One of my Gone Writing Publishing peeps was kind enough to drop by and chat with us… she also wants to introduce us to the steamy life of female pro hockey… oooo… I can’t wait … 😛 enjoy
Fighting the bumps in the writing road…
I’d like to thank Finders Keepers for hosting me today! I love visiting blogs and chatting with folks about my books and the writing process. Most generally, the writing road is a relatively smooth one for me. I don’t usually struggle with writer’s block too often. If anything, my problem is having so many ideas vying to be written at once. It’s like trying to separate the wheat from the chafe at times.
“Yes muse, this idea about a women’s pro hockey team is boffo! The one about the ninja chimpanzees who fight zombies while riding Harley’s may not be exactly what we’re hoping to write, but good effort!”
You always have to speak to your muse politely or they get tiffy and no author wants a tiffy muse.
Occasionally I’ll get slapped with a round of doubt and start comparing myself to other author’s. When I begin to do this, I try to stop myself as quickly as I can. I cannot be J.K. Rowling no matter how much I wish I were. I can only be V.L. Locey, the erotic hockey romance author. If I am writing the best hockey romances that I can, then I need to stop making comparisons. Generally the round of doubt will only last a short while, I’m a pretty upbeat person overall. Hearing from a reader that enjoyed your book is the best way to help pave over the potholes in the writing road!
What do you do to fight off a case of the self-doubts? I’d love to hear all about it in the comments!
Skate hard and love deeply,
TITLE – Clean Sweep
SERIES – Venom Series
AUTHOR – V.L. Locey
GENRE – Erotic Hockey Romance
PUBLICATION DATE – Sept.26, 2015
LENGTH (Pages/# Words) – 155 pages/57,500
PUBLISHER – Gone Writing Publishing
COVER ARTIST – Reverie Design
Fiery, flame-haired Jane Bratkowski is catapulted from a small college town to Philadelphia to become head coach of a new women’s hockey team, The Venom. It’s a life-changing opportunity, a dream come true until – in a cruel twist of fate that could turn into a nightmare – she comes face to face with her ex-husband Tore Ahlberg, the Wildcats’ head of European Scouting.
Suddenly, Jane’s faced with more challenges than she bargained for: Will she let him distract her — and derail her big chance to coach pro hockey? Can she build a team of relatively inexperienced, irrepressible young women into champions? Can she and Tore triumph over the gut-wrenching tragedy that ripped them apart — or will the shocking truth of their passionate past threaten to destroy them once again?
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It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him how, or why, he remembered so much from our years of wedded bliss. Instead, I marched into the bathroom, Pomeranians in hand, then shut the door on him, his tie, and those damned recollections of a time best left in the past.
I washed my face then set to work on detangling. I accomplished this with snarling expletives aimed at long dead ancestors. The boys were restless. I laid down my hairbrush then snuck over to the door. I couldn`t hear my ex on the other side. I cracked the door just enough to peer through. Tore was standing at the sliding glass door. He still cut a fine figure from the back even though he was now in his early fifties. Wide shoulders, lean waist, long legs. The sun made his straw-colored blonde hair look like spun gold. It was time to stop, Jane. I had thought to ask him to walk the dogs but after that Rumpelstiltskin moment, perhaps a brisk walk would do me good. I closed the door quietly. Ten minutes later I stepped out, face freshly scrubbed, hair beaten into submission, and dogs in dire need.
“I have to get dressed,” I told Tore when he turned from the city to look at me.
“You want me to leave?” I nodded. “We were married, Jane. Unless you have done some alterations, there is nothing I have not seen before.”
I felt a slight flush rushing up behind the freckles on my cheeks. “There have been no alterations. Go wait on the patio. I mean it, Tore. Don`t give me that stupid look. Go.”
“Stupid look? I have a stupid look?” he asked, a definite twinkle in his eye. A sharp comment was resting on my tongue. I swallowed it back to be nice. It was only seven am. Even ex-husbands deserve a small kindness from time to time.
V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, yoga, 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, two dogs, two cats, a flock of assorted domestic fowl, and three 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. She can also be found online on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and GoodReads.
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