Snowed #3
Summary:A second chance at love is all Kyle wants for Christmas, but a dark menace from his past wants him dead, and love is second to staying alive.
Kyle Lourenco has carved out a comfortable life and career for himself in Boston. With the holidays quickly approaching, he’s heading home for the first time in several years. Home to his loving parents and the small Canadian town where he was raised. And home to Christian, his best friend and the first man to steal his heart.
Just as a winter storm begins to blow in, it forces Kyle off the road only miles from home and a dark and sinister force from his past creeps ever closer. His only hope is getting to Christian’s cabin before the evil that has haunted him for years finally catches up to him.
Best friends since they were three, Christian Gauthier grew up next door to Kyle, in a remote mountain town with one stoplight and a forty-mile round trip to the nearest school. When Kyle left town for a shot at a professional hockey career, he took Christian’s heart with him. Even though he knew Kyle was always destined for bigger things, it hadn’t stopped Christian from falling for him as soon as he knew what love was.
With Christmas coming soon and a major snowstorm heading their way, Christian shuts the doors to the family store and heads to his cabin, where he will be on standby as an official volunteer for Search and Rescue. He has never regretted staying in Eagle Ridge, but a near miss on a simple rescue leads him to reevaluate everything, and when Kyle ends up at his door, he knows that guarding his heart might not be the best solution after all.
Summary:
They’re setting fire to the sheets, but a romance between an out and proud hockey star and a closeted playboy prince could end up burning them both.
Marquis Miller might be one of the NHL’s best players, single, wealthy, and open about his sexuality, but he knows his future lies in taking over the reins of the family’s multimillion-dollar company after retirement. Jumping on the family jet, he heads to Europe, tasked with schmoozing a prince into accepting his company’s bid on a significant castle renovation. Assuming he’d be faced with a dusty old monarch well into his dotage, Marquis is stunned to find out that Kaleb is a young, sophisticated, beautiful man with an impressive work ethic, to-die-for eyes, and a certain flair that captures Marquis’s attention.
Dragging the royal palace into the twenty-first century is one battle after another for the King’s youngest son. Juggling renovations, his royal duties, and attempting to reverse his former playboy prince reputation is impossible when no one seems to want to give Kaleb a chance. His chaotic life takes yet another turn when an American hockey player arrives at the castle to discuss a renovation project. Marquis is the antithesis of Kaleb’s newly minted, responsible outlook on life, a jock, a player, willing to take chances. Although the forbidden sex is hot, Kaleb is not ready to turn on his family responsibilities for a pretty smile and a smart mouth.
For both men, family is everything, and romance will always come in second until they open their hearts to love.
Summary:
Love doesn’t have a formula. It’s messy, unpredictable, and impossible to control for the autistic billionaire inventor and the hockey player who believes he’s lost everything.
Moral “Dunny” Dunkirk has a passion for life. A robust outdoorsman, lover of life, and one of the Boston Rebels fan favorites, Dunny has always embraced excitement and the drive to try new things. During his inaugural flight behind the controls of a small plane, the fates decide to test his mettle in a way that he had never envisioned. When everything crashes down around him, he’s lost in depression and alone in his cabin, facing an existence that is nothing like the one he previously led. Desperate to find some hope, Dunny reaches out to The Harvey Foundation who might be able to help, and he soon finds himself being lifted out of the pit of darkness he’d fallen into one shy uplifting smile at a time.
Accidental billionaire and inventor Cooper Harvey is only happy in the seclusion of his lab, creating new and wonderful things he is sure will make the world a better place. Being on the spectrum, he knows being autistic means he's different to others, but it's in a good way, and it only makes him better at what he does. Other than being blackmailed into spending every fourth Sunday at his PA’s house for dinner, he avoids the chaos of the world, and if that means no social life, then he’s okay with that. In the most splendid isolation money can buy, he escapes the complicated and difficult emotions surrounding attraction, and his single-minded focus means that sex and love have never appeared on his list. When his latest invention reaches the testing stage, he would normally hand it over to his development team, but a chance meeting with the test subject makes him rethink. Something about the hockey player who’d lost it all makes him think life isn’t all about measured chemical reactions, and sometimes it’s just about the craziness of love.
A steamy romance between a player and a referee breaks all the rules but will it destroy their careers?
Five different cities in eight years — Logan’s never had the chance to settle in one place. He’s the guy who fills in gaps on teams as a temporary fix and is traded at year’s end because no one wants to keep a thirty-year-old rental after he’s outlived his usefulness. When he’s called up to the Rebels, he knows it’s his last run in the NHL. Now, he must decide if it’s worth carrying on with the weight of his secrets around his neck for one more year. He’s never had a love that mattered, his career is nearly done, his ex-wife is remarrying, his sex life is drier than a desert, and abruptly, Logan’s had enough. He craves one night to ease the frustration, and hooks up with someone tall, dark, and dangerous in the bathroom of a club. The sex is off the charts, but it’s one and done, until Logan realizes exactly who he slept with and understands how dangerous it is to play games with secrets.
Being a referee is in Webber’s blood, and it’s a job he loves. Sure, sometimes he’s called dirty names—by fans, coaches, and players—or must insert himself between two massive men trying to pummel each other. Some nights, he’s knocked on his ass. Other times, he might take a puck to a tender spot. But despite all the hazards and name calling, there is no place he wants to be than on the ice. If only his love life was as settled. It’s hard to find someone willing to put up with his travel schedule, and even if he found Mr. Right, how would he juggle a romance when he’s never home? A chance hookup while officiating a game in Boston should be a simple matter of scratching that itch, but he couldn’t be more wrong. Unfortunately, that one-night stand—while memorable—turns his sedate life upside down in ways he could’ve never foreseen. When the penalty for love is losing everything he’s worked hard for, is it a price he’s willing to pay?
Original December 2021 Book of the Month Review:
What can I say about Snowed? Hmmm? . . . Going home is always a treat at the holidays(even if the character is uncertain of their return). Second chance at past love can definitely bring about equal moments of new and nostalgia. Forced proximity is always a possibility here in the north, after all Mother Nature is a fickle . . . well let's just say she's fickle who has no sense of the clock or one's schedule. Throw all these factors together and you have yourself a powerfully emotional journey of discovery with just the right balance of mystery to make Snowed not your typical holiday fare and yet somehow it is typical in the sense of what makes a holiday story "holiday": HEART. Trust me there is plenty of heart in Scott & Locey's latest addition to their hockey universe.
Now, if I was to break it down a bit, well you know I won't do too much of that as this is a spoiler-free zone but I will give a little insight. Kyle is coming home after being injured on the ice but he isn't too sure how welcomed he will be especially by his ex, Christian. Christian stayed when Kyle left to pursue his hockey career and now that fate has left them stranded at Christian's cabin will they be able to talk and discover what has been missing from each of their lives in their years apart? You know you'll have to read Snowed for yourself to find that answer .
I hinted at mystery earlier and yes there is something that doesn't quite add up about Kyle's "mental blocks" for the lack of a better term here and they can definitely tug at your heartstrings and want to wrap Kyle up in Mama Bear Hugs till everything is all better but sometimes we have to experience the pain to find and appreciate the joy, fictional characters are no different. Okay, perhaps they tend to have more than their fair share of pain but in my experience that actually helps me work through things in my own life, course it also at times makes me want to whack them upside the head with a cast iron skillet.
Back to the mystery element, I love how it's believable, it's not forced to fit the characters or the setting, it's not thrown in to give Kyle and Christian an extra level of drama. It may not happen every day but it is believable, hurts one's heart but still very possible.
There may not be much hockey in this entry to the authors' hockey universe but it does make for a perfect beginning, it hooks you and pulls you in. And where this story goes is what truly makes the whole book a delightful gem. Can't wait to see where Scott & Locey go next.
Royal Lines #4
I'm not even going to try and figure out how or why it took me nearly a year to read Royal Lines. With the exceptions of watching hockey during the Olympics and keeping bit of an eye on our local college women's team I'm not a fan of the frozen sport BUT I do LOVE! LOVE! LOVE! the hockey universe RJ Scott and VL Locey have created. I'm not going to scour the lower levels of my brain to figure out why it took so long.
Some might say in a universe with so many entries the stories are getting tired or lacking in originality. My response to them: PHEWY!!!(I really would say something more unlady-like but I'm going to be a good girl here😉). There are so many different tropes having been written and even more yet to be explored so I don't think there will ever come a time the Scott & Locey Hockey Universe will be tired.
Now, on to Royal Lines.
The eyes of Marquis Miller on the cover penetrate your very soul, compelling you to read his and Prince Kaleb's journey. Who doesn't love a good royalty/commoner trope? I imagine there are some, not every story is everyone's cup of tea but for this reader? Love it!
One element that really made me smile was Marquis loves hockey but it's not the end all be all of his existence, to walkaway be it for love or family business doesn't seem like it would be a huge hardship for the man. Seeing him doing the family business in the off season is a real treat. We all know the kind of money high-end quality athletes make(don't really deserve but still receive) so you don't expect athletes to be getting their hands dirty doing blue-collar work. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure some do and I'm equally sure Marquis isn't exactly being paid in peanuts but to see him being a "9 to 5-er" was refreshing.
As much as I really enjoyed the physical and romantic chemistry between the men I honestly think it was the individual aspects of each that made me love this story so deeply. Kaleb with his family was so amazingly everyday. By "everyday" I mean that one doesn't expect those interactions in a royal family, I'm sure they exist but it's not the first actions and behaviors that come to mind with royalty. Marquis stepping in to help the family business overseas knowing his father and uncle can't is also unexpected behavior for a professional athlete. Those scenes really resonated with me and made me love the characters even more.
For those who think hockey and familiar faces must be missing from this entry due to my focus on family and off season, don't worry because Scott & Locey always finds a way to get their ice fix in. What's not to love about Royal Lines? There's heat, family, romance, friendship, drama, ice-time, and love. A delightful read all the around.
Blade #5
Even with the recent release of the 30th book in their hockey universe I still don't know for sure which author writes which character, truth is it doesn't matter because Scott & Locey create so fluently their individual writing skills and talents each bring to their collaborations mesh perfectly.
There is just so much I love about Blade. The characters obviously but also the adversities they face. This isn't the first time injuries have been addressed in Scott & Locey's Hockey Universe, this may be the most severe example but not the first. Let's face it, injuries and sports are a no-brainer going to happen at some point scenario.
How much is from pure research or personal experiences, I can't speak to but whichever it is they have an amazing realistic angle(for lack of a better word) when it comes to health issues. Be it full-on health conditions or from injuries suffered on or off the ice, they are spot on with the emotions of both the survivor and support system. I say "survivor" because for those who don't know me, my mother has had health issues that have left her disabled for 30 years and her dad had MS and was in a wheelchair by the time I came along and I see neither as a victim, patient, or handicapped. I know not everyone who uses those terms mean it in a negative light but some do and so again I prefer the term "survivor". I would never wish health issues or injuries on anyone but too often those who don't have personal experience don't realize how damaging and hurtful being stared at can be as well as the flipside and turning away. It can be a thin line to toggle over but for those who experience it, that line can make the difference between a great day and devastating day.
I mentioned the above statement because in Blade, it is this very feeling that both Moral and Cooper, for different reasons but still both, have faced more than they should have to. That battle becomes both barrier and bridge between the two. Cooper living with autism and genius, Moral surviving the plane crash that took his leg and robbed him of the hockey future he always planned on leaves both of them in the public eye in ways neither want and wish to escape from. I want nothing more than to reassure both it's what they feel and see inside that is important, not what others project but I also know from experience we can only do so much to protect our loved ones, they have to come to some of those revelations themselves. It can be a very hard scale to balance but Scott & Locey portray that balance expertly.
Perhaps I've said more about my personal experiences than the book but in my opinion having a romantic fictional story speak to the reader so deeply says more to my love of said story than any plot-detailed review. Thank you, RJ Scott & VL Locey for this brilliantly written tale of survival, growth, friendship, and love. If it wasn't my love for Ten, Jared, and the whole Railers gang(which to be honest stems more from being first to burrow into my heart than superior content), Blade may actually be my favorite so far.
Rental #6
After a poll the authors took in their Facebook group I had a feeling we'd be seeing this trope sooner rather than later. It's an obvious trope that has potential to create intense drama and yet not as obvious as one might think because I never really gave much thought to it. After reading Rebel, I can see the lasting ramifications of a player/ref relationship and not just a current game/season scenario but it could put an unwanted spotlight on the ref's past games. RJ Scott & VL Locey do a wonderful job balancing obvious and "HOLY CRAP! I didn't expect that!"
I've said it before, I'll say it again, and I'm sure I'll say it even more in the future but I'm not a hockey person. I do love baseball and there are players who get traded from team to team wherever there is a need which I can't even begin to imagine how that screws with your psyche, your sense of belonging both as a team player and as a human needing a place to call home. Through Logan Mackie(who we first met in Blade briefly) as Moral "Dunny" Dunkirk's replacement we get to see just how difficult that can be for an athlete. It is definitely not easy but Logan just wants to help whichever team he's with the best way he can.
What can I say about Webber Kelty, NHL ref? Closeted, older, career ref, known for fairness, and now he suddenly finds himself at a crossroads when his masked club hook-up is on the ice at one of his games. Speaking of that masked club hook-up, what a way to start a story, an unforgettable experience for both men and the readers. *fanning self* I digress, back to Webber. All he wants to do is his job, a job that is often disrespected in all sports. Don't ask me my opinion of referees because let's just say it is not always favorable. We definitely need more Webbers in games/matches in the athletic world.
Put these two together and the chemistry, well it's off the charts which we learn very early on but there is more than just the physical chemistry. Their hearts, once opened up are so perfectly meshed you can't help but cheer for them. Did I want to smack them a few times and scream "JUST TELL SOMEONE!"? Of course, but where is the fun in that? We have to have some hiccups or Rental would be a very short pamphlet instead of a great piece of storytelling.
I think it's safe to say a few of those hiccups are just downright bad but they not only give insight to the main characters but the team, family, and the fans as well. I won't say more to the plot but I do want to say how much I enjoyed cheering for a ref for once instead of screaming at my television "oh come on! Are you blind or just stupid?"😉.
Rental is brilliant all the way around. Heat, drama, hockey, romance, friendship, more heat, familiar faces, passion, and just a touch of suspense(I won't spoil). Definitely worthy of Scott & Locey's Hockey Universe stamp. Rental may be their 30th story but there is not an ounce of tired storytelling within and I hope it continues for years because there is potential for many tales yet to be told.
Snowed #3
It took me a few moments to clear my head and make an assessment. Other than my shoulder, I was okay. Sore and trembling but safe. Thank God for seatbelts. If I’d not been strapped in, I would have been flying through the windshield and kissing a tree. That thought made me queasy. I tried the windshield wipers. They made one pass then died. It was just enough to see that the front of the Explorer was bent around a fat fir tree.
“Great,” I moaned, easing my right hand down to free myself from the seatbelt. Powder from the airbags filled the interior, making me cough and sputter. The headlights were still on. Which was good. Sitting here in the woods alone in the dark made me edgy. The unseen could be lurking in the forest, silent, like the wolves that prowled the muskeg, forests, and tundra of Manitoba. There was plenty around home that could kill you that didn’t dwell in your nightmares. “Fucking great.” I checked my phone for service even though I knew there wouldn’t be this far from Eagle Ridge during a blizzard. “Fuck,” I snarled, which ignited a new pain in my neck. Super, so I now had whiplash as well as a re-fucked shoulder. “Asshole moose.”
I knew the area well. I had to get somewhere warm and call for a tow truck. There was little to be done for my shoulder. That would have to wait until I could get to Churchill where they had a pretty decent health center. It would set me back a few weeks. I gave it another ten minutes then my headlights began to dim. A deep, unsettling unease crept into my chest. Without the lights on the dash or the headlights, the darkness would descend.
Grabbing my Rebels duffel, my childhood stick, and the bag of presents for my parents, I took the keys from the ignition and exited the car. Snow whipped around me, tiny bits of ice mixing in with the flakes to scour any exposed skin. Thankfully, I had worn my thickest winter coat. The son of Miriam Enook Lourenco knew enough to dress in layers. Shame he didn’t know enough to not run off the damn road. Fear spurred me on. The wind was brutally cold. The outside temperature, according to the dash of Rocky’s totaled SUV, had read zero degrees Fahrenheit, which was normal for this time of year. I took a few steps, my hood cinched around my head, and turned on the flashlight that was in the car, to give me about a foot of light before the snow cut the beam into nothingness. I swallowed. It was fine. I knew where I was. Christian had a cabin just a mile or so down Egret Lane. Head down, I pushed into the storm, the snow already to my knees.
Once I got into the woods, the wind did ease a bit, but not enough. Something cracked behind me. I spun around with a gasp, heart pounding in my breast, and waved the light back and forth.
“Who is it?” I shouted, but the gale force winds carried my words away. I stood there, locked in fear, snow battering my face like a sandblaster, squinting to see into the maelstrom.
Just a tree. It was just a tree breaking and falling. Nothing to worry about. It’s not the unseen. Just keep walking. You know this road. Round the bend. Up the knoll. The old Adjuk place. Mom told you all about it. Dad helped Christian put on a new roof when he bought it. You’re safe, just keep walking.
Royal Lines #4
He bowed and extended a hand. “Marquis Miller,” he introduced himself, and I took his hand and shook it firmly. He didn’t let go. I didn’t let go. There was something there. A flicker of appreciation in his expression, the tip of his tongue wetting his lower lip, his eyes widening, and I didn’t have to wonder about his appreciation or his inclination.
If he could read my mind, he’d know that he ticked every single one of my boxes, and the image of him lying naked, with all that beautiful dark skin on cool silk sheets, sprawled and waiting for me, had all the blood in my body rushing south, and I was getting hard. The fuck?
“Prince…” I stopped. “I’m Prince Kaleb. Call me Kaleb.”
Finally, he released my hand. I swear if he offered to fuck me, I’d be dropping my pants and leaning over the nearest surface.
“I’m here from Miller & Miller.”
“Uh-huh.” Words failed me, and an answering frown creased between his eyes.
“You were expecting me, I believe. Regarding your castle works?”
It wasn’t the castle I was worried about right now. It was the fact I was getting an inappropriate hard-on at my first sight of this glorious man in what was supposed to be a serious business meeting. I’d never seen such beauty up close, and suddenly, I understood how my sister could meet and fall for someone in the space of a few days. Not that my heart had anything to do with how I felt. I was tired of all the shit, the worries, the stress, and abruptly, I wanted my old university days back when I could sleep with anyone I wanted.
Because, right about now, with everything whirling in my head, the thought of Marquis Miller in my bed and fucking me into tomorrow, well, damn the consequences. Bring it on.
Blade #5
“Moral. Moral!” Strong hands gripped my shoulders and shook gently, snapping the hold the memory had on me. My eyes, which are now seeing my brother’s worried face, instead of the Canadian wilderness hurtling up to meet me, skitter around the room. Sweat runs down the back of my neck as my lungs stop seizing. Yes, yes, we are in Boston. At the tall tower that holds what my brother, my physical therapist, and my mental health counselor all believe to be my return to being able-bodied. “Moral, are you here with me now?”
“Yes, yes, I’m here. Sorry. I just…” I chanced a look at the skyline. The jet, now long gone, probably landed safely at Logan as hundreds of thousands of planes do every year. Millions perhaps. My shoulder aches. Wincing at the pressure on the reconstructed shoulder joint, I let out a shaky breath. “I saw a plane in the sky. Stupid I know.”
He leaned in to kiss my damp brow. We’ve always been affectionate like that. Mama and Papa were that way. Always hugging and kissing—me and my younger brother, each other, the dogs, the cats, friends, strangers. They were incredibly demonstrative. I missed them both so much.
“It is not stupid. It’s PTSD, which is very normal after a traumatic experience. Your counselor told you so many times.” I shrugged my good arm, moving around in my seat to ensure I can’t see the damn window anymore. “It will pass as time goes by. Once you’re back on your feet.” His eyes flared. “I mean when you’re recovered. I’m sorry. That was—”
“It was fine. A saying. Someday, yes, I will be back on my foot.” My sight touched on my lower half, the left leg so strong and thick, powerful from skating. Then the right, gone below the knee, my trouser leg pinned up neatly by my brother just this morning. Philippe wasn’t amused. “It was a joke. I’m a joker, right?”
“You don’t have to pretend, Moral,” he said before patting my cheek and returning to his seat. “And you will return to your life fully within a year or two, with lots of therapy and this new prosthetic alloy that Dr. Harvey is creating. When you’re sad, be sad. When you’re happy, be happy. I’m not the little boy who lost his parents and had to rely on you and Aunt Celeste to care for him. I’m twenty-six now.”
“Yes, and now you’re taking care of me. Isn’t life funny?” I asked, but there was no humor in the question. “We should just go home. I don’t think this experimental bullshit is for me, Philippe. I have too much therapy to get through…”
He was about to argue, as he did, the stubborn ass, when the door opened and the older woman returned with the reluctant looking man who had bolted what seemed like hours ago. A glance at my watch showed it had only been five minutes since the brilliant inventor with the wide brown eyes had left in such a hurry. I nudged Philippe and jerked my scruffy chin at my crutches. He hurried to comply, passing the crutches over, then reaching to help me out of the chair. I shot him a scowl. My brother lowered his hands to let me struggle upward. It didn’t go well with a healing shoulder and only one leg. Embarrassed at my weakness, I grunted at my brother in French, a quick request for aid. He whispered something back in our native tongue that was not complimentary as he levered me up to my feet. The doctor looked up at me as I wobbled around on my crutches, his dark eyes growing even wider behind his glasses as I got to my full height. Balanced now, I offered him my hand.
He seemed reluctant to take it, but after a slight poke from Miss Brianna, he clasped my fingers, gave them a quick pump, and then dropped them.
“Good afternoon, Dr. Harvey. Thank you for seeing us,” Philippe said jovially, the greeting obviously forced. There was nothing cheerful about this meeting. “My brother, Moral, and I are thrilled to have this time with you. Your personal assistant assured us that you would love to hear my brother’s story. That it would help in your creation of this new metal for athletic prosthetics. Were we not understanding the reply to our email?”
“Your email,” I muttered in French. Philippe shot me a glare.
Rental #6
“Samuel Adams, please, draft, and a menu?” I asked. He nodded, moved off to pull me a beer and grab a menu. Raking my fingers through my short, damp brown hair I settled in, looked to the left, and saw one of the most gorgeous men I’d ever seen before, staring at me as if I were a bacon cheeseburger and he was just coming out of a meat-free Lent drought. Gorgeous lower half of his face, anyway. He wet his lips. My pecker perked up instantly. I barely noticed the beer and menu that appeared in front of me. The bartender, who was probably used to seeing men drooling on his bar, moved off to tend to his other customers. “Evening,” I said because I was smooth and suave that way.
“Hey,” he replied, his voice deep as the ocean depths. He was dirty blond, big, and inked. Also, a little younger than me. Not by eons or anything, but maybe early thirties. He had a rugged face, a nose that was wider and perhaps a wee bit crooked. Incredibly lush lips and one hell of a strong jaw. Dark blue eyes. That nose/jaw combo was a real standout. His face was rough and masculine, but he’d not be appearing on the cover of any high-fashion magazine. The man was not a fashionable waif. He was a bruiser. And just my type. His mask was purple with sequins. Very flashy for a man who didn’t strike me as the flashy type, but then again, what did I know about him other than my dick was into his vibe. “You here for food or something else?”
My dick was standing at attention. Okay then, the straightforward type. “I’m here for whatever the night brings me.”
He gave me a smile that could have jarred Satan. Talk about sinful. “Yeah, same.” With that announcement, he slid from his stool, adjusted his cock, which looked like a thick hunk of meat pressing against the zipper of his jeans, and then sauntered off. I sat there overwhelmed, not only at the quickness of finding a willing fuck, but at the potential sheer size of that man’s cock. His ass was a work of perfection. Meaty as hell. Damn this bar was a treasure trove! Why had I not googled gay bars in Boston when I was here before?! He paused at the end of a dark hallway, bathroom signs lit above his head, and gave me that look. That look that scorched all my nerve receptors aside from the ones that led to my crotch. He walked off into the dimly lit corridor.
The bartender cleared his throat. I glanced at him, waiting with a pencil and pad in his hand.
“I have to go wash up first,” I lied like a motherfucking rug.
“Uh-huh.” He placed the pad back into his front pocket and went to make cocktails.
Saturday's Series Spotlight
🏒👨❤️👨🏒💖👬💖🏒👨❤️💋👨🏒
Writing love stories with a happy ever after – cowboys, heroes, family, hockey, single dads, bodyguards
USA Today bestselling author RJ Scott has written over one hundred romance books. Emotional stories of complicated characters, cowboys, single dads, hockey players, millionaires, princes, bodyguards, Navy SEALs, soldiers, doctors, paramedics, firefighters, cops, and the men who get mixed up in their lives, always with a happy ever after.
She lives just outside London and spends every waking minute she isn’t with family either reading or writing. The last time she had a week’s break from writing, she didn’t like it one little bit, and she has yet to meet a box of chocolates she couldn’t defeat.
V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, yoga, belly laughs, walking, 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 flock of assorted domestic fowl, and two 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.
VL Locey
EMAIL: vicki@vllocey.com
Snowed #3
Royal Lines #4
Blade #5
Rental #6
Harrisburg Series
Owatonna U Series
