This post has nothing to do with NANOWRIMO. Except for the fact that V.L.Locey stays in the habit of writing during NANOWRIMO. She is one of my writing buddies throughout the year and I have learned a great deal from this awesome woman! If it’s not hockey it’s zombies! The things she dreams up – oye!
Welcome my guest, friend, and fellow writer – V.L.Locey sharing a bit from her newest release -Two Guys Walk into an Apocalypse 3, a Zom- rom com!
Before I start chatting about zombies I`d like to thank Ellie for having me back again, she must be getting tired of seeing me here. I`m like a bad penny, or that creepy third cousin that shows up at family affairs, or a zombie virus outbreak. Nice segue huh?
Smooth – very smooth! I thank you for not bringing the guys this time . Not that they aren’t welcomed, just . . . . well I had to toss the sofa and wingback chair after their previous visit. Couldn’t seem to get that decaying zombie flesh off the sofa, and a piece on the arm of the chair was still twitching – it rather freaked me out. Glad to have you back!
I know that many people just cannot think about romance and zombies being in the same book. I mean that is just squicky, and nasty, right? Well, not necessarily. If you stop and think about it, when would love ever be more important? The world is falling apart, the dead are rising up, and the Twinkies are all gone. Having someone to love and cuddle during such a horrendous time would certainly make survival that much easier. Just think of Daryl and Carol. Go on. I’ll give you a minute.
*Takes moment to enjoy recollections of Norman Reedus looking all sexy and whatnot*
Yeah, recalling their reunion made me tear up too. See, love and romance and spicy things are needed when one is facing an apocalypse. With that in mind, may I present my newest novella in the Two Guys zom-rom-com series?
Paul and Gordon aren’t your typical zombie hunters. They’re a loving couple of educators who might be infected by the virus that is turning the world’s population into mindless, undead eating machines. So why haven`t they turned? Well, Gordon has a theory about that. He suspects that those who march under the rainbow flag just might be carrying the cure for the plague in their bloodstream. Zendra, the massive pharmaceutical company where the mutated virus was made, certainly seems to be in a hurry to round-up all the gay survivors they can grab.
To avoid the clutches of Zendra, Paul, his partner Gordon, and a ragtag band of survivors head into the Great White North – the land of maple syrup, hockey, lumberjacks, and thick bacon. Here they plan to spend the winter, hopefully safe from roaming bands of undead, militaristic companies with far too much power, seedy groups of other survivors, and the always dreaded moose. Can two guys in love lead a motley crew to safety?
Two Guys Walk Into An Apocalypse 3: He`s a Lumberjack and He’s Undead is available at the Torquere Press Store, as well as all major eBook retailers.
My sigh and a steady but thin stream of urine pattering on the pine needles and last fall’s dead leaves were the only noises until something stepped on a branch directly behind me. The dead bough cracked like a pistol. My urine stopped flowing as my heart dropped into my gut. A hot breath blew over the back of my neck causing every fine hair to stand up on end. The exhalation stank of rotten teeth and pond scum. With one hand, I tucked the shriveled beast back into its BVD cage. If a phobie was going to rip me into strips I was not dying with my *#*# out. That’s just a thing I have. Death can claim me but my genitals will be covered if I can manage it.
With a very unhurried demeanor and a sudden weakness in my legs and knees, I simultaneously reached behind my back for the gun while I swiveled my head around. The largest brown eyes I have ever seen gazed down at me. The creature shook its massive head and blew snot from its nostrils. My fingertips skimmed the gun as a scream of sheer horror escaped me. The moose promptly freaked out. It bulled forward (I know, it’s funny isn’t it? Bull plus moose. Ha. Ha. God, I hate moose) as if someone had rammed a hot poker up its bunghole.
I pulled the gun free and fired. The moose got over being scared and got royally pissed off, which was rather a bit of irony since I now was fearful of losing control of my bladder. Where I hit the monstrous beast from hell I do not know but I think we can rest assured that it was not a killing shot. Bullwinkle threw his head to the left and right. I turned to run, was hit in the shoulder by a moose brow and was thrown to the side like some insignificant gay Raggedy Andy. My face met a tree, my gun flew from my hand, and Sir Moose attacked the nearest bush thinking — in its brilliant moose way — that the bush was the man who had screamed in its face and then shot beside its ear. I watched all this from the ground where I was balled up in a fetal position, whimpering about the sap on my lower lip.
My shot must have roused the camp, for within a moment (although between you and me it felt much more like several hours) the sound of people crashing through the woods broke through the snorting, thrashing, and pawing the long-headed cousin of Bambi was doing. A brilliant light swept the area. I screamed. The moose spun from his bush battle. Rider and Gordon skidded into the scene, the beams from their flashlights hitting the moose right in his ugly, flubbery face. Gordon raised a shotgun into the air but never got the chance to shoot. The moose plunged between the men, sending both diving to opposite sides. Bouncing shafts of light accompanied the departure of the moose as he crashed away into the land of nightmares.
“Sweet Jeezus,” I heard Rider pant somewhere in the darkness. “Damned shame I didn’t have my deer rifle, we could have eaten on that bitch for a month.”
“Paul, are you okay?” my partner called as he struggled to get to his feet and locate his flashlight.
A mousey sound tumbled from me. I coughed and tried several times to find my voice. When I located it down by my spleen, I had a question for my saviors. “Did– Did he mean ‘bitch’ like that animal was a female, or like some sort of rural Southern expression like ‘Damn son, we could have eaten on that bitch for a week!’ when in actuality the beast was a male?”
Thank you for sharing that little bit. I can’t wait to delve into this! I have to confess I haven’t read it yet, I am behind on my reading since I’ve been required to read numerous other dry materials for the day job.
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 steer named after a famous N.H.L. goalie, and a flock of assorted domestic fowl.
When not writing lusty tales, she can be found enjoying her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania, fresh cup of java in hand.
I love to meet new friends and fans! You can find me at-
More V.L. Locey Torquere Press books:
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, Love of the Hunter, Goaltender`s Penalty, All I Want for Christmas, Every Sunday at One (Part of the 2013 Charity Sip Anthology), Night of the Jackal.
And coming soon exclusively from Torquere Press . . . An Erie Operetta and Early To Rise – A Toms & Tabbies Tale.