Special Guest: Andrew Grey with Taming the Beast!

Hi. This is Tara. Thank you for stopping by the blog. I’m on vacation right now — the first longer-than-a-weekend vacay I’ve taken in years that didn’t include writing workshops. While I’m gone, I invited a bunch of my friends — some of your fave authors — to stop by and share their news and new releases. I know you’ll love it. Enjoy. Talk soon. : )

Please welcome author Andrew Grey

 

 

Taming the Beast
By Andrew Grey

Blurb:
The suspicious death of Dante Bartholomew’s wife changed him, especially in the eyes of the residents of St. Giles. They no longer see a successful businessman… only a monster they believe was involved. Dante’s horrific reputation eclipses the truth to the point that he sees no choice but to isolate himself and his heart.

The plan backfires when he meets counselor Beau Clarity and the children he works with. Beau and the kids see beyond the beastly reputation to the beautiful soul inside Dante, and Dante’s cold heart begins to thaw as they slip past his defenses. The warmth and hope Beau brings to Dante’s life helps him see his entire existence—his trials and sorrows—in a brighter light.
But Dante’s secrets could rip happiness from their grasp… especially since someone isn’t above hurting those Dante has grown to love in order to bring him down.

 

Available for purchase at
Dreamspinner | Kindle | Amazon Paperback | B&N Paperback

 

Excerpt

 

 Dante turned back to Bobby. “Do you know what we’re going to have for dinner?”“Roast beef and potatoes and beans.” Bobby made a face. “I don’t like beans.”

“Bobby,” Beau said gently.

“Why not? They’re good, and they make you grow up big and strong. My mom always made me eat my green beans, and look at me.” He sat up straight, and Bobby’s eyes widened.

“These are green and yellow beans together,” Beau clarified.

“Even better. The yellow ones make you smarter. I really like those. And it’s good to be smart.” Dante nudged Bobby. “I’ll make a deal with you. If you eat all your beans, then after dinner, I’ll see if they have any ice cream for dessert.”

Bobby shook his head. “There’s cake.” He pushed out his lower lip. “I can’t have cake. It has gluten in it.” He turned away, his little shoulders drooping.

“I see.” Dante pulled out his phone and made a very quick call to Harriet at the house, then began to eat. When he was done with his starter, his salad was placed in front of him, and he ate it slowly. As he finished, the lady from the other couple, who had been quiet so far, asked him about what the Foundation did. “It’s to better the people and community of St. Giles and Maryland in general, though we localize our work to the Eastern Shore. We take proposals from anyone and evaluate them for community impact and need.”

“Do you get anything out of it?” she asked.

“I own the porcelain works, and half the profits go into the Foundation. We invest the money and then arrange to distribute the earnings through our projects. The principal is never touched, and so far it has grown each year through contributions.” Dante finished his salad and glanced at Bobby, who was carefully eating one piece of lettuce at a time.

“I’m Clyde Harrison, and this is my wife, Jean. I’m a second-shift foreman at the porcelain works.” He reached across the table to shake hands, and Jean did the same. They both seemed nervous, like if they said one wrong thing, Dante would fire him.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jean.” He turned to Clyde. “I’ve seen you at the plant.” He thought for a second. “You were the one who came up with the idea to reroute the laboratory-ware line last year. That was a great idea, and it’ll be done next month. We figure it will save us quite a bit.” Dante had already arranged a bonus for him, but he’d let that work through the channels.

The conversation died, and Dante turned to Bobby, who had eaten about half his salad and seemed to be finished. “Are you done?” Dante asked him, and Bobby nodded. The servers collected their plates and brought the dinners.

“Do I have to eat all this?” Bobby whispered. “Mama says I have to clean my plate and not waste food.” He looked at him and then at Beau.

“Just eat what you want and have some of the beans.” Dante winked, and Bobby took a bite of the beans and ate a few before starting on the rest. Beau helped Bobby cut his meat, and then the kid ate like a trooper. “Is it good?” Dante asked.

Bobby grinned, nodded, and went back to eating. Dante took a few bites and ate a little of the roast beef. It was okay. The potatoes weren’t exceptional. He ate the vegetables and enough of the rest to make his hunger abate and then waited for his plate to be cleared.

As the conversation in the room increased while the courses were changed, Dante excused himself and left the room. Roberts stood waiting for him. “Harriet added some ice to make sure this stayed cold.”

“Thank you.” Dante took the small cooler bag and carried it back into the banquet room. Pieces of cake had been distributed, with one sitting in front of each place, including Bobby’s, taunting the poor kid. Dante moved the cake aside and opened the bag. Dante took out a bowl of Harriet’s homemade chocolate ice cream and set it at Bobby’s place. “Guaranteed gluten-free.”

“Thank you!” Bobby said and began to eat like he hadn’t just had dinner.

 

 

About The Author

Andrew grew up in western Michigan with a father who loved to tell stories and a mother who loved to read them. Since then he has lived throughout the country and traveled throughout the world. He has a master’s degree from the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee and works in information systems for a large corporation.

Andrew’s hobbies include collecting antiques, gardening, and leaving his dirty dishes anywhere but in the sink (particularly when writing) He considers himself blessed with an accepting family, fantastic friends, and the world’s most supportive and loving partner. Andrew currently lives in beautiful, historic Carlisle, Pennsylvania.

You can connect with Andrew at
Website | Facebook | Twitter | Amazon | Goodreads

Special Guest: KC Burn with Tea or Consequences!

Hi. This is Tara. Thank you for stopping by the blog. I’m on vacation right now — the first longer-than-a-weekend vacay I’ve taken in years that didn’t include writing workshops. While I’m gone, I invited a bunch of my friends — some of your fave authors — to stop by and share their news and new releases. I know you’ll love it. Enjoy. Talk soon. : )

Please welcome author KC Burn

 

 

Tea or Consequences 
By K.C. Burns

Blurb:
Riley Parker: temp, twink, geek… sleuth?

Maybe Riley isn’t living up to his full potential, but being a temp executive assistant suits him. He’s never bored at work, he’s got friends who let him geek out, and he’s got a carefully crafted twink exterior… which might be getting constrictive now that he’s on the other side of thirty. Life isn’t perfect, but it’s comfortable.

It all unravels when he takes a job working for a tea-obsessed cosmetics queen, the owner of Gautier Cosmetics. During the launch party for a new product, Riley finds his boss dead under suspicious circumstances, and the homicide detective is none other than Tadeo Martin, Riley’s high school obsession who never knew he was alive.

Tad drafts Riley to get the scoop on the inner workings of Gautier, and for Riley, it’s like a drug. His natural inquisitiveness is rewarded with more and more Tad. Unfortunately, his snooping puts him in the running for two other roles: suspect and victim. The killer doesn’t care which.

Available for purchase at

DreamspinnerKindle | Amazon Paperback |  Kobo | Nook | B&N Paperback |iBooks

Excerpt

 

Early Sunday morning Riley rolled out of bed, refreshed and mostly feeling good. He had vague memories of getting up late Saturday afternoon and spending several hours dozing in front of the television before returning to bed. The sleeping pill might have hit him harder than normal, but Riley suspected it was the stress of finding Gabrielle on top of the highly soporific effects of his sleeping pill that had kept him zonked for over twenty-four hours. Giving up a precious weekend day was well worth it, though, because it no longer felt like ants were running through his brain and over his skin.After plucking his phone off the dresser, he turned it on, pleasantly surprised by the lack of “WTF?” texts from his friends. Riley quickly shot off an email about bailing on gaming later that afternoon. For many things in his life, gaming was and had been a welcome distraction, but he’d never be able to concentrate.

Most importantly, he had no messages from his agency. Which meant that until further notice, he would be returning to Gautier Cosmetics. If nothing else, they might need some assistance redistributing Gabrielle’s files and fielding phone calls, keeping the lights on while the family mourned.

Thinking about redistributing files twigged a memory that had completely escaped him when faced with Tad while trying to recover from the shock of finding Gabrielle dead. Before he could enumerate all the reasons he shouldn’t or couldn’t talk to Tad, he retrieved the business card from the pants he’d stuffed into the laundry hamper—and dialed the number.

“Detective Tad Martin.” Tad’s words were alert and brusque, despite the delivery in a voice thick and rough like he’d just woken up.

A delicious shudder shook Riley as he imagined Tad naked in bed, hair mussed, a sheet barely covering sleek hips, and he manfully resisted the urge to palm his cock.

“Hi, it’s Riley Parker?” Riley grimaced. Between the breaking voice—again—and Riley saying his name as though he wasn’t sure who he was, Tad was probably silently laughing on the other end of the line. Embarrassment killed Riley’s burgeoning arousal. “Uh. From Friday. Gabrielle Gautier’s death? I’m sorry I woke you up.”

Tad cleared his throat. “Riley. Yes. It’s fine, you didn’t wake me up.”

Sure he didn’t. But there were more important things at stake.

“I remembered something else. Something unusual—or at least I think it was unusual—happened about a week before Gabrielle died.”

“Okay. Think you can meet me at the Golden Griddle on Carlton in an hour for breakfast?”

Stunned, Riley couldn’t reply. He’d remembered such a tiny tidbit of information, hardly worthy of an in-person meeting, and yet the temptation, however foolish, to see Tad again was irresistible. “Yes, I can do that.”

“See you in an hour.” Tad disconnected the call before Riley could second-guess himself. It wasn’t a date, but his fascination with Tad had already come roaring back when he’d thought he’d successfully buried it and salted the earth over those fruitless feelings.

 

About The Author 

KC Burn has been writing for as long as she can remember and is a sucker for happy endings (of all kinds). After moving from Toronto to Florida for her husband to take a dream job, she discovered a love of gay romance and fulfilled a dream of her own — getting published. After a few years of editing web content by day, and neglecting her supportive, understanding hubby and needy cat at night to write stories about men loving men, she was uprooted yet again and now resides in California. Writing is always fun and rewarding, but writing about her guys is the most fun she’s had in a long time, and she hopes you’ll enjoy them as much as she does.

You can connect with KC at
Website | Facebook | Twitter | Newsletter

Special Guest: Damon Suede with Lickety Split

Hi. This is Tara. Thank you for stopping by the blog. I’m on vacation right now — the first longer-than-a-weekend vacay I’ve taken in years that didn’t include writing workshops. While I’m gone, I invited a bunch of my friends — some of your fave authors — to stop by and share their news and new releases. I know you’ll love it. Enjoy. Talk soon. : )

Please welcome author Damon Suede

 

 

Lickety Split
By Damon Suede

Blurb:
Lickety Split: Love won’t wait.

Patch Hastle grew up in a hurry, ditching East Texas for NYC to make his name as a DJ and model without ever looking back. When his parents die unexpectedly, he heads home to unload the family farm ASAP and skedaddle. Except the will left Patch’s worst enemy in charge: his father’s handsome best friend who made his high school years hell.

Tucker Biggs is going nowhere. Twenty years past his rodeo days, he’s put down roots as the caretaker of the Hastle farm. He knows his buddy’s smartass son still hates his guts, but when Patch shows up growed-up, looking like sin in tight denim, Tucker turns his homecoming into a lesson about old dogs and new kinks.

Patch and Tucker fool around, but they can’t fool themselves. Once the farm’s sold, they mean to call it quits and head off to separate sunsets. With the clock ticking, the city slicker and his down-home hick get roped into each other’s life. If they’re gonna last longer than spit on a griddle, they better figure out what matters—fast.

Available for purchase at
Dreamspinner | Kindle | Amazon Paperback | Nook |B&N Paperback | Kobo | iBooks

Excerpt

 In this excerpt from Chapter Four, the day after their first awkward, intense sexual encounter, Patch takes a dip in the pond not expecting Tucker to show up.

 On the big rock near the pond’s center, Patch stood again and scraped the water from his wavy hair. He had a memory of his pa balancing him on a horse as a boy. Steady now. The sun felt like heaven through his closed eyes. He turned and dove back in.Even at its deepest, the water only came up to his chest and the carp in the weeds weren’t something he’d ever eat. The bottom was broken rock at one end and cool mud at the other.

Patch had learned to jerk off against those flat rocks, snuck beers, and smoked the only two cigarettes of his life too. Sophomore year, he’d fooled around on the rockier shore with teammates because it was private and navigable in the dark. Against that tree, he’d kissed his first girl (meh) and blown his first boy (yeah!).

“Afternoon.”

Patch stiffened and straightened, twisted to face the gravelly drawl with a cold twist in his gut.

Tucker stood on the opposite shore in Carhartt overalls and that straw work hat. His muscular arms looked tan and greasy against his white undershirt. “I guess we had the same idea.” He glanced at the sky, the water. “It’s hot as a whorehouse on nickel night.” He shifted his weight but came no closer.

A flicker of Tucker naked in the armchair, glittering eyes gazing down at him, the taste of his semen pinning them both in place… Patch blinked it away, hyperconscious of his wet, bare skin and the distance between them. He went no closer to the pebbly shore.

They eyed each other. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three—

“So…. Uhh.” Tucker took his hat off with one hand and wiped his brow and mouth with the other. “We talking?”

Patch frowned, trapped by his nudity and the water.

“I mean, do we talk about what we done?” Tucker crouched at the water’s edge, his boots sinking into the smooth mud. No one had a right to look that good. “Last night. Or are you fixin’ to run off again?” He said run like a cuss word, painting Patch a coward for having some sense.

Patch started to snap back at him out of habit, but then he thought better of it. “Naw.”

“How you today?” Tucker seemed to be actually asking a legitimate question. “Better?”

He shrugged. “I guess. Sure.” Exposed and motionless, he let Tucker’s gaze rest on him across the water. Whatever had passed between them last night had not vanished in sunlight.

Tucker looked relaxed, and cautious.

Patch swallowed, his shaft fattening underwater. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

He crossed his arms. “Which part?” Tucker squinted. “Come to visit? Squirted the side of my trailer? Eaten my load?”

“None. All.” Knowing it was a mistake, certain he would regret it, he pushed through the cool water toward the one person he had no business wanting. He moved as he would’ve for a racy photo shoot, fucking the imaginary lens with his presence, demanding a reaction.

Tucker watched him warily from under the trees still, overalls hanging from one strap. “I guess we are.” A crooked smile bent the edge of his mouth. “Talking.”

The closer Patch got to the shore the more of his torso was revealed: nipples, navel, and gradually the darkened trail down to his pubes. His dick thickened and shifted in the water, swirling around his waist as he advanced. Now his body was clean but his thoughts were everything else.

Tucker stared as if hypnotized. He wiped his lower face, lip to chin, and swallowed. He was sweating now. Was that a boner in his overalls?

Patch strode in slow motion, stirring the calm pond water as if sleepwalking. He shouldn’t want this so much but couldn’t make himself care. Conscious of the picture he made, he crooked a sinful grin just for effect.

Eyes wider, Tucker stood and took a step back. “Well, okay, now. Okay.”

“You afraid of me now?” Patch paused one step before his erection broke the surface. Tucker stood as if rooted to the shore. “Or you gonna come for a swim?”

“I’m good.” Tucker swallowed and his tongue slipped out to taste his lips. He couldn’t seem to look at Patch’s face. “Fine. Y’know.” His hands squeezed and released beside his pockets.

So Patch took the step that brought his knob out of the water and his boner dripped between them. Way too much fun watching the big cowboy squirm. He’d come out here looking for trouble; Patch was happy to give it to him.

On the shady shore, Tucker rocked back on his heels and shifted his straw hat to cover the lump under his coveralls.

Patch couldn’t look anywhere else. Another step. The cool mud sucked at his toes in the water dripped from his skin with each step he shouldn’t take.

How had he gotten here? Naked on the family farm, thigh-deep in stagnant water, walking toward a bear trap. New York City and all its fancy bullshit seemed like the other side of the world. Hot wind pushed through the trees overhead; the kudzu hissed and the live oaks whispered above them.

Tucker stood waiting and wary now, a sexy, lazy no-account who’d only ever wanted to scare him straight. They both knew better, but now they stood a yard apart with disaster churning between them.

 

About The Author

 

Damon Suede grew up out-n-proud deep in the anus of right-wing America, and escaped as soon as it was legal. Though new to romance fiction, Damon has been writing for print, stage, and screen for two decades. He’s won some awards, but counts his blessings more often: his amazing friends, his demented family, his beautiful husband, his loyal fans, and his silly, stern, seductive Muse who keeps whispering in his ear, year after year.

Get in touch with him at
Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Amazon

Special Guest: Z.A. Maxfield With All Wheel Drive!

Hi. This is Tara. Thank you for stopping by the blog. I’m on vacation right now — the first longer-than-a-weekend vacay I’ve taken in years that didn’t include writing workshops. While I’m gone, I invited a bunch of my friends — some of your fave authors — to stop by and share their news and new releases. I know you’ll love it. Enjoy. Talk soon. : )

Please welcome author Z.A. Maxfield

 

All Wheel Drive
(Bluewater Bay #18)
By Z.A. Maxfield

Blurb:
Healey Holly is battered, depressed, and looking to go to ground in his childhood home. He wants to rent the garage apartment, but it’s Diego Luz’s place now, and the last thing Diego wants is to share it.

Diego is recovering too—from the accident that put him in a wheelchair and the death of his mother shortly after. The garage apartment is where he’s keeping his mother’s things, and as long as they’re up those stairs and he’s down on the ground, there’s no way he can deal with his loss. And that’s just how he likes it.

Healey believes in science. Diego believes in luck. It will take a blend of both, and some prayer thrown in besides, for these two to learn that it’s the journey and the destination that matter.

Available to purchase at

Kindle | Amazon Paperback | Nook | B&N Paperback |  Kobo | iBooks 

Excerpt

 

 

Chapter 1

Diego

The man at the door was a mess.

Diego’s first look through the peephole showed a sort of monster silhouette—a weirdly shaped humanoid dragging a wheeled duffel bag.

In the porch light’s acrid yellow glow, the very shape of him set off a boogeyman, stranger-danger skin-crawl. Ruthlessly, he suppressed any instinct for self-preservation and opened the door wide, but his visitor was just an ordinary man with a mass of healing facial wounds, one arm in a cast, and the haunted look of a recent combat veteran. Diego didn’t recognize him, but there was nothing to be scared of. Whatever had happened to him was potentially frightening, but he was only a guy.

“Can I help you?”

“I hope so. I called about the room over the garage?”

“And I told you when you called: I’m not renting it out. I need it for storage. How did you even know—”

“I’m still hoping you’ll change your mind. I grew up around here. I remember the family that used to live here, and I feel like—” The man stopped. Gathered himself. “I need a room for a little while, and if you’re only using it for storage . . .”

Sorrow limned what few features Diego could guess at behind the bandages, healing abrasions, and the shiny pink newness of burns. Dude had shaved his hair on the sides but the top was long, the result being a man-bun swirl of wavy brown hair that looked greasy. How was this guy even keeping himself clean? Despair, and something infinitely worse hung around him like a toxic cloud. Hopelessness.

Diego recognized the man’s helpless anxiety and anguish all too well.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“John Smith.”

Irritated, Diego eyed him sourly. “I take it you ain’t filling out a rental application?”

“Sure. I’ll fill one out.” It was hard to watch a smile crack those dry, scabbed lips, but it was a nice smile. A friendly smile. Dude wasn’t using it very often, obviously. “I’m thinking of taking up fiction writing as a career anyway.”

“You make it so hard to say no.”

Diego started to close the door, but that soft cast shot out, and Diego didn’t have it in him right then to add injury to . . . injury.

“You want to try and convince me some more?” Diego asked sarcastically. “You want to add you’re also a known terrorist carrying small pox?”

“Two thousand cash a month. Six months tops. It’s a room with a toilet, a sink, and a shower, right?”

“How do you know that? How’d you even get my number?”

Dude’s eyes widened. Then narrowed. “Never mind how I know. My Uber driver left me, and I’ll have to walk all the way to the nearest motel. Where is that, anyway?”

“Three thousand,” Diego countered, “and you move whatever shit’s up there down to the garage.”

“Done.” The dude frowned. “Wait. What’s up there?”

Diego shrugged. “Stuff from my mother’s place, probably. I told the company that moved me to put whatever wasn’t marked for immediate use up there. And since I can’t exactly fly up there to take a look around”—he thumped the wheels of his chair—“I don’t give a shit. Haven’t missed a thing, so whatever’s up there can’t be too important. You move it, hand me thirty Benjamins, and we’re good.”

“Yeah?”

Was that relief on his face? Diego didn’t smile back. “Trial basis. For a month.”

“Fine.”

“Too much drinking, drugging, loud sex? Not fine. Loud parties? Not fine. No one better bother me, leave trash around, or even look at me askance. No redneck music. In fact, give me your number.” He took out his phone, opened the contacts, and let his new tenant type it in. “I control all of the music around here, or you can leave right now. I can’t walk up those stairs but I can light the place on fire from below and rebuild. If you piss me off, I’ll shoot you and tell the police you frightened my permanently-seated ass, and we’ll see who they blame.”

“Askance? Is that a thing now?”

Oh, there it was again. That elusive spark of humor. “It’s always been a thing.”

“I’ll be sure not to do it.”

“All right, then. I’ll get you a key.”

“No need.” Dude reached gingerly into the pocket of his leather jacket. He pulled out a fat wad of cash and a Costco card. “That lock’s always been a piece of shit.”

Diego took the cash, counted it out. “This is only two grand.”

“I’ll get you the rest tomorrow. I’m good for it.”

Diego nodded, wheeled backward, and gave the door a shove to shut it. It banged in the dude’s face, but that was partly the wind. Dude couldn’t blame him for the wind, could he?

So. Now he had a tenant for a bit.

He could have said no.

He could have said hell no.

As soon as the dude got a look at his room, he’d probably come back down. If he caused any trouble, Diego could give back the money and boot his ass. If John Smith gave him any attitude, Diego could call the cops. But that would be a lot of bother to go through, when spending the night in a dank-ass garage apartment with no bed, no food, and a single hanging overhead lightbulb was punishment enough.

A quick look at the time told Diego he’d better call it a night. While he went through the motions getting ready for bed, the part of his brain that remembered the haunted look in his new tenant’s eyes—the part of him that recognized and responded to and acknowledged the unfairness of things and the failure of good people to alleviate human suffering in the long run—listened with half an ear for the sound of boxes being shuffled around.

The man couldn’t move things in his condition. He’d have to ask for help, at which point Diego planned to drive him to the nearest bed-and-waffle-buffet motel. Such a thing would probably cost less than the three grand he’d promised Diego anyway, and sure as fuck nobody’d be feeding him here.

Diego definitely did not think about dust or spiders or other critters. He was not imagining a room he’d never even been in but could visualize from realtor’s photos—wood-paneled walls and vinyl flooring in sickly, faded shades of brown and orange and yellow. But he’d never wanted a tenant. He hadn’t sent anyone but the movers up there after he’d come to Bluewater Bay. Hadn’t cleaned the place. Hadn’t advertised it.

It was almost a public service letting the dude get his fill of it. Returning home after a traumatic event might seem like a good thing to a guy like that. There was a lot to be said for nostalgia. But an old childhood hangout wasn’t the place for someone so physically banged-up, and he’d soon realize it.

What he needed was his family. Friends. Tribe. What he was looking for was safety. Diego could tell him that safety was an illusion, but it looked like he’d already gotten the news.

Even as he grew sleepy, Diego kept an ear tuned for unusual noises.

John Smith’d be back if he couldn’t get the door open. He’d knock if sleeping on the floor beat to hell like that was as fucked up as it sounded.

Diego drifted off to sleep wishing he was the type of guy to treat a man’s pride like it wasn’t as important as his body.

 

About The Author

Z. A. Maxfield started writing in 2007 on a dare from her children and never looked back. Pathologically disorganized, and perennially optimistic, she writes as much as she can, reads as much as she dares, and enjoys her time with family and friends. Three things reverberate throughout all her stories: Unconditional love, redemption, and the belief that miracles happen when we least expect them.

If anyone asks her how a wife and mother of four can find time for a writing career, she’ll answer, “It’s amazing what you can accomplish if you give up housework.”

 

Readers can visit ZAM at her
Website |  Facebook | Twitter | InstagramGoodreads | Amazon

SALE! Weekend Reads from Tara Lain. 99 Cents! #contemporary #paranormal

LIMITED TIME ONLY!
Dec. 6, 2017 – Dec. 8, 2017

Grab your copy of
KNIGHT OF OCEAN AVENUE
BEACH BALLS
THE PACK OR THE PANTHER
for only 99 Cents each at Dreamspinner Press!

Hi! I’m actually on vacation, but i’m happy to tell you I’m leaving some special weekend reads behind. Move fast and grab your copies. Knight of Ocean Avenue is a super bestseller and if you haven’t read it, don’t miss it. Beach Balls is in the Balls to the Wall series and will give you a taste of my Laguna boys (Check out my new release, High Balls, HERE), and if you’re a paranormal fan, The Pack or the Panther will introduce you to a super fun world of werewolves. Enjoy!

Knight Of Ocean Avenue
(Love in Laguna Series, Bk #1)
By Tara Lain

Blurb: 

How can you be twenty-five and not know you’re gay? Billy Ballew runs from that question. A high school dropout, barely able to read until he taught himself, Billy’s life is driven by his need to help support his parents as a construction worker, put his sisters through college, coach his Little League team, and not think about being a three-time loser in the engagement department. Being terrified of taking tests keeps Billy from getting the contractor’s license he so desires, and fear of his mother’s judgement blinds Billy to what could make him truly happy.

Then, in preparation for his sister’s big wedding, Billy meets Shaz—Chase Phillips—a rising star, celebrity stylist who defines the word gay. To Shaz, Billy embodies everything he’s ever wanted—stalwart, honest, brave—but even if Billy turns out to be gay, he could never endure the censure he’d get for being with a queen like Shaz. How can two men with so little in common find a way to be together? Can the Stylist of the Year end up with the Knight of Ocean Avenue?

Purchase KNIGHT OF OCEAN AVENUE for only 99 Cents here!

 

 

Beach Balls
(Balls to the Wall Series, #3)
By Tara Lain

Blurb:

Adam James is so far in the closet he could find Narnia. As an attorney for the homophobic WMA Development, he can’t come out without risking the million-dollar paycheck waiting for him once they push their big land development deal through the city council—money that will finally allow Adam to live according to his own terms. Then, on an early morning scuba dive, Adam meets a tall, lean rebreather diver named Sky who makes him want to hug a tree.
Sky Sea Mickeljohn stands for the environment, world peace, and being openly gay. He won’t compromise his principles for anyone—even the damned lying developer lawyer he can’t help lusting after. True, the WMA land development deal could put thousands of people at risk, but Sky still wants to risk his heart. In the fight between freedom and integrity, is there a place for love?

Purchase BEACH BALLS for only 99 Cents here!

 

 

The Pack or the Panther
(Tales of the Harker Pack Series, #1)
By Tara Lain

Blurb:

Cole Harker, son of an alpha werewolf, is bigger and more powerful than most wolves, tongue-tied in groups, and gay. For twenty-four years, he’s lived to please his family and pack—even letting them promise him in marriage to female werewolf Analiese to secure a pack alliance and help save them from a powerful gangster who wants their land. Then Cole meets Analiese’s half-brother, panther shifter Paris Marketo, and for the first time, Cole wants something for himself.

When Analiese runs off to marry a human, Cole finally has a chance with Paris, but the solitary cat rejects him, the pack, and everything it represents. Then Cole discovers the gangster wants Paris too and won’t rest until he has him. What started as a land dispute turns into World War Wolf! But the bigger fight is the battle between cats and dogs.

Purchase THE PACK OR THE PANTHER for only 99 Cents here!

 

 

New Release! HIGH BALLS by Tara Lain and Enter to Win! #new #BallsstotheWall

Sometimes only the wrong guy can bring the 
right happy ever after.

Hi everyone — I’m so thrilled to be able to announce the release of High Balls. As you may know, this is the first entirely new book in the popular Balls to the Wall series since 2013. Volley Balls is mostly new, but this one is a brand new story and set of heroes. I had a blast revisiting my ballsy guys and weaving their lives into the love story of Theodore and Snake. I hope you love it — and be sure to enter to win! HUGS!

Blog Tour Stops

October 4, 2017
MainelyStories
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October 5, 2017
Making it Happen
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October 6, 2017
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October 9, 2017
 Love Bytes
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October 10, 2017
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Bayou Book Junkie

High Balls
(Balls To The Wall Series #6 )
by Tara Lain
 
Blurb:
Though only twenty-six, single father Theodore Walters lives with his head in the clouds and his feet firmly planted in reality. At the center of his life is Andy, his seven-year-old son, with whom he shares no DNA, though nobody—including his religious-fanatic in-laws—knows that, and Theodore will do anything to keep them from finding out. Theodore works hard to get his PhD and the tenure and salary that might follow to make a better life for Andy—but the head of his department thinks his dissertation on Jane Austen and romance novels is frivolous.
Theodore’s carefully planned life goes off the rails when he walks into a popular Laguna Beach bar and meets the bartender, “Snake” Erasmo, a pierced and tattooed biker who sends Theodore’s imagination—and libido—soaring. Snake has even more secrets than Theodore and couldn’t be a less “appropriate” match, but he might be the only guy with the skills to show Theodore that happily-ever-after is for real.

Available for purchase at

Kindle | Nook | Kobo | iTunes | Dreamspinner Press

Excerpts

 

A second later in his bedroom, as Theodore stood in his boxer briefs staring at his minimal wardrobe, Andy stuck his head in the door. “Hiya, Dad.”

“Hi.”

“Whatcha doing?”

“Trying to figure out what to wear.”

He wandered in and plopped on the unmade bed. “You got a date?”

“Uh, kind of. I mean, yes.”

“So what kind of guy is he?”

“What do you mean?” Was his son checking his date’s résumé?

“You know, is he, like, really conservative—I don’t mean, like, Republican, I mean, does he wear ties and stuff? Or is he, like, ace?”

“Ace?”

“Uh, like, rad, cool?”

“Definitely cool.”

“Okay.” He flipped on his stomach and pointed toward the closet. “Black jeans.”

Theodore pulled his one good pair from the hanger and slid them on.

“Excellent. Now white shirt.”

“Really? Isn’t that kind of conservative?”

“No, you gotta trust me.”

“Okay.” He shrugged on the shirt. “Do I tuck it in?”

“Of course. Black belt.”

He did as instructed. Had to admit those jeans did show off his ass and the shirt made him look more mature and a bit—well, cool.

“Okay, now take the vest you wear to work.”

“You mean, like, a suit vest?”

“Yeah.”

“Which one? I have two.”

“Let me look.” He hopped to a cross-legged position as Theodore held up his navy blue vest and his tan vest.

“That one.” He pointed toward the tan.

“You sure?” Andy nodded. Hell, humor the kid. I can take it off later. He slid on the vest and—son of a bitch if it didn’t look bitchin’. “Hey, good job, this looks—” He grinned. “—ace.”

“Told ya.”

Theodore sat on the edge of the bed next to his fashion consultant. “I won’t be real late, but go to bed on time for Jillian so you can get up and be smart tomorrow. How’s your homework?” Personally he thought they gave second graders too much, but he didn’t want to have Andy falling behind.

“I’ve got a lot done.”

“Ask Jillian to check it over when you’re finished, okay? If you need me, call me.”

“Sure. Have a good time with the ace.” He flashed his little teeth with the big gap in the middle.

“I will, derp.” He kissed Andy’s nose.

“Dad, nobody says that. Especially not grown-ups.”

“How could someone so hopelessly uncool have such an awesome son?”

“Good question.”

 

 

“Mr. Walters, please explain the methodology of your research.”

And so it began. The words flowed across his tongue—the thousands of questionnaires and over a hundred personal interviews showing the education, expertise, and experience of romance writers, their use and extension of techniques pioneered by Austen and other major literary figures. He discussed tropes and their application in so called “fine” literature as well as genre fiction. Quoting verbatim from scholars he’d interviewed, he showed how many academics dismissed romance fiction purely because of its association with female readers.

Dr. Willamette said, “How large is the romance market, Mr. Walters?” She actually seemed interested.

“It’s a moving target and difficult to pin down due to the vastness and fluidity of the ebook market, but well over a billion dollars, for sure. It’s the largest book market in the world by double over the next genre.”

“Oh my. Wouldn’t it be nice to bring those people more actively into the field of literature? More teachers and more students?” She smiled.

“My point exactly.”

Ashworth sputtered, “You want to bring these illiterate, uncultured old maids and housewives into the literary tent? You must be joking.”

Dr. Willamette’s face fell, and Theodore worked to ungrit his teeth.

Dr. T. tried to keep the tone upbeat, but every time Mr. Karl or Dr. Willamette asked a good question or seemed to show interest in his research, Ashworth would find a way to belittle their opinions. They practically shrank in their seats. The chances they’d stand up to the chairman? Zilch.

Theodore kept fighting, but he felt like a salmon on a dammed-up stream.

Dr. T. said, “Why did you undertake this research, Mr. Walters? What do you feel it contributes to the future of literature?”

Theodore gazed at the carpet for a minute. “When my wife was dying, I would read to her. Classics and current literary fiction felt so cold and helpless in the face of death. Only love prevailed. So I bought a romance novel, just for diversion. I was amazed at the true literary value the book possessed. I tried another and another. Yes, I found bad ones, but then that can be said of any type of literature. Gradually I came to realize that what I’d been taught about romance fiction was bull. Here were truly gifted writers, more of them than in any other type of fiction, toiling away with not only no recognition, but also actual denigration, and still producing exceptional work. I decided to find out why.”

He looked up at each member of the panel, even the sneering Ashworth. “I think if I can encourage or inspire even one of these excellent authors to persevere and have some of their work recognized, my research will have succeeded.”

Dr. T. said, “Thank you, Theodore. I wish to add that the dissertation reader agrees with Mr. Walters. She states that the paper has done more to legitimize one of the most popular forms of world fiction than anything she’s seen. She highly recommends the paper for publication.” He looked down the panel. “If there are no more questions, Mr. Walters can go and we can determine the time for our deliberation.”

Ashworth said, “I have one more. Walters, do you really expect us to take this dissertation seriously?”

Theodore stood. “Yes, sir, I do.” He looked down the table. “Thank you all for your consideration.” He turned and walked from the room with a straight spine.

 

 “Dad?”Snake whispered, “Showtime.” He stood.

Teddy looked up and rose.

Andy rubbed his eyes and his nose. “How come you guys are on the floor?”

Teddy smiled and picked up Andy. “I was just surprised and unhappy when Snake told me what your grandparents did.”

“Yeah.” He snuffled and snuggled into his dad’s shoulder.

Teddy sat on the couch and settled Andy on his lap. Snake started to sit in the chair across from them, but Andy looked up. “Snake? Will you sit by me?”

“Sure, buddy.” He glanced at Teddy, who looked up quickly and then away. Snake sat beside Teddy, who held Andy in his arms. Snake took Andy’s feet.

Teddy started to rock him. “So you know about babies coming from mommies, right?”

“Sure.”

“Moms might have different possible dads around before their baby is born, but after the baby is born, the mom might choose a dad.” He looked at Snake, pleading in his eyes.

Snake picked up the thread. “It could be that the dad the mom chooses isn’t the same dad that actually caused the baby in the first place. But that doesn’t matter.”

“Right.” Teddy kissed Andy’s hair. “You mom chose me, and we got married right away, and I was there the whole time you were in her tummy, and I saw you get born and loved you when you were barely an idea.”

Snake blinked hard. “That guy who came to talk to you might have caused the baby, but then he was gone, and he never married your mom or helped her or saw you born or raised you—or loved you. So guess who your dad is?”

Andy tightened his grip on Teddy. “Daddy is my dad.”

“Ding, ding, ding, ding. Give the prize to Andy Walters!”

Andy was quiet for a minute. “But that guy caused me?”

Teddy’s chest rose and fell. “He might have, sweetheart.”

Andy sat back and stared at Teddy with his brows scrunched over his nose. “You didn’t cause me ’cause you don’t like girls, right?”

Snake bit the inside of his cheek.

Teddy smiled. “Kind of. I actually loved your mom a lot. She was my best friend. And when she told me she was going to have a baby, I said maybe I could be the dad. She loved that idea, and we had such a good time raising you.”

“Wish I remembered her better.”

Snake had to look away or Andy might see the tears pushing out of his eyes.

“She loved you so much. Just like I do.” Teddy hugged him tight.

 

 

The Balls to the Wall Series


Volley Balls
Bk #1

Available to purchase at
Kindle | Nook | Kobo | iTunes | Dreamspinner Press

 


Fire Balls
Bk #2

Available to purchase at
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Beach Balls
Bk #3

Available to purchase at
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FAST Balls
Bk #5

Available to purchase at
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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

 

Presented By

 

Its Here!! The Audiobook of Return Of The Chauffeurs Son by Tara Lain #LoveAudiobooks

Hi everyone — I’m so excited to tell you that Return of the Chauffeur’s Son, my contemporary romance homage to the famous romantic comedy, Sabrina, is now available  in audiobook! I personally love audiobooks and often wait for them, so i hope this will be happy news for many of you. I call this my champagne cocktail of a book — full of fizz, sass, and tons of romance. The narrator is Greg Tremblay, one of my faves. I met Greg at RT last year and asked him to please narrate this book. Yahoo. Here’s a sample —

Here is the Link at Audible.

Here is the blurb for the book — 

Luca McGrath may be returning to Napa Valley, California, as a promising chef with dreams of starting his own restaurant and winery, but his heart still lives with the bad-boy son of a billionaire, James Armstrong. Luca spent his childhood playing games with the golden boy of California society, so blinded by James he barely noticed the dark, quiet lure of his conservative older brother, Dylan Armstrong.

But now Luca’s home, and his own powers of attraction are enough to make James question his dedicated heterosexuality and his promised marriage to a wealthy and powerful businesswoman. The obvious attraction between Luca and James spurs Dylan into action—but he’s fighting a huge secret. While Luca dreamed of James, Dylan dreamed of Luca. When Luca gets caught in the struggle between the brothers and gets accused of culinary espionage he’s ready to chuck the fairy tale—unable to even imagine Dylan’s power to make his dreams come true.

If you’d like to read an excerpt, Click HERE

Guaranteed to up your happiness quotient! Give Return of the Chauffeur’s Son a try. : )

 

Big Backlist Weekend with Monica Burns & Tara Lain – 2 Giveaways! #InnocentHeroes

Hi everyone!
Welcome to Big Backlist Weekend! This is a special event I post every month or so where I ask a wonderful author to come and join me in giving away a copy of an ebook from their backlist.

My guest today is Monica Burns! She writes beautiful historical romance …. Monica is giving away a copy of Pleasure Me which is a recent release. This book sounds so great, you guys. I’ve put it on my TBR.

I don’t write historical, but i do have some relatively naive heroes, so let me give away an e-copy of Sinders and Ash. This is the first book in my Pennymaker Tales and a modern retelling of Cinderella. 
Pleasure Me
by Monica Burns

Blurb:

A virgin alpha hero risks everything for the courtesan who steals his heart.

Youth and beauty are a courtesan’s greatest assets. At forty-one, Lady Ruth Attwood appears to have lost both, as her latest lover just abandoned her for a younger mistress. Struggling with the knowledge that she’s no longer considered desirable, she’s uncertain whether to be offended or flattered when a younger man makes her an unusual offer. In need of funds, she agrees. But then she does the unthinkable. She falls in love.

Despite his reputation as a man’s man, Baron Garrick Stratfield has never been with a woman. His physical impairment is such that he knows not even a whore will touch him, and he needs a mistress who’s willing to be kept without sharing his bed. But passion is just a delicious kiss away because his new mistress is wreaking havoc with his senses. Worse yet, someone is not only out to ruin his reputation, but frame him for murder.

Available for purchase at

Kindle | Nook | Kobo | iTunes 

Excerpt

“Are you sure friendship is the only reason you told me the truth? I’m a courtesan, Garrick. Although I do much more than fulfill a man’s sexual needs, my skills in the bedroom are considered excellent.”

“Instruction?” He choked out the word. Sweet Jesus, the woman was offering to tutor him in the art of lovemaking. How in the hell was he supposed to respond to that?

“If not that, then perhaps someone to confide in?” she said in soothing voice. “There must be a reason why you’ve never been with a woman. I am a good listener, when I wish to be.”

“That topic isn’t up for discussion,” he said through clenched teeth, not even smiling at her ironic comment about listening.

“As you wish.”

The heat of her brushed against him as she walked past to sit down at her dressing table. Stunned by her ready acquiescence, he stared at her as she calmly reached for a jar of cream and proceeded to apply the emollient to her hands. Awkward. It was a sensation he’d never liked, and he was feeling extremely awkward right now. He clasped his hands behind his back then drew in a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself.

“You’re going out this evening?” The question only reflected how ill at ease he was. She stopped rubbing her hands and met his gaze in the dressing table mirror.

“I was, but I’ve changed my mind,” she said quietly.

“I see.” A rush of pleasure surged through him. She hadn’t said so, but he was certain he was the reason she’d changed her plans.

“And you? Do you have plans?” In a casual gesture, she shrugged one shoulder out of her robe to rub cream on her skin. He inhaled a sharp breath as he saw the lush curve of her beautiful breast reflected in the mirror.

“No. . . I. . . I wasn’t sure . . .” He swallowed hard as she finished rubbing cream on her shoulder and pulled her robe back up. His breathing eased for a mere fraction of an instant before she repeated the exercise with her other shoulder. A knot developed in his throat, making him cough.

“Are you all right, Garrick?”

She turned quickly to face him, her robe discreetly closed. The concerned look on her face would have eased his discomfort it he hadn’t seen the flash of something far more dangerous in her eyes.

“I’m. . . fine.”

With a shake of his head, he cleared his throat again. She tilted her head in contemplation. In the quiet glow of the gaslight, the movement emphasized the sweet curve of her shoulder and throat. A sense of impending doom swept over him, but he ignored it, unable to take his eyes off of her.

“Do you trust me, Garrick?” The softly spoken question took him by surprise, and he frowned.

“I would not have confided in you otherwise.”

“There’s nothing shameful about your innocence. In fact, I find it quite. . . arousing.”

She turned to pull a long scarf from one of the dressing table’s drawers. When she stood up to face him again, the gentle determination reflected on her face made him tense. In the next instant, the air in his lungs was dragged out of him in one large whoosh as he watched her slowly untie her robe. Bloody hell, why wasn’t he racing toward the door?

“Desire is a pleasurable thing, Garrick.”

Her voice was hypnotic, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her as she trailed one hand across her throat and then downward. The languid movement parted her wrapper as she leisurely brushed her fingertips along the side of her breast. It was an erotic movement that sent heat blasting through him until his palms were damp.

“Let me show you what it’s like to feel that pleasure.” The thin robe hiding her from him slid to the floor with a whisper, and his mouth went dry at the sight. “Let me show you how wonderful it can be between us.”

Why was he still standing here? He should have been at the door by now. He tried to move but couldn’t. If he didn’t do something fast there was no hope for him. His feet remained rooted to the floor as he watched her undo her hair so it fell down over her shoulders. God, she was beautiful. Her eyes closed, the scarf she still held in her hand drifted across the tips of her breast in a way that seemed natural, yet he knew it was deliberate.

“Do you like looking at me, Garrick?” The throaty whisper scraped across his senses.

“Yes,” he rasped.

The scarf fluttered against her skin like a butterfly touching first one delicate curve and then another. Her hands cupped her breasts, and in a move that made it impossible for him to breathe, she circled her fingers around her rigid nipples. With great difficulty, he suppressed the raging need to stride forward and take her into his arms. Instead he forced himself to take a step back from her. It did little to assuage the hunger assaulting his rigid cock. Almost as if she could sense his need, her eyes flickered open, and she stretched out her hand to offer him the scarf.

“Tie me to the bed.” It was a soft command that made him stare at her in astonishment. A sensual, yet gentle, smile curved her mouth. “I want you to be in control of your pleasure.” 

 

About the Author

A bestselling author of spicy historical and paranormal romance, Monica Burns penned her first short romance story at the age of nine when she selected the pseudonym she uses today. Her historical book awards include the 2011 RT BookReviews Reviewers Choice Award and the 2012 Gayle Wilson Heart of Excellence Award for Pleasure Me. She is also the recipient of the prestigious paranormal romance award, the 2011 PRISM Best of the Best award for Assassin’s Heart. From the days when she hid her stories from her sisters to her first completed full-length manuscript, she always believed in her dream despite rejections and setbacks. A workaholic wife and mother, Monica believes it’s possible for the good guy to win if they work hard enough.

You can find Monica at
Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Pinterest | Instagram | Youtube

Sinders and Ash
By Tara Lain

Blurb: 
Housekeeper Mark Sintorella (Sinders) works diligently at a resort hotel while designing clothes anonymously, hoping to get into fashion school. Then his carefully planned life is upended with the arrival of Ashford Armitage, son of the fifth richest man in America—and the most beautiful guy Mark has ever seen. Ash must find a wife or he’ll lose his grandfather’s inheritance, and he settles on Bitsy Fanderel. But secretly Ash is gay, and the guy who cleans the fireplaces sets his heart ablaze.

Further stirring the pot is the little elf of a man, Carstairs Pennymaker, who has Mark wearing his own designs and masquerading as a girl to impress the fashion investors in the hotel. When the clock strikes twelve, two beautiful princesses line up for the wedding—but one isn’t a woman. Will the slipper fit? Only Mr. Pennymaker knows for sure.

 

Available for purchase at

Kindle Nook | Kobo | iTunes | Audible

Excerpt

The soft knock reminded him of a cue in a bad play. He knew who it was and knew he shouldn’t answer. That insane little man gave him hope when he knew he had no hope. Only hard work. But dammit, he liked Mr. Pennymaker.
He huffed, dragged himself off the bed, cleared the couple of steps to the door, pulled it open, and headed right back to the bed and curled into a ball.
“Helloooo, my boy. How are you this lovely day?” The chirpy voice paused, and Mark peeked at him from his armadillo-like position. Mr. Pennymaker had his hands on his knees and was gazing at Mark. Yes, he was an elf. “Hmm. I gather we are not tip-top?”
Mark shook his head. “No, sir.”
“What seems to be the problem?”
“Don’t really want to talk about it.”
“Might as well. I want to listen.”
He had a point. Mark needed another angle of vision. “I did something very bad.”
The dark suit Pennymaker was wearing today would have been conservative but for the bright pink vest and the gardenia in his buttonhole. He sat on the rickety chair. “Would you like to tell me about it?”
Mark sat up. Would he? There was something about the man. Like he was on Mark’s side no matter what. Mark had never had that feeling… at least not since his mom died. It made no sense. Mr. Pennymaker was a stranger, but there it was. “Well, you see, Richard the Bastard tried to force himself on me, and I was so—”
“Hold on! What happened?”
“Oh, the bastard sous chef finally quit perving on me and decided to do the deed. He didn’t get to hurt me because Armitage—you know, the rich guy—came to my rescue. And now I know I’m going to get fired any minute, and I really need this job, and I don’t know what I’ll do if they give me a bad referral.”
“Now, now, even Herman Marcusi won’t fire a man for avoiding rape.”
“No, you don’t understand. Because I was really upset. See, I had this thing happen and I guess I went into flashbacks or something, but I was pretty messed up, and Armitage tried to help me and, shit, I kissed him.”
The man grinned. “Kissed him?”
“Yeah.” Mark returned to armadillohood.
Mr. Pennymaker’s voice dripped with amusement. “I’m sure you were grateful.”
Didn’t he get it? Mark sat up. “No! I kissed him kissed him, like, with tongue and, you know.”
The grin got bigger. “I’m sure you were very grateful.”
Mark sighed. “Maybe. But I imagine he’s reporting it to Marcusi right now and I’ll be out on my ass by tomorrow.”
“Maybe he enjoyed it.”

 

Hell, he hadn’t thought of that. The guy had seemed shocked, but he hadn’t worked very hard to get away. After all, Mark wasn’t exactly Mighty Joe Young. Still, the look on his face…. “I doubt it. Hell, you can’t do anything good with Sinders and Ash.”

Giveaway

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Released! CATACLYSMIC SHIFT by Tara Lain Enter to WIN!

 Cat or man? Duty or love? 

Who prevails after the great cataclysmic shift?

Hi and welcome. Even if you’ve read Spell Cat, you might have missed this story. If you like the character of Aloysius, or are a cat lover, this is your book! Witches, shifters, and the coolest cat ever! Be sure to enter on the Rafflecopter. Enjoy! :  )

Blog Tour Stops

September 13, 2017 
Bayou Book Junkie
Books,Dreams,Life
That Make You Smile

Sepember 14, 2017 
Readaholics Anonymous
Buffy’s Ramblings

September 15, 2017 
Love Bytes
Making it Happen

Cataclysmic Shift
(The Aloysius Tales Series, Bk #3)
by Tara Lain
Blurb:
Super cat, Aloysius, may be the most powerful witch’s familiar in the world, but when he takes a blast at the hand of an evil witch he loses it all — power, memory, and his feline form — to become the ethereal human beauty, Alain Bellarose. When Alain wakes up naked on the floor surrounded by dogs and cats, his eyes first set upon Luke Elliott, the handsome and mysterious veterinarian. Suddenly, the prospect of being human doesn’t seem so bad.
Luke has a lot to hide and he likes animals way more than people, but he can’t resist the flamboyant boy who washes his face with the side of his hand and tries to lick his own privates! The loss of Aloysius depletes the power of the Witch Master, Killian Barth, and that of his “secret weapon” Sammy and leaves their coven sitting ducks for two very nasty females. When Alain discovers that he’s really a powerful cat, he’s faced with the ultimate choice. To protect his community, or stay with the man he loves.
Available for purchase at
 
Also available in paperback
 
Excerpts

 

Quiet. He opened his eyes. Dark. His back hurt. It was sorely cramped in here.

He pushed some towels aside and scooted closer to the door. Quietly, he pulled the lever down and opened the door a crack. Nobody. Good. He pushed it farther and looked into that plastic-and-metal room.

Odd. He recognized all the things in this room—an examining table of some kind, chairs, paper towels—but not what the room was for. He stepped out into the dim glow coming in from a streetlight outside the window.

He padded softly across the room and peered out into a short hall, also dark and quiet. To the left, the hall ended at a door. Light came from under it and a low noise, like maybe music or voices. Someone must be in there. To the right were several more doors. He went right.

Hmmm. Restroom. He opened the door. It was very dark, but his eyes seemed good. He looked in. A mirror on the opposite wall reflected the dim light of the hall and what must be… him. He stepped closer and peered at his reflection.

He closed the door. Until he knew his situation, best not to alert anyone. He ran his hand on the wall and flipped on the switch. Light blazed harshly in the tiny room. Holy gods.

He stared. Huge eyes, bluer than blue, stared back at him, surrounded by hair—long black hair down to his back. He turned and looked. The middle of his back. And pale skin. That was him. Truly?

What had he expected?

Not sure, but not this… boy.

He looked down at his bare body. Boy. Or man, for certain. His eyes widened. And quite a man. Look at those couilles.

But not just man. He cocked his head. Hu-man.

Now why was that strange?

He shook his head. This was so peculiar. He wasn’t afraid, exactly, but he didn’t feel at home in this skin. He shivered. There were important things he was forgetting, and he must remember them. He took a deep breath. Lives might depend on it.

He flipped off the light. The dark felt more comfortable. What should he do? That was the frightening part. He didn’t know. Not an idea where he should go, and yet he felt certain he had a purpose he must fulfill.

There was a person out there. Should he go speak to them? He peeked down at his lean body. Probably not like this. Humans were strange about nudity and such things. Wait. He was human, wasn’t he? This was very confusing.

 

Luke lay huddled on the couch—the couch Alain had moved, decorated, and made comfortable in the apartment that screamed of his special power and sweetness in every corner. Alain, who couldn’t stay hidden, couldn’t stop protecting, couldn’t keep his pretty nose out of others’ business. The little superhero.

No. The fucking cat.

He pulled a pillow over his face. This was ridiculous. Such things didn’t happen. His crazy mother’s wild-eyed face came into his mind. Maybe that was it. He’d followed his mother over the edge. If they gave him meds, all this would go away.

The witches. The cat.

Alain.

A sob exploded from his lips. What the hell?

Alain had already gone away.

And he felt… how? God-awful.

Witchcraft or abandonment. It all ended up the same. No Alain. No companion. No friend. No… love.

That couldn’t be right. Could it? Love? Had he ever loved anyone in his life?

Anyone?

A drip fell on his hand. Another.

No! He couldn’t love someone who had screwed up the life he’d worked so hard for. He couldn’t love someone who messed around with crazy people. People who claimed to be things that didn’t exist.

He threw the pillow across the room and sat up. Okay, quit this shit. What the hell did he really think about all this?

And there was the truth, laid out across his heart like a fucking tattoo.

A-L-A-I-N.

He wiped a hand over his eyes. He would believe in witches. Hell, he would believe in Bigfoot and the Loch Ness monster if he could have Alain back.

This could not be happening. He threw his hands over his head. This could not be happening!

A sound.

He looked over his shoulder. What the fuck? He stared at the window.

Slowly the sash rose. Inch by inch. No hand on it.

The silky feline jumped up onto the sill. “Merwaorwr.”

God, he was so beautiful. Funny that Luke hadn’t known Alain was a cat from the first moment. The boy moved like this feline, all sinuous grace. They shared the big balls—and the eyes. They looked straight into your soul. Aloysius was clearly more than a cat, just as Alain had been more than a man.

The cat jumped down from the window and moved gracefully to the couch. He leaped up beside Luke, sat, and crossed his paws.

Luke shook his head. “I don’t get how this all works, Aloysius. They say you’re a familiar. You don’t have power of your own, but you can open doors and windows.”

The cat sighed. The silky sides clearly expanded and contracted.

“I know. I have to be nuts to be talking to a cat. Of course, I’ve always believed cats were smarter than people, so I guess it’s not such a leap. But believing you’re the man I held in my arms, the man I kissed and made love to….” His voice broke. “That’s a one-way ticket to insanity.”

“Mewoow.”

Luke wiped a hand across his eyes. “Why me? Why did you have to come to my clinic? Couldn’t you have found somebody else to rope into your fucking life?”

“Merwaowr. Waor.”

The cat looked at him with those blue eyes, and he cried. No, tears didn’t fall, but as certainly as Luke continued to breathe, the cat was crying.

A crack lined its way through Luke’s heart.

 

The Aloysius Tales Series
Book #1
Spell Cat
Available for purchase at
Also available in paperback
Bk #2
Brush With Catastrophe 
Available for purchase at
Also available in paperback
Grab the first two books in the series and get all caught up!
 
About the Author

Tara Lain writes the Beautiful Boys of Romance in gay romance novels that star her unique, charismatic heroes. Her first novel was published in January of 2011 and she’s now somewhere around book 40. Her best-selling novels have garnered awards for Best Series, Best Contemporary Romance, Best Paranormal Romance, Best Ménage, Best LGBT Romance, Best Gay Characters, Best Romantic Suspense, and more. 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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Okay, i’m off to breakfast.  : )