In Her Eyes

In Her Eyes
By Wesley Banks
 
Blurb:
 
When Ben Wilder is given a second chance he focuses on the one thing he’s always been good at: running. After walking on to the University of Florida Track and Field team he begins to quickly move up the national rankings, paving a path towards the NCAA Championships. Everything is going the way he planned, until the day he bumps into Casey Taylor.
 
New to Gainesville, and focused on her first year out of medical school, Casey is initially hesitant to let Ben into her life. But the truth is she’s worried about letting a guy near the one thing she loves most: her daughter, Emma. After one fun and fateful night Casey can no longer bury her feelings behind these excuses, and takes a chance on a guy she is slowly falling for.
 
Casey’s relationship with Ben starts to gradually build into a love that she has never felt before. But more importantly, Emma has taken a particular liking to Ben. As they all spend more time together Ben is forced to confront painful memories when he starts to notice something hauntingly familiar in Emma’s eyes.
 
After a local journalist uncovers the secret of Ben’s past their lives begin to converge on a single promise that Ben Wilder has long since made: to never give up…no matter what.
Available for purchase at
Excerpt

 

Ben walked by several rooms that looked exactly how he remembered them. Eggshell colored hospital beds were covered with crisp white sheets, tucked neatly at every side. Teddy bears and other stuffed animals lined the beds, and colorful animal balloons floated in front of the health monitors. Most of them also had a navy couch with wood trim that folded into a bed just below the prison like windows. He hated those rooms.

Turning the corner he found the same tiled mural of butterflies, and birds, and dolphins on the wall. And then he heard a familiar voice. A voice he really didn’t want to hear.

“Benson?” Dr. Sanchez called out.

The voice stopped Ben cold where he stood. For a moment he thought about just breaking into a run. That seemed to be the only solution he had lately. But something held him standing still where he was.

Dr. Sanchez walked up beside Ben. He had shaved his thick black mustache, and there were large bags under his eyes. He looked tired, Ben thought, possibly even sad.

“How are you?” Dr. Sanchez said, touching Ben’s shoulder lightly. “What brings you here?”

Ben didn’t answer.

“I’ve been reading about your races in the paper. That’s really great,” he said with a smile.

Ben’s eyes burned into the orange and green coral shaped designs on the floor, but he didn’t say a word.

“Well,” Dr. Sanchez said lightly, “I…I better get back to work. It was…good to see you.”

Ben wanted to nod, or at least acknowledge the man in some way, but what do you say to the man that killed your daughter?

 

Guest Post

What It’s Like To Be A Guy Writing Romance Novels

As of writing this, there’s not a single male writer in the top 100 sports romance books. With your help, I’m hoping to change that when In Her Eyes releases, but it’s going to be tough.

If it’s so tough though, why am I writing in sports romance? Why not science fiction, fantasy, or thrillers where male authors tend to do a lot better?

The truth is I find the topics of faith, hope, and love to be central to every great story. My aim is to find a slightly new perspective on one of those topics. I try to utilize my experience as an engineer, traveler, animal lover, and….guy, to help shape the story in a unique way.

With that said though, it’s still tough.

3 difficulties writing romance from a man’s perspective

1. Details. As an engineer I’m always looking at the details. But the truth is, even though I’ve been married for almost six years, I still don’t know a lot of the details about women. For example, while writing In Her Eyes I learned that a u-neck shirt is called a scoop neck, and that black wedges may feel “heavy” on a warm Florida night, whereas linen wedges or espadrilles would work better. And even though I now know this, I would still never attempt to buy my wife clothes.

2. Best friends. I don’t think I realized how stark a contrast discussions between two guys that are good friends, and two girls that are good friends, until I tried to write that scene. Thinking back to my college days, if we were about to go out and a buddy came dressed in a pink polo with his collar popped, I would just say something like, “Dude, you look like an idiot.” I’ve come to the conclusion that girls, for the most part, find ways to be a lot more delicate.

3. Thoughts. What exactly are girls thinking? I honestly have no idea. I get a lot of help from my editor and wife in this department. But it’s extremely difficult writing a scene from a girl’s perspective as a guy.

Those are just a few difficulties I come across in my writing. They may seem trivial, but authenticity can make or break a scene. And bad scenes can make or break a book.

Will I always write in this genre? Possibly not. For now I still find the process fun and challenging.

About The Author

Wesley Banks was born in 1983 and grew up on the west coast of Florida. He graduated from the University of Florida with a Bachelor’s and Master’s degree in Civil Engineering.  After spending over 7 years building movable bridges from Florida to Washington he decided to focus on his true passion: writing.

Wesley recently moved from Florida to Oregon to get back to the great outdoors that he loves so much. He lives with his wife Lindsey, and his two dogs Linkin and Story. Most of his time these days is spent writing, with as much rock climbing, hiking, or skiing as they can fit in.

You can find Wesley at
              
Giveaway
Presented By

Soldier of Love

Soldier of Love
(Hometown Heroes series, #5)
by Allie Boniface


Blurb: 

Franny Thompson has owned a bed and breakfast in Lindsey Point for the last five years, ever since a family tragedy left her broken. Running The Hideaway has been good therapy, but this thirty-year old doesn’t have the slightest idea about dating, fashion, or men. When a lonely soldier comes to town in need of a place to live, she offers him an empty room to rent, never dreaming he’s about to change her world.

Heath Garrick has spent the last 17 years as an active duty solider, but when he retires from the Army, he finds himself plagued by PTSD and no place to call home, until he moves to Lindsey Point and Franny offers him a room. Franny is quirky and naive, everything he’s never wanted in a woman – and everything he might just need.

As Franny and Heath find comfort in each other’s friendship, a powerful attraction develops. But when a national magazine chooses The Hideaway for a makeover, they are thrust into the spotlight. For Franny, it’s a dream come true. For Heath, it’s the worst kind of trouble. Can two lonely souls help each other find love and hope again, or are some battle scars too deep ever to heal?

Available for purchase at
2bf76-amazon1d5d58-koboae6c4-barnes-and-noble-logo2bpost
Excerpt

 

Excerpt #2

Soldier of Love

Heath pulled away from the Corner Lounge with one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding Franny’s hand. Butterflies beat a mad pattern in her chest, her stomach, and the back of her throat. Most shops along Main Street were buttoned up by now. The stoplight had changed to a blinking yellow, the way it always did at nine. A cop car sat near one of the beach entrances, but as they passed, Franny could see Jeremy Evans inside checking his phone and yawning. Good old Lindsey Point. She stole a glance at Heath. Or maybe boring old Lindsey Point. Maybe he couldn’t stand the lack of action or sound. Maybe he longed to be back overseas, back in the thick of things, where days and nights made sense from a soldier’s point of view. She wanted to ask him. She didn’t dare ask him.

The coast slid by and then disappeared as he took a detour from Main Street and climbed a side road that wound into the hills. At a pull-off marked with a blue Scenic Lookout sign, he braked and turned off the engine.

It’s beautiful here.”

The town center lay below them, cloaked in darkness except for a few white lights here and there. No sound. Franny rolled down the window to hear the reassuring rhythm of the waves. “It is,” she agreed. “Sometimes I forget. When you grow up in a place and see things every day, even a lighthouse or a beach or a sunset over the water, you get used to them.” The night sky, pricked with stars and a quarter-moon, hung over them. “Then I spent some time away, and when I came back, it was crazy to think I could have gotten used to any of this.”

He didn’t answer. Am I babbling? Or boring him? He’d said little after dinner. Even less since they’d gotten into his truck.

That was part of why I opened the Hideaway,” she went on, to fill the silence. “I thought other people should see what I get to see every day.” Plus, of course, it had been therapy, rebuilding her life after everything shattered. She swallowed. She couldn’t tell Heath those details. Not yet. Finally she looked over at him.

He was smiling.

What?”

He shook his head, and then, before she knew what was happening, he slid across the seat and took her face in his hands, pinning her against the door and kissing her like they’d been apart a thousand days.

She didn’t say a word. It took all she had to remember how to breathe, and then it almost didn’t matter if she did, because the way his tongue and his lips and hands were moving, if she died right now it wouldn’t be a terrible thing. She drank him in and pulled him as close as she could. His knee hit the gear shift. Her elbow bumped the window. Still the kiss went on, making her dizzy. His mouth moved to her ear, then slid down her neck while his hands roamed over and then under her shirt. At the first touch on her bare skin, she gasped…

 

Hometown Heroes Series
About The Author
Allie Boniface is the USA Today best-selling author of over a dozen novels, including the Cocktail Cruise, Hometown Heroes, and Pine Point series. Her books are set in small towns and feature emotional, thought-provoking, sensual romance with relatable characters you’ll know and love.
A graduate of the University of Rochester and Case Western Reserve University, Allie currently lives in a small town in the beautiful Hudson Valley of New York with her husband and their two furry felines. When she isn’t teaching high school English, she likes to travel, lose herself in great music, or go for a long run and think about her next small town story.
You can find Allie at
         
 Join Newsletter

 

Giveaway
Presented By

Prince of the Playhouse

Prince of the Playhouse Cover Reveal Banner
Prince of the Playhouse 
(Love in Laguna #3)

By Tara LainBlurb:

Driven by his desire to become a successful fashion designer and concerned with hiding his questionable past, Ru Maitland lets his obsession with action movie star Gray Anson on the big screen replace his social life. Then obsession and reality collide when Ru is asked to design fashion costumes for a special performance of Hamlet at the Playhouse in Laguna starring none other than Gray Anson. Gray turns out to be a compelling mix of shy and brash and, despite a high profile engagement to a female socialite, the signals Gray sends Ru have his libido doing the salsa.
Gray Anson has what most people only dream of—great wealth, huge fame, a job he loves. For that, he’s given up any semblance of privacy and the right to say no to the thousands of people who depend on him and the millions who love him. He sees everything he’s ever wanted just outside the bubble of his life, but how can he make the compromises needed to embrace it? When Ru’s shady past crashes into Gray’s paparazzi-haunted present, both men have to learn that sometimes the only acceptable compromise is the truth.
Available for pre-order at
You can pre-order paperback here.

Release Date:April 5, 2016

Excerpt
Ru cleared his throat. “Just stand relaxed.” Take that advice yourself. He stepped behind him. Gray towered over Ru’s five eleven. The man must be a full six three or four as reported. Stretching his tape, Ru measured the width of those shoulders. Have to do it. He rested a hand against Gray’s arm and let the warmth seep into his bones—and his boner. “Do you usually wear a forty-four long?”
Uh, yes, I think so. They tailor it for my, uh, waist.”
Um-hm.” Ru wrapped the tape around Anson’s waist, trying not to pass out. “Thirty-three.”
Yeah.”
Though he didn’t really have to, he measured Gray’s chest and hips. “How do you see Hamlet?”
Sorry? What do you mean?”
What’s your understanding of the character?”
Oh.” He shrugged. “I guess he’s confused. Pissed that everybody including ghosts wants something from him.” Whoa. That last boiled with heat. “Sorry.”
No, I like your take on him.”
The edges of his lips turned up. “You do?”
Yeah.” Ru knelt to measure the inseam. “Just hold still for a second.” He swallowed hard and snuggled one hand in the general vicinity of Gray’s balls. Some balls they were too, nicely framed by the crotch of a pair of old, worn jeans. Movies often unveiled Gray’s awesome ass, but the balls Ru had never seen. He pulled the tape to the floor. “Thirty-six sound right?”
Yes. I guess.”
If he burrowed his nose in Gray’s crotch and sniffed, could he blame it on the need to gather impressions for his design? His giggle tried to escape again. He stood before he went through with it. “Let me show you what I’m thinking.”
He didn’t usually share his designs until they were further along, but man, he didn’t want Gray to leave. He leaned over the table he’d been sketching at. Gray rested his perfect forearm on the table and looked over Ru’s shoulder. Warmth from his body slammed into Ru like a day in Jamaica, and Mr. Downtown turned into a heat-seeking missile.
Ru sucked in a breath. “Uh, what if we dress Hamlet like a sort of ultrafashionable gangbanger? Baggy pants and a combination of wifebeaters and baggy T-shirts. But we’ll do them in fantasy colors and cover your arms and chest in tattoos.” Ru’s fingers flew across the pages as the ideas took shape, bold lines slashing the white paper. “We’ll even tie your head in a bandana.” He looked up and almost choked. Gray’s face was poised only inches from his, and he was smiling, the huge, flashing-teeth, dimples-as-deep-as-craters smile that had made this man a billionaire. All I’d have to do is stand on tiptoe and I could kiss him. Of course, I wouldn’t get to do costumes for Hamlet anymore, but it might be worth it. He smiled slowly at the incongruity of the perfect face surrounded by the ratty gray wig.
Gray spoke softly. “You really get into this, don’t you?”
Ru swallowed. “Uh, yes, sorry.”
No need to be sorry. I love the idea, and I love your passion.”
You—you do?”
Yes.” He just kept staring at Ru. “Do you know your eyes are almost the color of a cat’s?”
And yours are like the sky before a storm.”

 

Love in Laguna Series

 

Available for purchase at
              

 

Paperback from Dreamspinner 
Available for purchase at 
 
              
Paperback from Dreamspinner
About the Author
Tara Lain writes the Beautiful Boys of Romance in LGBT erotic romance novels that star her unique, charismatic heroes. Her first novel was published in January of 2011 and she’s now somewhere around book 23. Her best­selling novels have garnered awards for Best Series, Best Contemporary Romance, Best Ménage, Best LGBT Romance, Best Gay Characters, and Tara has been named Best Writer of the Year in the LRC Awards. In her other job, Tara owns an advertising and public relations firm. She often does workshops on both author promotion and writing craft. She lives with her soul­mate husband and her soul­mate dog in Laguna Beach, California, a pretty seaside town where she sets a lot of her books. Passionate about diversity, justice, and new experiences, Tara says on her tombstone it will say “Yes”!
You can find Tara at
               
Presented By

“Taylor Maid” By Tara Lain

Taylor Maid
by Tara Lain
Blurb:

He’ll marry the maid to get $50 million but a secret could queer the deal.

 Taylor Fitzgerald needs a last-minute bride.
On the eve of his twenty-fifth birthday, the billionaire’s son discovers that despite being gay, he must marry a woman before midnight or lose a fifty-million-dollar inheritance. So he hightails it to Las Vegas… where he meets the beautiful maid Ally May.
There’s just one rather significant problem: Ally is actually Alessandro Macias, son of a tough Brazilian hotel magnate. But if Ally keeps pretending to be a girl for a little while longer, is there a chance they might discover this marriage is tailor-made?
Available for purchase at
ae6c4-barnes-and-noble-logo2bpost   
Taylor Maid by Tara Lain
is part of DreamSpinner Press’s Dreamspun Desires eBook Subscription Receive two novels in digital format per month for the price of one regular novel!
For more information, please visit DreamSpinnerPress.
Excerpts

 

The wall in the elevator held him upright. So much to do—quitting his job being at the top of the list. The door opened on his floor. Oh well, he had his time and passion. That he’d give to the kids at the youth centers—not that anybody could pay the rent with it.
He dragged himself down the hall toward his suite, staring at the phone that never rang. With his right hand, he grabbed the key card, looked up, and stopped so fast he might have had rubber shoes on a shag carpet. Ally stood in front of his suite, leaning against the wall.
He tried not to gasp too loudly. Ally minus the ugly glasses and in street clothes was a sight to see. Long, slim legs in trim jeans and a pink checked shirt that set off her pale complexion and bright red hair. Adorable. Her hips were so narrow and chest so flat, she could have been a boy but for the high ponytail. A very cute boy. Obviously Taylor’s cock suffered from gender confusion, because it wiggled, and Taylor did not do girls. “Hi. You came.”
She nodded but didn’t smile. “You wanted to see me. You’re a VIP guest, and I’m a maid. Not wise to refuse.”
That wasn’t the best way to start. “I didn’t mean for it to be a command performance.”
“Oh?” Lasers behind those brown eyes.
Hell, this was his one chance. No time to argue. “Could you come in for a minute?” He keyed open the door and held it.
Another nod. She crossed in front of him and stopped in the middle of the entry. He closed the door and pointed toward the living room. “Please, come on in and sit.”
She paused, then walked into the living room and perched on the edge of one of the couches. He sat across from her. Jesus, this was hard. “Uh, you remember that I got a shock while you were here. Bad news, right?”
“Yes. You seemed upset as I was leaving. I hope things have improved.”
“Not yet, but they could.” He took a deep breath. “Are you married or attached?”
She stood straight up with her mouth open. He bounded up opposite her. “Wait. I said that badly. It’s just that I want to make you a proposal that requires that you not be married and—”
She started walking toward the door.
“No, wait, please.”
She kept walking.
“Ally, will you marry me?”
Okay, that stopped her. She looked over her shoulder, and her eyes could have been stop signs, they were so huge. “What did you say?”
The words tumbled out. “I’ll give you a million dollars to marry me.” Well, damn, Mr. Smooth strikes again. “Please, sit down and let me explain. I know I sound nuts, but I’m harmless.”
She stared at him and suddenly started to laugh. She stumbled back and collapsed on the couch. “Okay, I confess, there’s not the slightest chance I could walk away and not hear the rest of this story.” She held up a hand. “But keep your distance in case you’re as crazy as you sound.”
“Can I get you something to drink?”
She glanced at a serviceable-looking watch on her arm. “Sure, I’m off the clock. I’ll have a beer.”
Taylor used the trip to the service kitchen to take a breath. He hadn’t quite thought this through. She was right. He must sound crazy. Damn, he wasn’t too bad with men. Being with a female was throwing him off. Or maybe it was being the one who needed something. In business he was powerful enough and wealthy enough to always be on an even footing. Now he was a beggar. The cute maid held all the cards. Time to put on his poker face.
He grabbed beer bottles from the fridge, opened them, and poured into two glasses. For a guy he would have skipped that step. Carrying the beer, he walked back into the living room. She was sitting forward, elbows leaning on her knees, staring sideways at the view of the thousands of lights. Her profile, with its high-bridged nose and strong cheekbones, was etched against the softly lit room. Pretty.
“Here you go.” He extended the glass, and she took it.
“Thanks.” She took a long drink. Cleaning rooms must be thirsty work.
He sat opposite her and took his own sip. “Okay, here’s the deal. I live in San Francisco. My family has money, and I work in the family business. My grandfather, who started the business, died a number of years ago, and my father now runs it with a lot of help from me.”
“Don’t you have a board of directors?”
Taylor glanced up. That wasn’t the question he’d expected. “Uh, yeah. We do, but it’s a privately held firm, so all the directors are kind of figureheads who report to my father.”
“I see.”
Did she? “Anyway, I just found out—” He glanced at his watch. “—a few hours ago, that the inheritance my grandfather left me came with unusual strings attached. My father hid this from me.”
“Why? He wanted the money for himself?”
“Exactly. What he didn’t tell me was that I have to be married by my twenty-fifth birthday in order to collect the inheritance.”
She raised an eyebrow. They were a lot darker than her bright hair. “Daddy has been a very bad boy.”
Were all maids this savvy? “Yes. The problem is my birthday is tomorrow. In other words, it starts at midnight tonight.”
“Wow.” She frowned. “Do you have to be married by your birthday or on your birthday?” She took another mouthful of beer.
“The will said by my birthday, and I can’t talk to the lawyer who drew it up to determine the meaning, because he’s on my father’s side.”
“Holy crap.”
Taylor grinned. “Yeah.”
“How come you let that happen? I thought you were so good in business.”
He almost laughed. Who was she? Bill Gates? Instead he sighed. “When my grandfather died, I was an eighteen-year-old kid busy trying to figure out his sexuality. I loved him, and his death broke my heart. I didn’t have any energy to protect myself from my father.”
“I’m really sorry.” She sipped. “So, easy. You call a woman you know, ask her to marry you, and tell her she gets a cut.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
She looked around. “So where is she?”
“Remember when I got the upsetting phone call?”
“Yes.”
“That was me finding out that the woman I was planning to ask had been in an accident and isn’t coming.”
“Oh dear.”
“Yes.”
“So call another girl.”
“I did. You.” 

 

 

Taylor held Ally’s arm tightly as they walked, the play of muscle under the jacket very noticeable—and appealing. Must be all that bathtub scrubbing.
The minister pointed to some documents on the table. “Please sign these.”
Ally clutched his wrist. He smiled. Sound calm. “Come on, easy does it.” He barely looked at the license as he signed, he was so busy focusing calming energy on Ally. “Okay, your turn.”
She swallowed hard, looked at him like she’d just run over the deer in the headlights, grabbed the pen, and signed Ally May in a scrawl.
The minister clapped his hands. “Lovely, lovely. Come now.”
He grabbed her hand, ignored the electricity that sparked up his arm at the feel of her warm skin, and pulled her to the head of the aisle.
A woman sat at an organ and started playing the wedding march.
Ally shook her red hair again. “No, I don’t want to march.”
“Okay, we’ll walk up together, how does that sound?”
“Okay.”
Taking her hand, he started to walk, and she took off like there was a prize for how fast you could get to the altar. The lady on the organ sped up the wedding march to a wedding run, and it almost made Taylor laugh—almost.
He kept hold of Ally’s hand. Her flowers shook like Disney had animated them. She set them on the front seat of the first row of chairs.
The minister walked around them since he’d gotten there last, looked at his watch, and picked up the Bible. Must have another couple coming in soon. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony.”
“Taylor?”
The minister stopped. “Is everything all right?”
She shook her head. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
Taylor nodded. Uh-oh. “Okay.”
With a bang that made them all jump an inch, the door to the chapel burst open. A big bald man stood there, frowning, staring around the room.
The minister cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind, there’s a wedding in progress.”
The man’s frown got deeper. “Yeah, okay. Sorry.”
“Did you wish to take a seat and attend the ceremony?”
“Uh, no. I’ll stand.” He sounded like he’d escaped from Guys and Dolls.
The minister looked at Ally. “Miss, I believe you were saying something?”
She’d turned white as her shirt. Her big eyes strayed toward the door and then back to Taylor’s face. “No, nothing. Just get on with it.”
Taylor whispered, “Shall I ask him to leave? Is he bothering you?”
“No, no. Don’t do that, please.”
God, he felt like he was torturing her. “Do you want to change your mind?”
The door to the chapel closed. The intruder was gone.
She glanced at the entrance, sighed, and stared at her shoes.
“Ally?”
For a full thirty seconds she said nothing, then finally shook her head. “No. Continue.”
The minister smiled. “Ah, good.” He started talking about the sacred union of marriage.
Okay, that made Taylor feel fully weird. But hell, people got married because they drank too much and wanted memories from Vegas. His union wasn’t the strangest—was it?
“Do you, Taylor Fitzgerald, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
“What? Oh yes, I do.”
“And do you, Ally May, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
He squeezed her hand. He kind of expected another long wait, but she piped up, “Yes.”
“Do you have a ring?”
Taylor produced the beautiful diamond and sapphire circle. He had to reach down for her hand, and it shook so hard he could barely get the ring on, but it fit perfectly.
He handed her his ring, and she managed to get it on his left ring finger, but it was a near thing—twice she almost dropped it.
The minister clapped his hands. Probably out of relief. “You may kiss the bride.”
Well, hell, he’d forgotten that part. She looked up at him, and those brown eyes glittered. Oh, she wears contacts. Wonder why she needs glasses? Her breath smelled like the mint ice cream she’d eaten for dessert, and it made him shiver. He leaned forward and pressed his lips gently against hers. Her mouth was freezing like her hands—but sweet. So sweet.
He pulled back, and she instantly stared at the floor. God, his cock even danced a bit at that kiss. Maybe when he went to bed he’d have time to think about why he responded like this to a woman. He never had before. 

 

 

By the time Taylor pulled into the parking garage at his condominium, his skin felt too tight in a lot of places, most of them below the belt. Ally had spent the whole drive alternately stretching out his long legs in their heels and pulling them up under him, showing off yards of bare, smooth, hard man flesh from ankle to hip. Taylor had never known he liked men in drag, but Jesus, his tastes seemed to form around everything Alessandro. The guy simply turned him on. He’d done it as a woman, and now, as a man in woman’s clothing, he made Taylor want to commit lewd acts in public places—like the side of the freeway. And he seemed oblivious to his effect on Taylor, which only added to the allure.
Watching those same long legs striding down the hall in front of him made Taylor seriously glad he had a coat to cover the telephone pole in his pants. Ally waited at the door for Taylor to open it. He needed to get him a key.
As Ally walked in, he glanced back. “How soon do they want to do the questioning?”
Taylor closed the door. Could he take off his coat, or would the fire stick still show? “Smith just said ‘soon.’ If I know Laughton, he wants to give us as little time to prepare as possible.”
“So we better start practicing.” Ally unwrapped the belt and slipped Taylor’s coat off his shoulders. As Taylor hung it in the hall closet, Ally walked into the open living room, ass swaying in the clingy knit.
Blast off. Taylor’s cock leaped, and his brain fried. “Ally?”
“Yes?” He looked over his shoulder in a move so unconsciously flirtatious, he should have been spanked, and that sounded like way too good an idea.
“Are you gay?”
That deep, sultry laugh rumbled through his padded chest. “Are you kidding?”
“So your father wants you to marry—”
“A woman. Wealthy and influential. The type who can do good for the family and persuade his son out of his perversion at the same time.”
“No wonder you ran.”
“Yes. Can you imagine living such a life? Not only married to a member of the wrong sex, but one you don’t even know or like?” He shuddered.
“You didn’t know me.”
His lips curved. “True. But I was desperate—”
Taylor’s stomach sank.
“And I liked you immediately. Instinctively.” He kicked off his shoes, sighed, and picked them up. “Besides, I thought you were hot.” With a twitch of that infernal butt, he walked down the hall.
Taylor gasped for breath. Hot? He thinks I’m hot? Ripping at his tie and unbuttoning his shirt at the same time, he ran to his room, threw his clothes on the bed, and pulled on the sweats and T-shirt he liked to sleep in. Hot. He thinks I’m hot.
Okay, get some control.
In through the nose. Out through the mouth. In through the—bullshit! 

 

 

 The sun seeped around the Roman shades on the windows, casting stripes of brightness across the bed.
“Uh, Taylor, it’s about Ally that I called you.”
“Yeah, okay.” He crept forward and peered around the wall toward the bed. Sure enough, Stonewall curled in a ball on one pillow while Ally’s hair flowed across the other, creating a red to orange mosaic. He smiled—then stopped.
“There’s something you should know.”
“Yeah?” His eyes fixated, and he walked two more steps toward the bed. Ally lay on her back, one arm above her head, with the white silk pajamas clinging to her body. Where he was used to seeing small, perky breasts, the silk lay completely flat. So maybe she enhanced a bit. But that wasn’t what held him rapt. It was the part that wasn’t flat. At her crotch, the fabric stood straight up in the air like a tent—a tent with a substantial tent pole.

 

“Taylor, I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to spit it out. Coco says Ally is a man.”

 

About the Author

Tara Lain writes the Beautiful Boys of Romance in LGBT erotic romance novels that star her unique, charismatic heroes. Her first novel was published in January of 2011 and she’s now somewhere around book 23. Her best­selling novels have garnered awards for Best Series, Best Contemporary Romance, Best Ménage, Best LGBT Romance, Best Gay Characters, and Tara has been named Best Writer of the Year in the LRC Awards. In her other job, Tara owns an advertising and public relations firm. She often does workshops on both author promotion and writing craft. She lives with her soul­mate husband and her soul­mate dog in Laguna Beach, California, a pretty seaside town where she sets a lot of her books. Passionate about diversity, justice, and new experiences, Tara says on her tombstone it will say “Yes”!
You can find Tara at
               
Giveaway

Giveaway: $20 GC – open internationally

Presented By

“Dark Alpha’s Embrace” by Donna Grant

Dark Alpha’s Embrace 
(Reaper Series, #2)
by Donna Grant
 
Blurb: 


An exclusive new series from New York Times bestselling author Donna Grant!
There’s no escaping a Reaper. I’m an elite assassin, part of a brotherhood that only answers to Death. And when Death says your time is up, I’m coming for you…
I’m a warrior. My unbreakable determination, my backbone of steel define me. As a Reaper who does Death’s bidding, weakness is a word I don’t understand. Until a stunning librarian stirs emotions deep within me I’ve never felt before. Her soft curves blunt the sharp edges of my soul, crushing my defenses – yet make me stronger. But underneath those wide eyes and fierce femininity, she has a weapon, one she won’t hesitate to use. And when the Dark begin their deadly descent, we’ll need each other’s love and protection…or risk fracturing apart.
Available for purchase at

 

            

 

 Excerpt

 

River’s gaze was locked with Kyran. She’d seen many Fae over the years, but there was something fascinating and absorbing about this Dark that made her heart race – from something other than fear. If only she could lay her finger on what it was.

She knew what the Dark Fae did to humans, how they had sex with them, giving the humans ultimate pleasure. And all the while the Dark drained them of their souls. It was a horrendous way to die.

But Kyran seemed different. She didn’t get a vibe of evil from him despite his hair and eyes. All Dark had red eyes and silver in their black hair. Despite what he was, she couldn’t deny his attraction. Perhaps it was the way he held her gaze, looking at her as if he couldn’t get enough.

Her stomach quivered, and she moved a half step closer, even as her mind warned her to keep her distance. But she couldn’t. She had to get nearer.

He didn’t look away. With a simple look, he invited her to get closer. It was a temptation she wasn’t sure she could refuse.

 

 






















The Reapers Series

Reaper #1
Available for purchase at
          

 

About the Author

Donna Grant is the New York Timesand USA Today bestselling author of the sizzling Dark King series featuring dragons, immortal Highlanders, and the Fae.

She was born and raised in Texas but loves to travel. Her adventures have taken her throughout the United States as well as to Jamaica, Mexico, and Scotland. Growing up on the Texas/Louisiana border, Donna’s Cajun side of the family taught her the “spicy” side of life while her Texas roots gave her two-steppin’ and bareback riding.

Despite deadlines and voracious reading, Donna still manages to keep up with her two children, four cats, and one long haired Chihuahua.

You can find Donna at
               
   
Presented By

 

“In Her Eyes” By Wesley Banks

In Her Eyes
By Wesley Banks
 
Blurb:
When Ben Wilder is given a second chance he focuses on the one thing he’s always been good at: running. After walking on to the University of Florida Track and Field team he begins to quickly move up the national rankings, paving a path towards the NCAA Championships. Everything is going the way he planned, until the day he bumps into Casey Taylor.New to Gainesville, and focused on her first year out of medical school, Casey is initially hesitant to let Ben into her life. But the truth is she’s worried about letting a guy near the one thing she loves most: her daughter, Emma. After one fun and fateful night Casey can no longer bury her feelings behind these excuses, and takes a chance on a guy she is slowly falling for.

Casey’s relationship with Ben starts to gradually build into a love that she has never felt before. But more importantly, Emma has taken a particular liking to Ben. As they all spend more time together Ben is forced to confront painful memories when he starts to notice something hauntingly familiar in Emma’s eyes.

After a local journalist uncovers the secret of Ben’s past their lives begin to converge on a single promise that Ben Wilder has long since made: to never give up…no matter what.

Release Date: 

March 14, 2016
Excerpt

 

Ben was tired, but he was excited when he woke up on Monday morning. It was Casey’s day off and Coach had given the team the week off, minus a team meeting this afternoon, since they had another month until the NCAA Championships.

Emma’s school started at seven forty-five which meant if he got to Casey’s around eight, they could spend the whole day just relaxing.

When he arrived the garage was shut, so he walked up to the front door. Before he could knock, though, the door swung open and Casey jumped on him, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.

“My hero,” she said in a terrible southern accent. Then she started giving him little pecks all over his head and face.

He walked inside with her still wrapped around him and kicked the door shut. Laughing, he said, “Who is this strange girl, and what did you do with Casey?” She continued on in the southern accent. “You won the race for your beloved and claimed victory.”

Ben sat her on the backside of the couch and looked down at her. “What on earth has gotten into you?”

“You, Sir Runner. Now, take me, take me now.” Casey puckered up her lips playfully and Ben laughed.

Ben leaned in to give her a quick kiss, thinking she might taste or smell like alcohol, because right now that was the only explanation he could come up with. She tasted like…cookies.

He looked around the room and to his right, sitting on the kitchen counter, he found his answer. He let go of Casey and she fell backwards onto the couch.

“Hey!” she said as she hit the couch cushion.

Ben walked over to the kitchen and picked up a small tub of Cookies ’n Cream ice cream and a bag of Fudge Filled Chewy Chips Ahoy. He held up both and looked over at Casey who was half-hiding, half-peering over the top of the couch. “Please tell me you are not eating cookies and ice cream at eight o’clock in the morning.”

Casey jumped over the couch and came running at Ben, a ball of sugar filled energy. She wrapped her arms around his waist, her legs around the back of his calves, and inched her way up his body. When she reached the top she bombarded his neck with kisses. “My hero,” she said. She stopped for a moment and looked at him with the most devious, sensual grin. She leaned in closer until there was almost no space between her lips and his. Then like a cheetah springing on a gazelle, she grabbed the ice cream with her left hand and the cookies with her right, hit the ground and took cover on the couch.

“You have serious problems,” Ben said.

Casey pulled out a cookie and dipped it in the ice cream and held it up for him to see. Then she started humming and dancing the cookie around like she was taunting him.

Ben took two steps, dove across the couch, snatched the cookie from her hand and shoved it in his mouth before she could barely move. She looked at him wide eyed and in complete silence and then jumped on him. They wrestled and tickled each other like five-year-olds, stopping every now and then for a quick cookie break.

This went on for about thirty more minutes and then she crashed on the floor next to him. Her head lay across his chest as he played with her hair until eventually he crashed too.

 

About The Author

Wesley Banks was born in 1983 and grew up on the west coast of Florida. He graduated from the University of Florida with a Bachelor’s and Master’s degree in Civil Engineering.  After spending over 7 years building movable bridges from Florida to Washington he decided to focus on his true passion: writing.

Wesley recently moved from Florida to Oregon to get back to the great outdoors that he loves so much. He lives with his wife Lindsey, and his two dogs Linkin and Story. Most of his time these days is spent writing, with as much rock climbing, hiking, or skiing as they can fit in.

You can find Wesley at
              
Presented By

 

“Halfway Bitten” By Terry Maggert

Halfway Bitten 
(Halfway Witchy Series #2)
by Terry Maggert
 
Blurb:
The circus came to Halfway, and they brought the weird.
When clowns, vampires, and corpses start piling up in town, Carlie has to break away from her boyfriend, Wulfric, to bring her witchy skills to the table- or grill, as the case may be.
When the body of a young woman washes up in the lake, it unleashes a spiral of mystery that will bring Carlie, Gran, and Wulfric into a storm of magical warfare. Spells will fly. Curses will rain. Amidst it all, Carlie will make waffles, protect her town, and find out if a man from the distant past can join her in happy ever after.
With love and honor at stake, Carlie has no peer.
Available for purchase at

 

Excerpt

 

If I ride my bike to work, it takes three minutes; walking takes ten.

I chose to walk.

The sun broke over the lake in a fury of gemlike flames. Halfway is a lake made in heaven, and the town curls around it like a jealous lover. At five in the morning, it’s sleepy and quiet, with only the occasionally rowdy goose or loon breaking the silence. The only humans moving around other than me and a few bakers are fisherman; they have the excellent sense to limit their noise and speech under the auspices of not scaring their prey. I applaud that kind of dedication to avoiding human contact before you’re fully caffeinated.

I unlocked the diner’s side door and slipped into the quiet cool. This was the magic hour before any other employees were around, and the entire space was mine. Three days a week Louis would be waiting to greet me—he started baking at two in the morning, but not today. There was no aroma of flour or sweets and coffee, just the welcoming stillness and a lingering hint of something fried and delicious. Glynna and Pat would arrive later; between the two of them they could organize the invasion of a modest country. They’re both seasoned veterans who know that coffee comes first, chit chat is second, and smiles are constant. It’s no surprise that getting a job here is rare, but keeping it is common.

I set coffee to brew, wrapped a snow white apron around me, and slid easily into the kitchen to begin the dance of preparing for an onslaught of bustling customers who came to eat, relax, and gaze out at the brightening surface of the lake. There are some mornings that I lose time; it’s as if the muscle memory of my job takes over and bliss descends to move my hands in a familiar pattern of cooking, and plating, and smiling at the general joyous chaos that erupts from the moment we open our doors. Most of the time, I love my job. Other days I tolerate it, but this was not one of those days. This day was going to be interesting.

I looked up from the grill and froze. Usually, the diner—that’s the Hawthorn Diner, known to everyone in town simply as The Diner– is filled with a nice mix of tourists and locals. You know the types. There are tourists wearing all manner of vacation uniforms with the occasional sunburn mixed in for good measure. Dads wear khaki shorts, white sneakers, and an expression of relief when their kids start eating. Tourist moms wear anything that’s clean, drink coffee like their lives depend on it, and always seem the smallest bit worried. Our locals wear baseball caps and an air of infinite patience, waiting for me to cook their waffles just so without a hint of hurry.

So, when I looked up and saw six clowns sitting at the counter, I took a moment. Okay, if you want to get technical, I froze. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not scared of clowns. As a witch, I actually find them sort of relaxing when compared to the paranormal nasties I deal with now and again; a little face paint and red noses don’t frighten me. But still, I just took a moment.

Glynna smirked at me while she filled a row of coffee cups; apparently even clowns enjoy a hot cup of joe. I nodded politely, looking down at my current batch of home fries that were happily sizzling away, then turned to add onions and mushrooms to an omelet that was nearly done. Despite my, ah, stature, I can cover a lot of ground in the kitchen. I may not be tall, but I’m really busy, and that goes a long way towards making me efficient. I like that. So do our customers.

“Circus in town?” I asked Glynna, who began to hang tickets in the window with a robotic efficiency. You’ve probably seen someone like her before in a diner somewhere. Glynna is fifty, slender, has hair color that changes like the weather, and brown eyes that are cheery and bright. She’s an inveterate coffee and sugar addict, and she avoids vegetables, meat, and milk like one would a dodge a radioactive badger. Glynna is fueled by caffeine and sweets. I really need to look into her diet someday, if she’ll ever stand still long enough to let me take notes about her eating habits outside work.

She pointed at the array of clowns and nodded sagely. “It is. Rolled in overnight. They’ve set up near the park, although I’d say it was more like a carnival. They’re nice guys; they were giving away tickets at the lakeshore before they came in here to tank up on waffles.”

The lakeshore meant the walkway that followed a rough outline of our park, which snugs up to the water. We’re are exactly halfway between the beginning and the end of the Adirondack chain of lakes, hence our name, and the park is your basic giant green lawn that acted as a picnic spot, music venue, and general meeting place for friends, lovers, and the occasional dog who wanted to stretch it out and run for a bit. My town is compact, idyllic, vibrant during the summer, as all touristy places are, and frigid for the winter.

It’s also lousy with magic.

Now, clowns aren’t from the Everafter, they just dress that way. Trust me, if you’ve ever seen an actual Faerie Queen, you’d think she got her wardrobe at yard sales held during the disco era. Just because you’ve got royal fae blood doesn’t mean you have taste. I know this from experience, and I’ve only just stopped laughing at a printed pantsuit that a fae court member wore during a fight with a rogue Werebear. If it hadn’t been dangerous, I would have been too busy taking pictures for posterity. I don’t care if your beauty is magically enhanced; when you combine stripes and spots, I’m going to laugh at you.

I breezed through the remainder of my shift in a happy fugue, stepping out of the door at just past two in the afternoon. Actually, I took two steps, because I’m just brushing five feet tall and my legs are appropriately long; that is to say they reach the ground. Barely. My eyes are gray, my hair is black, and I love my Doc Martens as much as any inanimate object on the planet save my charm bracelet, which acts as a sort of repository for my excess magic. I’ve got a hidden witchmark behind my right ear; from it springs hair of every human color you can imagine, and a couple that I’ve only seen on really unusual cats. I use the hair for spells, on occasion, and the witchmark as a sort of early warning system for everything nasty that find witches to be delicious or interesting. I couldn’t blame the beasties, since my hair smelled of the grill, my clothes were speckled with waffle batter and I needed a shower in that welcome sort of way you get if you love your job. I do. I’m lucky like that.

So, I’m a witch, and I come from a long line of witches. My Gran is sort of the de facto leader of all things magical in our area; her decades of experience make her the go-to for all questions about the arcane. I seem to be the designated hitter in terms of pest control; I don’t know whether I should be flattered or angry that I spend so many of my days off traipsing around the woods hunting down errant demons, ghouls, or undead tax accountants. The spread of evil knows no bounds, it would seem, so until you’ve had to cast spells at a guy with blue skin, a pocket protector, and fangs, don’t you dare judge me.

Part of being a witch means having a familiar. Mine is a cat named Gus. He’s of the Maine Coon variety, which means that his size rivals mine, and his favorite hobbies include giving me the stinkeye, complaining, and trying to smother me with his tail when I take naps. In other words, he’s your basic cat, just three times larger and more attuned to my magical needs. Gus is the only other occupant in my home; it’s a small bungalow that’s close to the diner, and it once belonged to my parents. They’ve retired and headed for the sunsets of New Mexico, leaving me my childhood home.

I love everything about my house. I love the deep cool of the cellar where I perfect my magic; I love the green expanse of the lawn, and the lonely apple tree that marks the eastern corner of my yard. Its branches are few but heavy with fruit each September, and I pick each apple with a reverent memory that stretches back to the first years of my life. I’m twenty-one years old, and I’ve never known another place. I belong here, and I love that fact, too. All of these things push together in my heart and leave me full and happy, a fact which naturally irritates the rare cynic I’m forced to deal with. Those people are inevitably customers who are cursed with real or imagined special dietary needs. Egg white omelets make me sad, but the people who order them make me angry.

I stepped through my door and tossed the keys on a tall table that hugs the left hand wall. Gus waited to greet me from his usual perch on the fireplace mantel; I refer to it as The Dais of Judgement due to his unblinking stare and haughty bearing.

Then again, he’s a cat. They’re built for that kind of subtle insult, so maybe I’m just overly sensitive since he’s so confident. I admire that kind of moxie in an animal who is frightened of my sneakers if I dare to leave them in a different position. He’s a creature of habit, as am I, but you won’t see me shedding like a cheap sweater when I get upset. Big difference.

Gus interrupted my thoughts with a single deep mroooowwwt.

“Yeah, yeah. You big galoot. I’ll get it.” I moved unerringly to the fridge and pulled out a pitcher of actual cream— my snobby cat won’t drink anything but the good stuff. After I filled a dish large enough to swim in, I started peeling off clothes and heading towards the bathroom. I took an experimental sniff as I passed my bedroom, sensing the lingering essence of Wulfric, my boyfriend. He’d left just before dawn to go on what amounted to a patrol of his lands. I should probably explain why I have a boyfriend who needs to patrol anything, so here goes.

Wulfric is a thousand year old half-vampire, half- Viking who guards a section of the forest so that mortal hikers don’t get turned into undead monsters by an evil spring that we sometimes call the Fountain of Youth. He also has a daughter, Emilia, with a no-good skank named Anna who is actually a Werepanther, hula-hoop addict, litterer, and general malcontent. Anna’s also really hot, which means that for the most part she got away with all manner of anti-social behavior, but absconding with my boyfriend’s kid puts her squarely on my shit list, and I’ve got news for that trampy little kitten.

I’m not scared of any kind of cat. I live with Gus.

 

Halfway Witchy Series
Halfway Dead (Halfway Witchy Series #1)
Available for purchase at
   
About The Author
 
Born in 1968, I discovered fishing shortly after walking, a boon, considering I lived in South Florida. After a brief move to Kentucky, my family trekked back to the Sunshine State. I had the good fortune to attend high school in idyllic upstate New York, where I learned about a mythical substance known as “Seasons”. After two or three failed attempts at college, I bought a bar. That was fun because I love beer, but, then, I eventually met someone smarter than me (a common event), and, in this case, she married me and convinced me to go back to school–which I did, with enthusiasm. I earned a Master’s Degree in History and rediscovered my love for writing. My novels explore dark fantasy, immortality, and the nature of love as we know it. I live near Nashville, Tennessee, with the aforementioned wife, son, and herd, and, when I’m not writing, I teach history, grow wildly enthusiastic tomato plants, and restore my 1967 Mustang.
You can find Terry at
            
Giveaway
 Presented By

 

“One Second” (The Seven Series #7) By Dannika Dark

One Second
(Seven Series, #7)
By Dannika Dark
 
Blurb: 
 
EXPLOSIVE FINAL INSTALLMENT IN THE SEVEN SERIES
Love. Family. Brotherhood. 
Lexi has faced personal struggles, but nothing has prepared her for the most perilous  battle of her life. Shifters are on the brink of war as Northerners target Colorado in an attempt to infiltrate the borders. Texas winds up on the hit list, and the Weston pack prepares to fight for their land… and for their lives.
Austin’s courage is put to the test when rogues want to seize his land and slaughter his pack. But that’s not all he’s facing as two shocking revelations turn their lives upside down. His love for Lexi is unwavering, but their future is uncertain.
Will the local packs set aside their differences to fight together, or will this be the end of peace among Shifters? Stand witness to the epic conclusion of the Seven series.
Destiny will find you.

 

Release Date: 
April 5, 2016
Pre-order available at 
 
The SEVEN SERIES




About the Author

Dannika Dark was born on a military base in the U.S. and spent her youth traveling abroad. She developed an interest writing poetry and song lyrics early on, eventually gravitating toward a job that involved writing procedural training documentation. In her spare time, she wrote novels before she decided to pursue a career in publishing.
In addition to writing about supernatural worlds, Dannika is passionate about graphic design and creates all her own covers and series art. When not writing, she enjoys indie music, movies, reading, Tex-Mex, strawberry daiquiris, heaps of chocolate, and unleashing her dark side.
All of her published books to date are written in the same universe and contain material suitable for adults only.
“For me, writing is all about blending genres to break out of the confines of predictability, but it’s what I love to do.”
Danni
You can find Dannika at
           
To receive exclusive content and be the first to know about upcoming releases, please sign up to receive her newsletter. 

 

Presented by

Taylor Maid

Taylor Maid
by Tara Lain


Blurb:

He’ll marry the maid to get $50 million but a secret could queer the deal.

Taylor Fitzgerald needs a last-minute bride.

On the eve of his twenty-fifth birthday, the billionaire’s son discovers that despite being gay, he must marry a woman before midnight or lose a fifty-million-dollar inheritance. So he hightails it to Las Vegas… where he meets the beautiful maid Ally May.

There’s just one rather significant problem: Ally is actually Alessandro Macias, son of a tough Brazilian hotel magnate. But if Ally keeps pretending to be a girl for a little while longer, is there a chance they might discover this marriage is tailor-made?

 

Available for pre-order at
Also available for pre-order in Paperback
Release Date:



March 1, 2016

Taylor Maid by Tara Lain
is part of DreamSpinner Press’s Dreamspun Desires eBook Subscription
Receive two novels in digital format per month for the price of one regular novel!
For more information, please visit DreamSpinnerPress.

Excerpt

 

Excerpt #2

Taylor held Ally’s arm tightly as they walked, the play of muscle under the jacket very noticeable—and appealing. Must be all that bathtub scrubbing.

The minister pointed to some documents on the table. “Please sign these.”

Ally clutched his wrist. He smiled. Sound calm. “Come on, easy does it.” He barely looked at the license as he signed, he was so busy focusing calming energy on Ally. “Okay, your turn.”

She swallowed hard, looked at him like she’d just run over the deer in the headlights, grabbed the pen, and signed Ally May in a scrawl.

The minister clapped his hands. “Lovely, lovely. Come now.”

He grabbed her hand, ignored the electricity that sparked up his arm at the feel of her warm skin, and pulled her to the head of the aisle.

A woman sat at an organ and started playing the wedding march.

Ally shook her red hair again. “No, I don’t want to march.”

Okay, we’ll walk up together, how does that sound?”

Okay.”

Taking her hand, he started to walk, and she took off like there was a prize for how fast you could get to the altar. The lady on the organ sped up the wedding march to a wedding run, and it almost made Taylor laugh—almost.

He kept hold of Ally’s hand. Her flowers shook like Disney had animated them. She set them on the front seat of the first row of chairs.

The minister walked around them since he’d gotten there last, looked at his watch, and picked up the Bible. Must have another couple coming in soon. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony.”

Taylor?”

The minister stopped. “Is everything all right?”

She shook her head. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Taylor nodded. Uh-oh. “Okay.”

With a bang that made them all jump an inch, the door to the chapel burst open. A big bald man stood there, frowning, staring around the room.

The minister cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind, there’s a wedding in progress.”

The man’s frown got deeper. “Yeah, okay. Sorry.”

Did you wish to take a seat and attend the ceremony?”

Uh, no. I’ll stand.” He sounded like he’d escaped from Guys and Dolls.

The minister looked at Ally. “Miss, I believe you were saying something?”

She’d turned white as her shirt. Her big eyes strayed toward the door and then back to Taylor’s face. “No, nothing. Just get on with it.”

Taylor whispered, “Shall I ask him to leave? Is he bothering you?”

No, no. Don’t do that, please.”

God, he felt like he was torturing her. “Do you want to change your mind?”

The door to the chapel closed. The intruder was gone.

She glanced at the entrance, sighed, and stared at her shoes.

Ally?”

For a full thirty seconds she said nothing, then finally shook her head. “No. Continue.”

The minister smiled. “Ah, good.” He started talking about the sacred union of marriage.

Okay, that made Taylor feel fully weird. But hell, people got married because they drank too much and wanted memories from Vegas. His union wasn’t the strangest—was it?

Do you, Taylor Fitzgerald, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

What? Oh yes, I do.”

And do you, Ally May, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

He squeezed her hand. He kind of expected another long wait, but she piped up, “Yes.”

Do you have a ring?”

Taylor produced the beautiful diamond and sapphire circle. He had to reach down for her hand, and it shook so hard he could barely get the ring on, but it fit perfectly.

He handed her his ring, and she managed to get it on his left ring finger, but it was a near thing—twice she almost dropped it.

The minister clapped his hands. Probably out of relief. “You may kiss the bride.”

Well, hell, he’d forgotten that part. She looked up at him, and those brown eyes glittered. Oh, she wears contacts. Wonder why she needs glasses? Her breath smelled like the mint ice cream she’d eaten for dessert, and it made him shiver. He leaned forward and pressed his lips gently against hers. Her mouth was freezing like her hands—but sweet. So sweet.

He pulled back, and she instantly stared at the floor. God, his cock even danced a bit at that kiss. Maybe when he went to bed he’d have time to think about why he responded like this to a woman. He never had before.

Excerpt 3

By the time Taylor pulled into the parking garage at his condominium, his skin felt too tight in a lot of places, most of them below the belt. Ally had spent the whole drive alternately stretching out his long legs in their heels and pulling them up under him, showing off yards of bare, smooth, hard man flesh from ankle to hip. Taylor had never known he liked men in drag, but Jesus, his tastes seemed to form around everything Alessandro. The guy simply turned him on. He’d done it as a woman, and now, as a man in woman’s clothing, he made Taylor want to commit lewd acts in public places—like the side of the freeway. And he seemed oblivious to his effect on Taylor, which only added to the allure.

Watching those same long legs striding down the hall in front of him made Taylor seriously glad he had a coat to cover the telephone pole in his pants. Ally waited at the door for Taylor to open it. He needed to get him a key.

As Ally walked in, he glanced back. “How soon do they want to do the questioning?”

Taylor closed the door. Could he take off his coat, or would the fire stick still show? “Smith just said ‘soon.’ If I know Laughton, he wants to give us as little time to prepare as possible.”

So we better start practicing.” Ally unwrapped the belt and slipped Taylor’s coat off his shoulders. As Taylor hung it in the hall closet, Ally walked into the open living room, ass swaying in the clingy knit.

Blast off. Taylor’s cock leaped, and his brain fried. “Ally?”

Yes?” He looked over his shoulder in a move so unconsciously flirtatious, he should have been spanked, and that sounded like way too good an idea.

Are you gay?”

That deep, sultry laugh rumbled through his padded chest. “Are you kidding?”

So your father wants you to marry—”

A woman. Wealthy and influential. The type who can do good for the family and persuade his son out of his perversion at the same time.”

No wonder you ran.”

Yes. Can you imagine living such a life? Not only married to a member of the wrong sex, but one you don’t even know or like?” He shuddered.

You didn’t know me.”

His lips curved. “True. But I was desperate—”

Taylor’s stomach sank.

And I liked you immediately. Instinctively.” He kicked off his shoes, sighed, and picked them up. “Besides, I thought you were hot.” With a twitch of that infernal butt, he walked down the hall.

Taylor gasped for breath. Hot? He thinks I’m hot? Ripping at his tie and unbuttoning his shirt at the same time, he ran to his room, threw his clothes on the bed, and pulled on the sweats and T-shirt he liked to sleep in. Hot. He thinks I’m hot.

Okay, get some control.

In through the nose. Out through the mouth. In through the—bullshit!

 

About the Author
Tara Lain writes the Beautiful Boys of Romance in LGBT erotic romance novels that star her unique, charismatic heroes. Her first novel was published in January of 2011 and she’s now somewhere around book 23. Her best­selling novels have garnered awards for Best Series, Best Contemporary Romance, Best Ménage, Best LGBT Romance, Best Gay Characters, and Tara has been named Best Writer of the Year in the LRC Awards. In her other job, Tara owns an advertising and public relations firm. She often does workshops on both author promotion and writing craft. She lives with her soul­mate husband and her soul­mate dog in Laguna Beach, California, a pretty seaside town where she sets a lot of her books. Passionate about diversity, justice, and new experiences, Tara says on her tombstone it will say “Yes”!
You can find Tara at
               
Presented By

“Devious Minds (A Shelby Nichols Adventure Series #8)” By Colleen Helme Release Day Blitz

Devious Minds 
(A Shelby Nichols Adventure Series #8)
by Colleen Helme
 
Blurb: 
It’s been almost a year since a near-fatal gunshot wound left Shelby Nichols with the ability to read minds. In that time she’s faced one problem after another. She’s been shot at, framed for murder, and targeted by a serial killer, just to name a few. Now she’s trying to help her lawyer husband win a murder trial that will enable him to become a partner in his law firm. Sounds easy, right? But nothing ever goes as planned when it comes to Shelby Nichols.
When special agent, Blake Beauchaine, shows up to collect a debt from Shelby, things get even more complicated, and Shelby is soon on her way to Paris. A routine meeting with a rogue agent reveals a sinister plot, putting Shelby into the cross-hairs of a known terrorist. Even worse, she doesn’t speak French, so it seems her mind-reading abilities won’t help her this time.
Things go from bad to downright dangerous for Shelby, especially since her usual guardians, Uncle Joey, and his hit-man, Ramos, are back in the states. Lost and on her own in the streets of Paris, can Shelby escape the cold-blooded killer in time to stop his devious plans, or will this be the end of the line for Shelby Nichols?
Available for purchase at
Excerpt

 

The first day of spring arrived,
filling me with an overwhelming sense of freedom. Even though the temperature
wasn’t real warm, it meant that winter was officially over. Even better, a ride
on the motorcycle behind Ramos was now a possibility.
I’d missed that and I’d missed
him. He’d been gone for two weeks helping Uncle Joey take care of some
out-of-town business. I wasn’t exactly sure what that entailed and… believe
me, I didn’t want to know. Jackie, Uncle Joey’s secretary and wife, told me
they were both due back in the next few days, and deep down where I didn’t want
to admit it, I could hardly wait to see them again.
That probably made me a bad
person, since I worked for Uncle Joey, and he was a mob-boss. Ramos was his
hit-man and he’d saved my life a few times. I had to admit, it was a far cry
from the first time I’d met Ramos almost a year ago, when he was thinking he
might have to kill me for the big boss.
I’d had to tell Uncle Joey my
secret that I could read minds to stop that from happening. Since then, my
skills had come in handy for Uncle Joey, and gotten me into a lot of trouble.
But he’d always been there to bail me out, both literally and figuratively.
So now I helped Uncle Joey, not
because I was forced into it, but because I wanted to. That was just twisted on
so many levels, and he wasn’t even my real uncle. But I couldn’t seem to stop,
so I did my best to keep on the right side of things.
Ramos was another part of that
story. He was one hot and swoon-worthy man any woman would fall for. I had to
keep reminding myself that I was happily married every time I laid eyes on him.
He was the quintessential bad boy and, like a decadent chocolate dessert with
whipped cream and a cherry on top, something that I might want in the worst
way, but would also be very bad for me.
If I wasn’t married with kids…
well, who knew what could happen, but I loved my husband and children, and
Ramos respected that. Even so, there were still times when my heart seemed to
have a mind of its own around him, and I’d have to rein it in or lose control,
which was not an option.
Only a handful of people knew I
could read minds, and I liked it that way. I told everyone else I had
premonitions, and that mostly worked. I also had my own consulting agency,
which included helping the police along with my own clients. Because of that, I
managed to get into even more trouble, and that wasn’t counting the mob-boss
part.
Like now.
My husband, Chris, had asked for
my help on a hard case. He was an associate partner in the prestigious law firm
of Cohen, Larsen and Pratt. This case was the single most important event of
Chris’ career, mostly because the partners were looking to replace the Cohen
part of the firm, and changing it to Larsen, Pratt and… Nichols.
This was a huge deal, and I
wondered if the fact that Chris handled all of Uncle Joey’s accounts had
something to do with it. Probably, but I wasn’t touching that with a ten foot
pole. This put a lot of pressure on me. Not as much as Chris, but still… I
didn’t want to screw it up for him.
That brought me to my problem. I
wasn’t sure I wanted to help Chris, mostly because he was defending a woman
accused of killing her husband, and ten million dollars from the life insurance
policy was in the balance. To complicate matters even more, the husband’s
company was one of Chris’ biggest clients.
If they won, Chris’ firm would get
a nice, fat share, and also keep the company as a client. But from everything
he’d told me, she sounded guilty as sin. If I listened to her thoughts, I’d know
for sure, and that would just ruin everything. It made me realize that
sometimes my ‘gift’ wasn’t so great. Not when I had to use it to get someone
off who actually deserved some jail time.
But… wasn’t that what I did for
Uncle Joey? So how was this any worse?
In fact, I’d recently made a deal
with a government agent to keep Uncle Joey out of prison. In exchange for my
help on one of his cases, he’d agreed to make any charges against Uncle Joey
disappear. When Uncle Joey found out what I’d done, he wasn’t too happy with
me. Especially since he thought I’d told Blake Beauchaine I could read minds.
Once he knew I hadn’t, and Blake
just wanted me for what he thought were my mad interrogation skills, he’d
calmed down. Still, Uncle Joey told me he could have handled anything Blake
might have thrown at him without my deal. To be honest, it kind of hurt my
feelings. Then he made me promise to involve him if Blake ever came to collect.
So now on top of everything else,
I had Blake’s phone call to look forward to, and Uncle Joey to involve after
that. It was enough to give me an ulcer.
“Shelby? We’re ready for you,”
Chris said, poking his head out of the conference room.

 

The Shelby Nichols Adventure Series
Series Trailer

 

Guest Blog Post for Devious Minds

By Colleen Helme

Thank you for hosting me today!

For my new release, Devious Minds, I was able to fulfill a life-long dream of going to Paris! This book takes place there, and I knew that it would be much more believable if I’d been there myself. What an adventure! At the time of my visit, the book was all in my head, so I didn’t know what would happen to my character, but since I wasn’t tied down, this also allowed me to use my experiences there more fully.

It was amazing to place my character, Shelby, directly into some of the experiences I had while I was there. I enjoyed taking her for a walk down the Champs-Élysées and into Père-Lachaise and many other places I got to visit. The concert at Sainte-Chapelle in the book is also something I attended. My only regret is that I didn’t get to go on the motorcycle ride behind Ramos like she did!

When I got home, I found it imperative to use Google maps to find the street view for places I used in the book as well. I don’t know how writer’s survived without the information from the Internet! Most of my descriptions are as authentic as I could make them, and I hope it shows in the narrative of the book.

I wish I could have lived there as I wrote the book, but I still enjoyed re-visiting Paris in my mind for the next three months. My only sadness came after the attacks in November. It was chilling to be writing about a possible terrorist attack in Paris, only to have it actually happen, and it broke my heart. Because of that, I dedicated my book to the city of Paris. May your light always shine in the dark.

My visit there was magical, and because I got to write about it, even more special. Someday, I hope to go back and soak it all in. In the meantime, Joie de Vivre!

About The Author

 

As the author of the Shelby Nichols Adventure Series, Colleen is often asked if Shelby Nichols is her alter-ego. “Definitely,” she says. “Shelby is the epitome of everything I wish I dared to be.” Known for her laugh since she was a kid, Colleen has always tried to find the humor in every situation and continues to enjoy writing about Shelby’s adventures. “I love getting Shelby into trouble… I just don’t always know how to get her out of it!” Colleen lives in the Rocky Mountains with her family. Besides writing, she loves a good book, biking, hiking, and playing board and card games with family and friends. She loves to connect with readers and admits that fans of the series keep her writing.

You can find Colleen at
               


 Giveaway
Presented By