Happy Tuesday everyone and welcome to Tuesday Tales! I am back with my Steampunk Romance. The last couple of weeks I stepped back to a spot I missed. Now I am back on track with Gideon and Emma hiding away in their cottage.
Moonlight reflecting on the snow outside filled the little cottage with a brilliant white light. Gideon slowly, carefully slid from the bed, gazing at Emma naked and deep asleep. He sighed deeply. He couldn’t believe how beautiful she was. Without a noise he tugged on his trousers and shutter-stepped from the bedroom.
It had been two weeks without word from Edgar and they spent every moment they could making love. But in the depths of the night Gideon would sneak away from their bed. Tossing more wood on the dying fire, he dug into the chest in the sitting area for the projects he was tinkering with. He pulled free an object wrapped in a white cloth then searched for the rest of his tools. Once everything was gathered, he stood and shuffled to the table.
Gideon unwrapped the cloth, revealing the remains of the brass spider. Parts has already been reassembled, leaving a lopsided, five legged creature. He picked up his goggles, tugged them on, then began to work.
Diligently working on his task, Gideon was able to repair the damaged brass spider. It stared back at him lifeless. A soft whirl beneath his feet caught his attention. Glancing down, he found his other creatures at his feet waiting patiently for the rebirth of their friend. Gideon smiled at them.
“Do not worry, little ones,” he whispered. “He will be back with you soon. I need only one more ingredient to bring him back to life and I will get it tomorrow. I need it for this also.”
He stood and crossed back to the chest with the brass animals following. Kneeling at the wooden box he opened it. He reached in and pulled free a white rose made of silk and brass, just like the red one he created for Sophia. The hum of the creatures made him smile. “Yes, I think it’s beautiful too. Now, off to bed before you wake your mistress and ruin my surprises.”
The brass animals spun away in different directions as Gideon gathered his work and tucked it away. Softly padding into the bedroom, he slipped into the bed next to Emma and pulled her close. Her soft snore told his she was still fast asleep. With a content smile he joined her.
Gideon could tell something was wrong as he studied the front door of the townhouse. It was cracked open ever so slightly. He knew for certain he had closed and locked it. Emma had left through the back doors. He gently nudged Emma behind him. She clenched the items they had purchased to her as she peeked around his shoulder. “What is it?” she breathed.
“Stay behind me,” he ordered as he cautiously approached the building. Nudging the door open with the toe of his boot, he stepped inside.
Gideon’s breath caught in his throat. Everything in the place was in shambles. The sheets on the bed were slashed to shreds. Bookshelves were overturned, books and stacks of paper were lying everywhere. His workbench was lying on its side and his lone bottle of absinthe was shattered on the floor, the thick, emerald liquid in a puddle full of glass shards. He turned as he heard a sob.
Emma knelt on the floor, her small, delicate hands cupping the remains of Gideon’s brass spider. She pressed a careful kiss to the cold metal. Several of Gideon’s other brass creations scuttled around her knees, whirling a mournful sound at the loss of their friend.
“These men are ruthless,” she whimpered.
“These men knew you were here,” Gideon warned.
“I am sorry.”
“No apologies. But we need to go before they come back.” Gideon tugged her to her feet despite the creatures’ protest.
Emma glanced around her feet. “We cannot leave them.”
“Then box them up.” Gideon nodded to the parts in her hands. “That one too. But hurry. I will go and prepare our transportation. We need to hide until Edgar can bring us news.”
Hey everyone! It’s time for Tuesday Tales! This week’s word prompt is “gray”. Since I left last week in sort of a cliffhanger, I’m back with my small town MMA romance The Fighter.
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Buddy cracked a grin at Reese. “I don’t think the Sheriff will bother you.”
Reese frowned at him. “Why not?”
“Your dad would have to be dead to arrest you for murder.”
“He’s not dead?”
“Nope. You beat him within an inch of his life. But no. Howard Cooper is alive and well and living in Braden.”
“Yeah, well I can still be arrested for assault.”
Buddy shook his head, his thick hair rustling as he did. “Your dad’s neighbor told the Sheriff your dad took the first swing. The first half dozen actually. You only fought back because you had to.”
Reese slumped onto a bar stool as he stared into space. He never had to run. But it would have been nice if the nosy old neighbor Daryl Cox would have shot his mouth off when his dad broke his arm when he was twelve. “So, who’s still around?”
“Pretty much the whole gang. You’re the only one who left.”
Reese paused for a moment. “Even Lily Dixon?”
Buddy cocked a curious eyebrow. “The preacher’s daughter?”
“She left Braden to go to the University then came home. She’s the town librarian.”
A smile slipped across Reese’s face. It was the first one since he stepped foot in this cursed town. “Huh. Good to know.”
Buddy wiped his hands on his gray T-shirt. “Did you want to get settled?”
Buddy dug his hand into his pocket, retrieving his keys. He handed them to Reese. “Two-ten Pine. Two blocks that way.” He threw his thumb over his shoulder.
“I know where Pine is, Buddy. I was born here, remember.”
“It’s been awhile. You’ve taken a few shots to the head since. Go drop your stuff off and come back. First beer is on me.”
Reese stood then picked up his bags. “I appreciate it, man.”
With a final forced smile Reese shuffled out into the spring sunshine.
Welcome to the blog, V.L. Locey!
Roxanne Jones has one day off this weekend. She does not want to spend it carrying her unmentionables to the nearby Laundromat but Fate has different plans. When the washing machine in her apartment building dies mid-cycle, Roxanne has no choice but to finish her laundry across the street. Once inside the Tumble Dry launderette, she discovers that the dryers aren`t the only hot things to watch. In walks a younger man wearing the only clean items left in his wardrobe: torn jeans, sandals, tattoos, sex appeal, and a few well-placed piercings. When the two lock gazes no amount of fabric softener can stop the sparks from flying. It doesn`t take long for Donovan King, an English major at the local college, to not only woo Roxanne, he manages to begin to a steamy seduction that won`t end until both are well-tumbled.
“So do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Have a couple of spare quarters? Since you won’t let my man things gyrate around in the water with your woman things.”
Was he saying those kinds of things on purpose? Of course he was, if the puckish grin he now wore was any indicator. Oh, I did like this man. A lot.
“Honey, I’m not sure that your man things are man enough to gyrate with my woman things,” I parried. He chortled then leaned a hip into the washer, his arms folding over his bare chest.
“I’m pretty sure that they are.” He said it with utmost confidence in the prowess of his man things. I sucked down a large gulp, the twinge behind my eye reminding me to slow down. I sipped and enjoyed looking at him, spying a small, silver navel ring glistening from the neon lights overhead. My mouth was dry even though I had just swallowed some of my drink. His steady gaze made me fidget.
“Rather sure of your man things, aren’t you?” I finally said, as I tossed my change purse to him. He caught it with one hand, his eyes never leaving my face.
“Rather,” he commented offhandedly, opened the tiny bag then extracted four quarters. My tongue toyed with the end of my straw. He laid the purse on the top of the machine next to his then arranged the coins in the slots, all four standing erect. Mmm, what a nice word that is. Erect. Makes all sorts of dirty, sweaty images appear inside a woman’s mind, doesn’t it?
“Excuse me, sir, but this cart is mine.”
“Really? And how is that, Roxanne? Clearly I was here first.” He leaned over the cart, his scruffy cheek brushing mine he whispered beside my ear. “You were engrossed with erotic thoughts about my mouth and the pleasure it could bring you.”
He drew back. My brain shut down as my mouth dropped open. That was all the time Donavon needed to commandeer the cart.
“No I wasn’t.” There. Take that. I bet that verbal spear pierced a few vitals. Not.
Damn the man for reading me like that beaten-up poetry book of his. He shrugged a shoulder, the inked one. An emerald-eyed tiger rolled it’s head at the up and down motion.
“Yeah, you totally were. Would you like me to tell you the signs of arousal that you’re wearing at the moment?” He threw several pairs of wet jeans into the cart. They landed with a slap.
“The only thing that I’m wearing at the moment is a dash of lovely,” I countered quickly.
“Yes, you are incredibly lovely, and horny. Your nostrils are flared, your eyes are wanton, your nipples are hard, and you keep licking your lips.” He paused in tossing balled-up shirts into the cart. “You also keep crossing and uncrossing your legs.”
Shit. Okay. So the man knew I was sporting a big girl-boner for him.
“Maybe I just have hives.” I tugged the cart away from him then stalked over to my washer with the buggy in tow. I heard his throaty chuckle behind me.
“Maybe you want me to take you somewhere private and read you something…Sapphic.”
He was right behind me, his breath fluttering past my left ear, his body close enough to exchange sparks with mine. Damn. Damn. Damn. My spine stiffened, as did my nipples. They were now so hard they hurt.
“You think reading me lesbian poetry will turn me on?” I inquired, trying to sound as if his smoldering nearness was having no effect. The smoky cast to my voice kind of ruined the indifferent attitude I was going for.
“I think you’re already turned on.” I heard the cart being nudged aside. I stood as still as a deer in a strange meadow, alert to every sound. My fingers gripped the lid to the machine as he stepped closer. The touch of his chest to my back was seismic. Desire didn’t just uncoil like a snake finding a warm rock, it rose up like a jungle cat, and then stretched, sharp claws of need raking open my calm exterior.
V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, 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, one dog, two cats, a flock of assorted goofy domestic fowl, and two steers: one named after a famous N.H.L. goalie while the other carries the moniker of a 60`s pop legend.
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.
I love to meet new friends and fans! You can find me at-
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)
O Captain! My Captain!(Book Three of the To Love a Wildcat Series)
Reality Check (Book Four of the To Love a Wildcat Series)
Torquere Press Backlist and Upcoming Releases
Two Guys Walk Into an Apocalypse (Part of the He Loves Me For My Brainssss anthology)
Two Guys Walk Into an Apocalypse 2: It Came From Birmingham
Two Guys Walk Into an Apocalypse 3″ He’s a Lumberjack and He`s Undead
Love of the Hunter
All I Want for Christmas
Every Sunday at One (Part of the 2013 Charity Sip Anthology)
Night of the Jackal
And coming in 2015 exclusively from Torquere Press . . . An Erie Operetta and Early to Rise – A Toms & Tabbies Tale.
Hi everyone! It’s time for Tuesday Tales! This week is a picture prompt. We are with Gideon and Emma in our Steampunk Romance. To make the picture work I had to jump ahead in the story.
Don’t forget to check out the other incredible excerpts from the Tuesday Tales authors!
Emma clung to the seat of the carriage for dear life. Gideon glanced over to her and chuckled. Her knuckles were literally white. “I thought you liked my creations,” he purred.
Her answer came through clenched teeth. “Your little creatures never tried to kill me. Just your humidor. And this.”
“My carriage won’t kill you, my love.”
Emma glared at him, her beautiful blue eyes icy. She didn’t look convinced.
It wasn’t long before London faded into the background. The brick buildings and mulling people were replaced by snow covered fields and cottages. The carriage puffed steam merrily as it chugged down the dirt road, the clouds drifting lazily from the vehicle.
A small white house nestled amongst tall, towering evergreens came into view. A barn with a wooden fence bordering it stood just feet away from it. Gideon maneuvered the carriage through the snow to the house. Stepping out into the drift, he offered his hand to Emma. “Let me take you inside and get you warm. I will come for our things shortly.”
“Who lives here?” Emma inquired.
“No one. I purchased it during my leave before Sophia’s death. I hoped to move my family here. When they died I never came back. Are you coming in?”
Emma slipped her hand into his then hopped out of the carriage. Gideon scooped her into his arms before her foot hit the cold, wet fluff below. She gaped at him astonished. He flashed her a wink as he unlocked the door with one hand and carried her inside.
Gideon gently set Emma on her feet inside the door then strode to the fireplace to start the fire. As the flames began to flicker around the dry logs, he turned to her. “It will be a while for the room to warm. I will get you a blanket.”
She crossed the room and took his hand in hers. “I have a better idea.”
“Where’s the bedroom? The warmth of your naked body will keep me warm.”
A sly smirk spread across his lips. Her mere suggestion set him on fire. “This way, my lady.”