Taylor Maid in French! Une Mariee sur Mesure Released. #taralain #marriageofconvenience

Hi — I’m so excited that my popular marriage of convenience, boy-masquerades-as-a-girl romance, Taylor Maid, is releasing today in French. Une Mariee sur Mesure stars Taylor, a billionaire’s son who will lose his inheritance if he doesn’t marry by his birthday —  the next day! He desperately needs a candidate and settles on the hotel maid — who isn’t quite what she seems!

You can buy Une Mariee sur Mesure at FRENCH AMAZON

Amazon US — https://www.amazon.com/mariée-mesure-Dreamspun-Desires-Français-ebook/dp/B0739LW9W3/ 

Dreamspinner Press — https://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/books/une-mariee-sur-mesure-by-tara-lain-8661-b

And other major outlets!

Tara Lain’s TAYLOR MAID. Released! Your Champagne Cocktail of a Book!

 

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March 7, 2016
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Taylor Maid
by Tara Lain
 

Blurb:


He’ll marry the maid to get $50 million but a secret could queer the deal.
Taylor Fitzgerald needs a last-minute bride.
On the eve of his twenty-fifth birthday, the billionaire’s son discovers that despite being gay, he must marry a woman before midnight or lose a fifty-million-dollar inheritance. So he hightails it to Las Vegas… where he meets the beautiful maid Ally May.
There’s just one rather significant problem: Ally is actually Alessandro Macias, son of a tough Brazilian hotel magnate. But if Ally keeps pretending to be a girl for a little while longer, is there a chance they might discover this marriage is tailor-made?
Available for purchase at
      
Taylor Maid by Tara Lain

is part of DreamSpinner Press’s Dreamspun Desires eBook Subscription

Receive two novels in digital format per month for the price of one regular novel!

For more information, please visit DreamSpinnerPress.

Excerpts


 

The wall in the elevator held him upright. So much to do—quitting his job being at the top of the list. The door opened on his floor. Oh well, he had his time and passion. That he’d give to the kids at the youth centers—not that anybody could pay the rent with it.
He dragged himself down the hall toward his suite, staring at the phone that never rang. With his right hand, he grabbed the key card, looked up, and stopped so fast he might have had rubber shoes on a shag carpet. Ally stood in front of his suite, leaning against the wall.
He tried not to gasp too loudly. Ally minus the ugly glasses and in street clothes was a sight to see. Long, slim legs in trim jeans and a pink checked shirt that set off her pale complexion and bright red hair. Adorable. Her hips were so narrow and chest so flat, she could have been a boy but for the high ponytail. A very cute boy. Obviously Taylor’s cock suffered from gender confusion, because it wiggled, and Taylor did not do girls. “Hi. You came.”
She nodded but didn’t smile. “You wanted to see me. You’re a VIP guest, and I’m a maid. Not wise to refuse.”
That wasn’t the best way to start. “I didn’t mean for it to be a command performance.”
“Oh?” Lasers behind those brown eyes.
Hell, this was his one chance. No time to argue. “Could you come in for a minute?” He keyed open the door and held it.
Another nod. She crossed in front of him and stopped in the middle of the entry. He closed the door and pointed toward the living room. “Please, come on in and sit.”
She paused, then walked into the living room and perched on the edge of one of the couches. He sat across from her. Jesus, this was hard. “Uh, you remember that I got a shock while you were here. Bad news, right?”
“Yes. You seemed upset as I was leaving. I hope things have improved.”
“Not yet, but they could.” He took a deep breath. “Are you married or attached?”
She stood straight up with her mouth open. He bounded up opposite her. “Wait. I said that badly. It’s just that I want to make you a proposal that requires that you not be married and—”
She started walking toward the door.
“No, wait, please.”
She kept walking.
“Ally, will you marry me?”
Okay, that stopped her. She looked over her shoulder, and her eyes could have been stop signs, they were so huge. “What did you say?”
The words tumbled out. “I’ll give you a million dollars to marry me.” Well, damn, Mr. Smooth strikes again. “Please, sit down and let me explain. I know I sound nuts, but I’m harmless.”
She stared at him and suddenly started to laugh. She stumbled back and collapsed on the couch. “Okay, I confess, there’s not the slightest chance I could walk away and not hear the rest of this story.” She held up a hand. “But keep your distance in case you’re as crazy as you sound.”
“Can I get you something to drink?”
She glanced at a serviceable-looking watch on her arm. “Sure, I’m off the clock. I’ll have a beer.”
Taylor used the trip to the service kitchen to take a breath. He hadn’t quite thought this through. She was right. He must sound crazy. Damn, he wasn’t too bad with men. Being with a female was throwing him off. Or maybe it was being the one who needed something. In business he was powerful enough and wealthy enough to always be on an even footing. Now he was a beggar. The cute maid held all the cards. Time to put on his poker face.
He grabbed beer bottles from the fridge, opened them, and poured into two glasses. For a guy he would have skipped that step. Carrying the beer, he walked back into the living room. She was sitting forward, elbows leaning on her knees, staring sideways at the view of the thousands of lights. Her profile, with its high-bridged nose and strong cheekbones, was etched against the softly lit room. Pretty.
“Here you go.” He extended the glass, and she took it.
“Thanks.” She took a long drink. Cleaning rooms must be thirsty work.
He sat opposite her and took his own sip. “Okay, here’s the deal. I live in San Francisco. My family has money, and I work in the family business. My grandfather, who started the business, died a number of years ago, and my father now runs it with a lot of help from me.”
“Don’t you have a board of directors?”
Taylor glanced up. That wasn’t the question he’d expected. “Uh, yeah. We do, but it’s a privately held firm, so all the directors are kind of figureheads who report to my father.”
“I see.”
Did she? “Anyway, I just found out—” He glanced at his watch. “—a few hours ago, that the inheritance my grandfather left me came with unusual strings attached. My father hid this from me.”
“Why? He wanted the money for himself?”
“Exactly. What he didn’t tell me was that I have to be married by my twenty-fifth birthday in order to collect the inheritance.”
She raised an eyebrow. They were a lot darker than her bright hair. “Daddy has been a very bad boy.”
Were all maids this savvy? “Yes. The problem is my birthday is tomorrow. In other words, it starts at midnight tonight.”
“Wow.” She frowned. “Do you have to be married by your birthday or on your birthday?” She took another mouthful of beer.
“The will said by my birthday, and I can’t talk to the lawyer who drew it up to determine the meaning, because he’s on my father’s side.”
“Holy crap.”
Taylor grinned. “Yeah.”
“How come you let that happen? I thought you were so good in business.”
He almost laughed. Who was she? Bill Gates? Instead he sighed. “When my grandfather died, I was an eighteen-year-old kid busy trying to figure out his sexuality. I loved him, and his death broke my heart. I didn’t have any energy to protect myself from my father.”
“I’m really sorry.” She sipped. “So, easy. You call a woman you know, ask her to marry you, and tell her she gets a cut.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
She looked around. “So where is she?”
“Remember when I got the upsetting phone call?”
“Yes.”
“That was me finding out that the woman I was planning to ask had been in an accident and isn’t coming.”
“Oh dear.”
“Yes.”
“So call another girl.”
“I did. You.” 

 

 

Taylor held Ally’s arm tightly as they walked, the play of muscle under the jacket very noticeable—and appealing. Must be all that bathtub scrubbing.
The minister pointed to some documents on the table. “Please sign these.”
Ally clutched his wrist. He smiled. Sound calm. “Come on, easy does it.” He barely looked at the license as he signed, he was so busy focusing calming energy on Ally. “Okay, your turn.”
She swallowed hard, looked at him like she’d just run over the deer in the headlights, grabbed the pen, and signed Ally May in a scrawl.
The minister clapped his hands. “Lovely, lovely. Come now.”
He grabbed her hand, ignored the electricity that sparked up his arm at the feel of her warm skin, and pulled her to the head of the aisle.
A woman sat at an organ and started playing the wedding march.
Ally shook her red hair again. “No, I don’t want to march.”
“Okay, we’ll walk up together, how does that sound?”
“Okay.”
Taking her hand, he started to walk, and she took off like there was a prize for how fast you could get to the altar. The lady on the organ sped up the wedding march to a wedding run, and it almost made Taylor laugh—almost.
He kept hold of Ally’s hand. Her flowers shook like Disney had animated them. She set them on the front seat of the first row of chairs.
The minister walked around them since he’d gotten there last, looked at his watch, and picked up the Bible. Must have another couple coming in soon. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony.”
“Taylor?”
The minister stopped. “Is everything all right?”
She shook her head. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
Taylor nodded. Uh-oh. “Okay.”
With a bang that made them all jump an inch, the door to the chapel burst open. A big bald man stood there, frowning, staring around the room.
The minister cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind, there’s a wedding in progress.”
The man’s frown got deeper. “Yeah, okay. Sorry.”
“Did you wish to take a seat and attend the ceremony?”
“Uh, no. I’ll stand.” He sounded like he’d escaped from Guys and Dolls.
The minister looked at Ally. “Miss, I believe you were saying something?”
She’d turned white as her shirt. Her big eyes strayed toward the door and then back to Taylor’s face. “No, nothing. Just get on with it.”
Taylor whispered, “Shall I ask him to leave? Is he bothering you?”
“No, no. Don’t do that, please.”
God, he felt like he was torturing her. “Do you want to change your mind?”
The door to the chapel closed. The intruder was gone.
She glanced at the entrance, sighed, and stared at her shoes.
“Ally?”
For a full thirty seconds she said nothing, then finally shook her head. “No. Continue.”
The minister smiled. “Ah, good.” He started talking about the sacred union of marriage.
Okay, that made Taylor feel fully weird. But hell, people got married because they drank too much and wanted memories from Vegas. His union wasn’t the strangest—was it?
“Do you, Taylor Fitzgerald, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
“What? Oh yes, I do.”
“And do you, Ally May, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
He squeezed her hand. He kind of expected another long wait, but she piped up, “Yes.”
“Do you have a ring?”
Taylor produced the beautiful diamond and sapphire circle. He had to reach down for her hand, and it shook so hard he could barely get the ring on, but it fit perfectly.
He handed her his ring, and she managed to get it on his left ring finger, but it was a near thing—twice she almost dropped it.
The minister clapped his hands. Probably out of relief. “You may kiss the bride.”
Well, hell, he’d forgotten that part. She looked up at him, and those brown eyes glittered. Oh, she wears contacts. Wonder why she needs glasses? Her breath smelled like the mint ice cream she’d eaten for dessert, and it made him shiver. He leaned forward and pressed his lips gently against hers. Her mouth was freezing like her hands—but sweet. So sweet.
He pulled back, and she instantly stared at the floor. God, his cock even danced a bit at that kiss. Maybe when he went to bed he’d have time to think about why he responded like this to a woman. He never had before. 

 

 

By the time Taylor pulled into the parking garage at his condominium, his skin felt too tight in a lot of places, most of them below the belt. Ally had spent the whole drive alternately stretching out his long legs in their heels and pulling them up under him, showing off yards of bare, smooth, hard man flesh from ankle to hip. Taylor had never known he liked men in drag, but Jesus, his tastes seemed to form around everything Alessandro. The guy simply turned him on. He’d done it as a woman, and now, as a man in woman’s clothing, he made Taylor want to commit lewd acts in public places—like the side of the freeway. And he seemed oblivious to his effect on Taylor, which only added to the allure.
Watching those same long legs striding down the hall in front of him made Taylor seriously glad he had a coat to cover the telephone pole in his pants. Ally waited at the door for Taylor to open it. He needed to get him a key.
As Ally walked in, he glanced back. “How soon do they want to do the questioning?”
Taylor closed the door. Could he take off his coat, or would the fire stick still show? “Smith just said ‘soon.’ If I know Laughton, he wants to give us as little time to prepare as possible.”
“So we better start practicing.” Ally unwrapped the belt and slipped Taylor’s coat off his shoulders. As Taylor hung it in the hall closet, Ally walked into the open living room, ass swaying in the clingy knit.
Blast off. Taylor’s cock leaped, and his brain fried. “Ally?”
“Yes?” He looked over his shoulder in a move so unconsciously flirtatious, he should have been spanked, and that sounded like way too good an idea.
“Are you gay?”
That deep, sultry laugh rumbled through his padded chest. “Are you kidding?”
“So your father wants you to marry—”
“A woman. Wealthy and influential. The type who can do good for the family and persuade his son out of his perversion at the same time.”
“No wonder you ran.”
“Yes. Can you imagine living such a life? Not only married to a member of the wrong sex, but one you don’t even know or like?” He shuddered.
“You didn’t know me.”
His lips curved. “True. But I was desperate—”
Taylor’s stomach sank.
“And I liked you immediately. Instinctively.” He kicked off his shoes, sighed, and picked them up. “Besides, I thought you were hot.” With a twitch of that infernal butt, he walked down the hall.
Taylor gasped for breath. Hot? He thinks I’m hot? Ripping at his tie and unbuttoning his shirt at the same time, he ran to his room, threw his clothes on the bed, and pulled on the sweats and T-shirt he liked to sleep in. Hot. He thinks I’m hot.
Okay, get some control.
In through the nose. Out through the mouth. In through the—bullshit! 

 

 

 The sun seeped around the Roman shades on the windows, casting stripes of brightness across the bed.
“Uh, Taylor, it’s about Ally that I called you.”
“Yeah, okay.” He crept forward and peered around the wall toward the bed. Sure enough, Stonewall curled in a ball on one pillow while Ally’s hair flowed across the other, creating a red to orange mosaic. He smiled—then stopped.
“There’s something you should know.”
“Yeah?” His eyes fixated, and he walked two more steps toward the bed. Ally lay on her back, one arm above her head, with the white silk pajamas clinging to her body. Where he was used to seeing small, perky breasts, the silk lay completely flat. So maybe she enhanced a bit. But that wasn’t what held him rapt. It was the part that wasn’t flat. At her crotch, the fabric stood straight up in the air like a tent—a tent with a substantial tent pole.

 

“Taylor, I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to spit it out. Coco says Ally is a man.”

 

 

 

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 23. Her best­selling novels have garnered awards for Best Series, Best Contemporary 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 soul­mate husband and her soul­mate dog in Laguna Beach, California, a pretty seaside town 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

               
Giveaway
Presented By

Gettin’ Tropey With It! Taylor Maid.

perf4.250x7.000.inddHi! Time for Gettin’ Tropey! You may know that Tuesday (March 1st) is the release of my new book, TAYLOR MAID. It’s part of a very fun series from Dreamspinner Press called Dreamspun Desires that was the brainchild of my friend, Poppy Dennison. The idea is to take the very popular tropes and themes that have been driving romantic fiction since the beginning — particularly in the old Harlequin category romances — and enjoy them as gay romances. Tropes are by definition the figurative use of a word or expression or, more pertinently, the recurrent use of such an expression or idea. In romance, common tropes are cowboy romance, secret baby, marriage of convenience, the sheik and the Westerner, rich boy/poor girl, May/December, and on and on. We know these themes and we love them — especially when they’re presented in a new and exciting way. Star Wars is riddled with good versus evil tropes, and movies like Rocky, Hunger Games, and Die Hard, make us cheer as we watch or favorite tropes being splashed all over the screen.

That’s where Dreampun Desires comes in because it purposefully turns these tropes on their ears by making them male/male. My book, TAYLOR MAID, includes marriage of convenience, must marry or lose his inheritance, mistaken identity, and cross-dressing tropes. Not to say i don’t use tropes in my other books, but here they’re consciously played out in new ways. I hope you’ll check out TAYLOR MAID and see what i mean when i describe it as a “champagne cocktail” of a book. May the tropes be with you!

Sneak Preview! TAYLOR MAID by Tara Lain

 

Taylor Maid

by Tara Lain



Blurb:

He’ll marry the maid to get $50 million but a secret could queer the deal.

Taylor Fitzgerald needs a last-minute bride.

On the eve of his twenty-fifth birthday, the billionaire’s son discovers that despite being gay, he must marry a woman before midnight or lose a fifty-million-dollar inheritance. So he hightails it to Las Vegas… where he meets the beautiful maid Ally May.

There’s just one rather significant problem: Ally is actually Alessandro Macias, son of a tough Brazilian hotel magnate. But if Ally keeps pretending to be a girl for a little while longer, is there a chance they might discover this marriage is tailor-made?

 

Available for pre-order at
Also available for pre-order in Paperback
Release Date:



March 1, 2016
Taylor Maid by Tara Lain

is part of DreamSpinner Press’s Dreamspun Desires eBook Subscription

Receive two novels in digital format per month for the price of one regular novel!

For more information, please visit DreamSpinnerPress.

Excerpts


 

The wall in the elevator held him upright. So much to do—quitting
his job being at the top of the list. The door opened on his floor. Oh well, he
had his time and passion. That he’d give to the kids at the youth centers—not
that anybody could pay the rent with it.
He dragged himself down the hall toward his suite, staring
at the phone that never rang. With his right hand, he grabbed the key card,
looked up, and stopped so fast he might have had rubber shoes on a shag carpet.
Ally stood in front of his suite, leaning against the wall.
He tried not to gasp too loudly. Ally minus the ugly glasses
and in street clothes was a sight to see. Long, slim legs in trim jeans and a
pink checked shirt that set off her pale complexion and bright red hair.
Adorable. Her hips were so narrow and chest so flat, she could have been a boy
but for the high ponytail. A very cute boy. Obviously Taylor’s cock suffered
from gender confusion, because it wiggled, and Taylor did not do girls. “Hi.
You came.”
She nodded but didn’t smile. “You wanted to see me. You’re a
VIP guest, and I’m a maid. Not wise to refuse.”
That wasn’t the best way to start. “I didn’t mean for it to
be a command performance.”
“Oh?” Lasers behind those brown eyes.
Hell, this was his one chance. No time to argue. “Could you
come in for a minute?” He keyed open the door and held it.
Another nod. She crossed in front of him and stopped in the
middle of the entry. He closed the door and pointed toward the living room.
“Please, come on in and sit.”
She paused, then walked into the living room and perched on
the edge of one of the couches. He sat across from her. Jesus, this was hard.
“Uh, you remember that I got a shock while you were here. Bad news, right?”
“Yes. You seemed upset as I was leaving. I hope things have
improved.”
“Not yet, but they could.” He took a deep breath. “Are you
married or attached?”
She stood straight up with her mouth open. He bounded up
opposite her. “Wait. I said that badly. It’s just that I want to make you a
proposal that requires that you not be married and—”
She started walking toward the door.
“No, wait, please.”
She kept walking.
“Ally, will you marry me?”
Okay, that stopped her. She looked over her shoulder, and
her eyes could have been stop signs, they were so huge. “What did you say?”
The words tumbled out. “I’ll give you a million dollars to
marry me.” Well, damn, Mr. Smooth strikes
again.
“Please, sit down and let me explain. I know I sound nuts, but I’m
harmless.”
She stared at him and suddenly started to laugh. She
stumbled back and collapsed on the couch. “Okay, I confess, there’s not the
slightest chance I could walk away and not hear the rest of this story.” She
held up a hand. “But keep your distance in case you’re as crazy as you sound.”
“Can I get you something to drink?”
She glanced at a serviceable-looking watch on her arm.
“Sure, I’m off the clock. I’ll have a beer.”
Taylor used the trip to the service kitchen to take a
breath. He hadn’t quite thought this through. She was right. He must sound
crazy. Damn, he wasn’t too bad with men. Being with a female was throwing him
off. Or maybe it was being the one who needed something. In business he was
powerful enough and wealthy enough to always be on an even footing. Now he was
a beggar. The cute maid held all the cards. Time to put on his poker face.
He grabbed beer bottles from the fridge, opened them, and
poured into two glasses. For a guy he would have skipped that step. Carrying
the beer, he walked back into the living room. She was sitting forward, elbows
leaning on her knees, staring sideways at the view of the thousands of lights.
Her profile, with its high-bridged nose and strong cheekbones, was etched
against the softly lit room. Pretty.
“Here you go.” He extended the glass, and she took it.
“Thanks.” She took a long drink. Cleaning rooms must be
thirsty work.
He sat opposite her and took his own sip. “Okay, here’s the
deal. I live in San Francisco. My family has money, and I work in the family
business. My grandfather, who started the business, died a number of years ago,
and my father now runs it with a lot of help from me.”
“Don’t you have a board of directors?”
Taylor glanced up. That wasn’t the question he’d expected.
“Uh, yeah. We do, but it’s a privately held firm, so all the directors are kind
of figureheads who report to my father.”
“I see.”
Did she? “Anyway, I just found out—” He glanced at his watch.
“—a few hours ago, that the inheritance my grandfather left me came with
unusual strings attached. My father hid this from me.”
“Why? He wanted the money for himself?”
“Exactly. What he didn’t tell me was that I have to be
married by my twenty-fifth birthday in order to collect the inheritance.”
She raised an eyebrow. They were a lot darker than her
bright hair. “Daddy has been a very bad boy.”
Were all maids this savvy? “Yes. The problem is my birthday
is tomorrow. In other words, it starts at midnight tonight.”
“Wow.” She frowned. “Do you have to be married by your
birthday or on your birthday?” She took another mouthful of beer.
“The will said by
my birthday, and I can’t talk to the lawyer who drew it up to determine the
meaning, because he’s on my father’s side.”
“Holy crap.”
Taylor grinned. “Yeah.”
“How come you let that happen? I thought you were so good in
business.”
He almost laughed. Who was she? Bill Gates? Instead he
sighed. “When my grandfather died, I was an eighteen-year-old kid busy trying
to figure out his sexuality. I loved him, and his death broke my heart. I
didn’t have any energy to protect myself from my father.”
“I’m really sorry.” She sipped. “So, easy. You call a woman
you know, ask her to marry you, and tell her she gets a cut.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
She looked around. “So where is she?”
“Remember when I got the upsetting phone call?”
“Yes.”
“That was me finding out that the woman I was planning to
ask had been in an accident and isn’t coming.”
“Oh dear.”
“Yes.”
“So call another girl.”
“I did. You.” 

 

 

Taylor held Ally’s arm tightly as they walked, the play of
muscle under the jacket very noticeable—and appealing. Must be all that bathtub
scrubbing.
The minister pointed to some documents on the table. “Please
sign these.”
Ally clutched his wrist. He smiled. Sound calm. “Come on, easy does it.” He barely looked at the
license as he signed, he was so busy focusing calming energy on Ally. “Okay, your
turn.”
She swallowed hard, looked at him like she’d just run over
the deer in the headlights, grabbed the pen, and signed Ally May in a scrawl.
The minister clapped his hands. “Lovely, lovely. Come now.”
He grabbed her hand, ignored the electricity that sparked up
his arm at the feel of her warm skin, and pulled her to the head of the aisle.
A woman sat at an organ and started playing the wedding
march.
Ally shook her red hair again. “No, I don’t want to march.”
“Okay, we’ll walk up together, how does that sound?”
“Okay.”
Taking her hand, he started to walk, and she took off like
there was a prize for how fast you could get to the altar. The lady on the
organ sped up the wedding march to a wedding run, and it almost made Taylor
laugh—almost.
He kept hold of Ally’s hand. Her flowers shook like Disney
had animated them. She set them on the front seat of the first row of chairs.
The minister walked around them since he’d gotten there
last, looked at his watch, and picked up the Bible. Must have another couple coming in soon. “Dearly beloved, we are
gathered here to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony.”
“Taylor?”
The minister stopped. “Is everything all right?”
She shook her head. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
Taylor nodded. Uh-oh.
“Okay.”
With a bang that made them all jump an inch, the door to the
chapel burst open. A big bald man stood there, frowning, staring around the
room.
The minister cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind, there’s
a wedding in progress.”
The man’s frown got deeper. “Yeah, okay. Sorry.”
“Did you wish to take a seat and attend the ceremony?”
“Uh, no. I’ll stand.” He sounded like he’d escaped from Guys and Dolls.
The minister looked at Ally. “Miss, I believe you were
saying something?”
She’d turned white as her shirt. Her big eyes strayed toward
the door and then back to Taylor’s face. “No, nothing. Just get on with it.”
Taylor whispered, “Shall I ask him to leave? Is he bothering
you?”
“No, no. Don’t do that, please.”
God, he felt like he was torturing her. “Do you want to
change your mind?”
The door to the chapel closed. The intruder was gone.
She glanced at the entrance, sighed, and stared at her
shoes.
“Ally?”
For a full thirty seconds she said nothing, then finally
shook her head. “No. Continue.”
The minister smiled. “Ah, good.” He started talking about
the sacred union of marriage.
Okay, that made Taylor feel fully weird. But hell, people
got married because they drank too much and wanted memories from Vegas. His
union wasn’t the strangest—was it?
“Do you, Taylor Fitzgerald, take this woman to be your
lawfully wedded wife?”
“What? Oh yes, I do.”
“And do you, Ally May, take this man to be your lawfully
wedded husband?”
He squeezed her hand. He kind of expected another long wait,
but she piped up, “Yes.”
“Do you have a ring?”
Taylor produced the beautiful diamond and sapphire circle.
He had to reach down for her hand, and it shook so hard he could barely get the
ring on, but it fit perfectly.
He handed her his ring, and she managed to get it on his
left ring finger, but it was a near thing—twice she almost dropped it.
The minister clapped his hands. Probably out of relief. “You
may kiss the bride.”
Well, hell, he’d forgotten that part. She looked up at him,
and those brown eyes glittered. Oh, she
wears contacts. Wonder why she needs glasses?
Her breath smelled like the mint
ice cream she’d eaten for dessert, and it made him shiver. He leaned forward
and pressed his lips gently against hers. Her mouth was freezing like her
hands—but sweet. So sweet.
He pulled back, and she instantly stared at the floor. God,
his cock even danced a bit at that kiss. Maybe when he went to bed he’d have
time to think about why he responded like this to a woman. He never had before.
 

 

 

 The sun seeped around
the Roman shades on the windows, casting stripes of brightness across the bed.
“Uh, Taylor, it’s about
Ally that I called you.”
“Yeah, okay.” He crept
forward and peered around the wall toward the bed. Sure enough, Stonewall
curled in a ball on one pillow while Ally’s hair flowed across the other,
creating a red to orange mosaic. He smiled—then stopped.
“There’s something you
should know.”
“Yeah?” His eyes
fixated, and he walked two more steps toward the bed. Ally lay on her back, one
arm above her head, with the white silk pajamas clinging to her body. Where he
was used to seeing small, perky breasts, the silk lay completely flat. So maybe
she enhanced a bit. But that wasn’t what held him rapt. It was the part that
wasn’t flat. At her crotch, the fabric stood straight up in the air like a
tent—a tent with a substantial tent pole.

“Taylor, I don’t know
how to say this, so I’m just going to spit it out. Coco says Ally is a man.”

 

 

 

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 23. Her best­selling novels have garnered awards for Best Series, Best Contemporary 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 soul­mate husband and her soul­mate dog in Laguna Beach, California, a pretty seaside town 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

               
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