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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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