Enchanting Readers One Author At A Time!

Wednesday, December 13, 2017

Cover Reveal Blitz: Bleu Balls by Tara Lain


Bleu Balls
(Balls to the Wall Series #7)
By Tara Lain

Blurb:
Double trouble. The McMillan twins, Robin and Bobby, are renowned for their talents—both as fine artists and for thrilling the various men who catch their eyes. As different in style and personality as their DNA is identical, they’re nonetheless best friends who divide and conquer, with Robin doing the serious painting and Bobby adding the sunny salesmanship.

But when their most important client decides Bobby must wield the paintbrush, the brothers revert to childhood tactics and switch places. Then along comes Micah, a handsome doctor who’s attracted to Bobby but invites Robin out to try to please his homophobic brother, and Paolo, the pain-in-the-butt client who thinks he’s wooing Bobby when he’s actually after Robin. Paolo harbors his own hidden pain that weirdly intersects with Robin’s, but pride and privacy conspire to produce what will either be a masterpiece—or end up as Dogs Playing Poker.



Available for pre-order

Also Available in Paperback


Release Date
January 9, 2018


Excerpts


Anson said, “This is Paolo Lind. His architectural firm designed this building and is its largest tenant.”

Robin stared right at the man. “Cool.”

Lind nodded but said nothing. He glanced up, met Robin’s gaze for an electric instant, and then shifted away. Ridiculous that a man so gorgeous should be such an asshole.

Anson said, “So, Ms. Etheridge, show us what you brought.”

Valerie stood her tablet on the table and began scrolling through photos of their projects. “As you’ll see, the McMillan brothers have the scope and grandeur to handle a project of this size but still maintain a contemporary, even leading-edge look. No kitsch that murals tend to fall into because the artist doesn’t know what to do in that large a work.”

She was doing a good job. Robin tried to listen, but his gaze kept drifting to the architectural masterpiece across the table.

She pulled out a portfolio of drawings and sketches to give them a sense of the immediacy of their work. “You can see the boldness of line and form.”

The architect stared at Robin’s portfolio with a slight crease between his dark, arched brows. Suddenly he looked up. “Excuse me, but we’ve already seen their work for others. Do you have a design to show us or not?”

Valerie paused for a fraction of a second too long, but then she dove in. “Mr. Lind, to do a design for a project of this size would require many, many hours of time—all on speculation. My clients are sought-after artists.”

Lind pushed the portfolio across the wide, slick table. “So are all the people we’re considering for this project. Obviously, your clients must not value the commission.”

Well, shit. Robin grabbed the portfolio. At the back were some sketches, and he ripped one from the plastic sleeve that held it. He turned it over and pulled three markers from his pocket—he didn’t leave home without them. Bold lines flowed across the paper as he drew. He glanced up at Lind, who stared at Robin’s moving hand. “So tell me. Do you design a lot of buildings on spec, darling?” Lind scowled at him. Robin looked back at the drawing and took his thumb, wet it, and smudged some of the lines. “Yeah, no, right? Because all you have to sell is your design talent. Just like me. This building we’re sitting in is a really good design. Not the best I’ve ever seen, but really good for Orange County. You need a mural that reflects that design, and you’re a good enough architect to know with one glance that I’m that guy.”

He kept drawing, slashing lines and swirling in flashes of golden yellow, but the main theme was blue, baby. With a sneer, he slid the abstract, wild, free creation across the table and stood up. “You can keep this, because no matter who else you hire, they can’t begin to do what my brother and I can do. But you’ll fuck up your building because, for whatever reason, after an acquaintance of thirty seconds, you don’t like me. Maybe you don’t like gay guys in eyeliner. Maybe you’re just an asshole. Hell, you want reasons to dislike me? You should get to know me. I can give you a boatload of reasons, but not liking my earrings is a pretty dumbass basis on which to choose an artist, and you, of all people, should know that.” He leaned over, signed the drawing with a flourish, flicked his fingers, and made the paper jump. “Good luck with your building.”


He crossed the conference room and walked out just as the sportswear chick yelled, “You tell ’em, cutie.”



“Poor dear. You do look like you feel awful. Dr. Brown will be right in.” Her head popped out and the door closed.

Good old Dr. Brown had been his and Robin’s doctor for two years. The guy was probably in his seventies, but they both liked that nothing really fazed him. Bobby had even come in when his butthole got irritated after one particularly wild weekend, and Dr. B. had just given him some liquid lavender to drop into a carrier oil. He’d been better in a couple of days and back up to his old tricks. In fact, they both used the lavender mixture now before they had sex. Sex. Jeez, even that didn’t sound good to him, and that never happened.

He flopped over on his side with his legs still hanging off the table and closed his eyes. Death warmed over. Drifting felt good. He needed to get better and call Valerie. Had to know if they got the commission. But not right now.

He sighed.

“Did you die while waiting for me?”

The voice didn’t sound like Dr. B.’s up-from-the-projects drawl at all. Slowly Bobby opened his eyes and caught a glimpse of the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. He sat up fast, got light-headed, and fell back onto the table, closing his eyes against the suddenly blinding light.

“Oh dear.” Two strong hands gripped his feet and slid them up where a table extension magically appeared.

“Sorry. Sat up too fast.” Bobby flopped an arm over his eyes.

“Just lie still.” Deep, warm, and distinctly cultured, like ivy grew all over his voice.

Bobby breathed, then slowly lifted his arm and opened his eyes. “Uh, you’re not Dr. Brown.”

“Ah, but I am.” The man—who couldn’t be more than twentysomething and clearly modeled for Jay-Z in his spare time—grinned, and craterous dimples appeared in what were otherwise lean cheeks. “I’m simply not the Dr. Brown you were expecting.”

Bobby let out a long sigh and sat up. “You sure aren’t.” His gaze clung to that startling face, all shiny skin, short-clipped black hair, and most startling of all, light hazel eyes.

“I’m Micah Brown. The Dr. Brown you were expecting is my father, and he’s cutting back his practice time and letting me take over some of his workload. Hope you don’t mind.” He pulled the afghan down and placed his stethoscope against Bobby’s back. “Breathe.”

Bobby inhaled, coughed, then tried to smile, though every move hurt his head. “Sorry. Just assure me you actually have a license and don’t just play a doctor on TV.”

Brown laughed, a deep rumbly sound Bobby wanted to hear through that stethoscope. “Breathe.”

Bobby inhaled and exhaled, trying desperately not to cough.

“Yep, I’ve got a degree or two and even belong to the AMA.” He hooked the device around his neck and started feeling Bobby’s upper chest with cool, gentle fingers.

Oh my. Earlier, sex hadn’t even interested Bobby. Now? Well, he might make an exception in the case of Dr. Micah Brown. Dear God, the doc was so close, Bobby could lick him. Of course, that might not be covered by his PPO.


The Balls to the Wall Series





Volley Balls
Bk #1


Available to purchase at 


Fire Balls 
Bk #2


Available to purchase at 


Beach Balls
Bk #3


Available to purchase at 


Snow Balls
Bk #4


Available to purchase at 



FAST Balls
Bk #5


Available to purchase at 


High Balls
Bk #6


Available for purchase at


Prefer paperback?
The first and second book are now available in paperback! 







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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Wednesday, December 6, 2017

Tara Lain's "Snow Balls" Blog Tour




Is it always wrong to pretend to be Mr. Right?
Snow Balls
(Balls to the Wall Series, #4)
By Tara Lain

Blurb:

JJ LaRousse looks like a quarterback but acts like a queen. He’s trying to be proud of who he is—until a robbery at the famous Laguna Winter Fantasy brings JJ face-to-face with tough cop Ryan Star. JJ hears Ryan likes manly men, so he drops his voice an octave, colors his pink hair, and tries to pass as a football fan.

Ryan Star may be tough, but he keeps his sexuality to himself at work. He learned in New York that being a gay cop can be deadly. His attraction to JJ threatens his secret, but he’s finding it hard to back away from a guy who’s so totally his type. Then, during a ski trip and a confrontation with JJ’s biggest nemesis, all the façades come crashing down. In the aftermath, can Ryan love JJ for who he really is? More importantly, can JJ?



Available to purchase at 




Excerpts


The cop beamed at him. “Good job, JJ. Now what else can you remember?”
Oh my, how he loved pleasing the nice detective. “Santa was wearing a phony beard, but he had black stubble on his cheek above it. He had on sunglasses. Cheap ones. Prada knockoffs you might get on the street in Santa Ana.” Okay, maybe too much information. “Uh, he was wearing some padding, but I think he probably had some fat of his own. The elf was skinny. And”—he closed his eyes and pulled up the picture again—“he had weird eyes.”
“How weird?”
“Kind of pale and a little scary-looking.”
“Could they have been contacts?”
“Doubt it.” He closed his eyes again. Oh, he loved that scent. He opened them. “I couldn’t see the elf’s hair because he wore a full wig, but I’ll bet it was red.”
Star frowned. “Why do you think that?”
“He had those freckles that some redheads have. Might be.”
“Is there anything else?”
JJ nodded. Could he think of twenty more things to keep the good detective here? “The bigger man spoke to me, and he had an accent of some kind.”
“What kind?”
JJ screwed up his nose. “Hmm. It was a little like Southern, but… I know, I think it was like Boston or New England or something. Sort of flat-sounding.”
“Was the voice deep?”
JJ breathed out slowly. “Not as deep as yours.”
Star’s blue eyes flashed up at him.
“Uh, I mean you have a low voice. The Santa’s voice was higher and nasally.”
“Do you think you would recognize it again?”
“Possibly.”
Star asked him a few more questions about what the robbers had said and where they seemed to be going. He flipped the notebook closed. “You’ve been extremely helpful. Thank you for your time.”
JJ tried to keep his voice low. “Anytime.”
Star looked back at him for a moment. “I may have a few more questions. Is there somewhere I can reach you?”
Oh, be still my heart. JJ recited his cell number, and Star wrote it in his notebook—on a separate page. Oh my.
“So, you a Trojan?”
“What?” JJ swallowed.
Star pointed at his head. “USC.”
“Oh, uh, no. Just a, uh, fan.”
That blazing smile again. “You like football.” It wasn’t a question, thank God.
“I’ve been known to watch a game.” JJ held his breath.
The appraising blue eyes stared into his. “Thanks again for your great help.”
“My pleasure.” Or at least his cock’s pleasure.
Detective Ryan Star walked away toward a group of uniformed officers gathered at the booth across from JJ’s. The cop’s jeans clung to lean, muscled thighs, and the tweed sports jacket had an obligatory feel, like maybe it wasn’t something he wore in his free time. It wasn’t something he should wear at all. That man needed a dresser. JJ sighed. Fat effing chance it would be him.
JJ went back to the display, trying hard to look manly while positioning dolls on a snow scene. He glanced up and caught his breath. Star was staring at him. JJ wanted to fan himself so bad. Man up.
He stared down at the doll in his hands. Why the hell was he trying to impress this guy? The detective was scary and his job was violent, two things JJ hated. But there was that second while he was questioning JJ when Star had looked embarrassed that he’d forgotten to show his credentials. Was that a hint of the vulnerable man underneath? Naw, he probably just felt uncomfortable around a creampuff like JJ.
What had he been thinking?


He’d been known to watch a football game? Not in this life.




The announcer’s voice sounded, and they both faced front. The teams were going to come in now, JJ was pretty sure.
The guys in blue-and-white started to run onto the field. Oh my, the way those narrow butts looked in the tight pants was positively appetizing.
Ryan leaned over. “Who do you like? Any favorites?”
Okay, JJ was prepared. He took a deep breath. “Rivers, of course. He’s a great leader. Bound to make it to 5000 yards this year.” Oh sweet god of boys who like to sew, what did any of that mean?
Ryan nodded. “Amen. What about Gates?”
JJ sipped his beer to sort through his memory banks. “Best tight end to ever play the game.” He held his breath.
“You said it.”
Whew. JJ stared at the field. “Of course, quite a few of those guys look like tight ends.”
Ryan looked at him with his mouth open and then started to laugh. “Yeah. You got that right.”
The coin toss. The kickoff. Wow. That ball went all the way to the end, and a guy caught it. Cool. They all went farther down the field. Yep, just like Jerry had said. The guy in the center—the quarterback, probably—threw the ball. It soared through the air and some lean player caught it and started running like a son of a bitch. Holy shit. Two guys slammed him to the ground. That looked painful. JJ resisted the urge to close his eyes. He’d seen football on TV, of course. His dad had loved it. But JJ’d never paid much attention. In these good seats, the game was in his face.
Somebody came out and measured the field. A lot of people, including Ryan, moaned. He leaned over to JJ. “That was close.”
“Yeah.” Close to getting killed?
The players got back into lines. JJ could hear the cute one, the quarterback, calling out numbers. Some big guy in the front line moved. A yellow cloth flew through the air.
JJ whispered, “Offside.”
Ryan glanced over at him and smiled.
The announcer’s voice rang out, “Flag on the play. Offside.”
Holy shit. He’d gotten it right. Thank God for Jerry.
The whole crew of men moved and then got back in their line. A bunch of stuff happened at once, and JJ couldn’t follow it until everyone on their side leaped up so he did too. The announcer called “first down,” but it sure looked like about a hundred guys went down getting there.
Ryan leaned over. “I didn’t think they could make that one, after the foul.”
“Me too.” What? Good Lord, pretending was hard.
The whole line reassembled. The cutie stepped back and threw the ball a long way. The lean, fast guy ran out and caught the thing, which was clearly a miracle. He headed down the field like a jackrabbit with a pack of bulldogs on his heels. Shit, one bulldog came out of nowhere and tackled the rabbit, and then five other guys piled on. Whistles and yells sounded from their side and cheers from the other.
Then a groan and the crowd got quieter as the bulldogs pulled off and left the rabbit lying there in a heap. He didn’t get up. Oh no. JJ grabbed Ryan’s arm. “He’s hurt.”
“Yeah. Looks like it. Shame. He’s a great wide receiver.”
Receiver, hell. He was a gorgeous, fast-as-lightning black kid who had just got beaten to a pulp in a stupid game. JJ wanted to jump up and scream.
A stretcher was carried onto the field. Some guy put a collar around the player’s neck, and then they picked him up and put him on the stretcher. Hell, they didn’t look nearly careful enough. The crowd murmured and shifted. JJ looked around. They were uncomfortable with his being hurt, but it didn’t seem like they felt sorry for the player, exactly. It was more like they wanted to get on with cheering, and this moment of required sympathy was an imposition.
He looked at Ryan and found those blue eyes gazing at him. JJ’s hand was still locked on Ryan’s forearm. He loosened his fingers. “Sorry.”
“You okay?”
“He just looks hurt bad.”
“Yeah. But they take a lot of precautions, so he may be up and ready to walk and run by the end of the day.”
“And he may not.”
“Yeah.”
The game continued, but JJ couldn’t stop thinking about the player who got hurt. He jumped up when Ryan did and cheered in the right places, but the game had lost its luster. The fun all came from Ryan being next to him. Having the man so close sent JJ’s dick into a constant state of anticipation. Lean to the left, lean to the right, stand up, sit down, fight, fight, fight. Just like the cheerleaders at halftime—who could have used a costume redesign, by the way.



The Balls to the Wall Series



Volley Balls
Bk #1


Available to purchase at 




Fire Balls 
Bk #2


Available to purchase at 




Beach Balls
Bk #3


Available to purchase at 




FAST Balls
Bk #5


Available to purchase at 



High Balls
Bk #6


Available for purchase at



Prefer paperback?
The first and second book are now available in paperback! 


Amazon | B&N








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



Giveaway







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Friday, December 1, 2017

Cover Reveal Blitz: Deadline by Jennifer Blackstream



Excited to be able to share with you the cover of DEADLINE by Jennifer Blackstream! 




Deadline
(Blood Trails Series, Bk 1)
By Jennifer Blackstream

Blurb: 

As a witch with a dark past, Shade Renard knows the Otherworld isn’t always successful at policing itself. Humans don’t believe in magic anymore, and their ignorance renders them easy prey. So when an FBI contact hires her to consult on a possible haunting in a missing persons case, Shade seizes the opportunity to see justice done.

Her case takes an unexpected turn when an undead crime lord shows up on her doorstep. A bold thief stole the vampire’s little black book of secrets—and he’ll pay a lot more than an FBI consulting fee to get it back. To collect, Shade will have to confront a rogue sorceress, a vengeful wizard, and a lethally seductive fey, with only her wits, her growing magic, and a sarcastic pixie familiar.

Success means bringing a killer to justice and taking the first step to redemption. Failure means a war between humans and the Otherworld.

No pressure.



Available on January 16th 2018

Pre-Order at



About The Author

USA Today bestselling author Jennifer Blackstream is…odd. Putting aside the fact that she writes her own author bio in third person, she also sleeps with a stuffed My Little Pony that her grandmother bought her as a joke for her 23rd birthday, and she enjoys listening to Fraggle Rock soundtracks whether or not her children are in the car.

Jennifer doesn’t have spare time, but she makes it a point to spend at least one night a week with her sibling binge-watching whatever show they’re currently plowing through (currently Numbers on Netflix), and she ferociously guards quality time with her son and daughter. She cooks when she has the sanity for it—adding garlic to the recipe whether it calls for it or not—and tries very hard not to let her arachnophobia keep her out of her basement on laundry day.

Jennifer’s influences include Terry Pratchett (for wit), Laurell K. Hamilton (for sexual tension), Jim Butcher (for roguish flair), and Kim Harrison (for mythos). She is currently writing the series of her heart and her dreams, the series that has been percolating in her brain for the last decade…Blood Trails. An Urban Fantasy Mystery series that will combine the classic whodunit spirit with a contemporary fantasy setting. Expect mystery, magic, and mayhem, with characters that will make you laugh, cry, and probably stare at the screen with your jaw hanging down to the floor. Well, that’s how they affect Jennifer anyway…


You can find Jennifer at 


Giveaway





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