Blurb:
Being a single working
mother isn`t easy. Just ask Maggie Charles. She`s juggling a job she hates, a
rebellious teenage son, and the aftereffects of an abusive first marriage.
There isn`t room in her life for a love affair, not that anyone would want to romance
someone her age anyway, right? So why, after all these months, when she runs
into the strapping Wildcats` captain at a charity event, does the sight of
Derrick Andersson leave her so breathless once again? Is that really desire burning in the captain`s
green eyes when he looks at her? Is it possible for a couple of
been-there-and-done-thats to find love the second time around?
Excerpts:
PG:
“Yeah, can you two please find
a room and use it. That is just so wrong.” My son went back upstairs. My lips
left Derrick’s against their wishes.
“We are just so wrong,” I whispered over
Derrick’s tempting mouth. I looked deeply into his green eyes, fascinated as
always by the flecks of gold that highlighted the jade.
“But it feels so right,” he said, and then
kissed me again. A low, long rumble that came from his stomach finally broke up
our totally wrong hello make-out session. “Sorry about that,” the man said as
he stepped back from me to rub his belly. “I didn’t eat since breakfast.
Whatever you’re cooking, it smells real good, Maggie.”
“It’s nothing fancy, just spaghetti with my
secret sauce, a tossed salad, and an apple crisp for dessert,” I said as his
fingers slid into mine. I led him to the kitchen. “Have a seat while I get the
water on to boil. Beer?” I asked while opening the fridge. “I bought some Grain
Belt at the beer distributor.”
“I think I love you,” the big man said while
lowering himself into a chair. The chair legs complained a bit. “How’d you
know?”
“I’m full of surprises,” I said as I handed
him a cold bottle of Grain Belt Nordeast, a golden American lager, as well as a
bottle opener. Derrick took a long pull once the top was off. His eyes drifted
shut in ecstasy. “Actually, I saw a picture of you on the internet wearing a
Grain Belt t-shirt during a fishing trip with the guys.”
“No one makes beer the way they make it in
Minnesota,” he sighed, dreamily. I smiled at him and opened a bottle for myself
before returning to work. I turned on the hot water, and then filled my
favorite non-stick stew pot. “So what did you think of that second game?”
I glanced over my shoulder. “I think it was a
good thing you won or Veikko would be out of goalie sticks.”
Derrick grinned widely. My fingers were itchy
to get to that beard of his, or his chest, or his hairy legs. Is there anything
finer than that wondrous abrasion of a man’s body hair on your smoothly shaven
body? Phew. I needed to simmer down. It would be a long time before Trevor went
to sleep. I concentrated on putting the water on the gas flame instead of that
brisk cologne that was tempting me.
“Those Finns, they got some wicked tempers,”
he commented between sips of his favorite beer.
“And you don’t?” I laughed out loud before I
stole a sip of beer. I turned to look at him. Big mistake. He looked so perfect
in my kitchen, sitting back completely relaxed, sharing a beer with me as we
made small talk. I spun around. My mind needed an occupation besides
daydreaming. I gave it the job of making the salad. The conversation went from
one thing to another. Light stuff, nothing serious or heavy. He chatted about
his days in the minors. I told him about my years being a stay-at-home mother.
I didn’t tell him why I stayed home. The man didn’t need to know I wasn’t
allowed to work outside the home. I might have cheated on Travis if I had a
job, you see. I also might have had some money to leave his abusive ass, which
I’m sure the man knew. Keeping me home without cash was just another means of
keeping me under his thumb, the miserable—
“Hey, you still here with me?”
I bobbled the knife I was chopping those fresh
peppers with. “Yes, of course,” I lied to the man now standing directly behind
me. He was terribly sneaky for such a big man. Or perhaps I had been terribly
distracted. His fingers were cold when he brushed a strand of hair from my
cheek.
“Where do you go, Maggie?” Derrick asked, and then
placed a kiss under my ear.
“Sorry. Sometimes I sink into a dark place in
the past,” I replied as I got back to chopping. “Someday, I’ll tell you about it.”
“Fair enough.” He stood behind me, arms tight
around my waist. It was the most enjoyable salad prep I had ever been involved
in.
R:
“Rumors
are circulating widely that new Wildcats owner, Isabelle Lancourt, has the hots
for the big Russian, Petro Shevenko. If I were her, I’d be waving a waiver
paper under Derrick Andersson’s busted nose. The ’Cats would benefit greatly
from a young stallion on that first line center position. I love the grit the
fort- year-old Andersson shows, but let’s face facts. There is no way Andersson
can handle our man, Jacques Martinique, am I right Drew?”
All eyes moved to Derrick. He lowered his
glass from his mouth.
“You don’t got to worry, I’m not going
anywhere. This here is our second chance to hoist The Cup. This year, it’s
going to happen. I can feel it in my bones. I ain’t missing that unless I’m
dead. So yeah, no worries. I’ll be there when we win.”
He sounded so sure, so confident in not only
his team, but in himself that it was nigh onto impossible not to feel the same.
No wonder he had been chosen as the captain so many years ago. No one on that
team was more loyal or more determined then Derrick Andersson. Or so it seemed
in my tired eyes. I smiled over at the man. He gave me a smile in return. Then
I promptly fell asleep. Out like the proverbial light was I. My son calling, “Goodnight,”
as he climbed the stairs roused me from my slumber. My feet were on Derrick’s
lap. His hands rested on them. I blinked at him stupidly with gummy eyes.
“I fell asleep,” I said, like he didn’t know
that. He nodded then began rubbing my feet. My bones turned to putty. “Who
won?”
“Yah, I saw that. Damn rude of a man to keep a
woman up all night long,” he said with a wink. My eyes remained on him as he
lifted my right foot to kiss the bottom of my arch. Fire raced up from my foot
to my core then shot out to my extremities. “Pittsburgh.”
“It’s okay. Keeping a woman up all night, that
is,” I replied, and then bit down on my bottom lip. He had run his tongue over
the top of my foot. “Good for Pittsburgh. Mmm, God that is arousing,” I
whispered as he nipped at my anklebone. His beard hair tickled slightly. My
breasts grew heavy, my vaginal muscles tightened. His tongue was hot, moist,
tantalizing as it lapped over and between my toes. I began to wiggle in need.
Trevor was still fiddling around upstairs. Derrick’s fingers slid up my leg,
lifting it higher so he could taste more. His mouth roamed over my calf. He
shifted on the sofa, turning his big body to face me. My fingers were now
deeply embedded in the somewhat flattened cushions. I saw over the top of my
calf that his jade eyes were heavy-lidded. His fingers began to skitter over my
thigh. They would dance dangerously close to my crotch, then slither back down
to my knee. He never stopped tasting the leg. With a word of sensual
encouragement, he straightened my leg. I pointed my toes to the ceiling. His
rough fingertips slid into my shorts. I threw my head back as I clamped my
mouth tightly shut.
“So wet,” he said in voice deepened with lust.
His finger slid under my damp panties. They moved between my slippery petals.
He rested my leg on his wide shoulder. There I lay, with his hand in my pants
as my son bounced around above us to music that sounded like an acid-laced
funeral dirge. “You want me to stop?” he asked when I groaned.
“Don’t you dare!” I panted then let my other
leg drop to the side to give him more access. He smiled as two thick fingers
entered me. My backside bucked off the couch. I flung my head to the side to
bury my face in the cushions. His fingers went deep inside me, rubbing,
stretching, and abrading deliciously. My back bowed off the couch. I cupped my
right breast, found the aching nipple, and then pinched it through my shirt.
Derrick made a sound of distress.
He began working those long fingers of his in
and out of me faster. I was one strong plunge from coming when he extracted his
fingers slowly. I grabbed his wrist. My fingers were not even close to spanning
it. The TV was still playing. My son was still jamming. I was quivering on the
cusp of a lovely orgasm. Derrick moved quickly. My shorts were tugged down, my
panties were removed, and I was hoisted up to sit on his lap. I grabbed his
head, and then plunged my tongue into his mouth. He grunted. I heard the quick
zip of his fly. We both hurried to extract a condom from his wallet. I got the
pleasant task of rolling it down over him. Once we were safe I threw a leg back
over his thighs then gyrated my hips until I found the round head of his prick.
I inhaled shakily then sat down on him.
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Author
Bio:
V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, belly
laughs, romance tales of any genre,
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, a pig named after a famous President, 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 with a cup of fresh java in hand. She can also be found online on
Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and GoodReads.
I love
to meet new friends and fans! You can find me at-
Twitter-
https://twitter.com/vllocey
Pinterest-http://www.pinterest.com/vllocey/
Secret
Cravings Backlist Books:
Pink
Pucks & Power Plays (Book One of the To Love a Wildcat
Series)
A
Most Unlikely Countess (Book Two of the To Love a Wildcat
Series)
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