Jillian: Today, I have V.L. Locey here as my guest. She and I share a publisher (even though her work is much hotter than mine) and we are also buddies on Tuesday Tales. She’s an awesome writer and a great friend. I hope you like her excerpt and blurb.
V.L.: Before we get to chatting, I`d like to thank Jillian for having me here. I love dropping by and spending time visiting with my online friends! My name is V.L. Locey and I`m a mulitgenre erotic romance author.
Do you use pet names, or endearments for loved ones? How about funny foo-foo names for your dog or cat? I`ll admit it. I do. I always call my husband ‘Wilbur’ although his name is William. I don`t even recall why I began calling him that, but somewhere in our almost twenty-three years of marriage I thought it sounded cute. My dog`s name is Tinker, yet we call him ‘Bobo Baggins’. And then there are my cats. I`m not sure we really need to hear this, but since I started it I might as well come clean. I call my female cat, Lu-Lu, ‘Pretty NuNu’ and my male cat, Lucius, is known as ‘Handsome Yellow Boy’. And those cat names must be spoken as if you`re talking to a three month old infant. How embarrassing.
Ah, those endearments. They really aren`t too bad if you take them in stride. Tender nicknames are a way of expressing emotion without having to be too shamefaced. In A Most Unlikely Countess, Veikko Aho, my leading man and starting goalie for the Philadelphia Wildcats, comes up with an adorable pet name for Liz Argon, our lovely yet shy storyteller. At first, Liz isn`t too keen on the playful endearment the famous athlete gives her, but over the course of the story it seems to grow on her. Sometimes we can`t shake those pet names no matter how hard we try. And sometimes we grow to adore the nickname nearly as much as we do the loved one using it. Do you have a nickname? I`d love to hear what it is, if you`re willing to share!
How about we have a short blurb? Then we`ll have an excerpt that deals with Veikko`s nickname for our Liz.
Blurb
Painfully shy Liz Argon probably shouldn`t be dreaming of Veikko Aho, star goalie for the Philadelphia Wildcats. As she works side by side with ‘The Count of the Crease’ on his memoirs, she finds herself falling for the handsome goaltender. His tender ways with her and her mentally fragile mother are slowly claiming her heart. If only Veikko wasn`t already engaged to a woman far better suited to move in to ‘The Count`s’ world. In book two of the To Love a Wildcat series, we`ll see if a glass slipper can survive in the rough and tumble world of professional ice hockey.
~*~
Excerpt
He was at the baby grand, his head bowed as he played each note with perfection. Lord Elton John would be proud of how well Veikko was playing Someone Saved My Life Tonight. The keys were hit with passion and agony. I lingered in the doorway of the living room as he lost himself in the song, or so I thought.
“Come sit beside me, Piglet,” he said, jarring me from my appraisal of him, the piano, the muted light in the corner, and the tumbler of liquid sitting within easy reach. Whiskey, if the smell was any indication. Not sure if I liked his nickname for me or not, I nonetheless moved closer to him. He glanced up, his long fingers never missing one key, then he jerked his head to indicate the bench. I moved behind him to sit primly at his side. Yes, it was whiskey in the tumbler. The smell was a thick fog around the man. So he had drunk his dinner tonight. That boded well.
“Tell me, Piglet, have you ever had a man break your heart?” he asked his accent slightly thicker from the ingestion of who knew how much Jack Daniels.
“Sure.”
“I get no other details than that?” His hands moved across the keyboard smoothly, leaving me in yet a deeper hole of disbelief. I had come into this job with a massive number of misconceptions about athletic types. Veikko was shattering all my stereotypes. Not only was the man not dumb, he possessed all his teeth, he was a lover of fine art, a philanthropist, a highly skilled pianist, and a deeply emotional human being who was now begging, in his own masculine way, for me to commiserate with him. Maybe it was the booze that had him beseeching in as manly a way possible for heartache tales.
“He was a college guy.” I sighed, hearing the lyrics written by Bernie Taupin clearly in my mind. “I was sixteen, he was twenty-one. He got what he wanted and I never saw him again. Typical, right?”
He said something unpleasant in one of his two native tongues that if translated might have made a sailor gasp. It sounded really vile.
“Hey, it was years ago, but thanks for getting all big brother about it, Pooh.”
His snort surprised me. As did the gentle elbow he pushed into my side. “Shy little Piglet needs a burly Pooh to defend her honor from time to time.” He chuckled, obviously a bit drunker than he should be given he had to play tomorrow night. “I am sorry he hurt you. You have such a good soul, kind and caring, not filled with conceit and self-absorption.”
Well, what did a person say to that? Going with the usual response I have ready for random acts of kindness, I muttered thanks while wishing I had let my hair down.
The music stopped. I found myself being drawn to look at him, even though it would make me flushed and unable to speak properly. He was too close. His eyes far too hooded.
“Sing for me,” he whispered. “I wish to hear the words. They are good words for tonight, don`t you think?”
Wetting my lips my eyes roamed from his face to the whiskey. Maybe I needed a few fifths as well.
“I`m really sorry about things, how they happened, I mean. You and she seemed…looked so good together, well, I think if you want me to sing you need to play.”
“Thank you, Piglet.” He exhaled, pressed his lips to my cheek then started at the beginning of the song once again. My lips were rather disappointed that I didn`t turn to catch his mouth with mine. I could have. I should have. It would have been so simple: just a turn of the head at the wrong, or right depending on your POV, moment. His lips on mine, just for a minute in a startling kiss that would lead to something hot, carnal, and as everlasting as the peaks of Mardavia.
Those kinds of moments don`t happen for skinny, shy chicks though. Closing my eyes, I began singing about east end nights, slip nooses, and thanking God for music that pulls us through.
~*~
You can find Liz and Veikko`s book, A Most Unlikely Countess, here: (It is recommended that you read the series in order)
You can find Pink Pucks & Power Plays, the first book of the To Love a Wildcat series, here:
V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, belly laughs, anything romantic, Greek mythology, New York Rangers hockey, 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 with the same moniker as a famous President, and a flock of assorted domestic fowl.
V.L. is a self-published and conventionally published author. She is a proud Torquere Press and Secret Cravings Publishing author. When not writing romantic tales, she can be found enjoying her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania with a cup of fresh java in hand, writing, or cheering on her beloved New York Rangers. She can also be found online on Facebook, Twitter, 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
Goodreads- http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5807700.V_L_Locey
My blog- http://thoughtsfromayodelinggoatherder.blogspot.com/
Jillian Chantal 