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Golden Dancer 
(Dangerous Dancers Series, #1)
By Tara LainBlurb:

A reporter and the thief he’s investigating both fall for a golden dancer forging a ménage of love and lies that could send one to prison and one to the morgue. Will he get his story or will he get his men?

 

Mac Macallister is obsessed. The online news reporter needs enough evidence to write a story accusing billionaire art collector Daniel Terrebone of stealing The Golden Dancer, a priceless work of art, from son-of-a-Nazi Horst Von Berg. The story promises the recognition Mac craves. Then Mac meets a real golden dancer, ballet star Trelain Medveyev, and his attraction to the man rocks his formerly straight world.
When the mysterious Terrebone “collects” this beautiful dancer, too, Mac rushes to the rescue like a knight in shining cargo pants and plunges into a three-way passion that tears him between love and guilt. Can Mac keep investigating when his story could send one man to prison and another to the morgue? Will this reporter get his story or get his men?
Publisher’s Note: This book has previously been released elsewhere. It has been revised and re-edited for re-release with Pride Publishing.
Available for purchase at 
 
      

 

Excerpts
 

 

Trelain
snuggled tight, resting his head in the crook of Mac’s shoulder, and that was
when the second lesson came up. Women did not provide a hard cock to rub
against him. Holy crap, he needed to back away. But his half-hard cock poked Trelain’s
flat belly, and it felt so good. Way too good.
Trelain
gave a little humming sound that might have been a moan, and though he could
claim they were just dancing, that cock moved with mind-searing precision, up,
down, a bit to the side. Mac’s dick filled relentlessly until it hurt.
Explosion imminent. Jesus, just the thought of Trelain tortured him. The
reality was more than he could stand. Get
the hell out of here.
He
ripped himself out of the dancer’s arms. “Sorry, gotta go.” Slouching a little
in hopes that the bagginess of his cargoes would cover his throbbing erection,
he headed through the open doors and across the great room. There were far
fewer people to observe his humiliation in here. Goal—get to the door.
“Mac,
don’t go.”
He
glanced over his shoulder at Trelain and almost stopped. Hell, no. Go now.
He
almost made it to the front door when a big solid body stepped in front of him.
“Mac, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Get
out of my way, Terrebone.”
“Hell,
no. Come with me.” Daniel grabbed and pulled him into the hall that led toward
the back of the house. Mac started to pull back when he was spun and pushed
hard against the wall.
“Daniel.
What are you doing? Don’t hurt him.” Trelain’s voice sounded distraught.
Terrebone
pushed his face into Mac’s. “I’m not hurting him, darling. He’s hurting
himself. This man has got to realize that he wants you and you want him and,
for that matter, he probably wants me.”
The bastard. Mac tried to pull away, but shit, the guy was strong. Daniel pressed
his forearm harder against his neck. One hand reached down and grabbed Mac’s
cock, still stiff despite the shock. “Feel this? It’s not some anomaly or weird
mistake, Mac. You’re hot for Trelain. Does that make you gay? I’d say yes, but
I’m not into definitions. Who the fuck cares? You just have to quit torturing
yourself and everyone else. You hear me?”
Okay, calm down so you can fucking breathe. Relax.
No, don’t want to hear it. Terrebone pushed a tiny bit harder.
“Do…you…hear…me?”
Crap!
Mac managed to nod, and Terrebone released him.
“Fuck,
Terrebone, what the hell…?” He rubbed at his throat. His pride hurt more than
his neck if he was honest. “I’m so out of here.” He started for the door and
again got dragged back. Shit, where did this guy work out? With the Russian
Mafia? Mac was a runner, but this guy must lift weights.

 

Daniel
pounded him against the wall again, but this time no arm came up. Instead, the
man pressed his mouth to Mac’s. Fuck!
Mac twisted, but the soft mouth just kept moving against his while the strong
hands held him still. Oh yeah, soft. Mac felt a silky, liquid tongue caress his
lips, back and forth. He tried to move his head, but no use. No use…no use not
just letting that pressing tongue go where it wanted. His lips opened a tiny
crack, and Daniel took full advantage, pushing that wet, hot tongue farther
into his mouth. Mac tried to move his tongue out of the way, but…no use. Hot
and wet against his tongue. Filling his mouth with hot and wet.

 

 

 

The man turned and gave Trelain that wolfish grin again.
Close up, he really was lovely with those deep, dark eyes, and dark curving
brows contrasted with the shock of silver hair. “I thought I’d rescue you.”
Trelain smiled. “And I thought I was getting champagne.”
The man stared at him for a moment then looked up and
waggled a finger seemingly into space. Moments later, a waiter appeared out of
the crowd carrying a tray packed with bubbly. The man grinned. “Would you like
it all?”
Trelain smiled back. Daniel seemed a man who got what he
wanted. But then, so was Trelain. He selected a full glass from the tray. “One
should be sufficient.”
The man took another one, though he didn’t seem to drink
it. “But more is better.”
The waiter left, and Trelain took a sip. “Your philosophy
of life, I presume?”
“Totally.”
“So who are you, Daniel?” Trelain noticed that people
milled all around them, but no one interfered.
“A child of the universe. A lover of art in its myriad
forms. A surfer and diver. Oh, yes, and I dabble in computer software
sometimes.”
Trelain glanced at him sideways. “Dabble? Like Bill
Gates?”
The guy gave a huge smile. “Yes, precisely like that.”
No doubt richer than Croesus, based on the deference
everyone seemed to show him. “So, what exactly does ‘rescuing’ me look like?”
“If you’ll let me, I’ll take you to my home in Laguna
Beach. Sun, surf, relaxation.”
“Mr. uh…”
“Terrebone. Daniel.”
“Are you propositioning me?”
The man leaned down so his lips were close to Trelain’s
ear. His breath smelled like peppermint. “I am propositioning you at every
level, Cavalier. You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen on two feet,
and I want you near me. Preferably under me for hours at a time.”
Bloody hell.
Trelain smoothed a hand down his arm to try to control the goosebumps.
The man chuckled. “I think that sounds good to you.”
A little distance was required. Trelain stepped back.
“You are more than persuasive, uh, Daniel, but you also impress me as a man who
is used to getting what he wants. Perhaps I don’t enjoy being one of a
multitude.” Yes, he was being flirtatious, but it was also true. Maybe part of
the appeal of the reporter had been that he wasn’t usually attracted to men.
Trelain liked being special. Hell, who didn’t?
Daniel very discreetly ran his fingers up Trelain’s arm.
Good. He wasn’t trying to make a show of possession. “It’s true, my friend,
that I have had many brief encounters in my past. I don’t think you know
anything about me—why would you? But others will delight in telling you of my
peccadilloes, so I might as well come clean. That was the past, however. I have
not been in a relationship of any kind for many months. I am weary of the game.
I want someone special in my life, and you, my friend, are very special.”
Trelain smiled. His thoughts had been answered. He opened
his mouth to speak, but Terrebone put up a hand. “One more thing. I won’t rush
you or crowd you. I would love to have you come to my home as a guest with no
strings attached.”
Trelain cleared his throat. “I am dancing three nights
this week, and I believe Laguna Beach is some distance from here.”
“About an hour. But you’re free on Thursday, I believe?”
“Yes.”
“Why don’t you pack your bathing suit”—he gave that
charming, lecherous grin— “or not, and I’ll send a car for you after your
performance. I’ll have a massage therapist standing by, my chef will prepare
all your favorite foods, and you can have a quiet vacation for a few days.”
Suddenly, Trelain was too tired for banter. A vacation
sounded like heaven, and if it was with this beautiful man, all the better. He
might have a thing for that silly reporter, but it was a stupid, fruitless
crush. This man was handsome, rich, and seemed sincere. And he knew he was gay.
A huge improvement. “I would love to come.”
Daniel looked surprised, then delighted. “You are a world
of surprises, Cavalier. I like that in a man.”
Trelain sipped the last of his champagne and glanced at
the still-milling crowd of patrons. He sighed. “And now I must continue my role
as money-grubber-in-chief.” He bowed slightly. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“Oh, one more thing. Please give this to Allison.”
Terrebone handed him a scrap of paper. It said IOU $1,000,000.
“Fucking hell.”
“Not enough? I just wanted Allison to know I hadn’t been
wasting your precious time.”
Trelain carefully folded the paper. He laughed all the
way back to the group of donors surrounding the anxious program director.

 

 

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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