Blurb:
This book is a sequel to Two Man Advantage
Life has been treating Victor Kalinski well, which is a surprise for the ginger-haired forward with the venomous tongue. His career is somewhat stable, at least for another season. His relationship with Cougars alternate captain Dan Arou is deepening, despite the fact that Daniel has yet to come out of the closet.
It’s typical Kalinski luck when a puck bunny he shared a drunken night with several months ago slaps him with a paternity suit. Despite the sizzling passion and painfully heartfelt connection between them, Dan doesn’t take the news well, and heads back to Canada alone.
If he wants to make things right and win back the man he loves, he has no choice but to swallow his pride—and nobody’s prouder than hot-headed, ego-driven Victor.
Reader Advisory: This story has graphic sexual language and scenes—no closed bedroom doors (or other rooms) here!
An adult male/male romance from Ellora’s Cave
Available at:
Excerpt (PG-13)
I found Dan in our bathroom running a Q-tip around his right ear as water from his recent shower ran from his hair. He smiled at me, a special kind of light in his eyes. I stalled in the doorway, my summons wrinkled in my fist. The smile disappeared from his face as I stared blankly at him. He tossed the swab into the trash, which needed to be dumped, and turned to face me.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. My gaze roamed over him clad in nothing but gray cargo shorts that hung off his hips. If not for the fact that my heart was beating so hard I was scared it would blow up, I would have gotten all over the man. He still torqued me up like no one else ever had. “Vic, what’s wrong?”
I handed him the wadded-up legal document. His gaze darted from my face to the crinkled papers then back to my face.
“I don’t know who the fuck this chick is, but she is playing me,” I managed to cough up. I looked around the room, trying to get the palpations under control. The walls had ugly flowered wallpaper on them. The counter was plain white. Two razors lay side by side next to the sink. Sometimes, like right then, I wanted nothing more than to grab my razor and my toothbrush and get the fuck out of Dodge. Just seeing Dan’s personal shit playing cozy-cozy with mine scared me to death. Most days when that urge to fuck this thing up overtook me, I swallowed it down like a bad oyster and forced myself to get past it. Today, then, there, that second, those two razors were about to push old Vic K. over the brink.
“Paternity test,” he whispered as the papers blew in a stiff summer wind. I couldn’t look away from those two disposables.
“Someone is playing me, Dan,” I grunted, then spun from the Schick love-fest occurring on the chipped white bathroom counter. I pounded out to the living room, my feet squelching in my wet sneakers.
“Well yeah, obviously this Heather chick is trying to pin this on you. Big-name sports star. It happens like daily, you know?”
I nodded as I paced the small but homey place where we spent most of our downtime, aside from the bedroom. I jammed my fist into my other hand and began grinding as I circled the sofa.
“Yeah, but why me and why now? Why not do this when I was pulling in the big bucks in Beantown?”
Dan dropped onto the couch and put his bare feet on the edge of the coffee table. As I paced, he flattened out the summons on his thick thighs and read. My gut was in turmoil. My head felt light. My heart still thundered in my ribs. A kid. My kid. I barely made it back to the bathroom. I threw up the fancy lunch that we had eaten at the golf club earlier. Dan didn’t come in, which was wise. I don’t like people fawning over me when I’m sick. Dear old Mom never did. I could handle myself. Been doing it since I was about five. I’d had a head cold the month before and nearly ripped Dan into bits one day for making me chicken noodle soup. Why that man was still with me, I do not know. I retched a few times, then slammed the lid and flushed. Over to the sink for a swig of mouthwash. Do not look at the razors, Kalinski, or you will make a bigger twat out of yourself.
“You okay?” Dan called.
“Yeah, just some ptomaine from the clam chowder at lunch,” I replied, my throat and nose still burning. “I’m taking a shower.”
“Okay. I’ll read this over close while you wash.”
The shower didn’t last long enough, nor did it help one damn bit. Aside from having nuts that smelled like an Irish glen, I was still this close to hyperventilating. A kid. Holy fucking goat titties, I needed a drink.
“Hey, you need to call a lawyer in the morning,” Dan said when I shuffled into the living room in nothing but an old pair of cutoff jeans. “This paperwork is crazy legal, but according to what this Hillary—”
“Heather. Heather Pavlick. Who the fuck is Heather Pavlick?” I asked the kitchen table.
I jerked open the cupboard under the sink and reached for the bottle of Yukon Jack, one of three or four bottles of booze we had on hand for cocktails at night if the mood struck. Dan kind of liked Jack over ice. Did I want ice? Did I want a glass? Nah. The whiskey burned my raw throat like gasoline. I lowered the bottle, coughed, and ran the back of my hand across my tingling lips. I saw Dan appear in the doorway, papers still in his hand. He looked upset.
“I wish you’d use a glass,” he grumbled, then stalked around me to get two tumblers from the cupboard next to the fridge. I sucked in some air through my teeth in reply. His whole body twitched at the sound. “Two fingers, and stop making that fucking noise,” he said after he returned to my side. I glugged some Jack into both tumblers, my eyes on Dan’s. He handed me a glass. We both knocked the whiskey back then went out to the couch, him with my summons and me with the Jack.
“Okay, so this is obviously some sort of rip-off,” Dan said after we’d dropped our asses back to the sofa. Thankfully he’d left the boob tube off. I was so not in the mood to talk over his science shows. I poured myself another two fingers. Dan held up his glass, so I refreshed him. “Heather Pavlick. Is that the girl you were serious with?”
I shook my head as I swirled the Canadian whiskey around my glass. Mr. and Mrs. Rupert’s voices, as well as the smell of meat grilling, rolled in through the windows.
“No, her name was Gina. We were careful. I mean, we were obsessively careful every time we fucked to prevent any kind of kid-making.” A kid. I couldn’t get the glass of whiskey to my lips fast enough. Ah, what a nice burn.
“This is why you should just identify as gay and be done with it. You don’t have to worry about knocking me up.”
“Yeah well, if I could just pick my sexual identity like I do my socks, I would. But I kind of like pussy once in a while. Stop badgering me, gay boy.”
“That’s just weird,” Dan muttered, and sipped his Jack.
I nodded. Yeah, to a gay dude, wanting pussy probably did seem weird. And while I didn’t crave it anymore because, yeah, Dan Arou, back in the day I’d taken some great delight in leaping from twat to cock with wild abandon.
“Maybe you can talk to someone in the team’s legal department. I mean, this will come out. They’ll want to know about it beforehand so they can handle the bad PR.”
“Fuck. My. Life.” I dumped more of the amber liquid into my glass. My stomach rolled and bucked as whiskey met empty gut. Whatever the landlord was cooking was making me queasy.
“This is just fucked,” Dan said after a long moment of silence punctuated only by my stomach speaking up. “See, this paper says ‘unborn child’, and that’s impossible. You and me have been tight since Thanksgiving of last year. That’s nine months, right? November to July is nine.”
“If you count November.”
Christ on a unicycle. Dan and I really been doing the monogamy thing for nine months. I mean, I knew that we had, but hearing him say it out loud drove the point home. No wonder those razors made me twitchy. That was fucking incredible. Even with Gina, I’d bailed at six months. That had been the most solid relationship I’d ever been in before Mr. Stumpy and I had hooked up. Someone call Guinness. We got a new world record here. I threw another two fingers of Yukon down. Dan made a noise about the speed of my ingestion, I assume, which I ignored.
A moment ticked by. Two. Three. Dan sipped and repeatedly read that summons, counting and recounting the months. This was major fuckery, because there had been no one but Dan since the first time I’d punched him in the face.
My gaze rested on the Xbox under the flat screen. Our games were scattered on the floor. I tipped my head to stare at the artwork on a World War I battle game that Dan and I liked. It showed a German zeppelin dropping bombs on some European city…
“Ah, fuck,” I moaned, then closed my eyes.
“What? Did you figure out who this woman is?”
Shit. Just shit. This was going to be bad. I inhaled through my nose, blew out the breath and started sucking on that Jack bottle like a hungry babe. Dan jerked it from my hand. Whiskey sloshed down my chest. I swallowed what was in my mouth, licked my lips and turned to find Dan looking at me with concern tinting his lapis eyes.
This was going to suck.
I found Dan in our bathroom running a Q-tip around his right ear as water from his recent shower ran from his hair. He smiled at me, a special kind of light in his eyes. I stalled in the doorway, my summons wrinkled in my fist. The smile disappeared from his face as I stared blankly at him. He tossed the swab into the trash, which needed to be dumped, and turned to face me.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. My gaze roamed over him clad in nothing but gray cargo shorts that hung off his hips. If not for the fact that my heart was beating so hard I was scared it would blow up, I would have gotten all over the man. He still torqued me up like no one else ever had. “Vic, what’s wrong?”
I handed him the wadded-up legal document. His gaze darted from my face to the crinkled papers then back to my face.
“I don’t know who the fuck this chick is, but she is playing me,” I managed to cough up. I looked around the room, trying to get the palpations under control. The walls had ugly flowered wallpaper on them. The counter was plain white. Two razors lay side by side next to the sink. Sometimes, like right then, I wanted nothing more than to grab my razor and my toothbrush and get the fuck out of Dodge. Just seeing Dan’s personal shit playing cozy-cozy with mine scared me to death. Most days when that urge to fuck this thing up overtook me, I swallowed it down like a bad oyster and forced myself to get past it. Today, then, there, that second, those two razors were about to push old Vic K. over the brink.
“Paternity test,” he whispered as the papers blew in a stiff summer wind. I couldn’t look away from those two disposables.
“Someone is playing me, Dan,” I grunted, then spun from the Schick love-fest occurring on the chipped white bathroom counter. I pounded out to the living room, my feet squelching in my wet sneakers.
“Well yeah, obviously this Heather chick is trying to pin this on you. Big-name sports star. It happens like daily, you know?”
I nodded as I paced the small but homey place where we spent most of our downtime, aside from the bedroom. I jammed my fist into my other hand and began grinding as I circled the sofa.
“Yeah, but why me and why now? Why not do this when I was pulling in the big bucks in Beantown?”
Dan dropped onto the couch and put his bare feet on the edge of the coffee table. As I paced, he flattened out the summons on his thick thighs and read. My gut was in turmoil. My head felt light. My heart still thundered in my ribs. A kid. My kid. I barely made it back to the bathroom. I threw up the fancy lunch that we had eaten at the golf club earlier. Dan didn’t come in, which was wise. I don’t like people fawning over me when I’m sick. Dear old Mom never did. I could handle myself. Been doing it since I was about five. I’d had a head cold the month before and nearly ripped Dan into bits one day for making me chicken noodle soup. Why that man was still with me, I do not know. I retched a few times, then slammed the lid and flushed. Over to the sink for a swig of mouthwash. Do not look at the razors, Kalinski, or you will make a bigger twat out of yourself.
“You okay?” Dan called.
“Yeah, just some ptomaine from the clam chowder at lunch,” I replied, my throat and nose still burning. “I’m taking a shower.”
“Okay. I’ll read this over close while you wash.”
The shower didn’t last long enough, nor did it help one damn bit. Aside from having nuts that smelled like an Irish glen, I was still this close to hyperventilating. A kid. Holy fucking goat titties, I needed a drink.
“Hey, you need to call a lawyer in the morning,” Dan said when I shuffled into the living room in nothing but an old pair of cutoff jeans. “This paperwork is crazy legal, but according to what this Hillary—”
“Heather. Heather Pavlick. Who the fuck is Heather Pavlick?” I asked the kitchen table.
I jerked open the cupboard under the sink and reached for the bottle of Yukon Jack, one of three or four bottles of booze we had on hand for cocktails at night if the mood struck. Dan kind of liked Jack over ice. Did I want ice? Did I want a glass? Nah. The whiskey burned my raw throat like gasoline. I lowered the bottle, coughed, and ran the back of my hand across my tingling lips. I saw Dan appear in the doorway, papers still in his hand. He looked upset.
“I wish you’d use a glass,” he grumbled, then stalked around me to get two tumblers from the cupboard next to the fridge. I sucked in some air through my teeth in reply. His whole body twitched at the sound. “Two fingers, and stop making that fucking noise,” he said after he returned to my side. I glugged some Jack into both tumblers, my eyes on Dan’s. He handed me a glass. We both knocked the whiskey back then went out to the couch, him with my summons and me with the Jack.
“Okay, so this is obviously some sort of rip-off,” Dan said after we’d dropped our asses back to the sofa. Thankfully he’d left the boob tube off. I was so not in the mood to talk over his science shows. I poured myself another two fingers. Dan held up his glass, so I refreshed him. “Heather Pavlick. Is that the girl you were serious with?”
I shook my head as I swirled the Canadian whiskey around my glass. Mr. and Mrs. Rupert’s voices, as well as the smell of meat grilling, rolled in through the windows.
“No, her name was Gina. We were careful. I mean, we were obsessively careful every time we fucked to prevent any kind of kid-making.” A kid. I couldn’t get the glass of whiskey to my lips fast enough. Ah, what a nice burn.
“This is why you should just identify as gay and be done with it. You don’t have to worry about knocking me up.”
“Yeah well, if I could just pick my sexual identity like I do my socks, I would. But I kind of like pussy once in a while. Stop badgering me, gay boy.”
“That’s just weird,” Dan muttered, and sipped his Jack.
I nodded. Yeah, to a gay dude, wanting pussy probably did seem weird. And while I didn’t crave it anymore because, yeah, Dan Arou, back in the day I’d taken some great delight in leaping from twat to cock with wild abandon.
“Maybe you can talk to someone in the team’s legal department. I mean, this will come out. They’ll want to know about it beforehand so they can handle the bad PR.”
“Fuck. My. Life.” I dumped more of the amber liquid into my glass. My stomach rolled and bucked as whiskey met empty gut. Whatever the landlord was cooking was making me queasy.
“This is just fucked,” Dan said after a long moment of silence punctuated only by my stomach speaking up. “See, this paper says ‘unborn child’, and that’s impossible. You and me have been tight since Thanksgiving of last year. That’s nine months, right? November to July is nine.”
“If you count November.”
Christ on a unicycle. Dan and I really been doing the monogamy thing for nine months. I mean, I knew that we had, but hearing him say it out loud drove the point home. No wonder those razors made me twitchy. That was fucking incredible. Even with Gina, I’d bailed at six months. That had been the most solid relationship I’d ever been in before Mr. Stumpy and I had hooked up. Someone call Guinness. We got a new world record here. I threw another two fingers of Yukon down. Dan made a noise about the speed of my ingestion, I assume, which I ignored.
A moment ticked by. Two. Three. Dan sipped and repeatedly read that summons, counting and recounting the months. This was major fuckery, because there had been no one but Dan since the first time I’d punched him in the face.
My gaze rested on the Xbox under the flat screen. Our games were scattered on the floor. I tipped my head to stare at the artwork on a World War I battle game that Dan and I liked. It showed a German zeppelin dropping bombs on some European city…
It hit me like a semi that had lost its brakes. Ms. Goodyear. That blonde with the incredible tits. I’d rolled her the night I’d tried to drink Dan away. Had her name been Heather? Had she said? Did it matter? Guess so.
“Ah, fuck,” I moaned, then closed my eyes.
“What? Did you figure out who this woman is?”
Shit. Just shit. This was going to be bad. I inhaled through my nose, blew out the breath and started sucking on that Jack bottle like a hungry babe. Dan jerked it from my hand. Whiskey sloshed down my chest. I swallowed what was in my mouth, licked my lips and turned to find Dan looking at me with concern tinting his lapis eyes.
This was going to suck.
Author Bio
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.
Character Interview
This interview contains mature language because, yeah, hockey players and Victor Kalinksi.
DBB: Please welcome Victor Kalinski and Daniel Arou from V.L. Locey's Game Misconduct
Vic it is nice to have you back. Dan it's great to finally meet you.
VK: It's nice to be back. *glances at Dan* Did that sound sincere enough for you?
DA: *shakes head* Oh man, I apologize for him, Diane. I tried coaching him in human behavior but it's kind of like trying to teach a turnip not to taste like shit.
VK: To quote Popeye, "I yam what I yam". Diane knows me, hell; dare I say she even loves me? She couldn`t wait to have the Venomous Pole sitting in her uncomfortable chairs.
DA: I knew I should have brought the ball gag.
VK: We own one of those?! Damn. I know what we're doing tonight instead of watching your stupid science shows.
DA: Let's just move along, okay?
Where do you currently call home?
DA: We share an apartment in a small town in the Finger Lakes region of New York State.
VK: Translation- Snoresville USA.
How hard has it been to have a long distance relationship now that you are on different teams?
VK: That sucked, it really did. Things have taken a turn for the better, at least for our relationship in terms of distance, since the last book.
DA: I got sent back down to the minor leagues, which was kind of rough.
Do you have any nicknames for each other?
DA: Vic calls me 'Sweets' and I call him 'Babe'. What? *glances over at Victor making a slashing motion across his neck*
VK: Dude, totally TMI for the world. I also call him various things referring to Hobbits since he's so short.
DA: Those are terms of endearment too, babe. And I'm not that short. I'm 5'6". That's three inches taller than my idol, Wolverine.
VK: He has a tat that he is dying to show you, trust me on this one.
DA: *smiles widely and rolls up sleeve to show off Wolverine inked into bicep* How choice is this?
VK: It's Grade A, sweets. *leans over to place a kiss to Dan's bicep*
Do either of you have a birthmark? Where is it? What about scars? How did he get them?
VK: We're hockey players. Of course, we have scars. I don't know of any birthmarks.
DA: You kind of have this cluster of freckles on your ass that looks like Jim Henson. Would that count as a birthmark?
VK: Again, TMI.
Where do you go or what do you do when you are angry?
DA: I tend to go inside myself when I get mad. Or home to Manitoba.
VK: I get into the face of the person who made me mad and call them assorted vile names until they either cry or punch me in the face. I like to call it 'The Victor Kalinski Way to Make Friends'.
What makes you laugh aloud?
VK: Watching Dan try to reach the cereal boxes on the top shelf.
DA: Fuck you. At least I have some pigment in my skin.
VK: Ouch. Owie. You sure got me good. Diane, you got any ice for that legendary burn Arou just gave me?
DA: Fuck you again. Can someone remind me why I love this jerk?
VK: Let me remind you." ticks off reasons on fingers* My killer wit, the way my smile lights up my adorable face, and how I make you whimper my name when I'm taking you from behind.
DA: Two out of three, babe. Two out of three.
What smell do you associate with your childhood?
VK: Whoa, hey, what? Yeah, no. No childhood questions. Like I want to share that shit with anyone. Surrounded by the aroma of stale cigarette butts, shattered Mommy trust, and the fine reek of the chosen whiskey/vodka/gin of the night. Fuck that. Next question.
DA: *glances from Victor to Diane* I'm not sure I should . . .
VK: *waves a hand to indicate Dan should reply*
DA: Well, I guess it would be waking up on Sunday mornings and smelling mom's cinnamon rolls baking. Dad, my little brother and me always battled for them rolls.
VK: Ozzie and Harriet - The Manitoba Edition. Let's move on, okay?
What is one strong memory that has stuck with you from childhood? Why is it so powerful and lasting?
VK: Seriously? I need to take a leak. *stands up and goes off to find the bathroom*
DA: He'll be back, don't feel bad or nothing. It's a touchy subject. One of my strongest memories is riding to the rink with mom or dad when I was a kid. They was always there for me, cheering me on, coughing up tons of money for new equipment and tourney fees. If not for them, I wouldn't be this close to the pros.
It is a typical Saturday at noon in the off-season. What are you doing?
DA: Hanging out at home playing video games mostly. Sometimes we go out but mostly not.
You are getting ready for a night out. Where are you going? What do you wear? Who will you be with?
DA: Guess when we do go out we hit a local bar. It's nothing fancy but the tap beer is ice cold and they got these chicken wings that is so hot Vic's eyeballs sweat.
What do you consider your greatest achievement?
DA: Playing in the pros for half a year. I hope someday I get called up and stay there. Hey, you find the bathroom okay?
VK: *flops down in chair beside Dan* Yeah, it's all good. Greatest achievement? Showing up for these interviews V.L. sets up and not losing my shit.
What is your idea of perfect happiness?
VK: I'm sitting next to him.
DA: That was nice, Vic.
VK: Only speaking the truth.
What was the best part about coming back for a sequel?
DA: Getting to share more of our story. I'm really looking forward to the final novella.
VK: The joy of sharing my sparkly self with the world yet again.
In your opinion, who is the funniest character in this sequel?
VK: Me. What? I am.*looks at Diane* I'm not changing my answer. You know I'm the funniest thing since Ron White.
DA: I'm not sure I can say Vic makes me laugh too much in this book. Actually, there wasn't too much to be cheery about for either of us.
VK: Truth.
What is your favorite thing about hockey?
DA: The thrill of competition and the sound of the goal horn when you score a goal.
VK: Taunting the other players until they cry or punch me in the face. Yeah, there is a theme here, deal with it.
Who was your favorite hockey player and team growing up?
VK: I grew up watching the Chicago Blackhawks since I lived there. I always admired Jeremy Roenick. He was so tenacious, fighting his way past opponents and driving the net to create scoring opportunities. My kind of player. I kind of like Sean Avery as well but for totally different reasons.
DA: When I was little, I dreamed about being on the Winnipeg Jets and maybe playing with Teemu Selanne someday. The dude had a 132-point rookie season!
What advice would you give to young hockey players out there?
DA: Work hard and listen to your coach.
VK: As the iconic Kiki Dee Band said, "When someone or something gets in your way go 'round it and don't let life and all the shit that goes with it get you down" or something close to that.
Do you have anything you would like to say to your fans?
DA: Thanks for all the support. Seriously, it has been great to know that so many people enjoy gay hockey romances.
VK: Yeah, I have to admit that the majority of readers/reviewers get me. That was something that V.L. thought might be a problem. Sure, a few readers hated me, and I am totally cool with that. I know what an abrasive asshole I am. I kind of revel in my dickery. Sort of like a dog that finds a dead woodchuck and rolls in it then proudly trots back home to share the stink with his human pack.
DA: So you use being a first-class ass to cover the scent of a bad childhood and major trust issues with women.
VK: So now you're not only my boy-toy you're my shrink?
DA: Something like that, babe.
VK: Well isn't that special? Time to wrap this up. Thanks for having Diane, yadda yadda. We'll drop by again when the last book comes out with a new guest. Yeah, I know who it is and I'm not going to tell you. I'm a real stinker, ain't I?
DBB: It's to be expected. I can not wait to have you again. Good luck guys!
Books by V. L. Locey:
Gone Writing Publishing Backlist Books and Upcoming Releases
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)
Language of Love (Book Five of the To Love a Wildcat Series)
Final Shifts (Book Six of the To Love a Wildcat Series)
Clean Sweep (Book One of the Venom series)
Coming in Feb. 2016 …Twirly Girl (Book Two of the Venom 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
Goaltender`s Penalty
All I Want for Christmas - A Toms & Tabbies Tale
Early to Rise - A Toms & Tabbies Tale
Every Sunday at One (Part of the 2013 Charity Sip Anthology)
Night of the Jackal
An Erie Halloween
An Erie Operetta
Back to the Garden (Also part of the Mythologically Torqued Anthology)
Coming Dec. 30, 2015 . . . Life is a Stevie Wonder Song
Ellora`s Cave Backlist and Upcoming Releases
Bound, Boarded and Bagged
Two Man Advantage
Long Change
Coming soon . . . Shutdown Pair
Thanks for being brave enough to have Victor back again, Diane! You were wise to mention Dan coming as well, he does seem to have a somewhat calming effect on Vic. And thank you for the wonderful review!
ReplyDeleteThat he does. Always a pleasure. I would have them back anytime. They do make me laugh. Loved the book. Good luck!
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