I’m Calling You Out!!!

Hello, my amazing readers. Here we are sitting on Oct. 23rd all ready. This month has flown by for me, and considering all I need to get done….well, that isn’t such a good thing.

We are less than 10 days away from one of the biggest writing projects to strike the internet. What is that you say? Why it is NaNoWriMo. National Novel Writing Month. It is where all of us writers, aspiring writers, and those that just want to give it a try spend the entire month of November writing 50 thousand words on a novel. That is 30 days to write the bare bones of your novel arc down.

50,000 words in 30 days, you might say?! That is insane! It really could be, but it is fun, and you will never find a bigger community of authors supporting other authors through the journey.

Now, lets break it down. We are talking about 1,667 words a day to hit that 50,000 by November 30th. Most people can accomplish this in about two hours of work. I realize some type slower, but still….2 hours a day of typing like mad on that novel you’ve had rolling around in your cranium. Seriously, that isn’t much time to sacrifice to accomplish something artistic.

Not to mention it is absolutely free to sign up, so if worst case you don’t make it, you are out NOTHING! You can sign up here at Nanowrimo.org. If you are anything like me, you like to be challenged. That is when your determination and gumption shines through.

After all of this you still are unsure if you should do it? You’re too busy? You have too many commitments? Come on, there will always be a reason to push it off until next year or sometime. Now is the time to join in the fun, the chaos, and the community.

So, all my grand readers. If you are an aspiring writer in any format I’m calling you out. Don’t push this opportunity off until next year. Jump in with both feet, and take the journey with thousands of us. You never know, you could just be sitting at the end of November going ‘Wow, I just wrote my first novel.’ or ‘Wow, I didn’t think I could do it, but I did.’

Time to get back to the NaNoWriMo preparation. And remember –

L.O.L. (Live it – Own it – Love it!) It’s your journey make the most of it.

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New Release: Reality Check by V.L. Locey

Blurb:

The team owner/head coach relationship can be a tenuous one at times. Isabelle Lancourt can testify to just how stressful it can be. Ever since her husband passed away, leaving her his beloved Wildcats, she and Philip Moore have been at loggerheads. When the opportunity to sign a Russian hotshot presents itself, Isabelle leaps at the chance to prove herself as more than just a pretty face. Dealing with hot flashes, salary caps, and trade deadlines she can handle with ease. The aftermath of an ill-advised, but erotically superb, rendezvous in Siberia with the handsomely annoying Coach Moore? That was not in any Wildcats playbook. Can Isabelle and Philip handle the changes life is about to throw at them? Or will combining their personal and professional lives prove to be a misconduct penalty that the league simply cannot overlook?

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Buy Links:

Secret Cravings Store

Amazon

 

Excerpts:

 

PG:

“I hate to be termed over-reactionary or whiny bitch,” I opened with. The man crammed into a seat two sizes too small for him mumbled something unintelligible across the thin aisle. “And far be it for me to complain, but I think the left wing is about to fall off.”

Within a heartbeat Moore was out of his seat and leaning across me. My nose was burrowed into his shirt pocket. That brisk seafaring scent he wore wrapped its arms around my olfactory to hug my sense of smell tightly. I drew in a deep breath, held it, tasted the tang of cologne and man, then exhaled through my mouth. Philip shifted a bit.

“Sorry,” he murmured, his bulk sliding downward a bit, so that his stomach rested on the rickety arm of my mouse-chewed seat. “I think it’s just the bounce of the plane over the turbulence,” he announced after a long, and not unpleasant, moment of his abdomen brushing my breasts. When I made a weak sound of hope in reply, he glanced from the window to me, a small twist of a smile playing on his lips. The impact of our positions hit me like a cinderblock to the head. His mouth was mere inches from mine now. I could see him swallow roughly. His jaw and neck were dark with new whiskers. I wanted to feel the rasp of his stubble on my neck, breasts, and inside my thighs. I wanted. Oh, hell yes, I wanted.

The blue of his irises darkened as I studied my reflection in his eyes. Was it desire I saw, or something else profound and powerful? Love and hate share lots of secrets, being such close friends as they are. The plane hit a ball of violent air. My head coach nearly went to his knees in front of me. My fingers dug even deeper into the arms of my seat. Philip gathered himself quickly, wiggling from the space between my knees and the crummy seat in front of me.

“Sorry,” he coughed, hurrying back to his own seat. I nodded, neck tight, spine stiff, heart hammering, and thighs twitching. “You remind me of Christine,” he said out of the blue. I managed to make my head creak around to look at him. The man was in control once again. Wish I could be so quick to move from one frightening thing to another. Shit, I was still freaking out about the way my body responded to his. “She didn’t mind flying until we hit turbulence,” he explained, wistfully.

“Every time we would run into a rough patch, her eyes would grow bigger.” He paused to find me looking at him. “She had these wide eyes anyway, so she always looked surprised,” he clarified. I nodded, knowing how important talking about our lost ones is. “Anyway, when she would feel the slightest jounce up she would go, eyes as big as basketballs, and into the ladies’ room she would dash. Once, on a flight down to Florida to see our youngest son Drew when he was in college, Christine spent the entire flight in the bathroom.” He chuckled in amusement. The sound was incredibly pleasing. My anxiety lessened a bit. “I used to tease her about the well-known safety features of a ladies’ powder room during a plane crash. Sometimes our fears get the best of us, though. She knew she was just as screwed as everyone else on that plane, but something about that cramped little girls’ room made her feel less vulnerable, I suppose.”

“Colton used to say ‘There ain’t no point in fretting about dying. If the good Lord says it’s your time, then it’s your time, darling!” I tossed out in my best Texan accent. Philip laughed uneasily.

“That sounds like Colton,” he said, running his palms over his thighs briskly. I wanted to ask him how he had dealt with his wife’s death. I knew she had passed a few years back from cancer, leaving him and their two grown sons to carry on. “He was a good man. He’s sorely missed.”

 

R:

“I knocked several times. When you didn’t answer I got worried,” Philip said. There was some difficulty with my thought synapses. They felt listless. I threw my legs off the bed. Philip stepped back. Leaning forward to rest my face in my hands, my forehead brushed the smooth material of his pant leg. The man hissed lightly. I gasped at the explosion of need that erupted deep inside my core. I stood up, just now realizing I had slept in my muddy flats and muted purple suit. My mind was sluggish.

We stood within a foot of each other. I slid out of my shoes. I observed him as he watched my feet emerge from my flats. It was funny, actually. I mean, I have taken my shoes off in a thousand different places over my lifetime, but never once has it been that erotic. If I lived to be as old as my mother I will never be able to explain what overtook us. Without warning, preamble, or a word spoken I was in his arms, my fingers moving through his neatly combed hair, his mouth slanted over mine.

It was as if my stepping out of my little purple flats had been some symbolic gesture. What kind of gesture? Who knows? Certainly not me, because all I knew was that I needed Philip Moore inside of me more than I had never needed anything else in my life. To hell with the ramifications of this ill-advised tryst! I felt sexy again, for the first time in years a man was hot, hard, and ready to screw me. Yes, screw, not make love. The word suited the insane, hot, wet kiss we were sharing just as it would suit the act itself. Right now, I wanted to be screwed, and by someone who knew how. I needed to be thrown to the bed by a man lost to his overwhelming desire to have me.

I never saw the bed, which is just as well considering how many other people had used it for the same lusty act. Philip danced me backward until my shoulder blades and ass hit the wall. I could feel the music pulsating through the plasterboard and timbers at my back. The kiss never broke as we tangoed across the bedroom, not even when I hit the wall, and then exhaled in surprise sharply. Philip just inhaled my breath.

His hands were on my breasts, then they were on my hips, then they were in my hair. His tongue roamed inside my mouth, over my lips, along my jaw, and down my throat. I gyrated against him. His prick jumped behind the material holding it caged. If I said things, and I rather assume I did, I don’t know what I said. He didn’t speak much, either. He was too busy pushing my blazer, blouse, and bra up to talk. When he had them bared, he did take a scant second to murmur how sexy my nipples were.

“Lovely and dark,” he purred before capturing one of the mahogany tips between his teeth. Some wild force broke free as I watched his white teeth toying with my stiff nipple. I gouged at his scalp with my nails as I pushed my weeping cleft against his erection. He moaned around my nipple. His hand danced down between us, seeking, then finding, my satin panties. The man certainly knew his way around a woman’s body. He released my left nipple, blew over the turgid tip, then took half my right breast into his mouth as his fingers located my stiff clitoris through my underwear.

It had been so long…

 

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Author Bio:

V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, 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, one dog, two cats, a steer named after a famous N.H.L. goalie,  a pig named after a famous President, and a flock of assorted domestic fowl.

When not writing spicy romances, she can be found enjoying 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-

Facebook- https://www.facebook.com/pages/VL-Locey/124405447678452

Twitter- https://twitter.com/vllocey

Pinterest-http://www.pinterest.com/vllocey/

Goodreads- http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5807700.V_L_Locey

My blog- http://thoughtsfromayodelinggoatherder.blogspot.com/

Secret Cravings Backlist Books:

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)

Lovely Ladies

Hello, my amazing readers. Today, I wanted to simply give mad props to a group of lovely ladies that I’m so fortunate to have in my life. They are the type of friends, while yes all of them virtual friends on social media, they are still always there. I feel blessed to have them in my life. They are the type of friends that build you up.

Even though we are all on the writing path, they don’t rip you apart. Instead, they help me, and I help them. To me that makes them some of the strongest women I know.

I recently have pulled down my first book to start going through to polish it. You have no idea how much you learn in a few years until you read your first novel. Yikes, icky, and a few other choice words pop into my head as I work on my first novel. I’ve felt stuck, uninspired, and have already packed the book away ready to move on.

Problem is I promised a series out of the book, and regardless of how awful (yes, I’m my own worst critic) I think it is the book has gained quite the readership. Who am I to deny my readers the rest of the story? So while I’m awaiting publishing news on another book (seriously, the hardest wait for a writer) I figured I’d give another crack at it.

Why do I mention this? Because I cleaned up the first chapter. One of my lovely friends offered to critique it for me. I sent it off to her, and bam. She not only sends me back a compliment, but she also sends me back a real critique. One where the chapter is dissected into bits, and she has found things I have never realized with the book.

I know I got done saying I knew it was bad, but I never realized some of these little holes. Oh, no worries I’ll plug them, and get them smoothed out. It’s what I do. It helps so much to have someone willing to say hey, got confused here. You contradict yourself here.

I don’t find it discouraging, but rather invigorating. All of my work will pay off in the end, and the book will be so much better for it in the end. I need the critique partners to finish off this endeavor. It goes like this, after you’ve read through the same book so many times you can’t count the only critical thing you can bring to the table is the lighter to set the book on fire.

So, instead of doing that I’ve got lovely friends that are willing to help out when I need it, and I will return the favor always. We have a you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours mode of operation going. It isn’t something we’ve ever voiced, it’s just the way we work. All of us genuinely want to see the other succeed.

Now that is friendship. I leave you now my readers as I scurry off to dive into the WIP. I have a renewed sense of confidence, determination, and a long rocky road ahead of me, but we will get there.

Thank you to all my amazing friends, readers, and the Trysters in my life.

L.O.L (Live it – Own it – Love it) I know I’m going to.

Inner Voice

Hello once again, my amazing readers.

This weekend was sort of a bust on the writing front. That’s alright though. I’m still sitting at a good number for the start of the week, 14k. I’ll take that, and I’ll increase it by this coming weekend by quite a bit more.

I’m also sitting at that point where I start to second guess my project. Ah, that glorious voice has awaken, whispering my ear.

This is crap. Your characters aren’t strong enough. The story line is weak. You should junk it. This isn’t needed, it’ll just turn out like all your other endeavors.

I’m sure many of you creative types have been through it. This is the exact spot where you stand, and ponder. Do you gear up, and continue the battle? Or do you turn tail and quit? We all face this spot from time to time. It’s the point where the story is no longer fun, or a toy. It also tends to be where the plot thickens, where the characters face challenges, just as you are.

Question is are you going to see them through the turmoil, or are you going to cave?

I have countless half finished projects that usually face the ‘not right now’ pile of finishing. They range from about 15k to 25k. That tends to be my rough spot, and where the inner voice kicks in. There have been many a time that I’ve listened to the voice and thrown them into that file folder.

I lick my wounds with a I’m not ready to write that one. I don’t know enough to finish this one yet, but I’ll come back to it. Or I’m saving myself from wasting my own time.

Oh yes, I’ve used about every comforting crap thought I could. The fact is…I chickened out. I’m great at starting projects, I struggle to finish them. I’d rather face a thousand editing pieces, that muddle through the center of a book….

Ah…yes, it took me years to find that little quirk or fault in myself. Now I have my eye on it I will be pushing through. It’s time to change some habits and finish what I start.

Here’s to telling that Inner voice to bug off, and completing work. We’re getting into the sticky of the plot. Now it’s time to settle into work.

Remember L.O.L. my friends. (Live it – Own it – Love it).

When Things Don’t Pan Out

Hello, my glorious readers. I’m going to start this off by telling you a personal story.

Recently, my husband and I have been trying to get a car. Nothing is panning out in our favor. We’re hearing no, or being ignored by various factors. It’s been devastating. The Hubby Man is starting to slip into a bout of depression from it all. I have found happiness among the factor. Sound odd? Sadistic, maybe?

Not really, let me explain. 

Nothing has changed in my life. It’s not that I’m afraid of change…well mostly. I’ve just come to the realization that we’re not worse off for being told no or ignored. We have survived years without a car. It isn’t like we lost anything. Yes, a car would make life easier, but it isn’t a requirement. We are still in the same financial situations. We still have three beautiful children, and two furbabies that love us. Nothing devastating has happened. What did happen was that we placed so much value into having a car that we felt like we as humans, as caretakers of our family had less value because we did not have a car. 

It’s not true, not in the slightest. Our value as human beings did not change because we were told no, or do not have a car. We will continue to live, and thrive as participating people of the human race.

Now you may ask, how in the world does this apply to the writing world? I’m getting to that.

Yesterday I talked about having a submission waiting for a response. I’ve also blogged many times over the course of years about struggling to write. It has taken me until recently to reflect, and discover all of the key elements I needed to click. You know, those little ah-ha moments we all experience rather creative or not.

What clicked for me? It was easy once I took a step back, and quit fighting myself. 

Much like the car experience, I have done the same thing with my writing. I have put so much value on having a book accepted by a publisher, or being the next big name that I’ve lost the love, and passion for writing. It was suffocating, for me, and for my creativity. I was ready to give up. To accept writing as a hobby that was better left to something I did in free time.

Now I’m not saying I don’t want to have published books. That isn’t the message at all. I’d love to be a published author, or the next huge name. The thing is…it doesn’t change my value as a person. Sure, it’ll make ‘life easier’. See how that keeps popping up? 

It would be a glorious thing to have happen, and I’d be eternally grateful for every second of it, BUT it will not change the value of who I am. Not to me, and that is what matters. 

I have spent so much time placing pressure on myself to write the next big hit. That breakout novel that will set the world in a spin over the epicness of its words. That’s a lot of pressure to apply to ones self. So much so that you will find you are terrified to write. That every time you sit down to write you will throw out more partials to a novel, or have an over abundance of uncompleted work because it’s all crap. 

I sat myself down and I released that pressure. I might not write the next big hit. Not everyone will think my novels are filled with the wordsmith genius of so many other great authors. That’s okay. It doesn’t change my value to myself. It won’t stop me from writing.

Being an author is who I am. Telling stories is what I do. Nothing has changed, will change, or devalued me. That is, nothing but me. I put the reduced price on myself, because I didn’t think I was good enough. I put so much value on being a huge name that I felt unworthy – that I felt devalued without it. 

That all is changing. No matter what the outcome of the submission is I’ll keep writing. I’ll keep submitting. But most importantly – I’ll keep being ME, and nobody can be a better me than myself.

Keep creating. Keep dreaming, and most importantly take pride in the value of being yourself. You’d be surprised what all that positive energy can do for you.

L.O.L. (Live it – Own it – Love it), my readers.

Knee Deep in First Drafts

Welcome again, my readers. It’s been crazy busy as usual. I attended the Salt Lake City Comic Con on Saturday and had a blast. Next year I’m hoping to have a booth there. It was great to meet local authors, and not local ones alike. I’ve gathered plenty of portals into new worlds to dive into. The Hubby Man also got my son’s book signed by his favorite author, Brandon Mull. 

My amazing Hubby Man also attended and recorded writers panels for me on the two days that I could not attend. They have helped me immensely, and renewed my confidence in my own writing. Plus he bought me an inspirational book to which I’m all ready filling the pages with the secrets of this latest series, and gathering bits for future works as well.

After the much needed mental break I’m back into the working mode. I’ve been plotting, writing, and generally submerging myself into a fantasy world of my own creation. If all goes as planned it’ll be my biggest book yet. I’m looking forward to sharing this journey with all of you.

Not to mention that I’ve been writing notes, and tidbits for my next horror novel. It’s always great to gather a plethora of ideas to sort through, and decide your next project at a later date. It gives them time to grow into plot lines, or fully realized characters you can use.

I also have an upcoming anthology piece to get plotted. Plus, and this is a huge plus, I’m waiting to hear back from a publisher on rather my submission has been accepted. That has to be the most nerve wracking part of submitting – the waiting.

Until next time, readers.

L.O.L. (Live it – Own it – Love it)

 

Rain and Gloom

Good morning, readers! Today it is dark, gloomy, and rainy out here. Most people hate when the weather gets so nasty. I thrive in it. 

I know, that doesn’t sound very good, but it’s true. I am a horror writer as well as a thriller. Right now, horror is taking the cake. So, the darker it is outside the better it works for me. As I can’t work at nights due to family obligations I seize these gloomy days. At least until I can get an office, and my blackout curtains up.

It’s a comfortable blanket, sipping coffee, and writing horrors that can only be conceived by a mind that likes to scare itself sort of day. As I have all of those assets going for me, why not use them to my advantage?

This is why most of my horror writing gets done in the fall, and winter. The days are darker, and the storms plentiful around that time of year. Like the Hubby Man pointed out a few weeks ago. I am a seasonal writer. I have certain genres I enjoy writing at certain times of the year. 

Again, a good use of my habits to further my own career. Time to make a cup of coffee, turn off the lights, and sink into a haunted plantation. 

Good luck out there with all of your creative endeavors. 

L.O.L. (Live it – Own it – Love it)