Publisher: Torquere Press (December 30, 2015)
Amazon Kindle: Life is a Stevie Wonder Song
BLURB: Authors know that their muse is a fickle creature. Best-selling spy novelist Stephen Ramsey has been in a hate-hate relationship with his inspiration for months. When Stephen's publisher lays a legal ultimatum upon him, with a rapidly approaching deadline, he knows he must do something to kick-start his creativity or face the unemployment line. His daughter comes up with a possible answer: a summer camp for the creative soul. With nothing to lose, Stephen packs up his laptop, phonograph and beloved record albums and heads from Greenwich Village to the Catskill Mountains.
There, among a horde of college students attending for extra credits, is Declan Pomeroy, a photographer of fey creatures who is twenty-two years younger than Stephen. The woods are a magical place, and he quickly finds himself falling under the spell of the free-spirited photographer. Confusion wars with desire inside Stephen as he succumbs to the feelings welling up inside. But, sadly, summer camp always has to end. Can a man who has just found himself really leave the person that makes his heart sing?
I was awake at first light thanks to a knotted back from sleeping with my new lover. He took up a goodly amount of room. A light breeze was moving through the bungalow. The cold front had crept in overnight. Declan was sound asleep, his face buried in my pillow. It took me a few tries to get my body to cooperate. I threw a light coverlet over the kid and got a pot of coffee brewing. A quick shower followed by a hasty search for clean clothes and then I was ready for that mug of getup-and-go. I crept past Declan and went out to the porch.
The chair was wet so I stood on the top step. My bare feet grew damp from the puddles on the bowed floorboards. I sipped my coffee and let the new day dawn. A small rabbit loped out into the wet grass. A robin trilled to my left. I fully expected Bambi and his mother to walk across the grass, but instead of a doe and fawn, a nondescript blue Chevy sedan pulled into the drive. My eyes narrowed as the engine shut off. The driver side door opened and my daughter appeared.
"Happy Fourth of July, Dad!" Liza shouted, then ran at me. I placed my coffee to the wet chair and hurried to meet her. I gathered her up into a tight hug. She smelled just like vanilla.
"What are you doing here?" I asked after kissing her cheek and placing her back on the lawn.
"We always spend the fourth together, don’t we?"
"Yes, we do at that." I laughed and hugged her again. "I just assumed you would stay in California this year."
"And miss the fireworks? No way," she giggled as I held her close. Someone behind us cleared his throat. My spine went rigid. I whipped around, my arm still on my daughter’s shoulder, to find Declan, covering tied around his slim waist and hair tangled from my loving, standing in a puddle on the front porch—his green eyes filled with questions.
My mouth hung open. The longest moment of my entire life ticked past as my daughter worked at processing what she had seen. Declan began looking ill at ease.
"Liza, this is Declan," I said although how words formed at that moment is still a mystery. "He’s a friend of mine. Declan, this is my daughter, Liza."
She gave me a look identical to the look my first wife always gave me. It was that "Do I look like a jackass to you, Steven?" glower.
"How nice to meet you," Liza said with a smile.
Declan, being Declan, hopped down from the porch and threw his arms around Liza. The girl went rigid as a corpse, her eyes growing wide as she stared at me over my lover’s nude shoulder.
"So, there’s coffee," I said awkwardly.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: 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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