Clean Sweep Book #1 of the Venom series by V.L. Locey
M/F Erotic Hockey Romance
Blurb:
Fiery, flame-haired Jane Bratkowski is catapulted from
a small college town to Philadelphia to become head coach of a new women’s
hockey team, The Venom. It’s a life-changing opportunity, a dream come true
until – in a cruel twist of fate that could turn into a nightmare – she comes
face to face with her ex-husband Tore Ahlberg, the Wildcats' head of European
Scouting.
Suddenly, Jane’s faced with more challenges than she
bargained for: Will she let him distract her -- and derail her big chance to
coach pro hockey? Can she build a team of relatively inexperienced,
irrepressible young women into champions? Can she and Tore triumph over the
gut-wrenching tragedy that ripped them apart -- or will the shocking truth of
their passionate past threaten to destroy them once again?
Excerpt R
A draft crept over
my bare toes as they peeked out from under my nightgown. Yeah. I know. Jane
Bratkowski was wearing a nightgown. The inner dimensions of hell were about to
freeze over.
It wasn`t just an old flannel thing with worn elbows and
spaghetti sauce stains, it was a nice one. Dark blue with no sleeves, an
obscene amount of silky material that billowed out widely when I spun around,
not that I make a habit of spinning, and a lacy top that allowed the dark pink
of my nipples to show plainly. I was fucking freezing. I was also wondering
just what sort of drunken asshole had I been to pack something like this. I
looked over at the foot of that big soft bed. The matching robe, also silken
and seductive, lay in wait. I blew a wild strand of red from my face. My hand
shook. Truthfully, my whole body was shaking. It about killed me to admit that
I was scared but I was. I was quaking like a politician strapped to a lie
detector. What would he do if I proceeded as I was planning to? Tore and I had
always been open about our desires. If either of us wanted the other, all it
would take was either a glance or a touch, along with a softly worded entreaty.
Wham-Bam! We'd be in bed in short order. That had been then. Now? Maybe he
would laugh at me trying to come onto him. Shit, maybe he would tell me to go
jump in the lake. Maybe I would end up crying myself to sleep as I had for so
many months after he had left me. Correction. After I had pushed him away.
Let`s call it like it was, Ginger Snap.
"For the love of fuck, Jane." With that I
stalked over to the bed, grabbed the slippery soft robe, stuck my freckled arms
into it, then stomped down the corridor to Tore`s room. Chin high, Bratkowski
look of supreme confidence plastered on, I knocked three times then entered.
Tore was reading in bed, his back resting on the headboard, his glasses on the
end of his nose, his lean body covered in sexy black pajamas. His feet were
bare. I smiled at the sight of his long toes then my sight moved back over him.
Slowly my gaze roamed, enjoying the sight of him in bed holding what I assumed
would be a book about the rise and fall of some foreign land. The glasses added
to his appeal.
"I thought those three knocks were supposed to be on
the ceiling," he said, his open book resting on his thighs.
"I couldn`t reach the ceiling," I replied, my
hand on the knob. Tore laid his book on the bed. I swallowed loudly. He pushed
his glasses up his nose. My heartbeat seemed loud in my ears.
"Jane, I`m proud of you opening my door."
He always had a knack for knowing just what to say. I
stepped inside then flung the door shut behind me, my gaze never leaving his
face.
"I thought about making a comment about Swedish
sausage," I said as my robe slithered off my arms then fluttered to the
floor behind me. "But I`d hate for you to think I was crass."
Tore didn`t move a muscle as I closed the distance from
door to bed. The room was similar to mine. It had walls and a floor. A ceiling
as well. Windows too probably. Details about decor weren`t important. All that
was important was getting my freckled backside into bed with the pale blonde
man trying his best not to smile like a monkey in a banana factory.
"I already know that you're crass, Jane." He
dropped his glasses to the bed stand a mere second before I hiked up all that
silky blue material to mid-thigh level. His sight dropped from my face to my
naked legs. The amused look he had worn disappeared. By the time I was seated
on his thighs there was not a smidgeon of amusement left on his face. My knees
rested on either side of his hips, yards of blue silk flowed over his legs.
"Do you know what else I am, Tore?" I asked
while I worked on unbuttoning his pajama top. Some sort of heated sound of
pleasure burbled from deep within his chest when my palms moved over his bared
pectorals.
"Brazen. Opinionated. Forward. Outspoken. Sensual.
Fiery. Very fiery." He shucked his arms out of his top then cupped my
breasts. His long strong fingers wrapped around the two fleshy mounds. He
squeezed roughly. I shuddered and moaned. "So fiery."
"Needy too," I whispered as he fondled my
breasts. I slid forward over his erection. We both inhaled sharply at the
explosion of sensation. He dipped his head. I arched my back to give him all
the tit he could take. He suckled my right breast strongly, the lace covering
growing wet, just as I was. I began rocking back and forth. Tore moaned around
his mouthful as my hips found a nice rhythm. I loved the feel of my hair
tickling my shoulder blades when my head rolled in slow, pleasurable circles.
He tugged on my stiff nipple with his teeth, his hands sliding under the
voluminous nightgown. There was a small interruption of dry humping when he
freed his cock from his pajamas. Using his shoulders for advantage, I then
impaled myself on him. He slid into me with ease.
Buy
Links:
Amazon-http://tinyurl.com/qzfpp5v
Secret Cravings Store-http://tinyurl.com/oyb4teu
Bookstrand-http://www.bookstrand.com/clean-sweet
Kobo-https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/clean-sweep-5
Secret Cravings Store-http://tinyurl.com/oyb4teu
Bookstrand-http://www.bookstrand.com/clean-sweet
Kobo-https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/clean-sweep-5
Author
Bio:
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.
