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.


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 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.

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)

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.

Monday Madness

Good morning, readers! It’s Monday. I hear the grumbles from the crowd all ready at that. 

While the world despises Monday’s I rejoice in them. Or at least I do this Monday. It is the beginning of a brand new week. A brand new chance to spend days chasing those dreams. We can reach for those goals, and dreams easier by putting last week where it belongs. All the rough days, and head scratching as we stare at blank screens, just leave it behind. 

Drink a cup of coffee, listen to upbeat music that puts you in a great mood. Or even listen to inspiring music. 

Once you have that cup down, get a fresh cup. Before you ask, yes, I live off coffee like a diet while I’m writing. Tons of the stuff every day. It might be recommended not to drink it during my diet, but oh well. You cannot take the coffee out of the writer. That is not a good thing. 

Anyway, I digress. 

Put yourself in a positive train of thought. Set up big term goals, or small term goals for the week, and conquer.

Just remember as submission calls pop up, novel ideas dive in, and you want to accomplish it all….

Any word count a day, even a few hundred….it’s progress forward, and to be proud of it. You hear the saying all of the time. Don’t compare yourself to other writers. I think it’s safe to say don’t even compare yourself to the way you wrote one book. Some books just come easier than others. 

So buckle yourself down, put on that writing hat, and bleed into your work in progress. (figuratively, let’s not be disgusting or suicidal. I’ve lost way too many author friends recently).

As for me. It’s a fresh cup of coffee, and into the WIP for me. My main character is preparing to face many trials for the day.

Dream on, and dream big, my friends.


Getting Back on That Horse.

I took a few days off from blogging. Not due to anything serious. In fact quite the opposite is true. Sunday I spent most of the morning on a shopping trip with a good friend. As we are thousands of miles apart, we made the most of it and went online shopping. It was a lot of fun. Yesterday, I simply couldn’t wrap my head around a blog post. I tried to think up something to talk to all of you readers about, but nothing came to mind.

Today, it’s a different story. As for writers or any creative type we are faced with some pretty nasty things, rather it is reviews of our work or rejections of our babies. You will have to grow a thick skin if you hope to survive in the world. Criticism is quick to be flung in all directions, and sometimes you find yourself the target of such.

Still, it is the rejections that I wish to talk about today. I, just like any other author that has tried for submission calls, or sent their work into publishers have faced rejection. It is a hard pill to swallow when that message comes back. The words small slaps in the face as you read, and maybe even reread them. 

I kept my first rejection letter. Yeah, sounds crazy, right? I kept it because it meant something to me. Not that I was a world class crappy author, but that I was starting to pave my path as an author. We’re all going to get them, not even famous authors today avoided the dreaded rejection letter. 

The thing is, and it’s one of the most important things. You have to keep trying. Do not let that letter destroy your dream. You keep putting your work out there. Have critique partners, beta readers, or even an editor go over your work if the rejection letter actually contains critiques within it, though don’t feel disheartened if it doesn’t. Most rejection letters now come in the form of a pre-written document where they just slap your name on it. 

Once it’s cleaned up, put it back out in the world. Submit to other publishers, don’t give up. You never know, your story could be just what one publisher is looking for. Always, ALWAYS make sure your work is edited. I know you think you can edit your own work, and save you some money, but trust me from experience. You cannot. It is one of the singly best investments you can do for your ‘precious baby’ once it’s written, and revised.

Now, with all of that being said, the reason I chose the subject of rejection. Last year I’d submitted to a horror anthology. I was rejected. Me? I felt defeated, and I let that stew in my brain. I was already feeling pretty awful about my writing, but that blow about had me packing my bags.

I’d started to give up on my writing. I figured nothing was selling, I couldn’t even make it in my own genre so why bother. I was going to give up the dream.

DO NOT DO THAT! If you need to give yourself a few days to brood, but only a few days. Pick yourself up off that floor, and try again. That is the most important aspect. Keep trying, don’t ever stop. Get back on that horse, and try again.

Don’t allow excuses, rejections, and criticism to take seed in your brain. It will destroy you, and spin you into a world of negative thought. 

Time for me to get to work on a few different genre submissions that have come into my life yesterday. Keep reaching for the stars.

Dream on, and Dream big.