Saturday, September 26, 2015

Joining us today is VL Locey and her new M/M romance Game Misconduct

Blurb:
This book is a sequel to Two Man Advantage
Life has been treating Victor Kalinski well, which is a surprise for the ginger-haired forward with the venomous tongue. His career is somewhat stable, at least for another season. His relationship with Cougars alternate captain Dan Arou is deepening, despite the fact that Daniel has yet to come out of the closet.
It’s typical Kalinski luck when a puck bunny he shared a drunken night with several months ago slaps him with a paternity suit. Despite the sizzling passion and painfully heartfelt connection between them, Dan doesn’t take the news well, and heads back to Canada alone.
If he wants to make things right and win back the man he loves, he has no choice but to swallow his pride—and nobody’s prouder than hot-headed, ego-driven Victor.
Reader Advisory: This story has graphic sexual language and scenes—no closed bedroom doors (or other rooms) here!
An adult male/male romance from Ellora’s Cave




Excerpts

PG-13 --
I found Dan in our bathroom running a Q-tip around his right ear as water from his recent shower ran from his hair. He smiled at me, a special kind of light in his eyes. I stalled in the doorway, my summons wrinkled in my fist. The smile disappeared from his face as I stared blankly at him. He tossed the swab into the trash, which needed to be dumped, and turned to face me.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. My gaze roamed over him clad in nothing but gray cargo shorts that hung off his hips. If not for the fact that my heart was beating so hard I was scared it would blow up, I would have gotten all over the man. He still torqued me up like no one else ever had. “Vic, what’s wrong?”
I handed him the wadded-up legal document. His gaze darted from my face to the crinkled papers then back to my face.
“I don’t know who the fuck this chick is, but she is playing me,” I managed to cough up. I looked around the room, trying to get the palpations under control. The walls had ugly flowered wallpaper on them. The counter was plain white. Two razors lay side by side next to the sink. Sometimes, like right then, I wanted nothing more than to grab my razor and my toothbrush and get the fuck out of Dodge. Just seeing Dan’s personal shit playing cozy-cozy with mine scared me to death. Most days when that urge to fuck this thing up overtook me, I swallowed it down like a bad oyster and forced myself to get past it. Today, then, there, that second, those two razors were about to push old Vic K. over the brink.
“Paternity test,” he whispered as the papers blew in a stiff summer wind. I couldn’t look away from those two disposables.
“Someone is playing me, Dan,” I grunted, then spun from the Schick love-fest occurring on the chipped white bathroom counter. I pounded out to the living room, my feet squelching in my wet sneakers.
“Well yeah, obviously this Heather chick is trying to pin this on you. Big-name sports star. It happens like daily, you know?”
I nodded as I paced the small but homey place where we spent most of our downtime, aside from the bedroom. I jammed my fist into my other hand and began grinding as I circled the sofa.
“Yeah, but why me and why now? Why not do this when I was pulling in the big bucks in Beantown?”
Dan dropped onto the couch and put his bare feet on the edge of the coffee table. As I paced, he flattened out the summons on his thick thighs and read. My gut was in turmoil. My head felt light. My heart still thundered in my ribs. A kid. My kid. I barely made it back to the bathroom. I threw up the fancy lunch that we had eaten at the golf club earlier. Dan didn’t come in, which was wise. I don’t like people fawning over me when I’m sick. Dear old Mom never did. I could handle myself. Been doing it since I was about five. I’d had a head cold the month before and nearly ripped Dan into bits one day for making me chicken noodle soup. Why that man was still with me, I do not know. I retched a few times, then slammed the lid and flushed. Over to the sink for a swig of mouthwash. Do not look at the razors, Kalinski, or you will make a bigger twat out of yourself.
“You okay?” Dan called.
“Yeah, just some ptomaine from the clam chowder at lunch,” I replied, my throat and nose still burning. “I’m taking a shower.”
“Okay. I’ll read this over close while you wash.”
The shower didn’t last long enough, nor did it help one damn bit. Aside from having nuts that smelled like an Irish glen, I was still this close to hyperventilating. A kid. Holy fucking goat titties, I needed a drink.
“Hey, you need to call a lawyer in the morning,” Dan said when I shuffled into the living room in nothing but an old pair of cutoff jeans. “This paperwork is crazy legal, but according to what this Hillary—”
“Heather. Heather Pavlick. Who the fuck is Heather Pavlick?” I asked the kitchen table.
I jerked open the cupboard under the sink and reached for the bottle of Yukon Jack, one of three or four bottles of booze we had on hand for cocktails at night if the mood struck. Dan kind of liked Jack over ice. Did I want ice? Did I want a glass? Nah. The whiskey burned my raw throat like gasoline. I lowered the bottle, coughed, and ran the back of my hand across my tingling lips. I saw Dan appear in the doorway, papers still in his hand. He looked upset.
“I wish you’d use a glass,” he grumbled, then stalked around me to get two tumblers from the cupboard next to the fridge. I sucked in some air through my teeth in reply. His whole body twitched at the sound. “Two fingers, and stop making that fucking noise,” he said after he returned to my side. I glugged some Jack into both tumblers, my eyes on Dan’s. He handed me a glass. We both knocked the whiskey back then went out to the couch, him with my summons and me with the Jack.
“Okay, so this is obviously some sort of rip-off,” Dan said after we’d dropped our asses back to the sofa. Thankfully he’d left the boob tube off. I was so not in the mood to talk over his science shows. I poured myself another two fingers. Dan held up his glass, so I refreshed him. “Heather Pavlick. Is that the girl you were serious with?”
I shook my head as I swirled the Canadian whiskey around my glass. Mr. and Mrs. Rupert’s voices, as well as the smell of meat grilling, rolled in through the windows.
“No, her name was Gina. We were careful. I mean, we were obsessively careful every time we fucked to prevent any kind of kid-making.” A kid. I couldn’t get the glass of whiskey to my lips fast enough. Ah, what a nice burn.
“This is why you should just identify as gay and be done with it. You don’t have to worry about knocking me up.”
“Yeah well, if I could just pick my sexual identity like I do my socks, I would. But I kind of like pussy once in a while. Stop badgering me, gay boy.”
“That’s just weird,” Dan muttered, and sipped his Jack.
I nodded. Yeah, to a gay dude, wanting pussy probably did seem weird. And while I didn’t crave it anymore because, yeah, Dan Arou, back in the day I’d taken some great delight in leaping from twat to cock with wild abandon.
“Maybe you can talk to someone in the team’s legal department. I mean, this will come out. They’ll want to know about it beforehand so they can handle the bad PR.”
“Fuck. My. Life.” I dumped more of the amber liquid into my glass. My stomach rolled and bucked as whiskey met empty gut. Whatever the landlord was cooking was making me queasy.
“This is just fucked,” Dan said after a long moment of silence punctuated only by my stomach speaking up. “See, this paper says ‘unborn child’, and that’s impossible. You and me have been tight since Thanksgiving of last year. That’s nine months, right? November to July is nine.”
“If you count November.”
Christ on a unicycle. Dan and I really been doing the monogamy thing for nine months. I mean, I knew that we had, but hearing him say it out loud drove the point home. No wonder those razors made me twitchy. That was fucking incredible. Even with Gina, I’d bailed at six months. That had been the most solid relationship I’d ever been in before Mr. Stumpy and I had hooked up. Someone call Guinness. We got a new world record here. I threw another two fingers of Yukon down. Dan made a noise about the speed of my ingestion, I assume, which I ignored.
A moment ticked by. Two. Three. Dan sipped and repeatedly read that summons, counting and recounting the months. This was major fuckery, because there had been no one but Dan since the first time I’d punched him in the face.
My gaze rested on the Xbox under the flat screen. Our games were scattered on the floor. I tipped my head to stare at the artwork on a World War I battle game that Dan and I liked. It showed a German zeppelin dropping bombs on some European city…
It hit me like a semi that had lost its brakes. Ms. Goodyear. That blonde with the incredible tits. I’d rolled her the night I’d tried to drink Dan away. Had her name been Heather? Had she said? Did it matter? Guess so.
“Ah, fuck,” I moaned, then closed my eyes.
“What? Did you figure out who this woman is?”
Shit. Just shit. This was going to be bad. I inhaled through my nose, blew out the breath and started sucking on that Jack bottle like a hungry babe. Dan jerked it from my hand. Whiskey sloshed down my chest. I swallowed what was in my mouth, licked my lips and turned to find Dan looking at me with concern tinting his lapis eyes.
This was going to suck.

R-
So yeah, there are times when having someone know you well has great bennies. For instance, the moment I sat down beside Arou the evening after the golf tournament, he knew I wanted him. Must have been that he could read my eyes or facial expression. It freaked me out at times. We had been together for something like nine months. No man-fuck thing had ever gone past three months. Gina and I had limped along to six months. This thing was Dan was the longest thing I’d ever been in.
Chicks seemed to hang in longer. Maybe women just have more patience, or maybe it’s because they think they can change a dude. They can’t, but bless their hearts, they sure do try. Perhaps they’re just willing to work harder at making it succeed. Gina sure was. She tried. No blame for that failure rested on her shoulders. I’d fucked people left and right behind her back and she’d finally had enough of it. Smart girl. I lived in constant fear of Dan waking up to discover the mistake he’d made. If he walked, it would cripple me in ways that Satan would envy.
Dan tossed the remote onto the coffee table, then pulled his golf shirt over his head. The landlady’s dog, Mansfield, was out in the backyard barking at something. Wind, probably, or a squirrel farting. Mutt yapped at everything except strangers. Those, he bounced up to with a wagging tail. Pick of the litter, that one.
“Shuck off the shorts.” My gaze roamed over his compact upper body. Olive-skinned and strong, covered with black hair, his chest rose and fell with increasing speed as he unzipped and kicked off his shorts and underwear. I moved closer. Dan tensed in anticipation. I took his stiff prick in my right hand. His eyes closed then slowly reopened, lapis-blue gems lighting up with passion. I stroked him softly. My left arm lay over the back of the sofa. Dan reached for me,  pulled my mouth to his, but I pulled back slightly, just enough to keep my nose in contact with his.
“Kiss me,” he growled. I shook my head and squeezed his cock. He winced slightly but his hips flexed upward. He smelled good. Better than good; fabulous, hot and ready for sex. Pheromones pumped out of his sweaty skin, filling my nostrils with his scent. It was unique. It was Dan. Just smelling him on the sheets made me hard. No other man or woman has ever had that effect on me. It still terrified the living shit out of me. “Vic,” he moaned.
“I want to watch you,” I whispered over his slightly parted lips. The corners of his mouth, that wet hot mouth, tweaked upward.
“Yeah, watch me come,” he murmured thickly. I released his cock and raised my hand. He spat in it. I jerked at the contact of his warm spit, then wrapped my fingers around his fat cock.

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Author Bio:

V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, yoga, belly laughs, reading and writing lusty tales, Greek mythology, the New York Rangers, comic books, and coffee. (Not necessarily in that order.) She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, two dogs, two cats, a flock of assorted domestic fowl, and three Jersey steers.
When not writing spicy romances, she enjoys spending her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania with a cup of fresh java in hand. She can also be found online on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and GoodReads.


I love to meet new friends and fans! You can find me at-



Gone Writing Publishing Backlist Books and Upcoming Releases
Pink Pucks & Power Plays (Book One of the To Love a Wildcat Series)
A Most Unlikely Countess (Book Two of the To Love a Wildcat Series)
O Captain! My Captain! (Book Three of the To Love a Wildcat Series)
Reality Check (Book Four of the To Love a Wildcat Series)
Language of Love (Book Five of the To Love a Wildcat Series)
Final Shifts (Book Six of the To Love a Wildcat Series)
Clean Sweep (Book One of the Venom series)
Coming in Feb. 2016 …Twirly Girl (Book Two of the Venom Series)


Torquere Press Backlist and Upcoming Releases
Two Guys Walk Into an Apocalypse (Part of the He Loves Me For My Brainssss anthology)
Two Guys Walk Into an Apocalypse 2: It Came From Birmingham
Two Guys Walk Into an Apocalypse 3: He's a Lumberjack and He`s Undead
Love of the Hunter
Goaltender`s Penalty
All I Want for Christmas - A Toms & Tabbies Tale
Early to Rise - A Toms & Tabbies Tale
 Every Sunday at One (Part of the 2013 Charity Sip Anthology)
 Night of the Jackal
An Erie Halloween
An Erie Operetta
Back to the Garden (Also part of the Mythologically Torqued Anthology)
Coming Dec. 30, 2015 . . . Life is a Stevie Wonder Song

Ellora`s Cave Backlist and Upcoming Releases
Bound, Boarded and Bagged
Two Man Advantage
Long Change

Coming soon . . . Shutdown Pair 

Wednesday, September 16, 2015

And here's...Melinda De Ross and her Coriola Saga!


Gerard Leon and Linda Coriola fight for the same cause. The attractive, noble, dedicated French doctor and the beautiful, sensitive Italian sculptress both donate their time and money to Hope – a clinic for children’s cancer research and treatment.
From the moment they meet, even the air between them crackles with intense attraction. But her past makes it difficult for Gerard to understand her scars and battle with her demons.
In search of a cure for cancer and armed with an innovative treatment themselves, they leave for Transylvania, that enigmatic land hidden in the heart of the Carpathians.
There they get lost and have a bizarre  experience in the Hoia-Baciu forest, nicknamed The Romanian Bermuda Triangle due to all the inexplicable paranormal phenomena happening in its depths.
But no one believes them, because they don’t have any proof of said experience. Or do they?...

*“A French Kiss in London” is the sister-story of “Falling for Italy” and the first book in The Coriola Saga. Each book can be read as a stand-alone.

Italian businessman Giovanni Coriola and English target-shooting trainer Sonia Galsworthy have only two things in common—a sizzling chemistry and no desire for commitment. When they meet in London, the world starts spinning faster and they quickly become addicted to each other. The incendiary passion between them skyrockets into smoldering, once-in-a-lifetime love.
Just as they thought they had things settled, a strange discovery triggers a mysterious spiral of events that puts their lives in danger more than once, with no apparent reason.
What connection could there be between an ancient amulet, a secret society and the long-dead poet Dante Alighieri? A sinister, complicated conspiracy that gradually catches up with the characters. And of course, one last twist before the ending.
*“Falling for Italy” is the sister-story of “A French Kiss in London” and the second book in The Coriola Saga. Each book can be read as a stand-alone.

Melinda De Ross (real name Anca-Melinda Coliolu) is an international author of Romanian origin. She writes in two languages, and her books combine the elegance specific to the European style with the modern appeal of the American culture. She has a Law degree and has been a professional target shooter for over a decade. Her favorite genre to read and write in is Romance, and anytime she prefers to watch a classic movie instead of going to a noisy club.
She loves to hear from her readers, and you can find her at: