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Monday, October 31, 2016

Tara Lain's "Spell Cast" Book Blast

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Spell Cat
by Tara Lain 

When Killian Barth, history professor, meets Blaine Genneau, quantum physicist, they ignite their own big bang. But Killian can’t pursue a physics professor—or a human. As the most powerful male witch in ten generations, Killian must bolster his dying race by reproducing—despite the fact that he’s gay.

Even a fling with Blaine is out of the question, because Killian has been told sex with humans drains his power. But if that’s true, why can young human Jimmy Janx dissolve spoons with the power of his mind? If Killian can sort through the lies he’s been fed, he’ll still face his biggest obstacle — convincing rational scientist Blaine to believe in magic.

With his ancient and powerful cat familiar, Aloysius, on his shoulder, Killian brings the lightning against deceit and greed to save Blaine from danger and prove love is the greatest power of them all.

Available for purchase at 


Also available in paperback


He looked around and spotted the City Hall building a block away. That’s right; there’s a park there. He walked toward it, moving past the tall buildings and late-afternoon pedestrians. Inside the park, he stopped. Blaine sat on a park bench. Killian just wanted to stare at him. So beautiful. Not that perfect kind of beautiful like Moran. Blaine looked… what? Smart as hell, yes. Free, self-actuating, brave. That was a kind of beauty no picture-perfection could match. Oh gods, I love the way the black-rimmed glasses sit on his high-bridged nose.

Blaine looked up as if he’d felt Killian staring at him. Goal achieved. He looked entranced without benefit of spells.

Killian paused. It wasn’t without benefit of spells. The man was righteously bespelled. He took a breath. But at least he had Blaine for now.

He walked toward Blaine, putting a little extra sway in his walk.

The green eyes shone. “You look beautiful.”

Killian smiled. “Thank you. I wanted to be fitting of your surprise, whatever it may be. You look pretty yummy yourself.” It was true. Blaine was usually very casual, but he’d made an extra effort today. Freshly washed jeans, a white shirt, and a dark sport coat. What was the occasion?

Blaine looked up at Killian’s shoulder. “Hi, Al. Good to see you, buddy.”


Blaine glanced at his watch. Hmm. Was he taking Killian to a show? Maybe he had a restaurant reservation. He patted the bench. “Come sit down.”

Killian sat. Curiosity gnawed. He glanced around the park for a clue. “I hardly ever come here. I forget what a great building the City Hall is.” He looked at Blaine. “Are we going on a tour?”

“Not exactly, but there is another building I want to show you, I hope in a few minutes.” Blaine’s eyes crinkled. He looked like he wanted to laugh.

“What’s going on? What’s the surprise?” Why did he feel anxious? Aloysius began to purr.

Blaine giggled. Giggled? Really? “I’m so bad at secrets.” Al’s purr got louder. Blaine reached in his pocket. Oh, Killian had an odd feeling.

Blaine pulled a box out of his pocket. Oh gods. He couldn’t breathe. Blaine opened the box, revealing the most beautiful antique gold and sapphire ring. He looked up at Killian. “I love you. I know it seems fast, but I think you feel it too. I’d like to walk you over to the marriage license office this afternoon and apply. Will you marry me?”

Killian couldn’t breathe or speak—he just stared at the ring. His life passed before his eyes. Every dream and barely acknowledged wish. Every lonely moment’s ache of longing. It lay there in that box. Tears pushed behind his eyes. He had to say yes. In all his life, no matter how long he lived, there would never be another moment like this. There would never be another Blaine. He looked up. “I can’t.”

A crease pushed between Blaine’s eyebrows. “You told me you weren’t going to marry her.”

“I’m not. Though I haven’t told the family yet.”

“So tell them you’re marrying me instead.”

“I can’t. You’re the most wonderful thing I’ve ever known, and that’s the most beautiful ring on earth. But I can’t.” And that was it. If his heart had one tiny sliver still intact, it broke.
Blaine took Killian’s hand, wringing it tight. “Why? Tell me.”

Killian sighed. So his hope to have this magic in his life just a little longer was over. “Because you don’t love me, really.”

“What the hell?”

“It won’t last, and soon you’ll be glad you dodged this bullet.”

“Bullshit! I’m a grown man, and I know how I feel.” Blaine glanced around at the few passersby and lowered his voice. “How can you believe that idiocy?”

“Because it’s true.” Aloysius bit Killian’s ear. “Ow. Dammit, Al.” He pushed the cat onto the bench.

“At least Al’s on my side.” Blaine took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Sweetheart, I know you’ve been sheltered and never allowed to explore your feelings for a man. It makes sense that you’d be nervous. Maybe expect me to leave like your father did. But I love you, and I want to be with you for the rest of our lives.”

Killian stared at his hands. “It can’t happen. You won’t love me much longer. Maybe days are all we have left. It’s different for everyone.”

“What’s different? Killian, you’re not making sense.”
It seemed there was only one way to persuade him. He looked up into those confused and beloved green eyes. “The spell is different.”

“What do you mean ‘spell’?”

Killian sat up straight. “I mean the witch’s spell I cast on you to make you love me. And Aloysius helped.” The cat hissed. “Get over it, Al.” He looked back at his hands. The hands Blaine was no longer holding. “The witch’s spell that is right now running out. Though in my defense, I had no idea you would be the target of the spell. If I could have taken it back, had you love me in truth, I would have done it a thousand times. If I could stop being a witch so you could love me, I’d do it in a heartbeat. None of those things are possible, even for me.” He looked up. Blaine—the human—stared at him with wide eyes.

“You’re a witch?”

Blaine was standing at the end of the counter a few feet away, staring at Killian.

How long could a witch live with his heart stopped?

Oh gods. He understood. Heat. The way he felt this moment dwarfed every emotion he’d had with Moran by a thousand. A million. The chasm between indifference and… passion. His heart beat fast, his breath caught in his chest, and his eyes never wanted to look on another sight, just Blaine.

He ought to run, but whether away or straight to Blaine, he wasn’t sure.


Blaine seemed to catch the welcome in that meow. He smiled and took a step closer. “Hi, Al. Good to see you, buddy.”

Aloysius unwrapped himself from Killian’s neck, did one bound off the tabletop, and launched himself into Blaine’s waiting arms. Oh Powers, would that Killian could do the same. He actually had to hold himself still, or he knew he’d follow the cat.

Blaine petted Al as the cat did his imitation of a moving fur coat, purring so loudly Killian could hear him, even a few feet away. “You seem happy to see me, anyway.” He looked up. “Are you happy to see me, Killian?”

Killian nodded. Correction—his head nodded. He had no power over it.

Blaine walked even closer. “Could I have lunch with you? Talk to you?”

The head nodded again.

The human slipped into the chair beside Killian. Sweet Powers, he smelled so wonderful. That sweet and spice together.

“This sure is one great cat. Where did you get him?”

Killian cleared his throat. “Gift, uh, a gift from my mother.”

Blaine chucked Al under the chin, and the cat let him. “My mother hates cats.” He looked up, and Killian swam into the pools of deep green. “Of course, my mother hates me, so she’s not likely to give me the time of day, much less a pet.”

“Surely not.”

He grinned. “That she hates me? Oh yeah. I keep defying her by choosing to be gay when her preacher has clearly cleansed me of this delusion at least ten times, so she washed her hands of me.”

“But you didn’t choose—Oh, you’re joking.”

Blaine’s grin faded. “I wish it were a joke. Then a lot of beaten-up, confused kids would have parents who loved and understood them.”

There were worse things than having a manipulative witch for a mother. “I’m so sorry, Blaine. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Blaine smiled. “I never thought you were making fun. I just have a weird sense of humor sometimes.”

Then he did it. He put his hand on Killian’s arm. Such a simple gesture. Flash! Heat blazed in Killian’s head, and hot steel filled his cock. Blaine started and pulled his hand away. Those green eyes widened, and he stared at Killian like he was either the answer to a dream or a cobra, and Blaine wasn’t sure which. “Holy shit!”

Killian tried to make sense of his brain synapses and grasped at the first thought. “Uh, food—did you want food?”

Blaine leaned over and whispered in his ear. “I want to eat with you and talk to you and sleep with you and take you home with me. But right now I want to make love to you so badly I’m having trouble focusing.”

There was that head nod again. Where the fuck did that come from?

“Does that mean you want to make love to me too?”

Killian stared at Blaine, the human physics professor whose simplest touch could drain a witch’s power until his own mother didn’t know him and his people couldn’t benefit from his great sperm and—and all that dogma. The answer was yes. He did want to make love to Blaine. He wanted it more than anything. The evil witch voice piped up in his head. Yep, these humans are tempting. That’s how the witch race got so depleted. He was the strongest male witch in ten generations. That had to be worth something. He’d never had a really satisfying relationship with a man, even for a short time. He wanted one. Didn’t he deserve just a little happiness before he gave his life for his people? He’d tried it the right way, the witch-stamp-of-approval way, and nearly got his back broken for his trouble.

Blaine was staring at Killian like he was in suspended animation; only the fingertips that scratched Al’s head moved. There. That was it. Blaine had the best possible credentials. Aloysius, who was no dumb cat, adored the human… and so did Killian. Just that simple. He didn’t care if he rotted in witch oblivion, or if he lost some of his fabled power. How much damage could he do in such a little while? “Yes.”

Blaine came to life. “Excuse me?”

“Yes. Please take me home with you.” He swallowed. “And all those other things.”

Blaine’s smile lit like a midwinter bonfire.

“Mwrarrrrr, mrrrrrwarrrr, mrrrrwarrrr.”

The bloody cat was singing while he slithered around Blaine’s neck in some happy dance known only to strange and powerful blue-eyed familiars.

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 32. Her best-selling novels have garnered awards for Best Series, Best Contemporary Romance, Best Paranormal 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 soul-mate husband and her soul-mate dog near the sea in California 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 Lain



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Monday, October 24, 2016

Jennae Vale's "Her Trusted Highlander" Blog Tour

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Her Trusted Highlander
by Jennae Vale

Katriona Hughes has no idea how she’s managed to find herself in 16th century Scotland, but she’s beginning to think the emerald gem she picked up on an archeological site may have had something to do with it. Wanting nothing more than to return to her own time, Kat is betrayed by the first person she meets and forced into a marriage with a loathsome stranger. Now running for her life, Kat meets the one man who deserves her trust, but can she give it to him. 

Nick Mackall is happy to finally be back in his beloved Scotland after accidentally being transported to twenty first century San Francisco and spending the last two years of his life there. His home and family are calling to him, but things are not about to go smoothly for the handsome highlander as he meets a young woman fleeing her husband and an old foe returns from the dead. Two things are certain - he must gain the woman’s trust in order to save her and he must stop his foe from unleashing the power of an imprisoned sorcerer.

Available for purchase at 


Teeth chattering and hands like blocks of ice, Katriona managed to squeeze out from between locked jaws, “Can we stop, please?”

They had just arrived at a small icy creek.  It wasn’t completely frozen over, but the areas near the banks showed signs of ice here and there.

“We’ll cross first and then we’ll stop for a short while.  Laoch needs water and a rest, as do we.”  Nick expertly guided the horse to a low spot in the creek and urged the skeptical horse across.  Once on the other side, he dismounted after prying Katriona’s hands loose from his waist.  He reached up to help her down, but her feet were so cold, she could barely feel them beneath her and she wobbled on them as they touched the ground.  Nick steadied her and guided her to a nearby rock.  “Sit here.  I’ll get a small fire going to warm ye and while I do, mayhap ye can tell me why yer running away.”

Katriona had expertly avoided this subject until now, by sleeping or being in a genuinely bad mood, but she imagined she should give him some sort of explanation.  The truth was pretty unbelievable, but she could doctor it up so that she only told him the things that would make sense.  “There’s not much to tell,” she started.

“Where are ye from?” Nick asked.  He had gathered some wood and dried brush and placed it in a clear spot near where she sat.  As he knelt and got to work, he occasionally glanced up at her, awaiting his answer.

“Edinburgh.”  That was partly true.  She had been born there, but grew up in London and until only recently, still lived there.  If anything, she hoped to get to Edinburgh in order to seek help to get back to her own time.  Where she might find that help was another question she hadn’t yet answered.
“Ye dinnae sound like yer from Edinburgh,” Nick noted.

“Well, that’s because I was born there, but raised in London.”  That should satisfy his curiosity.
“And how did ye get all this way from London?”  He was trying to lead her into telling him her story and she was busy rewriting it in her head.

“I was traveling with my family and we were on our way to visit relatives in Sutherland when we were attacked by highwaymen.”  Was that the correct term for them?  Would they have been called that in the sixteenth century?  She wished she could be sure.  The last thing she wanted was to draw his suspicion.  Kat was an expert in medieval artifacts.  She could identify every pot, sword, shoe or shield, why it was used and who would have used it, but since being transported to this time period she’d had more than one moment of doubt about her knowledge of the time.  She was second guessing everything she said and did, fearing the outcome for her if she were wrong.

“I see.”  Nick had an ember started and was blowing on it to get the fire going.  After a moment or two, it flared up and the surrounding brush and wood were engulfed in flames.

Katriona breathed a sigh of relief as she moved closer to the fire, practically putting her frozen feet on the flames.  To her surprise and before she could stop him, Nick grabbed her feet and removing her boots, placed them near the fire.  He began vigorously rubbing her feet to get her blood circulating.  “Thank you.”  That was really nice of him and while it was an odd thing for a stranger to do for her, she was grateful.

“Back to yer story, lass.  I’m fascinated to this point.”  Was he being serious or was he teasing her?  He continued warming her feet and when he was done, put her lovely warmed boots back on and reached for her hands, which she gladly let him take.  His hands were large and warm and the heat he was creating with the friction of rubbing them was astonishing, but very much appreciated.

“Well, I ran and hid in the brush,” she continued.  “Everyone was killed, but the highwaymen couldn’t find me.  I could hear them yelling to each other as they searched and then they fled for fear of being discovered, taking all of our belongings with them.  I didn’t know what to do or where to go.  I was terrified, so I continued wandering through the woods.  Night fell and I curled myself into a ball to sleep.  At some point during the night I felt a boot nudging my thigh.  I opened my eyes to see a man standing over me.”  From this point on, the story she would share was true.  “I was terrified, thinking the men had come back to kill me too, but this man, Earnan Gibb was his name, reassured me that he wouldn’t hurt me, much as you did and I, being desperate for help, believed him.  He told me he’d help me get to safety and I again believed him.”  Her voice took on an angry edge.  “Little did I know that he planned to sell me to Bearach Calhoun for a small fortune.  The Laird apparently needed a wife and for reasons which quickly became apparent, I now understand why no one would have him.”  She gazed up into Nick’s very interested face and was drawn in by the warmth of his gaze, losing her train of thought.
“Go on,” Nick encouraged.

“Where was I?”  She was in serious trouble here.  Nick Mackall and his feet and hand rubbing, along with that face and that physique, were having a very curious effect on her.

“Bearach Calhoun needed a wife,” Nick reminded her.

“Oh, right.  Well, you see, he needs an heir and so, since no one else would have him, he bought me from Earnan Gibb and I was forced to marry him.  On our wedding night, I had about all that I could stand, so I refused him, what according to him were his husbandly rights.  Besides being a vile and disgusting human being, he is also a very violent man and he beat me when I told him it would be a cold day in hell before I allowed him to touch me.  I have the marks all over my body to prove it, as you’ve seen.”

“And ye tried to kill the man.”  It wasn’t so much a question as a statement.

“I tried, but unfortunately, I failed.  I was scared to death and I decided to run while I could still get away.  I stole a horse and I don’t even know which direction I headed in.  All I knew was that I had to get away.  If he catches me, I’m afraid of what he’ll do to me.”  She stared into the flames, no longer even aware of the warmth slowly thawing her extremities.

“That is quite the tale,” Nick wrapped her in the plaid from his saddle bag.  “I’m going to boil some water.  I’ve some food in my bags.  I’ll get it for ye.”

Kat sat perfectly still, reliving the nightmare of Laird Calhoun and her wedding night.  Hopelessness was a feeling she’d had a lot over the last few days, but Nick was giving her back a glimmer of hope as he took care of her now.  Her jaded heart found it hard to believe he was really going to help her and that he wasn’t perhaps exactly the same as the man who had offered her aid that night in the woods.  What could she do?  He wouldn’t let her get away and he was taking her somewhere – to his home, he said.  Only time would tell what awaited her; she hoped it would be as Nick had promised her.

Kat stared at him through narrow, suspicious eyes.  She wanted to trust him, but she didn’t know if she’d ever be able to trust anyone again after what she’d just been through.  He had a gentle look to him and a ready smile.  He was a charmer and quite handsome as well.  At about six foot four, with tousled brown locks and those unbelievable tawny eyes, he was definitely her type, but not here.  Not now.  She still couldn’t understand how she found herself in this place and time.  How was it possible that she was examining medieval artifacts in the Scottish highlands as part of her work for billionaire Malcolm Granger, when she suddenly and very inexplicably fell through time to find herself in sixteenth-century Scotland, alone and unprepared for what was to come next? 

Glancing around the camp, she noted where everything was located, including Nick’s horse.  If it was at all possible, she would escape tonight.  Her only thought was to get to civilization.  Perhaps if she got to Edinburgh, she could figure out a way to get back home to her own century and at the very least she thought she’d be safe from Bearach Calhoun.  Kat didn’t have time to waste traveling through the highlands with this man and then living with his family.  How could that be any better than the situation she’d just left?  She was a prisoner, no matter how she looked at it, unless she could take matters into her own hands.  It wouldn’t be easy, but she’d wait for her chance and then seize it.  She’d, of course, be leaving Nick alone in the woods without transportation, but that couldn’t be helped. 

“Yer giving me the evil eye, lass.  What is it that yer thinking?”  He smiled warmly at her, but she was unable to return his smile.

“I’m debating about whether or not I should trust you.”  She tipped her head to examine him more closely.

“And yer conclusion?”  Nick tipped his own head to match her and eyed her with a teasing glint in his eye.

“You’re quite charming, Mr. Mackall, but I’ve learned a valuable lesson these past several days.”  She fussed with the cape and averted her gaze.

“And that is?”  Nick was obviously aware of her discomfort and was doing his best to win her over.
“And that is, not to trust someone until they give you a reason to trust them.  You haven’t given me a good enough reason yet.”

“Time will give ye yer proof, Katriona.  I dinnae doubt ye’ll trust me before verra long.”  He smiled confidently at her.

“The jury’s still out on that one, mister.”  She continued eating the food he’d given her.  It was either very good, or she was very hungry.  Probably the latter she thought.  She practically bit her tongue when she realized she may have just used language that would call attention to her true origins.  He was gazing at her with a curious expression, or perhaps she was just being paranoid.

Nick made himself comfortable next to her in the tiny shelter, readjusting the cape and covering them both.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?”  He wasn’t thinking of sleeping with her, was he?

“This may nae be to yer liking, lass, but I’m going to sleep in here with ye tonight.  We’ll need each other’s body heat so we dinnae freeze.”  He continued making himself comfortable next to her.

“And what would you be doing if I wasn’t with you?”  Now I see what he’s up to.  He’s got me here alone in the middle of nowhere and he thinks he can just have his way with me.  Well he’s got another thing coming.

“I’d have my cape and that blanket to keep me warm.”  He gestured with his hands towards both items.
He had her there.  She could force him to sleep by the fire, but that hardly seemed right.  “Fine, but keep your hands and other body parts to yourself.” 

“As ye wish, m’lady.”  He leaned back against the tree, arms folded across his chest and closed his eyes.

About The Author

Jennae Vale is an author of romance with a touch of magic. Her Scottish Medieval time travel series The Thistle & Hive, Books One through Four, is available in print and ebook versions from Amazon. The first book in her new series, The Mackalls of Dunnet Head has been released, with more to come throughout 2016.

Jennae started life in Massachusetts as part of a large extended Irish and Italian family of imaginative story tellers, but now lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband, her dog, two cats and four chickens. Storytelling is her passion, but Jennae also loves to quilt,  cook, read and indulge in her crafting obsession when she’s not writing.

You can find Jennae at 



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Tuesday, October 18, 2016

Cover Reveal Blitz: Death Dancer by Tara Lain

Death Dancer
(Dangerous Dancers #2)
By Tara Lain


A tattooed dancer and a by-the-book detective dance with death in the ego-fueled halls of ballet.

Bad boy of ballet, Valentin “Val” Aalto stands poised on the verge of huge success -- except for one big obstacle. Influential lead dancer Harry Hardesty hates Val and cheats him out of the lead in Romeo and Juliet. When Hardesty winds up dead, Val looks like a prime suspect – and gets thrown under the detailed and methodical inspection of the handsome NY detective with the stick up his butt, Andrew Preston. At first, Preston believes Hardesty may be the victim of the chilling Dancer Killer who’s struck three victims, but evidence stacks up against Val. Still, Andrew can’t seem to keep his hands off his suspect and when the Dancer Killer starts stalking Val, Andrew is forced to choose between his dedication to a job he loves – and his growing passion for his beautiful dancer. Together Val and Andrew discover that chaos can be beautiful, one should choose desserts wisely, and love can even trump death in the rehearsal halls of ballet.

Available for Pre-Order at

Release Date: 

November 1, 2016


Val gritted his teeth but didn’t reply. He just wrapped the towel over his longish wet hair and ruffled it dry. When he pulled it off, Mr. Cop-out had his eyes glued to Val’s package. The scrutiny made said package want to stand up and show off.
The cop cleared his throat. “I’m Detective Andrew Preston with the NYPD. I’m investigating a homicide related to one of the members of this company. Your director said all of you dancers are to answer questions before leaving today. It doesn’t look like you’re planning to make yourself subject to those instructions.”
Val plopped his naked butt on the bench and let his cock drape down between his legs. Get a good look there, Copo. “To quote an old movie, I don’t consider myself subject to much at all, Detective, but in fact, I didn’t get those instructions since I was meeting with the director of the company at the time they were likely being given.”
“I see.”
“And I have every intention of leaving here quickly and diving to the bottom of a vodka bottle shortly thereafter, so if you’ve got questions, ask them fast.”
Preston raised a perfectly shaped dark eyebrow. “I wouldn’t have thought an athlete would indulge quite so freely.”
“Yeah, well, when assholes throw their weight around and take what’s rightfully mine, I figure I’ve earned a little fucking indulgence.” He blew out his breath. “Sorry. Ask your questions.”
Preston carefully removed a notebook and a pen from his breast pocket.
Val grinned. “You’re kidding? I feel like I’ve gone back in time to some black and white TV show where you’re going to say—”
“Just the facts, sir.”
Val’s eyes flashed to Preston’s. He couldn’t be serious—then Val smiled. The cop’s light green eyes danced with a very charming mischief.
“So you get that a lot.”
“Yes. I’m afraid my penchant for organization receives mixed reviews.”
Val smiled. Cute. “Okay. Shoot there, Sherlock.”
“How well did you know Donald Fornazy?”
“Not at all, I’m afraid. Not even his name. We had a couple scenes together. Nothing much.”
“Is that unusual, not to know someone in your own company?”
Val felt the crease pop between his brows. “Not really. There are a lot of dancers here. I’m not a member of the corps and I don’t live here. Most of my friends aren’t members of the company.” He shrugged. “The young man was neither a great enough dancer for me to notice him professionally, nor enough my type to notice him personally.”
That got a rise out of both Preston’s eyebrows.
Val shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to make light of this man’s murder. I’m just in a rotten mood. Don’t mind me.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“It doesn’t relate to your case.”
Preston gazed at him for a long second, then looked down at his notebook. “Do you have any idea why someone would want to kill him?”
“Can’t imagine. I heard that some other dancers have been killed, which is pretty damned shocking. Hell, we’re society’s frippery. Spangles on the ass cheeks of civilization. Hardly a threat to anyone.” 

His eyes opened wide. Dark. Why am I awake? He shivered. No so-called uncles trying to slip in beside him or boys sneaking in to drop ice in his bed.
A sound, between a scratch and a squeak, sent the feel of that long-remembered ice down his back. Don’t move yet.
Squrunch. Woosh, Squrucnch.
Where? The door? Too close. The window then?
Shit, the branch Andrew had freaked over. Val’s heart slammed so hard it had to make a sound. The sheets over him actually shook.
He snaked out a hand and grabbed his cell phone. He pulled it under the covers. Speed dial, baby.
One ring. Two. Three— “Preston.” Thanks for police reflexes.
He put his head under the covers and whispered, “Andrew. It’s me.”
“I know. Why are you whispering? What’s wrong?”
“Someone’s trying to break in, I think.”
“Shit. Jump out of bed. Yell into the phone. Make it clear you’re talking to the police. Turn on all the lights. Now. Go.”
Val threw back the covers, grabbed for the bedside light and flipped it on, half expecting to see some killer standing in his room, but nobody. “Police. Get here now! Someone’s breaking into my apartment. Hurry. Please!” He raced around the apartment, turning on every light.
Andrew’s voice, panting. “What do you see?”
“Nothing. No one’s here.”
“Look out the window, but stand back in case he has a gun.”
“Shit. Seriously?”
“No, it’s okay. Don’t do it.”
“Hell.” He sidled to the window, pulled back the blinds and looked out. A sliver of light from his apartment shone into the darkness outside, although darkness was relative and his street pretty much never got more than dim. Staring between the buildings, he might have caught a glimpse of movement below, but it could have been a cat or a shadow. “I don’t see anything.”
A siren cut through the general noise of traffic that created the background of Val’s world. Nothing unusual about sirens, but this one got closer. Andrew was still breathing hard. Was he running? Val looked again. “I hear the black and whites.”
“Yeah. Just pulled up in front of your building, I think. They’ll buzz. Don’t let them in until I tell you.” The tinny squawk of a police radio sounded in the background. Andrew seemed to be talking. He came back on the cell. “Have they buzzed?”
The buzzer sounded.
“Yeah. Just now.”
“Okay. Let them in. I’ll be there in a second.”
Val started to the door where the buzzer was, stopped and laughed.
“I forgot I’m bare-assed. I’d better grab my jeans fast. See you in a second.” Still chuckling, he hit the buzzer, grabbed his pants from the floor and was zipping them as the police knocked on his door. New stair speed records. He opened.
The young female cop’s eyes widened just a little. “Valentin Aalto?”
He nodded.
“I understand you had an attempted break-in?” Two male cops in uniform stood behind her.
“I think so, but I’m not sure. Come in while I grab a shirt.”
Her half smile said ‘not on my account’, but she didn’t voice it. “Tell me what happened, sir.”
He pulled a long-sleeved T-shirt over his head. “I was asleep. I’m a light sleeper. I woke up and heard a strange sound, like a scrunching and a squeaking. I might not have thought anything about it since I’d double-locked the door, but An— Detective Preston inspected this apartment and suggested the limbs on the tree outside should be cut since they hang near the apartment windows. I got worried and called him.”
“Why didn’t you dial nine-one-one?”
Val speared her with his eyes. “I’m a dancer with the NYBT. Detective Preston is investigating the murders of dancers. He was my first thought. Is there a problem with that?”
“Of course not.” She turned to the male officers. “Check the tree and the area around it. The apartment window from the outside also, although we may have to come back with a ladder. I’ll look at it from in here.”
“No, thank you, Officer. I will.”
Oh, man, was Andrew a sight to make a scared dancer’s heart go pitty-pat.

Dangerous Dancers Series

Golden Dancer 
(Dangerous Dancers Series, #1)
By Tara Lain

Available for purchase at 


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 32. Her best-selling novels have garnered awards for Best Series, Best Contemporary Romance, Best Paranormal 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 soul-mate husband and her soul-mate dog near the sea in California 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 Lain


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