Welcome to Tuesday Teasers with ZA Maxfield! This week we have author Tara Lain joining us!
Fans of Teaser Tuesdays know what’s going to happen here:
I’ll post a snippet from one of Tara’s books with the character names asterisked out.
Your mission is to guess which of Tara’s books the excerpt comes from! Email your answer to William at AuthorAssistants (at) gmail DOT com. Please be sure to put “Teaser Tuesday” in the subject line! I’ll draw a random winner each week. It’s that simple! Come play along… If you guess correctly, you’ll be entered to win a prize!
Last week’s winner is Stella Holt! You should be receiving an email shortly!
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 25. Her best-selling 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 soul-mate husband and her soul-mate 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”!
HERE’s the snippet:
“*****, I don’t think this is a good idea. Why don’t you drop me off and go on your own?”
God. He should stick his head in a bucket and drown. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think about how awful it would be for you to be with all these dumb jocks.”
****** put his hand on *****’s shoulder. “No. I mean you can’t put your precious future in my hands. What if they all know I’m a guy? You’ll be wrecked. You’ll lose your job and—” He waved a hand. “—everything.”
Sadly, he told the truth. “No one will know. My sister isn’t as feminine as you look tonight.”
“No, to anyone. Plus they won’t be looking for you to be anything but female, and people see what they expect.”
“I’d much rather it was just you and me going out to dinner, but they know I have a date, and everyone expects me to bring you.”
“I’m so sorry.”
****** took deep breaths. He gave a long, slow exhale. “Okay, since we’re doing this, prepare me. Who will I be meeting?”
“***** ******** is the coach. It’s his house. I doubt the team owner will be there, although he could. Name’s *******, and he’s a total conservative.”
“Clearly the best person to introduce to your drag queen boyfriend.”
***** laughed, but he really liked that word, boyfriend. “One other significant player is ******** *******. He plays on the team with me, and it’s his sister you saw in that photograph. He’ll be looking to figure out why I want you instead of his sister.”
“Did you explain I have a dick?”
“I missed that part of the briefing.”
****** placed his well-manicured hand on *****’s arm. “I’ll do my best, *****.”
“I know.” But, man, was he praying that ******’s best was good enough.
Another fifteen minutes and they were cruising up a winding road in the Hollywood Hills. Unlike some of the other wealthy areas of LA, the houses on these streets generally boasted the best of modern architecture. A true California style instead of something some rich guy dragged back from Italy, like you saw in big sections of the southland. ***** slowed and looked for an address.
“Yeah. There. That’s where we’re going.” A glass and wood house on a rise was all lit up. As they got closer, they saw a sign that read Valet stop here.
***** pulled over, and a guy about his age opened the door. “Good evening, sir. You here for the ******** party?”
“I’ll take the car. Just keep this ticket.”
***** slid out and started around for ******, but the valet beat him to it. He did get to see the guy’s eyes widen as one of those long legs in a black stiletto heel stepped out.
The kid’s voice sounded a little breathy. “Good evening, ma’am. I hope you enjoy the party.”
******—or he should say ******—offered a hand like the queen of fucking Sheba, and the valet helped him out until he stood in his high shoes, towering over the guy. “Thank you.”
He, uh she—Jesus, he’d never had this much trouble with pronouns in his life. Names weren’t much better. But he needed to get used to calling her ****** again quick.
****** walked around the car, and ***** met him—shit, pronouns again—with an arm. Feeling that strong, lithe bicep slide against his reminded him again how not a girl this ****** was. He leaned in close. “Man, you’re something special.”
****** looked at him with that direct gaze. “You’re pretty damned great yourself. You in that sweater could be packaged and sold in place of Viagra.”
***** laughed. “This old thing?” He’d only spent an hour running out to a store to buy the white silk sweater. He’d picked it because the sales guy said it clung in all the right places and, since the man seemed to be sporting an erection while saying it, ***** figured it was getting the response he wanted.
“I’ll do my best to carry this off for you.”
“Thank you. I know.” All the way up the walkway, the butterflies in his stomach warred with the throb in his cock.
~ * ~ * ~
Thanks for joining us, Tara!
If you think you know what book this excerpt came from, don’t forget to email William at AuthorAssistants (at) gmail DOT com with your guess!