning unstable, as he proceeded to do wonderful things to her earlobe.It amazed her that he found her hair nice. She’d cut it off after she graduated, finding the long locks dreadfully annoying. When her hair had been long it was always in her face. And she wore glasses because contacts were too much trouble with the dust from the gardens.Oh my goodness! Is that his tongue in my ear?Her knees buckled as he kissed over her racing pulse. Strong fingers dug into her hips, massaging beneath her overalls deep into her flesh. His hands had slipped into the gaping sides of her clothes where her tank top met the waist of her panties. No one had ever touched her so intimately.“Let’s go inside,” he whispered.Somehow she managed to shake her head. “I…I need to finish this.”“Ashlynn…”His mouth. He had a wicked mouth. She formed some sort of response in her throat as the tip of his finger toyed with the hem of her tank top next to her navel. “Please…let me in,” he whispered as his tongue traveled over the slope of her shoulder, each word an erotic tattoo on her flesh. Her feet shifted and his grip tightened. She whimpered. “Kelly, please…”His whisper had faded to a breath of words. “I want you.”Her hands closed over his, tightening, stilling his progress. Those last uttered words returned some of her common sense. “If we go inside my work will never get done.”His fingers squeezed. “Do you know how many fantasies I’ve had about you? The things I could do to you without breaking your vow…” His touch never traveled, but the teasing chills escaping his whirling fingers seemed to go right to her breasts.Baiting temptation, she breathed out a question she had no business asking. “Like what?”“Mmm. I could spend days stripping you, unveiling every bit of flesh, anointing each square inch of skin with soft kisses. Only kissing, Ashlynn, but I’d kiss you everywhere.”Holy Hannah, she needed to put some space between them. They hadn’t discussed boundaries and the line of her virtue was becoming more blurred by the second. Her breath stuttered out of her lungs as his mouth teased over her pulse. She wanted to know what such kisses would feel like, but feared her control would break.“No naked.” Incapable of forming complete sentences, it was the best she could do.“Touching?” he whispered.Oh, God. She wanted to feel his touch, know what it was to be caressed by those strong fingers holding her now. She whimpered. Her promise had never been this difficult. There had never been such a temptation as Kelly and, now, with his hands playing over untried parts of her body, came a nagging desire for relief. “I should say no.”“But?”“Maybe.”His front pressed into her bottom and her neck gave out, drooping her head to his broad shoulder. He growled and his mouth sealed to her throat, his hand sifting under the front of her overalls and holding her stomach, fingers splayed wide, pressing her into his hard form. “So fucking sexy, Ashlynn.”“Kelly…”“I want to go inside.”He was already inside, inside of her head, in her blood, thrumming through her veins, inside every breath filling her lungs. She worried she could die from such over stimulation. She’d never survive sex, at least not with this man. But that was off the table.Her muscles contracted and strange urges had her body fluttering in unfamiliar ways. It was too much. “No more,” she pleaded and he froze.It took him a second to answer. “Okay.” His hand slithered out from under her overalls and he stepped away. She caught her breath and wiped the back of her glove over her heated cheek. She was probably as red as a bell pepper.She desperately searched for her bearings, but Kelly seemed fine. From the corner of her eye, she watched him slip his gloves back on and pick up the sanding block as she quietly panted. The longing inside of her had transformed into a painful ache. Her throat was thirsty, parched. Yet water did nothing to quench her yearning.Kelly worked with precision and efficiency. Her concentration was crap. Every move she made was deliberate and clumsy, but Kelly proved to be a master carpenter. She suspected he wanted to be done with the chore and that scared her, because the moment they finished she’d have to come up with another distraction.The echo of the nail hammering into the wood rattled through the air. “How far can we go, Ashlynn?”Her hand stilled. Her gaze focused on the head of the nail she’d been about to hammer into the wood. Swallowing repetitively, she struggled to find the honest answer, but the truth seemed to abandon her in that moment. “I don’t know.”
Author Bio:
Award winning author, Lydia Michaels, writes all forms of hot romance. She presses the bounds of love and surprises readers just when they assume they have her stories figured out. From Amish vampyres, to wild Irishmen, to broken heroes, and heroines no man can match, Lydia takes readers on an emotional journey of the heart, mind, and soul with every story she pens. Her books are intellectual, erotic, haunting, always centered on love.
Lydia Michaels loves to hear from readers! She can be contacted by email at Lydia@LydiaMichaels.org
Webpage: www.LydiaMichaels.org
Other Titles by Lydia Michaels:
Falling InBreaking OutComing Home Sacred WatersSkinChasteFaking ItForsaking TruthAs Tears Go BySimple ManBreaking PerfectWhite ChocolateAll 4 YouTo Catch a WolfeChasing FeathersCalled to OrderCalling for a MiracleDestiny CallsCall Her Mine
*~*~*
Title: CHASTE {McCullough Mountain 3}
Author: Lydia Michaels
Chaste is currently the #1 Bestseller on the publisher’s site, www.secretcravingspublishing.com
Genre: Erotic Romance
Heat Level:Romance (graphic)
Book Length: 384 pages
Date of Publication: February 3, 2014 (Available on Amazon, B&N, and other retailer sites by 2/12/14)
Blurb:
Kelly McCullough has always gotten every woman he’s wanted. Of all the McCullough men, his charm and magnetism is unmatched. However, there is one woman he cannot have.
Ashlynn Fisher is everything Kelly McCullough is not. She is quiet, shy, and—above all—virginal. After losing her heart to Kelly in grade school, no other man compares. Paths cross and temperance is put to the test when Ashlynn decides it’s time for her to find love. Kelly offers Center County’s sweetest brown-eyed girl all the guidance he can, but finds himself in a situation he never expected to face. Through chaste kisses and stolen secrets, his virility is tested and he must learn what love truly means as his selfish ways are transformed in the face of a selfless need to give her everything she wants.
Buy Links:
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Lydia-Michaels/e/B0071ZV41G
· B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/c/lydia-michaels
iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/artist/lydia-michaels/id577453828?mt=11
· Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/Search?query=Lydia%20Michaels&fcsearchfield=Author
· ARe: http://www.allromanceebooks.com/storeSearch.html?searchBy=author&qString=Lydia+Michaels
Excerpt:
His body nudged closer. She sucked in a breath and tried to focus on speaking, but the press of him was incredibly distracting.“That’s the…um…” She caught her breath. “Um…” Her eyes shut. What was the question? “I can’t concentrate when you touch me,” she blurted.He didn’t move. His breath tickled the back of her neck, as the soft press of his tongue traced over the curve leading to her shoulder. Her spine stretched as her skin drew tight. His lips made a smooching sound. “Mmm, you taste like hard work and sunshine.”“Kelly…” she rasped, silently panting. Her insides vibrated so rapidly she worried she’d shatter into a thousand pieces of flesh and bones. Never had anyone aroused her the way he did.He nuzzled her ear with his nose. “Have I ever told you how sexy you are? The glasses make me crazy. And I love the way your hair looks different every day. You remind me of a little garden nymph.” The weight of his palms closed over her baggy overalls, low on her hips, and she grew aware of every part of her body.His lips sealed over her ear and she quivered, her body tightening and trembling. Her hands gripped the edge of the worktable with her leather-clad fingers, her knees turning unstable, as he proceeded to do wonderful things to her earlobe.It amazed her that he found her hair nice. She’d cut it off after she graduated, finding the long locks dreadfully annoying. When her hair had been long it was always in her face. And she wore glasses because contacts were too much trouble with the dust from the gardens.Oh my goodness! Is that his tongue in my ear?Her knees buckled as he kissed over her racing pulse. Strong fingers dug into her hips, massaging beneath her overalls deep into her flesh. His hands had slipped into the gaping sides of her clothes where her tank top met the waist of her panties. No one had ever touched her so intimately.“Let’s go inside,” he whispered.Somehow she managed to shake her head. “I…I need to finish this.”“Ashlynn…”His mouth. He had a wicked mouth. She formed some sort of response in her throat as the tip of his finger toyed with the hem of her tank top next to her navel. “Please…let me in,” he whispered as his tongue traveled over the slope of her shoulder, each word an erotic tattoo on her flesh. Her feet shifted and his grip tightened. She whimpered. “Kelly, please…”His whisper had faded to a breath of words. “I want you.”Her hands closed over his, tightening, stilling his progress. Those last uttered words returned some of her common sense. “If we go inside my work will never get done.”His fingers squeezed. “Do you know how many fantasies I’ve had about you? The things I could do to you without breaking your vow…” His touch never traveled, but the teasing chills escaping his whirling fingers seemed to go right to her breasts.Baiting temptation, she breathed out a question she had no business asking. “Like what?”“Mmm. I could spend days stripping you, unveiling every bit of flesh, anointing each square inch of skin with soft kisses. Only kissing, Ashlynn, but I’d kiss you everywhere.”Holy Hannah, she needed to put some space between them. They hadn’t discussed boundaries and the line of her virtue was becoming more blurred by the second. Her breath stuttered out of her lungs as his mouth teased over her pulse. She wanted to know what such kisses would feel like, but feared her control would break.“No naked.” Incapable of forming complete sentences, it was the best she could do.“Touching?” he whispered.Oh, God. She wanted to feel his touch, know what it was to be caressed by those strong fingers holding her now. She whimpered. Her promise had never been this difficult. There had never been such a temptation as Kelly and, now, with his hands playing over untried parts of her body, came a nagging desire for relief. “I should say no.”“But?”“Maybe.”His front pressed into her bottom and her neck gave out, drooping her head to his broad shoulder. He growled and his mouth sealed to her throat, his hand sifting under the front of her overalls and holding her stomach, fingers splayed wide, pressing her into his hard form. “So fucking sexy, Ashlynn.”“Kelly…”“I want to go inside.”He was already inside, inside of her head, in her blood, thrumming through her veins, inside every breath filling her lungs. She worried she could die from such over stimulation. She’d never survive sex, at least not with this man. But that was off the table.Her muscles contracted and strange urges had her body fluttering in unfamiliar ways. It was too much. “No more,” she pleaded and he froze.It took him a second to answer. “Okay.” His hand slithered out from under her overalls and he stepped away. She caught her breath and wiped the back of her glove over her heated cheek. She was probably as red as a bell pepper.She desperately searched for her bearings, but Kelly seemed fine. From the corner of her eye, she watched him slip his gloves back on and pick up the sanding block as she quietly panted. The longing inside of her had transformed into a painful ache. Her throat was thirsty, parched. Yet water did nothing to quench her yearning.Kelly worked with precision and efficiency. Her concentration was crap. Every move she made was deliberate and clumsy, but Kelly proved to be a master carpenter. She suspected he wanted to be done with the chore and that scared her, because the moment they finished she’d have to come up with another distraction.The echo of the nail hammering into the wood rattled through the air. “How far can we go, Ashlynn?”Her hand stilled. Her gaze focused on the head of the nail she’d been about to hammer into the wood. Swallowing repetitively, she struggled to find the honest answer, but the truth seemed to abandon her in that moment. “I don’t know.”
Author Bio:
Award winning author, Lydia Michaels, writes all forms of hot romance. She presses the bounds of love and surprises readers just when they assume they have her stories figured out. From Amish vampyres, to wild Irishmen, to broken heroes, and heroines no man can match, Lydia takes readers on an emotional journey of the heart, mind, and soul with every story she pens. Her books are intellectual, erotic, haunting, always centered on love.
Lydia Michaels loves to hear from readers! She can be contacted by email at Lydia@LydiaMichaels.org
Webpage: www.LydiaMichaels.org
Other Titles by Lydia Michaels:
Falling InBreaking OutComing Home Sacred WatersSkinChasteFaking ItForsaking TruthAs Tears Go BySimple ManBreaking PerfectWhite ChocolateAll 4 YouTo Catch a WolfeChasing FeathersCalled to OrderCalling for a MiracleDestiny CallsCall Her Mine
February 10, 2014
Tuesday Tales - Heart
Happy Almost Valentine`s Day! Welcome to Tuesday Tales. This week I`ll be sharing excerpts from my 2013 NaNoWriMo novel, Laco Law – The Gnarled Oak. Laco Law is an M/M historical western romance, set in the fictional county of Laco, Texas in 1867.
This week our word prompt 'Heart’. In this excerpt Clayton and Zeke share a terrifying moment that leads to some great tenderness.
A note for my readers: This is a gay romance novel, and so the romance that occurs is man on man. If this is not your cup of tea, no one will think less of you if you read no further. Also, this excerpt contains graphic imagery, so the same note applies.
As this is my NaNo work, it is quite rough. I do ask that you overlook any glaring mistakes you may find. 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!
The ground shook. It shook and I screamed. The earth blew apart. The heavy thing on me was blasted off. My face was coated with thick slime. The air reeked of death. I rolled to my side, nose leaking vomit and snot, clawing at the puddles not yet soaked into the soil of a battleground far away. Jeph and Harland, they joined together, calling from the other side of the heavenly veil for me come rescue them. Then their voices warped around the horn of an infantry charge.
I clawed at my eyes, desperate to see lest I be run over. A tree blew apart beside me. Slivers of sharp poplar hit a man walking beside me in the head. His brain began to weep from his ear. I spun and ran. I ran from the dead men and from the cannon balls. I ran from Jeph and Harland. My feet tangled as I escaped.
I fell into a burial mound. The dead pulled me into the undulating pile. Maggots rolled from eyes, ears, noses, mouths. Rebecca asked why I had let them abuse her so as she tried to embrace me. I screamed until my throat bled. I could not escape. Jeph held me down. Harland tried to kiss me. No matter what, the horns continued to blare, the cannons rumbled on without stop, the marching feet of a hundred thousand Union soldiers joined in the maddening cacophony of death, regret, self-loathing, and cowardice.
I do not know what it was that broke through the horror. Perhaps it was his voice, or the touch of his hand on my bare back. Mayhap it was the heat of his naked body next to mine. The moon was the first thing I saw when my eyes flew open. I then began to scream. Endless, screeching shrieks of ghastly terrors that bounced off the bluebonnets as I flailed against the nightmares of my perpetual yesterdays. Dog came out of the waving flowers, his ears flat to his skull. Zeke shook me soundly. I could hear him talking but I could not leave the dream behind.
There I sat, curled into a ball, my body trembling and cold, with my lover cradling me to him. How long? How long did the night terror last? Minutes? Hours? Days? Years? I dare not guess. I could not guess. It did abate though. Eventually, with his whispers in my ear and his hand resting so gently on the back of my neck, the caterwauling dwindled down to the sound of a pathetic man weeping feebly. He asked what tortures me so. He nearly begged. When I could form words, I tried to explain. He was sleeping beside me, taking me into his body. He had the right to know so he could draw back from this love affair.
“I ran from the army. I hid like - like a coward, I left my unit, my friend, my lover, and I ran. I was scared neigh unto death of the war. Of – of seeing the life leave another person I cared about,” I confessed, a light wind rolling over acres and acres of grassy pastureland. I began to shudder uncontrollably. “I saw friends with gaping holes in them. It sickened me. I couldn`t make sense of it all. The death . . . the bodies . . . sweet Baby Jesus the bodies were everywhere! You couldn`t walk without stepping on a dead man, or one who wished he was. The ground was soaked with blood . . . it bubbled up between the blades of dark green with every step. Legs, arms, guts . . . they were tossed hither and yon. Cannon balls, God bless us but the cannon balls . . .”
The flash and sounds of battle threatened to engulf me. The screams, the tinny smell of blood, the aroma of internal organs exposed to the air. The glassy eyes of a boy no older than fourteen after I had driven a bayonet into his neck . . . the blood, it pulsed out of him as his brown eyes grew dimmer and dimmer and dimmer . . . it sucked me in again. I was powerless against the dark tide.
I wished I could say I shoved the sign of empathy away, or drew back to punch Zeke when his hand lighted on my shoulder. I did neither. Something inside of me broke into a million droplets of Clayton Moore at that touch. Zeke turned me around then tugged me to his chest. I have no clue what he said as he stroked overgrown tendrils of sandy blond hair from my wet cheeks. I think he was speaking Tonkawa. I was sobbing too strongly to tell.
Soon the racking shudders went away. The deafening noise of the cannons and muskets and screams of the dying ebbed back slowly. My arms were tight around my deputy. My nose buried in his neck. I opened my eyes, saw that inflamed rope brand on his neck, and gently pressed my lips to the mark he would always carry.
“Quiet now,” he said a moment later. I shook my head yet did not move. Not that I could have if I had so desired. “I am so sorry for you - for the war, I didn`t know . . . I mean I suspected but, damn, Pan . . .”
“She died because I am a coward. What happens to Boyden is because of my cowardice.” Lord, but the words would not stop coming now. His hands moved over my back in a circular motion. Dog was nearby. I could hear his nose working the ground. The horses as well were close now. My hands rested on Zeke`s lower back. One of the horses nickered. I flinched involuntarily. Zeke drew back, cupped my face between his hands, and stared into my eyes. Probably looking away would have been smart. No one ever said I was overly intelligent.
“You got something strong inside your head,” he whispered. I cleared my throat, still shaking like the lone leaf on a wintery tree.
“They said- they say it`s soldier`s heart. I had heard the army doctors call it that,” I panted staring at the round black center of his deep brown eyes. “Soldier`s heart. Feel my heart. It is set to break out of my chest.”
Zeke did as asked. He nodded after a moment. His right hand had slid down my neck. His thumb was moving in a calming motion over my rapidly beating jugular.
“Sometimes,” I whispered wiggling in closer. Nothing but the feel of his chest to mine could ease the fibrillations of my heart it seemed. He gathered me against him. “Sometimes they say it`s nostalgia. I am not nostalgic about cannons or intestines slipping from bayonet wounds,” I snorted, trying in vain to make light of the terror draining away. A gust lifted Zeke`s hair from his back. It blew it over my face. I found great peace in the feel, texture, and smell of his hair. “I fear I have lost a part of my sanity.”
“Sanity is not what you have lost,” he told me, his voice cracking with overuse, or perhaps sentiment? “What you have lost is your faith in your own worth. Others see it. You will as well in time.”
He placed a kiss to my trembling lips then he moved away to gather our clothes. I instantly mourned the loss. After he aided me in dressing we lay back down, face to face, his arm around me. He held me thusly until the darkness of night was gone.
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
See you next week with more from the old West!
This week our word prompt 'Heart’. In this excerpt Clayton and Zeke share a terrifying moment that leads to some great tenderness.
A note for my readers: This is a gay romance novel, and so the romance that occurs is man on man. If this is not your cup of tea, no one will think less of you if you read no further. Also, this excerpt contains graphic imagery, so the same note applies.
As this is my NaNo work, it is quite rough. I do ask that you overlook any glaring mistakes you may find. 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!
The ground shook. It shook and I screamed. The earth blew apart. The heavy thing on me was blasted off. My face was coated with thick slime. The air reeked of death. I rolled to my side, nose leaking vomit and snot, clawing at the puddles not yet soaked into the soil of a battleground far away. Jeph and Harland, they joined together, calling from the other side of the heavenly veil for me come rescue them. Then their voices warped around the horn of an infantry charge.
I clawed at my eyes, desperate to see lest I be run over. A tree blew apart beside me. Slivers of sharp poplar hit a man walking beside me in the head. His brain began to weep from his ear. I spun and ran. I ran from the dead men and from the cannon balls. I ran from Jeph and Harland. My feet tangled as I escaped.
I fell into a burial mound. The dead pulled me into the undulating pile. Maggots rolled from eyes, ears, noses, mouths. Rebecca asked why I had let them abuse her so as she tried to embrace me. I screamed until my throat bled. I could not escape. Jeph held me down. Harland tried to kiss me. No matter what, the horns continued to blare, the cannons rumbled on without stop, the marching feet of a hundred thousand Union soldiers joined in the maddening cacophony of death, regret, self-loathing, and cowardice.
I do not know what it was that broke through the horror. Perhaps it was his voice, or the touch of his hand on my bare back. Mayhap it was the heat of his naked body next to mine. The moon was the first thing I saw when my eyes flew open. I then began to scream. Endless, screeching shrieks of ghastly terrors that bounced off the bluebonnets as I flailed against the nightmares of my perpetual yesterdays. Dog came out of the waving flowers, his ears flat to his skull. Zeke shook me soundly. I could hear him talking but I could not leave the dream behind.
There I sat, curled into a ball, my body trembling and cold, with my lover cradling me to him. How long? How long did the night terror last? Minutes? Hours? Days? Years? I dare not guess. I could not guess. It did abate though. Eventually, with his whispers in my ear and his hand resting so gently on the back of my neck, the caterwauling dwindled down to the sound of a pathetic man weeping feebly. He asked what tortures me so. He nearly begged. When I could form words, I tried to explain. He was sleeping beside me, taking me into his body. He had the right to know so he could draw back from this love affair.
“I ran from the army. I hid like - like a coward, I left my unit, my friend, my lover, and I ran. I was scared neigh unto death of the war. Of – of seeing the life leave another person I cared about,” I confessed, a light wind rolling over acres and acres of grassy pastureland. I began to shudder uncontrollably. “I saw friends with gaping holes in them. It sickened me. I couldn`t make sense of it all. The death . . . the bodies . . . sweet Baby Jesus the bodies were everywhere! You couldn`t walk without stepping on a dead man, or one who wished he was. The ground was soaked with blood . . . it bubbled up between the blades of dark green with every step. Legs, arms, guts . . . they were tossed hither and yon. Cannon balls, God bless us but the cannon balls . . .”
The flash and sounds of battle threatened to engulf me. The screams, the tinny smell of blood, the aroma of internal organs exposed to the air. The glassy eyes of a boy no older than fourteen after I had driven a bayonet into his neck . . . the blood, it pulsed out of him as his brown eyes grew dimmer and dimmer and dimmer . . . it sucked me in again. I was powerless against the dark tide.
I wished I could say I shoved the sign of empathy away, or drew back to punch Zeke when his hand lighted on my shoulder. I did neither. Something inside of me broke into a million droplets of Clayton Moore at that touch. Zeke turned me around then tugged me to his chest. I have no clue what he said as he stroked overgrown tendrils of sandy blond hair from my wet cheeks. I think he was speaking Tonkawa. I was sobbing too strongly to tell.
Soon the racking shudders went away. The deafening noise of the cannons and muskets and screams of the dying ebbed back slowly. My arms were tight around my deputy. My nose buried in his neck. I opened my eyes, saw that inflamed rope brand on his neck, and gently pressed my lips to the mark he would always carry.
“Quiet now,” he said a moment later. I shook my head yet did not move. Not that I could have if I had so desired. “I am so sorry for you - for the war, I didn`t know . . . I mean I suspected but, damn, Pan . . .”
“She died because I am a coward. What happens to Boyden is because of my cowardice.” Lord, but the words would not stop coming now. His hands moved over my back in a circular motion. Dog was nearby. I could hear his nose working the ground. The horses as well were close now. My hands rested on Zeke`s lower back. One of the horses nickered. I flinched involuntarily. Zeke drew back, cupped my face between his hands, and stared into my eyes. Probably looking away would have been smart. No one ever said I was overly intelligent.
“You got something strong inside your head,” he whispered. I cleared my throat, still shaking like the lone leaf on a wintery tree.
“They said- they say it`s soldier`s heart. I had heard the army doctors call it that,” I panted staring at the round black center of his deep brown eyes. “Soldier`s heart. Feel my heart. It is set to break out of my chest.”
Zeke did as asked. He nodded after a moment. His right hand had slid down my neck. His thumb was moving in a calming motion over my rapidly beating jugular.
“Sometimes,” I whispered wiggling in closer. Nothing but the feel of his chest to mine could ease the fibrillations of my heart it seemed. He gathered me against him. “Sometimes they say it`s nostalgia. I am not nostalgic about cannons or intestines slipping from bayonet wounds,” I snorted, trying in vain to make light of the terror draining away. A gust lifted Zeke`s hair from his back. It blew it over my face. I found great peace in the feel, texture, and smell of his hair. “I fear I have lost a part of my sanity.”
“Sanity is not what you have lost,” he told me, his voice cracking with overuse, or perhaps sentiment? “What you have lost is your faith in your own worth. Others see it. You will as well in time.”
He placed a kiss to my trembling lips then he moved away to gather our clothes. I instantly mourned the loss. After he aided me in dressing we lay back down, face to face, his arm around me. He held me thusly until the darkness of night was gone.
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
See you next week with more from the old West!
February 8, 2014
Bring Out Your Dead!
Or, you know, they can walk out by themselves to join the party.
Aw, Mr. Undead Dude wants to give us his heart. I just love romantic zombie-filled moments, don`t you?
Oh. I almost forgot.
Party time!
I know. Most people wouldn`t be so excited to hear that the walking deceased are returning. Then again, most people might not know about Paul and Gordon, the two leading men in my M/M zom-rom-com Two Guys series. I`m so pumped-up about signing the contract with Torquere Press for Paul and Gordon`s third novella, that I`m giving away a pdf copy of their second book, Two Guys Walk into an Apocalypse 2: It Came from Birmingham to celebrate!
We`ll also have a nifty zombie recipe, as well as an excerpt from Two Guys 2. I wanted to share an image or two of a certain sexy zombie slayer that carries a crossbow, since this certain show is returning this very evening, thank the gods! Sadly, I can`t share any images of this sexy crossbow carrying zombie slayer due to copyright issues. I can, though, share this recipe for a cocktail known as a Zombie. A few of these and I might not care if the undead are knocking on my door or not! Nice segue, huh?
How to make a Zombie11/4 oz. Lemon Juice3 dashes Grenadine3/4 oz. Blood Orange Juice3/4 oz. Cherry Brandy3/4 Light Rum2 oz. Dark Rum1/2 oz. High-proof Dark Rum
Makes one drink. Combine all ingredients well over ice cubes in shaker. Strain into large frosted cocktail glass over crushed ice. Can be garnished with pineapple, cherry, or a sprig of fresh mint.
Sounds great! Here`s something else you might like, an excerpt from Two Guys 2. In this scene Paul, Gordon, Tink, and the Colonel are discussing a very interesting theory Gordon has.
*~*
I smiled at Tink. Her pointy little chin was greasy. Her eyes were still swollen and turning lovely shades of green and purple and blue but her lips were turned up in a grin. It was amazing what a hot meal could do for a person. I tapped the end of her nose. Gordon entered, wiping his hands on his pants from his washing at the hand pump. His dark hair was soaked and dripping down his bare back. He quickly tugged his t-shirt over his head.
“Boldly they rode and well into the jaws of death, into the mouth of Hell rode the six hundred!” The Colonel waved his plate at me. I shook my head at the old gent and filled a plate for myself and Gordon, sucking the grease from my fingers after I was done serving. Rodney said nothing. He simply stood up with his plate and walked out the back door. Tink squinted at the door bouncing closed.
“What crawled up his ass and died?” she asked with a mouthful of mutton. Gordon waved her question off. I, on the other hand, do not suffer fools or homophobics well. I swallowed the chunk of meat then looked right at the spunky little brunette seated on the counter.
“Rodney has some issues with Gordon and me,” I explained, picking up another sheep nugget with my fingers and drawing it through the juice coating the platter. Tink tipped her head to the left. The Colonel mumbled something then handed Tallahassee a small bite of meat.
“Well, we`re leaving tomorrow so he can sleep outside with the fucking zombies if he wants to, you know?” Tink slid to the floor to refill her Styrofoam plate. “Worlds fucking falling apart and people are still being assholes.”
“We might get lucky and Gordon`s gay gene theory might pan out,” I said, winking at my partner. He was unusually reserved this evening. Tink scurried back to her spot like a little squirrel. She even resembled one with her cheeks filled with mutton.
“So what is this theory of his? I mean . . . ” Tink took a moment to force the wad of chewed meat down. ". . .If he`s thinking that the only people who have survived are the gay ones I think Rodney kind of blows that hypothesis all to shit.”
“I never said it was only those who were out. I said it was those who carry this yet unknown gene,” Gordon corrected and sat down beside the Colonel, his shadow scaling the wall behind him.
“Are you insinuating that Rodney Rider may carry a gene inside of him that may make him gay? If you`re saying that please let me be the one to tell him!”
Gordon was not amused although Tink snorted lightly and cuffed my arm playfully.
“Paul stop being so you, okay? All I`m saying is that there are so many variables to genetics that we`ve only started to research, or wereresearching. No-one knows what makes a person gay. Maybe everyone carries this ‘gay gene’ and it remains dormant in some people.” His dark brown eyes were alive as he talked. “Maybe the ones with the dormant gene are the hetero community. I don`t know the answers and probably never will.” He sighed and dabbed at a puddle of rich broth with a large sliver of meat. “But until something proves me wrong, I`m going to stick to the theory that those of us who have the ‘gay' gene are the possible carriers of an antidote. Zendra wanted Tink pretty badly.”
“Yes, but they shipped her partner off. Sorry Sweets,” I rushed to say in apology. Tink chewed harder.
“Because Karen hadn`t been bitten, scratched, or otherwise infected. If you recall, Tink was just recovering from her bout with the first phase of infection when we found her in North Platte,” Gordon corrected.
“Perhaps Karen was smarter than you and didn`t suck on her lover`s face right after she had been attacked?”I asked. Again, the humor was lost on Gordon. I wasn`t sure what was chafing his ass but something was.
“Cossack and Russian reel`d from the sabre stroke,” Colonel Richards interjected.
“Indeed they did, Colonel,” I smiled at the gent gumming his mutton. “Some of us will be more reel`d than others.” I clapped his thin shoulder as I walked past him.
*~*
Do the gays really carry the gene that will end up saving humanity? How do Paul and Gordon, as well as the others, fare in their journey northward? Will Paul and Rodney ever learn to get along? Will Paul find his mother in good health? Will we really see moose in the next book? Should we go to Liz`s, hole up, have a nice cup of tea and wait for this to all blow over?
We`ll get some answers in Two Guys Walk into an Apocalypse 3: He`s a Lumberjack and He`s Undead, when it releases exclusively from Torquere Press.
Until then, you can catch up on the craziness by grabbing a copy of the anthology that contains the novella that started it all. You can find Two Guys Walk Into An Apocalypse in He Loves Me For My Brainsss by clicking on this link-http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=76&products_id=3774
The apocalyptic snark-filled saga continues in Two Guys Walk into an Apocalypse 2: It Came from Birmingham, which you can find by following this link:http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=96&products_id=3887
Now for the giveaway! It`s easy to win. Just tell me in the comment section below what your favorite zombie movie is. That`s it! Make sure you leave your email address as well, so I can find you if you`re the winner. I`ll draw a winner tomorrow morning, provided I can slog my way to the computer after all this zombie partying.
Thanks for dropping by to help celebrate! Good luck!
February 6, 2014
Love Her? Hate Her?
Welcome to the Love is in the Air Giveaway Hop, sponsored by Under The Covers Book Blog! I`ll be giving away a copy of my new hockey romance, Pink Pucks & Power Plays to one lucky commenter. The scoop on my giveaway is at the end of my post about my rather unconventional leading lady in Pink Pucks. I hope you enjoy getting to know a bit more about Viviana, and why she is how she is.
You know as an author that you`ve tapped a touchy nerve when your hockey guru/number one beta reader says:
"You know, I had a really hard time liking your leading lady at first."
To which I said:
"Awesome."
That was what I was shooting for with Viviana Land, heroine of Pink Pucks & Power Plays. I knew as soon as Viv uttered her first words she was going to make readers dislike her before they liked her, if they ever did. I`m sure some readers will never warm to Viviana. Heck, there are times that I have to shake my head at the things that she says.
But that`s what I wanted.
I wanted different. I wanted each woman in my To Love a Wildcat series to be as far from the standard blond-haired, size two, cookie-cutter romance leading lady as possible. And Viv, bless her sometimes far-too-honest heart, is about as far as one can get from Sally Sunshine who blushes her way into the heart of her leading man. We discover that as soon as Viviana begins lamenting her lack of batteries for her vibrator early in the book.
Viv is brassy, brutally honest, rather egocentric, and slightly snarky. While she may rub readers the wrong way at first, over time, and with the help of Alain Lessard, she begins to soften. The abrasive edges to her personality are worn down by the adoration of a good man. She begins to reveal the good heart buried under the tough, frank exterior. As the series progresses, we`ll see deeper into Viviana. Her fears will be revealed. Thankfully, Viviana will have friends to share her worries with as her relationship with Alain matures.
How about an excerpt with our gal Viv doing what she does best? We get a peek at the weekly staff meeting at the Green Hills Gazette when Viviana innocently drops the bomb about meeting Alain Lessard.
Be warned, there is grown-up language in this passage, so if you`re easily offended, best not read the snippet below.
*~*~*
“So, what did you do this weekend?” Liz asked, taking a sip of coffee and leaving that miserable black lipstick stain on the mug. I tried to smile but I`m sure it was a grimace. “Oh the same old.” I waved my hand around airily, trying to overhear what Frank Bowers, the editor in chief, was saying to whoever he was talking to on the phone. Oscar`s flippant comments made eavesdropping difficult. I crossed one leg over the other, leaned towards our staff photographer, and pretended to pluck a thread from my thistle-colored skirt. “I went to the Botanical Society Spring Fling as you saw in yesterday’s Life section.” “Sounds like fun,” Elizabeth moaned into her mug. “It was tripe,” I said, pushing against Oscar so he would lean back slightly. “Then I took my sister`s daughter and part of her scout troop for a nightmarish ride through the country. We ended up breaking down and having to walk for miles to get to this frumpy little ice rink.” I stopped nudging Oscar in his side when that playful smile of Alain Lessard`s appeared in my mind’s eye. “I did meet the most adorable man there though. His name is Alain Lessard and…” All talk stopped instantly. Even Oscar turned to look at me. I looked from one stunned face to the other. “Did I say something offensive?” I asked. Oscar squealed when Frank shoved the photographer`s rolling chair out of the way to zoom across the empty space in his own wheeled office seat. Bert Dibble was choking on his coffee. No one was slapping his back. I drew back from Frank`s wide grey gaze. Our news editor was a living testament to stress-related hair loss and dyspepsia. Frank was built like Lou Grant, talked like a toad with terminal laryngitis, and always seemed to be one hissy fit away from a stroke. “Did you just say you met Alain Lessard?” Frank croaked. I nodded, noting the droplets of sweat on his very high brow. Frank threw a look at Bert who had stopped hacking although his pale skin was still blotchy. Elizabeth was trying to pat down Bert`s rumpled brown hair with a wet finger but he kept swatting the tomb dweller`s hand away. His comb-over looked out of place. “Did you hear that, Bert? The fucking society page broad scoops you with Lessard!”
“If I can interject,” I cut in snappily, “I am not a broad. I did not scoop Bert, and I wish you would stop blustering in my face!” I reached out to shove my editor back a bit but his chair stayed firmly planted. Oscar came wheeling back up on my right mumbling angrily. “How the hell did you get into see Lessard? I`ve been trying to grab a minute with him ever since he announced he`d be staying in state after the playoffs to volunteer as a coach. Shit, I even tried tailing him in the grocery store! That fucking bulldog assistant, or whatever the hell Bonbano is, keeps Lessard so far from the press you`d think the kid was a gilded pussy with no chastity belt in sight!” Even the Goth queen gasped at Bert`s crudity. “I am taking offense to all of this!” I snapped and shot to my feet. “Can we please speak as if this were not a locker room?!” I railed.“You tell them, honey,” Oscar piped up while adjusting the raspberry beret perched
atop his shimmering head.“Land`s right, we can`t talk about pussy in front of Oscar and the other girls,” Frank said, leaning back in his chair to cross his arms over his rather large Scotch belly. My eyes rolled to the ceiling. Oscar snorted in merriment. “Can you get back in to talk to Lessard?” my editor asked as I sat back down primly. I glanced at Bert. He looked ready to pop a tart and not the hussy woman sort either.“I`m afraid I don`t know what all the commotion is about,” I admitted, tugging my grey scoop necked tank down to cover the waist band of my purple skirt. Every eye in the staff room widened except from mine. “Land, don`t you ever read the sports section?” Bert asked, tugging his previously nicely knotted blue tie with a yellow and red buffalo from his ironed collar. Bert only wore officially licensed sports ties. “Do you ever read the society section?” I fired across the round table. Bert rolled a lip. “Look, Land,” Frank spoke up gruffly, “Alain Lessard is notorious for staying away from the media. He hates the press with a passion.”“Can you blame him?” Elizabeth interjected her voice small and timid as a wee mouse amid a room filled with howling cats. “When his parents were killed in that plane crash last year the media crush was terrible,” she explained to me, her dark brown eyes hooded and filled with melancholy. “They were flying down from Quebec to watch their only son playing in the championship series,” she told the only one here not up on the happenings of the jock strap set. “The fire was barely out when the news crews started digging through the smoking bits of that little twin-engine plane, just like dogs looking for carrion on some Roman battle field of yore.” She sighed and swept her jet-black hair from an ashen cheek. “Alain was horrified and revolted at how vile and callously the press corps treated the tragedy. I mean, who goes to a plane crash site in hopes of finding some sort of memento a mother was taking to her son? It`s just beyond sick,” the frail young woman hissed then withdrew into herself once more. I looked at my boss. He blinked at me. “So, can you get back in touch with Lessard? I`ll give you a front page sports run if you can bring me something hot about him.”“What?!” Bert rocketed from his seat. The chair flew across our small office and rocked the water cooler soundly. Oscar reached out to steady the bobbling bottle. “You can`t give her the front page! I`m the senior sports writer,” Bert roared, throwing his arms around. “She doesn`t know the difference between a puck and a football!”“You can`t get close to Lessard. Land can,” Frank argued coolly, settling a look of finality upon our irate head of sports. I finally snapped out of the stupor I had fallen into upon hearing about Alain`s loss of barely a year ago. “Frank, amazingly, Bert is right about something,” I said and got the glower that was called for from the jock worshipper. “I know nothing about sports,” I reminded our editor. Frank stood up. “Everyone but Land out!” He motioned to the door that let out into our newsroom. Bert was the first one to fling his angry self out the door. Lucretia of the Undead followed, her hair now obscuring her face completely. Oscar departed. He blew me a kiss before closing the door gently. My editor folded his arms over his stomach. “Okay, what`ll it cost me?”
*~*~*If you`d like to see how things turn out for Viviana and Alain, you can grab a copy of Pink Pucks & Power Plays at the following online retailers:
Secret Cravings Publishing
Amazon
All Romance eBooks
B&N
*~*~*
I`ll be giving away a pdf copy of Pink Pucks to one lucky commenter! Just tell me in the comments section below what your favorite Valentine`s Day memory is. I`ll toss all the names into the always sassy Random Thing Picker and announce the winner on the morning of February 15th. This is an international giveaway.
Please, make sure you leave your contact information. I will skip over any entry that doesn`t have an email address, so don`t be left out! Jot down that email addy after your comment.
Good luck! Thank you for visiting and make sure to drop in and say 'Hi!' to all the other authors who are taking part in the Love is in the Air Blog Hop.
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And The Winner Is . . .
Congratulations to Cathy Brockman, who has won the free copy of Pink Pucks & Power Plays in the Sports Romance Blog Hop! I`ll be getting in contact with you shortly, Cathy.
Just as a reminder, tomorrow kicks off the Love is in the Air Giveaway Hop. I`ll be handing out another free copy of Pink Pucks during that hop as well.
Then on Sunday I`m having a zombie bash that will include a chance to win a free pdf of my zom-rom-com novella, Two Guys Walk Into An Apocalypse 2: It Came From Birmingham.
I recently signed the contract with Torquere Press for the next novella in the series and felt the need to party! Drop in and leave a comment as we celebrate the return of Paul, Gordon, and that other sexy zombie hunter who carries a crossbow. You know who I`m talking about. I do love me some sexy zombie slayers! *fans face*
The free reads just keep on coming!
