Volley Balls
(Balls to the Wall Series, Bk #1)
By Tara Lain
By Tara Lain
Hi and WELCOME! I’m so excited to share that my popular novella, VOLLEY BALLS, has been revised and rewritten for you! I always wanted to change this story and tell everyone what happened to all 3 of the guys — so here was my chance. I hope you like the new cover and i hope you love the pumped up version of Volley Balls Revised! You can pre-order now!
Blurb:
A double dose of alpha male might be better than one. Tara Lain’s popular novella, Volley Balls, is now expanded and revised.
Despite just getting out of an abusive relationship with an asshole alpha, David Underwood’s wandering glance lands on two hot members of the Australian volleyball team on Laguna Beach and gets him harassed again. Still, when the delicious Gareth Marshall proves his interest by coming out to his team, David succumbs to his attraction. But Gareth’s volleyball partner, Edge, who’s equally hot, makes the lovers’ lives miserable.
For Gareth, a lifetime of hiding his orientation—and his attraction—from his best friend, Edge, as well as everyone else around him, adds up to hurt and frustration. David’s the first man to ever compete with Edge for Gareth’s passion. But Edge has secrets of his own, and David’s ex-lover will never be happy without David under his fist. With everything stacked against him, can a gay Laguna man find happiness with an alpha male–or two?
Release Date:
January 11, 2017
Pre-Order at
Excerpts
Gareth shifted uneasily in the darkened amphitheater.
Another scene change. The effects were lovely and sometimes awe-inspiring, but
he’d gotten the idea in the first half hour. He was ready to go.
Another scene change. The effects were lovely and sometimes awe-inspiring, but
he’d gotten the idea in the first half hour. He was ready to go.
He glanced to his left at Edge, who seemed fascinated with
the show. Intriguing, since Edge had the attention span of a gnat. The other
guys were more restless, jabbing each other when the bare-breasted art pieces
appeared, but they managed to stay on the near side of rude.
the show. Intriguing, since Edge had the attention span of a gnat. The other
guys were more restless, jabbing each other when the bare-breasted art pieces
appeared, but they managed to stay on the near side of rude.
He settled back for the duration. Maybe a little catnap. The
lights came up as he started to close his eyes. He heard an indrawn breath and
looked up. Holy, bloody, everlasting
hell.
lights came up as he started to close his eyes. He heard an indrawn breath and
looked up. Holy, bloody, everlasting
hell.
In the center of the vast stage, on a rotating platform in a
single perfect spotlight, was David, the masterwork of Michelangelo. Gareth had
seen it in Florence several times, and every sense he had told him he was
looking at the actual statue, although his mind knew this was a human being.
Glowing, luminous, absolutely still… sweet bloody Christ, how could someone do
it? How could they have found a person so perfect?
single perfect spotlight, was David, the masterwork of Michelangelo. Gareth had
seen it in Florence several times, and every sense he had told him he was
looking at the actual statue, although his mind knew this was a human being.
Glowing, luminous, absolutely still… sweet bloody Christ, how could someone do
it? How could they have found a person so perfect?
He noticed a deep stillness in the audience and also among
his mates. Edge was absolutely motionless. Unusual for him. But the statue, the
guy, was just that beautiful.
his mates. Edge was absolutely motionless. Unusual for him. But the statue, the
guy, was just that beautiful.
Gareth cocked his head. The model’s legs were not as big and
muscular as the Michelangelo. This “statue” was a bit leaner and even more
graceful. The pedestal kept turning. He squinted. Bloody hell, he’d seen that
perfect ass before. He peered into the pool of light as the David rotated. He’d
seen those amazing cheekbones.
muscular as the Michelangelo. This “statue” was a bit leaner and even more
graceful. The pedestal kept turning. He squinted. Bloody hell, he’d seen that
perfect ass before. He peered into the pool of light as the David rotated. He’d
seen those amazing cheekbones.
It was the guy from the beach and the shop. Gareth rifled
through his program for the name. David Underwood. The one who owned the
gallery. The fag. Gareth shifted onto
his hip, leaning away from Edge. Wouldn’t do to let his pouf-hating friend see
his massive erection.
through his program for the name. David Underwood. The one who owned the
gallery. The fag. Gareth shifted onto
his hip, leaning away from Edge. Wouldn’t do to let his pouf-hating friend see
his massive erection.
As he approached the gallery, a figure stepped away from the
building. He sucked wind, stopped, and slapped a hand over his heart. Shit. Not Phil. Not Phil. He swallowed hard.
building. He sucked wind, stopped, and slapped a hand over his heart. Shit. Not Phil. Not Phil. He swallowed hard.
The Aussie stepped closer. “Sorry to scare you. Are you
okay?”
okay?”
Couldn’t quite catch his breath. He nodded, but his inhale sounded
in his ears.
in his ears.
“Jesus, I’m sorry, David. I keep fucking this up. I should
just leave you alone like you asked me.” He shook his head, turned, and started
walking away down Forest.
just leave you alone like you asked me.” He shook his head, turned, and started
walking away down Forest.
“Wait!” Shit, did he just say that?
The guy stopped and turned. “Yeh?” The word turned up on the
end—hopefully.
end—hopefully.
“I have to give you points for not giving up. After me being
such a shit and all.”
such a shit and all.”
“I deserved it. I just—” He shrugged. “—don’t have much
experience. None with guys, you know? I’m pretty bad at it.”
experience. None with guys, you know? I’m pretty bad at it.”
“You guarantee you’re not an ax murderer?”
The guy’s perfect lips in his perfect face turned up. “Do
American ax murderers admit their profession? Must make policing damned easy.”
American ax murderers admit their profession? Must make policing damned easy.”
“Yep. All the cops are busy eating donuts as we speak.”
“So no, I’m not an ax murderer.” His face sobered. “Or
anyone who means you harm.” He extended his hand. “Hello. I’m Gareth Marshall.”
anyone who means you harm.” He extended his hand. “Hello. I’m Gareth Marshall.”
David shook his hand. Big. Very callused. Very warm. “Okay,
Gareth.” David crossed his arms. “What’s a nice guy like you doing with a
homophobic asshole like that big blond?”
Gareth.” David crossed his arms. “What’s a nice guy like you doing with a
homophobic asshole like that big blond?”
All kinds of emotions flashed across his face—anger, hurt,
and embarrassment seemed uppermost. “He’s my volleyball partner.” He took a
breath. “And actually my best friend.”
and embarrassment seemed uppermost. “He’s my volleyball partner.” He took a
breath. “And actually my best friend.”
David frowned. “So he harasses every other gay guy, but not
you?”
you?”
“He doesn’t know I’m gay.”
“Uh, sorry to tell you, but in the dictionary where it says
‘best friend,’ it says ‘guy who you tell all your secrets to.’”
‘best friend,’ it says ‘guy who you tell all your secrets to.’”
“I know. But we’ve been friends since we were kids. He
thinks he knows everything about me.”
thinks he knows everything about me.”
“He’s missed a few sucked cocks, I gather.”
Gareth did that shrug thing. “A few.”
“So where do we go from here?”
He flashed a slightly saucy smile. “Where do you want to go,
mate?”
mate?”
“You’re the one lurking in doorways.”
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
Presented By
