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!
“It’ll be warmer inside.”
My spinal cord contracted. Preston peeked around the base of a fat old elm, his nose red, his eyes bright with laughter.
“I’m not here for that,” I said. He pulled a pretty moue. “I’m not here for the gay club thing.”
“Of course you’re not,” he huffed, his gaze flicking momentarily skyward. “You know there is no reason to be ashamed of being what and who you are, Boone Crockett.”
“You don’t know my father.”
“True,” he said inching closer.
I wanted to bolt like a terrified wild animal encountering man for the first time. The cold wind blowing his botanical scent under my nose cemented my feet into place. My face turned in to the scented gust before I caught myself.
“Why don’t you come in, have some punch and a cookie, and tell us about your father. Or about your favorite TV show. Or maybe you can tell me what color I should dye my hair next!”
The idiot pirouetted in the flowerbed. My shame knew no bounds.
“What the hell is the matter with you?” I snapped, feeling a sudden urge to knock him to his ass just as Skinner had done. “Can you be any more gay?”
The cold night, the windy quad, the sound of dead leaves and wind in eaves and traffic far away all disappeared. His lips were slick with gloss. Warm, soft, slippery. My psyche cleaved in half for that brief moment. One side of me wanted to punch him in the face. The other wanted to grab the back of his head and ravage his mouth.
Before I had the mental wherewithal to do either, Preston scampered away. He stood on the esteemed walkway of past alumni, the same path we would take when we graduated. The corners of that seductive mouth curled up at the corners. “Was that gay enough for you, Boone Crockett?”
I shook my head in disbelief. Two girls hurried by, hand in hand. They said hello to Preston as they rushed into the warmth of the activity building. I felt obtuse and needy.
“Don’t ever do that to me again,” I said, but it lacked the intimidating cast it needed.
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
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