Hi there! I`m so happy to be here. My name is V.L Locey and I`m a mulitgenre erotic romance author.

There are books that I write just for fun. They`re full of humorous situations, pratfalls, comedic timing, and most generally lots of laughs and loving. I just adore reading and writing romantic-comedies. Everyone needs a laugh and some light fluffy stuff from time to time.

Then there are books that I write that dig a little deeper. Those are the books that put our leading lady or gent into a situation that can`t be swept away with a round of chuckles. When I outlined my To Love a Wildcat hockey romance series, I wanted to touch upon some important social issues with each leading lady. In Punk Pucks & Power Plays, the emphasis was on girls playing youth hockey and how incredibly beneficial athletics is. In latter books we`ll deal with domestic abuse and it`s lingering ramifications, the sad stigma some still attach to interracial romance, and living with a handicap. Each book has as slightly different tone, as each woman deals with her own unique problems and romances in her own way. In A Most Unlikely Countess our shy leading lady, Liz Argon, is the sole caretaker of a mother with severe OCD.

For most of us, garden gnomes are cute little statues we place out amid the petunias. We smile when we see them, or brush the grass clippings off their round cheeks after our hubby mows the lawn. For Liz, and her mother Helen, garden gnomes represent something far different. They are the symbol for the sometimes crippling fear that keeps Helen locked in her house. A Most Unlikely Countess is far more than a Cinderella story with ice skates, although it is a wonderfully moving and erotic love story. This book also tells the story of how a daughter and her mother, hand-in-hand, face and overcome their fears.

What kind of fears have you overcome? Please feel free to share! I`d love to hear about your triumphs! How about a short blurb then an excerpt that shows us how people can respond to just a small bit of kindness and understanding?
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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.

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Excerpt
“Is that the maid?” Mom asked, four ceramic gnomes held close to her chest, their tiny slippers dropping dried dirt down the front of her sweatshirt. I shook my head as the driver uncurled his tall frame from the sports car then ran his sight over his home. No, that was certainly no maid. The Count of the Crease had returned to his castle. He found us and waved. I raised my hand in reply.
I shook my head. Hair blanketed my face. Mom was tapping my arm trying valiantly to get my attention, but my sight was riveted on Veikko as his long legs chewed up the distance from driveway to backyard.
“I see you are at home,” Veikko said as he approached. The wind blew in my face, tossing my security blanket back from my eyes. He wore jeans and an officially licensed Wildcats jacket with his number and name stitched over his heart. His hair was caught in the same zephyr. He hadn`t shaved in a few days. Dark yellow scruff clung to his firm jaw and cheeks. I`m no fan of facial hair but on Veikko it looked passable.
“We don`t have a car,” Mom piped up. I threw her a look. Her brown eyes narrowed in confusion. Veikko stopped in front of us, letting his Wildcats duffel drop to the lawn beside his sneakers. His brows drew into a knot over his light blue eyes.
“I am sorry,” he offered at once still perplexed, “I meant I see you are happy at home. You have made my home yours,” the man explained. Mom made a sound of understanding.
“It`s a beautiful home. Your maid isn`t very nice though. She left during dinner and all her food got fed to the raccoons.”
At that Veikko looked at me for assistance. I eyed the empty in-ground pool and wondered if I could hide in the deep end for a few days.
“I don`t have a maid,” the man said, clearly befuddled. Thankfully the wind died down. My bangs slithered back over my nose.
“She`s kind of confused about who your fiancée is,” I told him. “I guess she just assumes a house this big would have a maid.”
“Well, I have a cleaning woman that comes in twice a week,” Veikko muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as I jostled a gnome from one arm to the other. “Was Lin-Ye impolite?” he asked gruffly.
“No! She was just full,” I hurried to say, although why I felt the need to cover for the woman was anyone`s guess. “There are no raccoons,” I tacked on, hoping he would drop the whole conversation. “This is my mom Helen. Mom, this is Veikko Aho, the man whose memoir I`m writing?”
She held out her hand. The Wildcats goalie took it and shook gently, a twitch of a smile coming to his face when Mom shook free to place a gnome beside a meandering path. We stood side by side for a moment, watching my mother talking to her garden statues as she looked for just the right place.
“She`s not used to having so much space,” I mumbled as the sun slid over the roof of the mansion behind us. “I hope you`re okay with the gnomes? I can make her put them in her room if—”
“The gnomes are good. My grandfather on my mother`s side had a collection of dog statues. When he got quite old, he grew very anxious if he did not see them close at hand. He lived with us until he passed away when I was ten or so. That you take good care of your mother and her special things is very nice. Family is most important,” he told me as he reached down for his bag. Once it was on his wide shoulder I caught him staring at me. All my saliva dried up. “Your mother has the same big brown eyes you have. They are pretty eyes. You should show yours more often,” he said. I blushed. He bent to the side to see the fire infuse my cheeks. The smile he gave me was nothing short of stunning. “Your cheeks are red. That is so cute.”
“Can we have the burritos now?” Mom asked, jarring me rudely from my open-mouthed perusal of our host.
“Yes, lunch sounds good. May I?” He held out his arm. Mom smiled like a teenager, placed her dirty hand on a jacket that if sold on eBay could pay our property taxes, and then walked off chatting like a debutante with Veikko Aho. I looked down at the bearded man nestled against my boob.
“Did you know she could charm men like that?” I asked the gnome, sat him down beside an empty cement urn then headed inside for lunch.

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You can find Liz and Veikko`s book, A Most Unlikely Countess, here: (It is recommended that you read the series in order)
Secret Cravings Store
Amazon
All Romance eBooks
B & N

 

You can find Pink Pucks & Power Plays, the first book of the To Love a Wildcat series, here:
Secret Cravings Publishing

Amazon

All Romance eBooks

B&N

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 named after 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/