The world is falling apart, the dead are rising up, and the Twinkies are all gone. Please welcome, V.L. Locey.

As always, it is truly a pleasure to have her as a guest on my blog. Please welcome, V.L. Locey, and her new release!

Before I start chatting about zombies I`d like to thank Misty for having me back again, she must be getting tired of seeing me here. I`m like a bad penny, or that creepy third cousin that shows up at family affairs, or a zombie virus outbreak. Nice segue huh?

I know that many people just cannot think about romance and zombies being in the same book. I mean that is just squicky, and nasty, right? Well, not necessarily. If you stop and think about it, when would love ever be more important? The world is falling apart, the dead are rising up, and the Twinkies are all gone. Having someone to love and cuddle during such a horrendous time would certainly make survival that much easier. Just think of Daryl and Carol. Go on. I’ll give you a minute. *Takes moment to enjoy recollections of Norman Reedus looking all sexy and whatnot*

Yeah, recalling their reunion made me tear up too. See, love and romance and spicy things are needed when one is facing an apocalypse. With that in mind, may I present my newest novella in the Two Guys zom-rom-com series?




Paul and Gordon aren’t your typical zombie hunters. They’re a loving couple of educators who might be infected by the virus that is turning the world’s population into mindless, undead eating machines. So why haven`t they turned?  Well, Gordon has a theory about that. He suspects that those who march under the rainbow flag just might be carrying the cure for the plague in their bloodstream. Zendra, the massive pharmaceutical company where the mutated virus was made, certainly seems to be in a hurry to round up all the gay survivors they can grab.

To avoid the clutches of Zendra, Paul, his partner Gordon, and a ragtag band of survivors head into the Great White North – the land of maple syrup, hockey, lumberjacks, and thick bacon. Here they plan to spend the winter, hopefully safe from roaming bands of undead, militaristic companies with far too much power, seedy groups of other survivors, and the always dreaded moose. Can two guys in love lead a motley crew to safety?

Two Guys Walk Into An Apocalypse 3: He`s a Lumberjack and He’s Undead is available at the Torquere Press Store, as well as all major eBook retailers.

Torque Press:




My sigh and a steady but thin stream of urine pattering on the pine needles and last fall’s dead leaves were the only noises until something stepped on a branch directly behind me. The dead bough cracked like a pistol. My urine stopped flowing as my heart dropped into my gut. A hot breath blew over the back of my neck causing every fine hair to stand up on end. The exhalation stank of rotten teeth and pond scum. With one hand, I tucked the shriveled beast back into its BVD cage. If a phobie was going to rip me into strips I was not dying with my *#*#  out. That’s just a thing I have. Death can claim me but my genitals will be covered if I can manage it.

With a very unhurried demeanor and a sudden weakness in my legs and knees, I simultaneously reached behind my back for the gun while I swiveled my head around. The largest brown eyes I have ever seen gazed down at me. The creature shook its massive head and blew snot from its nostrils. My fingertips skimmed the gun as a scream of sheer horror escaped me. The moose promptly freaked out. It bulled forward (I know, it’s funny isn’t it? Bull plus moose. Ha. Ha. God, I hate moose) as if someone had rammed a hot poker up its bunghole.

I pulled the gun free and fired. The moose got over being scared and got royally pissed off, which was rather a bit of irony since I now was fearful of losing control of my bladder. Where I hit the monstrous beast from hell I do not know but I think we can rest assured that it was not a killing shot. Bullwinkle threw his head to the left and right. I turned to run, was hit in the shoulder by a moose brow and was thrown to the side like some insignificant gay Raggedy Andy. My face met a tree, my gun flew from my hand, and Sir Moose attacked the nearest bush thinking — in its brilliant moose way — that the bush was the man who had screamed in its face and then shot beside its ear. I watched all this from the ground where I was balled up in a fetal position, whimpering about the sap on my lower lip.

My shot must have roused the camp, for within a moment (although between you and me it felt much more like several hours) the sound of people crashing through the woods broke through the snorting, thrashing, and pawing the long-headed cousin of Bambi was doing. A brilliant light swept the area. I screamed. The moose spun from his bush battle. Rider and Gordon skidded into the scene, the beams from their flashlights hitting the moose right in his ugly, flubbery face. Gordon raised a shotgun into the air but never got the chance to shoot. The moose plunged between the men, sending both diving to opposite sides. Bouncing shafts of light accompanied the departure of the moose as he crashed away into the land of nightmares.

“Sweet Jeezus,” I heard Rider pant somewhere in the darkness. “Damned shame I didn’t have my deer rifle, we could have eaten on that bitch for a month.”

“Paul, are you okay?” my partner called as he struggled to get to his feet and locate his flashlight.

A mousey sound tumbled from me. I coughed and tried several times to find my voice. When I located it down by my spleen, I had a question for my saviors. “Did– Did he mean ‘bitch’ like that animal was a female, or like some sort of rural Southern expression like ‘Damn son, we could have eaten on that bitch for a week!’ when in actuality the beast was a male?”


I twirled my rabbit bone for ten minutes. I stared at the stars and the moon and my love’s strong back. My head fell forward. I rose slowly, my feet getting stuck in the sudden appearance of a guilt puddle. That shit is sticky. Tugging free from the black ooze of self-recrimination, I made my way to the fire. Tallahassee was prowling at the exterior of the dying firelight, her green eyes glowing eerily when she would look at us from the weeds. Not knowing what to do now that I was beside him I threw my bone into the fire. It smoked terribly but the clouds curling off it were sweetly tinted with meat and marrow.

“You know what I miss?” I said, my hands now deep in my back pockets. I heard Gordon suck in a fast breath. This was a new game we had taken to playing since the world had turned into a place that neither of us recognized anymore. We would curl up, one snuggled against the other’s back, and whisper about what we missed in the normal world until we fell asleep. With so many travelling companions, making love to the man was virtually impossible. He made a sound in his throat that I knew to mean “Go on” so I did. Rocking to my toes then falling to my heels I finished my confession. “I miss Simon and Kyle from Beautiful People.”

Gordon choked on a swig of the drink of water he was taking. “And here I thought you were going to say something profound about missing the man who holds you every night until you fall asleep. But no, you miss a British comedy about a young window dresser.”
I glanced down at him seated on a stump.

“Well, I can’t say I miss you since you’re right here. And you can’t deny you adored Kyle and Simon as much as I did,” I replied, watching the bone I had thrown into the pit char and blacken. “Someday, when we’re situated with our happy little family of misfits here we’ll have a talent show and I’ll sing ‘Gypsies, Tramps, and Thieves’ in honor of Kyle.”

His fingers moved around my wrist. I pulled him up then slid around to face him. “That, I wouldn’t mind seeing,” Gordon said, his thumb now stroking the pulse point in my wrist. “Paul, I am not trying to make you be something you’re not. That you would even say that to me was like a knife in the chest. I love you for what and who you are, you know that, don’t you?” he asked, his head falling to the left a few inches to try to capture my eyes. I nodded, my sight fixed on his mouth.

“I understand what you’re trying to do, Gordon, I do. I know I swore I would try to be more helpful since everyone seems to look to you and me for leadership for some crazy-ass reason.” I had to touch him, so I cupped his face, the thick, dark whiskers tickling my palm. “I haven’t been much help and I apologize. I vow from here on out I will try not to be such a doily knitter, but he has to try as well.”

“I’ll talk to him, and thank you, babe,” Gordon whispered, then drew me to him for a kiss. My fingers moved across his jaw into his hair. It was coarse and dirty, yet felt like satin to me. His teeth nipped at my lower lip, his tongue slid over my bottom teeth. I pulled his head towards me, making the kiss rougher than ordinary. I hoped it conveyed how damned hot I was for him. Gordon thrust his tongue deeply into my mouth, sweeping every corner he could find. His hands latched onto my hips, one thick thigh pushing between mine. The instant his erection moved sinuously against mine whatever residual irritation I may have had blew away with the smoke of burnt offerings. Without warning he broke the kiss but kept his lips hovering a millimeter from mine. “Do you really think I want you to be any less gay, you silly man?”

A short snort of amusement rolled from me. I tugged his mouth back over mine with one hand then found his pulsating shaft with my palm. He inhaled sharply, drawing air over his teeth and mine. A snap of a branch not far away had us leaping apart and pulling our weapons from our pants. (No not those weapons, you randy scamps!) Rodney stepped into the dying firelight, his bow and quiver over his shoulder, his round face painted shades of green and brown to match the trees and leaves. We both lowered our guns.

“Jeezus, you two are worse than a couple of horny hogs,” he grumbled.

I shoved my handgun into the back of my jeans. “No, this is not a gun in my pocket since mine is in my hand, so I must be extremely glad to see you,” I flung out. Rider spit on the ground, scowled and stalked off.

“What?” I asked to my partner’s exasperated look. “I said I missed him. I was being nice. I could have said I hoped he had fallen out of a tree but I didn’t.”


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, and a flock of assorted domestic fowl.

When not writing lusty tales, she can be found enjoying her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania, fresh cup of java in hand.

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





My blog-

More V.L. Locey Torquere Press books:


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, Love of the Hunter, Goaltender`s Penalty, All I Want for Christmas, Every Sunday at One (Part of the 2013 Charity Sip Anthology), Night of the Jackal, An Erie Halloween


Coming soon exclusively from Torquere Press . . . An Erie Operetta and Early To Rise – A Toms & Tabbies Tale.


NaNo Sucketh

Hello my brave readers! I had another post written, and scheduled to post today, but I deleted it. It came from a place of anger, and venting. I had placed a positive spin on it, but it still wasn’t the type of post that I wanted to place for today.

That being said you may read the title and wonder what I mean by it. No, I do not mean the annual NaNoWriMo competition sucks. I love NaNoWriMo, and I try to participate every year, even though it is my busiest time of the year. 

I do mean by NaNo sucketh (yes, a completely made up word from some of my frustration) that every time I complete NaNoWriMo I have more of a disaster on my hands than I anticipated at the start of November. NaNo is all about getting that word count down. You aim for a goal every day, and you type until your bones ache. At the end of the month if you hit 50k or higher you’re a winner. You spend December in this euphoric state of being.

January rolls around or later and you pull out this masterpiece that you have written. One peek inside the chapters, and your jaw hits the floor. It’s the worst thing you possibly could imagine. Everything is in a disarray. You’ve just spent thirty days creating the biggest pile of garbage that you have ever laid eyes on. Setting the book on fire, or burying it in the yard seems like a better use of your time than facing this monstrosity that you’ve created. 

Stop. Don’t do that. I can assure you my brave readers, and creative types that is not the way to go. I too am looking at my last year’s NaNo project currently, and I’m in a sad state of affairs with it. 

I’m like a two year old with a tantrum right now. I do not want to have to go through this thing. It would be so much easier to forget I’d ever written it, or better yet bury the zombie book. Still, if I buried my books that better resembled swiss cheese than an actual novel I’d have nothing to show for my hard work. 

But all these ideas that are begging to be written. You might whine. Keep a file on your desktop, write down every idea that comes to you, or even in a notebook. Keep them somewhere safe. Now that, you’ve got that accomplished let me explain the method that I’m trying now.

This is where I’m at now. I can see the mess of my NaNo project (I’m smart enough to admit how bad it is). It needs work, loads of work, but at the same token if I don’t get any writing done in a day I feel like a failure. Yes, editing is part of the process as well, but it can be overwhelming when there is no fresh words to a page.

So, I break up the work. I figure up about how many hours I have to dedicate to my job (or second job for some of you). As I am a stay at home mother of three I have a bit more time than most, but that fluctuates on a day to day basis depending on homework, housecleaning, and the likes. I digress, here is what you can do….remember as I stated previously do not count my advice as the only way things are done, or even the best. It is neither. It is simply what works for me.

Anyway, separate off an hour or two for editing. So, say you can manage four hours of dedicated work to your second job. Take an hour or two from that, and call it your editing time. Meanwhile that still leaves you two to three hours to work on a new project. Set an alarm on your phone, an egg timer something, and keep track of your time.

Use the free time to type out a scene that is running through your head for a book, plot (if you’re the type) on your next book, or generally just get words down on paper. Sprint, if you’re into that type of thing, but when that timer goes off it is time to switch projects. I like to stop a project in the middle of the sentence. My brain uses that half sentence as a trigger so I remember when I was headed, and can continue on easier. I also jot down a few quick notes in italics beneath what I’ve just written so I can review it the next day. Save your project (I would suggest once on your computer and a flash drive). I’ve lost thousands of words to computer crashes. Backups are ESSENTIAL.

Now, close out the program and pull up your editing. Reset your timer, and work diligently on editing. We all have a method to which we work our editing. I like to go through and read the book to be edited front to back first, especially if it’s been a few months since I’ve seen it. That way I get a good feel for the story. I don’t edit while I do this, but merely make some notes in sidelines (if it’s printed) or using the review tool in word. 

After I have the initial reading review finished I will break it down by paragraphs. I get overwhelmed very easily so I’d rather look at the project one paragraph at a time than as a whole. I will mess with the paragraph until it reads smoothly, and then I move onto the next. I work each chapter that way, until I’ve been through the entire book. After all of that work is done I will give it a final read through. This read through I do out loud so I can catch anything that doesn’t sound right, and fix it. Final run through is fixing grammar, and format issues. Once that is complete it’s ready for editors (content, line by line, punctuation and grammar editors are needed) Sometimes you get lucky and find editors that can do at least two of them. After that work on the submission packets, or if you’re like me Indie find beta readers.

Okay, now that I’ve reviewed everything, and this post is extremely long. Let’s get back to the post. Manage your time. If you’re like me, and not getting new words down is frustrating you, but your time is limited to work….remember to separate your time. Spend more time on the project that is at the top of your list, but just because editing is up there to release a new book, doesn’t mean you can’t have another project in a different stage of the writing process. All you have to do is make sure that you are still dedicating time to both. 

So, with all of this being said. I’ve figured up my job time, separated off my edit time, and now it’s on to setting timers and sprinting out some word count. 

Oh, end note before I close out this blog post. Small notebooks and pens that can be transported with you are great ways to keep track of writing ideas while you’re at work or running errands.


Live it – Own it – Love it    L.O.L.

See you next time, valiant creators from around the globe.

More Holes Than Swiss Cheese

I’ve decided to actually use this blog as it allows me more creative freedom over blogging. So, this will be my first post over here on WordPress. 

I’ve started to tear apart my first book. The task was overwhelming, and I felt highly discouraged a week into the project. Who knew you could learn so much about the art of writing in a few short years?

I’d contemplated on many occasions to just put a match to the book, and pretend it never existed. I might have thought it was my gift to the reader world when I wrote it, but now…well I was wrong. In fact, I was so wrong that I owe every reader an apology for the assault on their eyes. 

Does this mean that I believe I should pack up my laptop, and go home? Not at all. As any artist does, we are constantly learning new techniques to apply. At the time I released Creatures, I did so having written it to the best of my ability. 

As I mentioned before, I have contemplated just dropping the whole series, pretending that I’d never written the book at all. Problem is, the characters and story line haunt me. I know where it goes. I know how it ends, and I want to share that with all of my readers, both old and hopefully new. 

I’ve been putting the second book together in the series, and I had to take a step back. Not only had my writing styles changed vastly over the nearly four years between books, but my knowledge had. I thought about releasing the second book regardless to allow my readers to see how far I’d come, but lets face it.  If I couldn’t read the first book, it certainly wasn’t the quality of work I wanted to be known for. 

I’m so glad that many readers love the story line, and characters within it. That they have chosen to overlook my unfortunate amateur style to live in Lynx’s world for a few hours. Still, to own my work, and be proud of what I’d created….it meant I needed to put forth a great product for my readers.

I know as authors we’re always constantly moving forward. Some works get left behind as we mature as artists, and others limp beside us. I’m ready to move forward within the DeWinter world, but to do so I must step back to correct the world building novel. I can assure you that I have the next three books already within my head, and it is well worth it to me to set Lynx on the path to greatness. If Creatures had merely been a stand alone book I would have removed it from shelves, and buried it in a closet, but it is a series. A series that I’m very passionate about.

So, I pulled it out of my archives. I opened up my Word documents, and I read. Oh, the horror. My eyes bled. Okay, not literally, but it was bad. I felt discouraged, horrified, embarrassed. This was the product that I’d presented to the world, and said here I am. *face palm*

After much contemplation I got to talking to a friend, one that has become very dear to my heart in a short amount of time. She’s allowed me to rant, and rave, practically crying on her shoulder with frustration. Once that was over she gave me gifts. Huge gifts, though I know she won’t see it as such.

She understood me as a person, encouraged me as a professional. And just when I thought I couldn’t receive any more, especially from someone I’ve never met in real life….she did more. She gave me the tools to increase my imagination, to assist in my rebuild, and to make me a better writer. 

I spent a few days playing around with the programs, getting to know them. I’m sure there is still a lot more to learn about them, and I will continue to do so. After that, I started plugging book information into Aeon Timelines, and Scrivener. I ran both programs on my computer at the same time, placing one on each screen. (yes, I have two on my desktop. I’m a gamer after all.) 

This is the work I’ve done on Aeon. Not much yet, though the program makes it easy to shift things around. I’ll be working on it more today, but I had to show you these amazing tools. 

Timeline Capture

It didn’t take long of starting to plug in information before I saw things that I’d never seen. At least not until I started plugging in meta data. 

HOLES, massive holes within the plot that entire planets could move through. I had been so busy letting my ego rule me, that I failed to realize how discombobulated the whole story was. These are holes that I never would have seen without these tools. 

Just when I didn’t think it could get worse either. I was inputting character setups, and information on the world Lynx lives in. Low and behold, more holes. These are huge character holes I found as I inputted the information into Scrivener. 

Scrivener Capture


Thanks to these two tools I can fix my book the way it was meant to be written. Fill in the plot, and character holes that I would never have found without them. 

Do you know what I discovered as I thought on these plot holes, and their repairs? I found more story. My imagination opened wide by having the visuals to work with. I was able to see the order to my world, and increase its depth.

I’m sure the book will not only increase in size, but it’ll make more sense in the end. I now have everything to give Lynx’s world a living, breathing feel to it. Plus, I haven’t even started working with two of the other tools, Blender and Scapple

So, to my dear friend, you know who you are. Thank you a million times over. Now I better get back to work. 

Dream on, and dream big