Hi — I’m honored that my MM contemporary firefighter romance, F.A.S.T. BALLS, is a finalist in the Book Buyer’s Best Award for best erotic romance of the last year. Would you like to win it? Or any one of my Balls to the Wall Series — Volley Balls, Fire Balls, Beach Balls, Snow Balls, and F.A.S.T. Balls? Just leave me a comment o ANY of my posts throughout the party — including the ones i already posted. BTW, this is an ADDITIONAL prize. For the TRS Party prize, i’m offering the winner’s choice of my paranormal romances, The Pack or the Panther OR Wolf in Gucci Loafers.
Here’s a scene from F.A.S.T. Balls, just to whet your whistle.
Excerpt: F.A.S.T. Balls by Tara Lain; The Gay Fireman and the Homophobe
Firefighter and surfing champion, Jerry Wallender, looks like a hero to the world, but he can’t see it. He keeps falling for these intellectual guys who end up making him feel dumb and unneeded. On top of that, Mick Cassidy, super-gorgeous firefighter and total homophobe, makes Jerry’s life miserable with his slurs. Then one day Mick’s nice to Jerry and, at the Firefighter’s Ball, Jerry offers a helping hand and ends up with a hand-job. What the hell is going on?
Mick Cassidy is great with fighting fires and solving math problems but rotten with people. Raised by a gay-hating preacher, Mick’s carefully constructed world of gay bashing starts to crumble when he meets Jerry, the nicest, kindest man he’s ever known. Mick’s never wanted a woman and can’t stop thinking about sex with Jerry. In fact, he can’t stop doing it. Does that make him gay? And if he’s gay, what happens to his whole life? A hook-up between sweet Jerry and mean Mick might be total disaster — or the smartest idea Jerry ever had.
Straight nodded and positioned himself at the foot of the stairs.
Mick tested each stair before he applied weight. One gave way but he jumped to the next.
Heat searing now. He bent double and moved like some round-backed animal up three more stairs to what would have been the top if much had been left. Damn. Where was he?
He pressed against the only wall not burning and sidled his way down the hall to what must have been the bedrooms. It seemed like it took a year of inching but he got to a door frame and looked in. On the far wall, he saw what was left of a single bed like for a kid.
The floor of the room was mostly missing. Burned through.
He leaned forward. No. No, God. Lying on the floor a story below was a firefighter. It had to be Jerry. Crumpled like some bad voodoo doll or something. His breathing apparatus stuck out from under a burning board. The caved-in floor had caught fire to the fabrics in the room and a huge blaze was consuming a couch and fallen floorboards only feet from his head.
Mick pressed himself against the wall again and forced himself to go slow. If he died, so did Jerry. When he finally got back to the stairs, he ran down, with charred wood cracking under his boots. He hit the ground, pointed his arm, and ran toward the hall to the back of the house on the first floor. He rounded a corner and staggered back. Flames licked up the walls on both sides like an arc of fire. He crouched real low and burst through to a short section of hall barely burning. Straight volleyed through beside him.
Then he stared.
The space ahead must have been a family room. Now it was pure inferno. He knelt and peered under the fire. Yes, Jerry’s body lay beyond a wall of flame. Mick’s heart and head disconnected. One wanted to leap headfirst through the flames and grab that fallen body in his arms. But the firefighter’s brain calculated. There was a chance of slipping through the burn low and on the right side.
Straight knelt beside him. Mick pointed at the area and mimed his going through. He reached for the RIT Bag in Straight’s hand. The man pulled it back and shook his head. What the hell? Mick used his extra reach to grab the bag and pull. Straight pulled back.
Mick screamed through the speaking diaphragm. “What the hell?”
Straight peered into Mick’s mask. “Our chance. Leave him.”
What? “No way.” He waved his arms wildly.
“Your father’s mission. One less fag.”
Mick stared at him. Every ounce of blood felt frozen. Everything he’d been taught stared through his mask. Discriminate…judge…despise…hate…and finally kill.
The scream came from somewhere he’d never been. Some place in his soul that had never seen light before. “Ahhhhhhhhhh!”
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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 21. 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”!