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Friday, September 13, 2019

Release Day Blitz & Giveaway: Love You So Sweetly by Tara Lain



Reading his future in a glass of sweet tea.





Love You So Sweetly
(Love You So Series, bk 4)
by Tara Lain

Blurb:
Reading his future in a glass of sweet tea.

The youngest son of one of America’s richest families, Remy Merced is so busy trying to save his family company from collapse, he’s never taken time to figure out if he’s gay, much less if he’s happy. Then his meddling mama hires him an assistant who’s everything Remy thinks he doesn’t want. Cute Harper Treadwell, from rural Arkansas, is a brilliant business prodigy… and openly gay. His wit and charm could confirm Remy’s suspicions about his own sexuality almost instantly—if they weren’t both already partnered. 

When Remy’s girlfriend and Harper’s boyfriend get a little too friendly, Remy finds that the path to happiness requires a long drive in an old Prius, a growing appreciation for small towns, and a whole lot of sweet tea. But before they can forge a future—they have to let go of the past.




Available for purchase at



Excerpts


But he and Felicity hadn’t had sex in weeks. Shouldn’t he have a set of horns that would put Dasher, Dancer, and Prancer to shame? Hell, he was in his twenties. Even if he was sleepwalking, shouldn’t he be ready to stick his cock in anything female that passed within five feet of him? Wasn’t that the way most guys felt? Shit, these questions haunted the back of his brain all the time while the front worried about the business. And it wasn’t like he didn’t know why it worried him.

He sipped coffee and glanced at John Jack, who was smiling at his wife with open lust. It’d be nice to have somebody he trusted to tell him straight if he was undersexed or asexual, or…. He sighed softly. But he and John Jack didn’t have that kind of relationship. John Jack was seven years older and was more a product of Arkansas than California. He put a lot of store in “being a man,” and Remy was scared of what John Jack would say if Remy tried to get personal. Remy worked all the time, so everyone he knew was associated with the company, and since Remy was the boss, who the hell was he going to tell his troubles to?
His mama’s voice came from the direction of the kitchen, telling Nigel she’d like some more ice cream.

Felicity turned to Remy and leaned in. “I’m going to make my excuses. I’m too tired.” She put a hand on his arm. “Sorry, dear.” She kissed his cheek, rose, said a fast goodbye to Trudy and John Jack, and was gone before Mama even made it into the room.

Remy had a pretty good idea he shouldn’t be smiling.



He walked to the door and—oh, heaven. The coffee aroma drifted from a huge steaming cup sitting in the middle of his desk. Like he’d seen an oasis on the desert, he hurried toward the cup. Holy cow. Not just hot but white. Obviously loaded with his favorite cream. He set down his backpack and grabbed the cup before even taking off his leather jacket. After a deep inhale, he sipped. Oh wow, perfect. Eartha hardly ever put in enough cream for him, and this was—different. Unique. What a flavor.
He took another swallow, then set it on the desk and took off his jacket, his gaze already drifting toward his laptop. Cradling his cup, he slid into the chair, toggled the space bar, and stared at the results from their three pilot regions, then sighed. Fuck. Not bad, but sure as hell not good.
“Are you ready for a refill?” The voice that came from his still-open doorway sounded like someone had poured extra cream into it as well.
Remy looked up, bobbled the cup, and splashed white coffee onto his desk and jeans. “Ow! Shit.”
“Oh Lord, I’m so sorry.”
By then Remy was on his feet, brushing at the drops clinging to the denim and frantically examining his starched white shirt. Before he quite grasped what was happening, long-fingered hands were brushing at his pant legs from behind, dangerously close to all kinds of personal items.
Remy danced in a circle. “Uh, wait. Enough. I got it.” He extended an arm to ward off the intrusive ministrations and came face-to-face with—who? He’d never seen the guy before. Young, with straight dark hair that was just that bit too long, kind of like his own, a slim face with high cheekbones and huge, doe-like eyes of clearest blue behind dark-rimmed glasses. Adorable nerd came to mind although it was a strange way to describe a guy. “Who are you?”
The guy clearly took a breath because his chest in a maroon sweater vest expanded and his nostrils flared. “Mr. Merced, I’m Harper Treadwell, your new assistant.”
For a second nothing quite computed, then his mother’s pronouncement of the previous day rushed back. “Oh.”
“I’m so mortified to have gotten off on the wrong foot. I just noticed you seemed to like the coffee and wondered if you wanted more.”
“The coffee?” Remy stared at the cup on his desk sitting in a small ring of spilled french roast.
“How about I clean that up and get you a new cup?” Harper grabbed the cup, pulled a real-life hanky from his pocket, and captured the drips, then rushed out of the office.
Remy kept staring. His brain must be too exhausted to click into gear, because whirlwind Harper returned with a brimming cup, a spray bottle of some kind of cleaner, and a rag before Remy even blinked. Harper carefully set the cup on a bookcase, sprayed the desk and cleaned it like he was doing art restoration. Then he lovingly set the cup on the desk and stepped back. “I’ll be happy to take your jeans to the Laundromat, sir, if you’d like.”
“Wha—no. Uh, thank you. How did you know about the coffee?”
“Know?”
“About the extra cream?”

“Oh, I asked my mama to ask your mama.” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and then smiled with lots of teeth, but his gaze skittered around. “So how can I help you this morning?”


When the door to the room opened and closed, a little steam escaped, but the system wouldn’t stop. Okay, enough. It wasn’t really relaxing. Gasping, he rushed across the room and out the door. Whew. Wiping his face on one end of his towel, he hurried into the locker area and toward his bay.
Like some well-rehearsed vaudeville act, Remy rounded the corner just in time to see a towel flash through the air toward the hamper. Behind the towel stood Harper Treadwell, all six willowy feet of him, stark naked.
“Oh.”
“Oh.”
Neither of them moved. Well, except maybe for the long, low-hanging dick in a nest of dark curls at Harper’s groin that might, just might, have given a little hop. From the direction of Harper’s eyes, it seemed the towel Remy had used to wipe his face was no longer covering his lower regions.
Weirdly, his first thought was that he hoped his cock looked as good as Harper’s.
Harper seemed to shake himself, which set up tremors in his private parts. He grabbed for a towel from the rack beside him and whipped it in front of him, clearly trying for nonchalance and missing by a mile. “Uh, hi. Sorry. Nearly hit you with that towel. I was trying for a three.”
Remy blinked. “Three?”
“Points.” Harper grinned, and it was like every cell in Remy’s body smiled back—except his mouth. Harper said, “I scored.”
Remy slowly pulled the towel down to cover the essentials, which were expressing uncertain feelings at that moment, and equally slowly walked to his locker. “So you were in the gym?”
“Yes. I did the Pilates class. Man, it’s terrific. I don’t have my own reformer, so I’m thrilled to be able to use the equipment here. The instructor’s great, just great. Well, excuse me, I need to take a shower.” He bolted from the lockers.

Remy collapsed on the bench. Part of him wanted to laugh. The guy had looked like Bambi escaping the wildfire, all long legs and huge eyes. But the part of Remy that had practically swallowed his tongue at the sight of those wide shoulders, lean hips, strong, long thighs and strong, long cock didn’t want to laugh at all.




Love You So Series




Bk 1
LOVE YOU SO HARD

Available for purchase a
Kindle |  Audible | Kobo | iTunes | Nook | Dreamspinner Press

Bk 2
LOVE YOU SO MADLY


Available for purchase at at 


Bk 4
LOVE YOU SO SPECIAL


Available for purchase at



About the Author


Tara Lain believes in happy ever afters – and magic. Same thing. In fact, she says, she doesn’t believe, she knows. Tara shares this passion in her best-selling stories that star her unique, charismatic heroes — the beautiful boys of romance —  and adventurous heroines. Quarterbacks and cops, werewolves and witches, blue collar or billionaires, Tara’s characters, readers say, love deeply, resolve seemingly insurmountable differences, and ultimately live their lives authentically. After many years living in southern California, Tara, her soulmate honey and her soulmate dog decided they wanted less cars and more trees, prompting a move to Ashland, Oregon where Tara’s creating new stories and loving living in a small town with big culture. Likely a Gryffindor but possessed of Parseltongue, Tara loves animals of all kinds, diversity, open minds, coconut crunch ice cream from Zoeys, and her readers. She also loves to hear from you.   



You can find Tara at Lain

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