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.
What People Say
Sinfully Gay Book Reviews says — 41/2 Stars!
“There were moments of pure heartbreak, but they were fleeting and the story as a whole is extremely satisfying.”
“Fun, sweet, charming. Those words come to mind when I think about this book. It is a perfect addition to the highly successful Balls to the Wall series.” ~ Tanja (Goodreads Review) _________________________________________________________________________-
As the first full length novel in the Balls to the Wall series, Bleu Balls is available in print paperback
“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.
“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.