Title: Long Change
Author: V.L. Locey
Publisher: Ellora`s Cave
Cover Artist: Allyse Leodra
Release Date: 6/26/15
Blurb: Collegiate superstar goalie Boone Crockett seems to have the world at his feet. He’s rich, handsome, attends an elite college and is a hot prospect for the pros. Pity all that is a front for a deeply closeted and troubled young man.
All Boone’s life plans are shattered when flamboyant ex-figure skater Preston Gordon, an orange-haired twink, shows up to audition for the team’s mascot position wearing sequins, scarves and toe picks. His moves on the ice send Boone into his own pirouette of frustrated and reluctant desire.
As senior year progresses Boone slides deeper and deeper into a dangerous depression, Preston’s sensual strength the only thing he has to hold on to. If Boone can’t keep from plunging through the thin ice he’s skating on, it could take a twink to make the big save.
Reader Advisory: This story has graphic sexual language and scenes—no closed bedroom doors (or other rooms) here!
We stood side by side at the sliding door that looked out over a snow-covered campus. It was beautiful, untouched and pure. I was rather glad now that I hadn’t done the head in the stove thing. We talked between swallows, spoons hitting bowls the only noise aside from the heater coming on from time to time. I liked watching the way Preston’s hair fluttered around his face when hot air blew down from the vent directly above us. He handed me his empty bowl, then unlocked and opened the slider.
“Dude, heater’s on,” I pointed out. He crouched down. I inhaled. The air was brittle like a dead leaf and cold with a light scent of snow on pine. It was an odd sensation, the cold blowing in to blend with the warm cascading down from above. It wasn’t unpleasant at all. The patio was blanketed in four to five wet inches. Preston stood up. His head turned slowly. I looked over at him, a sated smile trying to curl the corners of my mouth. He was patting a perfectly formed snowball.
“Don’t even think about it you mother—”
Snow filled my mouth, nose and eyes. Preston shrieked. I sputtered, shaking snow out of my eyes, then dashed after him. He was fast and proved hard to get a hand on. After a few laps around the furniture in my living room, the dipshit ran out into the hall. I didn’t hesitate. I couldn’t. I had ice particles dangling from my eyelashes. Vengeance would be mine. We thundered down the steps, his high-pitched squeals of laughter and my warning growls seeming extra loud in the ghost town of a dorm building. The side exit flew open. I barreled out on his heels. The snow was freezing on my bare soles. Preston hissed a nasty curse when his naked tootsies hit the white stuff. He slowed just enough. I tackled him from behind. He went face first into the fresh fluff, all the air leaving his lungs with a loud “Oof!” when I landed on his back.
I clawed up a nice handful of snow as he frantically tried to free himself. I had him pinned, one arm picking up wet powder, the other holding his face into the drift. Wicked laughter boiled out of me when I shoved that snowball down his back. His scream was piercing. He kicked like a wild man, his arms flailing to the sides. I flopped down on him to ensure the snow was plastered to his back.
“Get off! Oh, fuck me, that is so cold! You asshole!” he shouted.
I stayed where I was, splayed over his back, my hand down the back of his shirt, chuckling steadily. I rolled off a moment later still bubbling with laughter. The sky overhead was filled with snow clouds. You know those huge white ones that blow over, drop some flakes, then continue on to let the sun shine down on the freshly carpeted world? Eyes closed, chest heaving, heart lighter than it had been in months, I spread my arms and legs out, inhaled the unique scents of winter and Preston and enjoyed the tickle of new snowflakes touching my cheeks.
“I hate you.”
I rolled my head in his direction and opened my eyes. “Really?”
His mouth rolled into a perfect pout. He was such a pretty thing, even with snow-frosted bangs.
“No,” he huffed as he dashed at the melting snow on his chin. “I should, though. That was heartless!”
“I’ll warm you back up if you want.” The offer slid out of me before I could stop it. A snowflake landed on the tip of Preston’s pixie-like nose. I so wanted to reach out, touch the perfect flake, dry his nose then pull him down for long, wet kiss. Instead I got to my bare feet, standing now in the shadow of the moisture-laden cloud overhead. “I didn’t mean to say that out here.” “You can, you know,” he said, extending his hand to me. I looked around the quad, the creeping stink of worry now mucking up what had been a perfect moment.
“You can say you want to warm me up, or that I have a cute ass, or anything else you want to say. Go ahead. Say it again.”
I shook my head as I hauled him to his feet. Damn, my feet were cold. I turned from him then walked inside, my head low, my mind filling up with concern over my stupid behavior. What the hell had I been thinking, chasing him outside then rolling around in the snow with him as if we were straight lovers.
I heard him as he hit the ice. Even with that stupid dog head muffling his voice, I heard every word and my body reacted with violent wantonness.
“Let’s go, Rotties!” Preston shouted with glee club enthusiasm.
I whipped around to see him chugging around the rink, a shovel in one hand, a trash can in the other, dressed as a dog. How demeaning. I mean, really. Cleaning up after the team? Didn’t the little twink have an ounce of pride? I ripped my mask off and lumbered toward the Zamboni door. A big brown dog with a Rock Point green-and-white hockey sweater stopped right in front of me. A couple of the guys chortled. Maybe they enjoyed the look of shock mixed with terror on my face.
“I’m scarf free today!”
I drew back as he did a tight spin right in front of me, my mask under my left arm and my stick in my right.
“You’re not queer free, though, are you, Preston?” someone yelled from behind me.
The attack came quickly. One minute I was trying to make words, the next Bradley Skinner, one of our D-men, crosschecked our mascot. Preston, who was completely unprepared for such a violent hit in the ribs, went down on his ass hard then rolled into a moaning ball. I reacted on instinct. My stick found Skinner’s side. The goon spun, his face a contorted mass of pain mixed with rage. He slashed at me. It bounced off my leg pads. I skated over to protect Preston, who was lying on the ice, trying to suck in enough air.
“Why don’t you back the fuck off, Skinner? Leave the kid alone.”
I got my stick up a bit higher this time. Skinner’s head kicked back. The underside of his chin began to bleed where I had clocked him. The scrum was broken up by our team captain.
“Save it for Allegheny State!” Mike Piana barked, shoving his dark self between Skinner and me. Mike was the only black player on our team. He was sharp, fast, driven, and one of the best people I had ever had the pleasure of knowing. Skinner lunged at me. Mike gave the huge idiot a two-handed push that sent his ass soundly into the boards. “I said save it for Allegheny! Go scrub your nuts, Skinner. You smell like my jock.”
“You make sure that fucking little pansy stays out of the locker room,” Skinner spat before he trudged off with his hackles plenty ruffled.
I waved goodbye to the enforcer with my middle finger, then bent down beside Preston. He was in the process of removing his dog head. I gave him a hand after dropping my helmet to the ice.
“You okay?” I asked when I had Roddy the Rottweiler’s head in my hands. Preston nodded, his mouth drawn in pain. Mike skated off to fetch Preston’s shovel and trash can.
“Oh yes, I’m just ducky.” God, the tiny twink was mad. I didn’t blame him.
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.
My blog- http://thoughtsfromayodelinggoatherder.blogspot.com/
tsú - https://www.tsu.co/vllocey
My Five Favorite Things About Hockey (In No Particular Order)
1-That Canadian accent so many of the players have.
2-The speed, heart, and grit of the game.
3-How diehard the fans are
4-The way the guys fill out those pads. *fans face*
6-Goalies (I know the list was supposed to only be five but I just adore goalies!)
What are your favorite things about hockey? Do you enjoy a different sport or no sport at all? Tell me what you love about hockey, or whatever hobby you love, in the comments!
Skate hard and love deeply,
Winner’s Prize: A Digital Copy of "LONG CHANGE".
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