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Tuesday, March 6, 2018

Release Day Blitz: Rome & Jules by Tara Lain

Rome And Jules
by Tara Lain


Two werewolf households, both alike in dignity….

Rome Siracusa, youngest son of the alpha of the nouveau-riche Siracusa pack, wants to be a faithful son and pack member, but he’s got two big secrets. One, he’s blessed with enhanced hearing, vision, strength, and the ability to shift at will. Second, he’s gay, a fact he can’t admit to his deadly homophobic father.

Rome crashes a party at the mansion of his pack’s greatest enemy, the ancient, pure-blooded Havillands. Jules, the gay son of the drunkard alpha, is being married off to a rich entrepreneur. Smitten and moved by the beautiful male’s plight, Rome tries to find a way to save Jules—while digging himself deeper into pack politics and navigating his own arranged marriage. Secrets climb out of the caves as the werewolf gods speak through the mouths of their children, and the two great families clash, suffocating the hopes of star-crossed lovers.

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Holy shit! Rome controlled his face and swooped Yolanda into a big twirl to cover his surprise. As he came out of the spin, he leaned in and sang, “Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf? The big bad wolf.”
Yolanda gave him a gutsy laugh. “Whoever you are, cutie, you’ve got balls. Not many guys want to take on my brother.”
“Surely he can’t object to you dancing?”
She shrugged. “I guess the problem is that no one knows what Ty will object to.”
“Must limit your social life.”
A crease popped between her arched brows. “Tell me about it.”
“Uh, where is your brother?”
She shrugged. “I guess he got kind of beat up on the tennis courts today and decided to go drown his sorrows with some of his cronies rather than attending this command performance.”
“But then that means he’s not performing on command.”
She spoke softly. “Ty doesn’t give a fuck. Not like old man Havilland can do much, or at least will do anything. Too busy with his friends Jack Daniels and Jim Beam.”
Rome quirked a half smile. The music stopped, and he hid his sigh of relief. He gave Yolanda a small bow. “Thank you for the dance.”
“Thank you for the courage.” She chuckled again. Shame she was a blatant enemy. He kind of liked her.
A tapping against a glass brought the whole crowd around to face the center of the dance floor.
All the guests who were sitting stood and placed a hand over their heart. Rome didn’t even have to ask. He turned to find Gerard Havilland weaving drunkenly between his sister, a pale, delicate-for-a-wolf female, and some male named Alphonse who Rome had heard was Havilland’s second. Nobody spoke about Havilland’s wife, who’d apparently walked out on him years before. Rome sighed quietly and crossed his heart. Yeah, and his fingers.
Someone started the pledge.
“I pledge my life to the alpha, who is the conduit to the wolfgods and giver of wolfen energy. Hail the alpha, source of strength and unity. Praise the alpha, defender of the pack and wellspring of all that is good. I lay myself at the alpha’s feet without need for request, cause, or reason. The alpha rules us all.”
As the voices died down, Rome felt all his hair standing on end. Regardless of how unworthy the alpha, the pledge rang with the truth of ages and united every were.
Havilland waved his hand impatiently toward the crowd. Rome turned his head—felt his mouth fall open—and let his body follow the turn.
Oh my god of wolves.
From the side of the big room walked a young male who could only be the much-heralded son. What was his name? Who cares? The guy was tall—taller even than Rome—reed slender, with dark blond hair that likely fell to his shoulders if released from the queue gathered at his neck in a ribbon. But the face. Like someone translated poetry into a person. Large eyes, so blue Rome could see their color from where he stood, dominated his face above high cheekbones that would have been gaunt if they weren’t a soft, glowing pink. His neck was long, his hands graceful. Gods, what is he? Wolf males might be tall like Rome, but they were nearly always powerfully built. This guy looked very little like Gerard Havilland.

Rome’s whole body vibrated with electricity and shook as if the male were a magnet and Rome was iron filings trying to organize around him.

Crawling through the balcony window wasn’t exactly nonconfrontational. He plopped on the grass and pressed his back against the trunk of a tree. Maybe pebbles on the window? And if it’s not his room, dumbass? It made sense he’d have the one balcony on this side of the house. Do I risk it? He’s probably still out with Asshole Anderson. Man, that idea nauseated him. He closed his eyes and bumped the back of his head against the scratchy bark.
Lights shone against his closed lids, and he flicked his eyes open. Somebody’s in that room. He rolled up to a crouch and stared at the french doors. Like he willed it, one of them opened and out walked Jules.
Whoa. Rome sucked a breath, and his alpha-advantage eyes focused clearly on the scene, even though he was many feet away. Jules’s fair hair hung onto his shoulders, shimmering in the moonlight. He’d left his shirt open, and the white fabric barely contrasted with his pale chest—the chest that showed off those surprising muscles. He leaned on the parapet and sighed. Though hardly a whisper, Rome heard it clearly. He slipped a step closer.
Jules’s head snapped up. “Is there someone there?”
Wow. Could he hear that? Think fast. “But soft. What light through yonder window breaks?” Rome stepped out from under the tree branches and stopped. If Jules was going to scream, he needed a head start on the pursuers.
Instead, Jules gave that head cock, full of curiosity and unselfconscious charm. “I’ve always liked the sun.”
Rome let his smile break free. “I thought when I saw you that your hair looks like a great fall of sunlight.”
“How poetic.”
Rome walked slowly to the foot of the balcony and gazed up at Jules. Wild overgrown vines grew on trellises, some of them hanging away from the wall with the weight of the unkempt greenery. Rome pointed toward the window in front of him. “Is there someone sleeping inside?”
“No. There’s no one else in my end of the wing on either floor.”
“How nice.”
Jules rested his forearms on the balcony rail and leaned his chin on them. “When you broke in the other night—and I still don’t know how you did that—you said you wanted to be my friend and that you were worried about me being a pawn in a political game.”
“Yes. That’s all true.”
“Umm. But I don’t have any friends who recite Shakespeare to me. At least not Romeo and Juliet.” He smiled ever so slightly.
Rome’s heart beat hard. “And what does that suggest to you?”

“That the youngest son of the rich, powerful, and very homophobic Siracusa clan… is gay.”

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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