Hi and welcome — I’m really excited to give you a nibble of the first totally new book in the Balls to the Wall Series in years. High Balls was so fun to write and i hope you’ll love reading it. BTW, another completely new Balls book will be coming in Jan 2018, so when you’ve read High Balls, you’re not done! Enjoy the excerpt.

A brand new story in the BALLS TO THE WALL Series!


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


High Balls
(Balls To The Wall Series #6 )
by Tara Lain
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.
Release Date:
Oct. 4, 2017


Available for pre-order at




He flipped
on some Chopin and let it seep into his bloodstream like antistress pills. Such
a weird feeling he got each month when Andy visited his grandparents. Kind of
lost. Aimless. Sure, he had hella studying to do, but he did that every night,
curled in his chair, sometimes with Andy sitting on his lap figuring out his
homework. When he sat for his orals, he’d probably start quoting second-grade
spelling instead of defending his dissertation on the modern romance novel as
the inheritor of the tradition of Jane Austen. But that was how life was
supposed to be. His life, anyway—all based on one decision made almost on the
spur of the moment when he was eighteen years old. A decision made possible by
an asshole named JP Rellico.
He stopped
at the light at Pacific Coast Highway. The traffic going north wasn’t too bad
yet, but the south lane toward Laguna already backed up to Ruby Ridge. The
drivers had that Friday afternoon look of combined relief and weariness.
A rumbling
roar sounded and Theodore jumped. Threading through traffic came a shiny
Harley, moving with more assurance than such a big machine should muster. But
the motorcycle definitely took second place to the rider. The guy stopped and
put his foot down just yards from where Theodore waited, the booted foot
attached to long, long legs with thigh muscles that challenged the black denim
covering them. Unlike a lot of Harley drivers, this man had no fat of any kind;
his long-sleeved T-shirt hugged a narrow waist and broad shoulders. Theodore
strained to see his face, but a dark-visored helmet hid it, although strands of
shaggy dark hair escaped the bottom. Most of all, Theodore noticed the tattoos
that crawled in beautiful winding patterns up the guy’s forearms where they
showed below his pushed-up sleeves. Whoa.
Just the energy of the rider screamed free.
One of those tats had to say, I don’t
give a shit
It was like
Theodore could feel the vibration of the bike all the way across the street and
deep in his balls. What would it be like to live so unrestrained? Go and do
what you want and not worry about anyone else? His cock rose like sunrise on a
summer day.
A beep
behind him woke him up. Shit. Quit
dreaming, idiot.
He stepped on the accelerator and pulled out into the
northbound lane just as the rider turned his head toward Theodore. Theodore’s
foot faltered, he craned his neck to see the guy’s face—just a glimpse—and got
the squeal of tires and another, more pissed-off beep for his trouble.
He stepped on it and sprang—to the extent the Toyota had any spring left—toward
the college.


Snake looked in the mirror again. That was Pink Hair talking.
Teddy stood beside the Greek statue and looked—scared? Anxious? Probably
embarrassed. Why did he come here? To
prance this beautiful man in front of me?
He sighed. As if I’m all that.
He turned, tried to smile, and failed. “Yeah. What can I get you?”
“Champagne cocktail for me, darling.” Pink Hair smiled and gazed
into Snake’s eyes. Did they know who he was?
Greek Statue asked for the same. Big, hunky, and handsome wanted a
beer and—that left Teddy. Snake nodded to him without meeting his eyes. “What
can I get you?”
“Beer, please. Uh, Snake, these are my friends.”
Startled at being addressed by name, he finally looked at Teddy.
“I gathered that.”
“Uh, that’s Rodney, uh, Rod, and his husband, Hunter. Rod’s a
famous painter and Hunter’s a college teacher like me.”
Snake still couldn’t get his smile muscles to move, but he stuck a
hand across the bar and shook with both men, although the one called Rod only
offered fingertips. Snake’s eyes fled back to Teddy.
Teddy glanced at the beauty next to him and said, “This is David.
He owns the Underwood Galley on Forest. He’s Rod’s bestie. His husbands are
away playing volleyball, so we’re keeping him company.”
Snake just stared. Too many words he didn’t quite grasp. Did he really say husbands? Like, plural? But bottom line—Snake’s
face broke out in a smile. “Hi, David, really pleased to meet you.” He shook
the handsome man’s slim hand as his brain repeated the mantra, Not his boyfriend. Not his boyfriend. Not
his boyfriend.
Rod said in his dancing, musical voice, “You thought David was
Theodore’s boyfriend, didn’t you?”
Snake felt the crease pop between his eyebrows and smoothed it
with intention. “Looked like it.”
Teddy really frowned. “So you assumed I lied to you?”
“Thought crossed my mind.” He glanced up at the scowling Teddy
Bear and almost laughed. “Sorry.”
Rod said, “Theodore, be reasonable. You two barely know each
other. Snake might think you would lie to him.”
Snake shook his head. “No, actually, I don’t. Teddy here’s not the
lying type. But….” He shrugged.
Rod grinned. “But you’re the jealous type.”
“Not usually. Let me get your drinks.” He turned away, but saw the
Greek god David look at Teddy with wide eyes and mouth the word Wow.
He swallowed his chuckle as he added the bitters to the champagne
and then pulled the beer from the cooler.
Rod had this funny wheedling voice. “So you call Theodore
Snake turned back with two of the drinks and flashed a smile. “Teddy
Bear, actually.”
Teddy sat back on his stool. “Snake!”
“I mean, who could call that pretty thing something so stodgy and
serious as Theodore?” He cast a sideways glance at Teddy.
David looked at Teddy too. “Uh, you better call him
Theodore—because that bear can bite.” He laughed.
“Nah.” Snake slid the other beer and champagne to David and Teddy.
“We need to get this boy to stop fighting what he is and work it.”
Rod shrieked. “Snake, I adore you! No one with an endless
vocabulary could have ever so perfectly expressed the life plan for Theodore
Snake looked at Teddy. “Walters. I didn’t know. Pleased to meet
you, Teddy Bear Walters.”
A wild giggle exploded through Teddy’s compressed lips. “You’re
all crazy!” He shook his head. “What’s your last name?”
“Snake Erasmo. Your mother did not name you Snake.”
David said, “Who did?”
“Some friends. Something to do with the walk.”
Teddy rested a cheek on his fist. So damned cute Snake wanted to
eat him. “What’s your real name?”
“If I told you, I might have to kill you.”
“It’s the only way to keep me from killing you for calling me
Teddy Bear. I mean, aren’t all Teddy Bears portly and hairy?”
“Well, my teddy bears always made me feel good, and warm, like I
had love curled up next to my belly.”
Rod sighed. “Oh my.”
Teddy blinked hard. “Okay, but you still have to tell me your real
name, or—else!”
man, I could drown in those wide eyes.
“Well, in that case, my name is
Streams. Crystal Streams, to be exact. My hippie mama was into Native culture
at the time I was born. Shit, it’s a good thing. The following year she might
have named me Frankincense or—Marjoram.”
All four men laughed, but Theodore cocked his head with a
quizzical expression. Hmm.
Snake held up a hand and walked over to the two guys who’d just
sat down at the bar, took their orders, filled them, and then slowly sidled
back to Teddy and company. Have to give
these guys time to size me up, because I think my future depends on it.


The Balls to the Wall Series



Volley Balls
Bk #1


Available at


Fire Balls 
Bk #2


Available to purchase
Beach Balls
Bk #3


Available to purchase


FAST Balls
Bk #5


Available for purchase at


Prefer paperback?
The first and second book are now available in paperback! 


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





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