The fabulous stylist, the absentminded professor, and a Parisian adventure…
Winnie
Hey, I don’t regret taking an oddball assignment to assist a British professor abroad. I could use a break from my life as an aspiring hair and style guru in LA. The only worrisome snag is that the professor is determined to do everything on his own.
Not acceptable. I’m here to help the impossibly smart geek with mismatched socks who just happens to be my best friend’s boss.
Alistair
Paris calls. And somehow, I have a new temporary assistant.
Winnie is a technicolor, whirlwind American with a wicked laugh and the subtlety of a steamroller. He’s brash and ridiculous and…funny, warm, lovely, and—
Oh no.
Winnie can take Paris, but he can’t take my heart.
Winnie Takes Paris is an MM romantic comedy featuring a fabulous diva, a nerdy professor, and the Parisian adventure of a lifetime!
Oh my goodness, I couldn’t have loved these two together more! Winnie is fabulous and outrageous and so dang joyous. He loudly embraces life with energy & enthusiasm, finding delight in things big and small. He may be feeling a little down lately but he’s not going to let it defeat him, instead uses it as an opportunity to revamp himself.
And that radiance is a great foil for Alistair who tends to get caught up in his work and forget the rest of the world even exists. Winnie lets him for a little while but soon has him out seeing the sights of Paris, while getting to know each other. He may not know what Winnie sees in him at first but it doesn’t take him long to fall under Winnie’s spell, just like us.
Winnie Takes Paris is full of heat, humor, and heart. These two couldn’t be more different but complement each other so well – Alistair supports Winnie when he has doubts and Winnie reminds him that there is more to life than his studies. We could all do with someone who matches with us that well.
Hey, I don’t regret taking an oddball assignment to assist a British professor abroad. I could use a break from my life as an aspiring hair and style guru in LA. The only worrisome snag is that the professor is determined to do everything on his own.
Not acceptable. I’m here to help the impossibly smart geek with mismatched socks who just happens to be my best friend’s boss.
Alistair
Paris calls. And somehow, I have a new temporary assistant.
Winnie is a technicolor, whirlwind American with a wicked laugh and the subtlety of a steamroller. He’s brash and ridiculous and…funny, warm, lovely, and—
Oh no.
Winnie can take Paris, but he can’t take my heart.
Winnie Takes Paris is an MM romantic comedy featuring a fabulous diva, a nerdy professor, and the Parisian adventure of a lifetime!
I tapped my cup to his flute awkwardly. “To Paris.”
Winnie watched me cautiously. “Did I get your tea right? Raine said you like a smidge of milk and sugar.”
“Uh, yes…brilliant. Thank you.”
He grinned. “You’re welcome. What should we do now?”
“Wait for the train,” I replied evenly.
Winnie threw his head back and laughed, drawing a few curious glances our way. The lounge wasn’t exactly a library, but there was an unspoken acknowledgment that this was a quiet zone.
“Got that. I meant, what about work? I’m your assistant. If you need me to do anything, just say the word and I’m there.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your diligence, but there’s no need. Enjoy your champagne,” I said in a tone that clearly marked the end of the conversation.
Winnie didn’t take the hint. “Do you like champagne?”
“No, I don’t.”
He flattened his hand over his heart. “Why not? Champagne is the elixir of the gods, sunshine in a flute, bubbles for the soul.”
I shrugged. “I’m afraid I don’t care for bubbles at all. I don’t want to drink them, anyway.”
“Mm, you’re missing out. I would bathe in champagne bubbles if I could.” He hummed indulgently.
“That sounds…sticky.”
Winnie’s lips twitched. “You’re right. It also sounds like a waste of a good thing, and I wouldn’t sacrifice a single sip of this stuff.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond or if I was supposed to, but this was probably a good time to remind Winnie that I didn’t need him to entertain me or vice versa. Or perhaps this was an opportunity to ask him a few questions and be done with prerequisite niceties.
What sort of questions, though? I had no clue. This was the sort of thing Raine usually handled for me.
I set my cup on the side table, pulled my cell from my pocket, and typed, Questions for a new acquaintance.
Google suggested the following: Number one, ask personal information—likes, dislikes, favorite color, hobbies. Not a chance. In my admittedly limited experience, that line of inquiry invited reciprocity, and there was no point in pretending we shared any common interests.
Number two, comment on something pleasant, such as the weather. I glanced out the rain-streaked window and quickly abandoned that suggestion. Too dire.
Number three, pay a compliment. That seemed like a safe option. Winnie was very…winsome. He had beautiful olive skin, perfectly coiffed hair, a flair for fashion, and—
“You have lovely eyes,” I blurted.
Winnie froze midsip, quirking his head as he slowly lowered his glass. “Are you flirting with me, Professor?”
“I—no! No, I…no,” I sputtered, wrinkling my nose, licking my lips, and blinking in rapid succession. “That was a statement, not a flirtation. I don’t do flirtations, so you’re quite safe there.”
“Am I?”
He was teasing. The spark in his eyes held pure mischief, but I didn’t know the rules of engagement at all. Was I supposed to say something clever in return? Possibly, probably. Witty banter wasn’t my strong suit, so I went with the truth instead.
“I couldn’t help noticing that you’re wearing makeup and…you look quite smart.”
His megawatt grin hit me like a bolt of lightning. “I do? How so? I’ve never been told my application of Chanel Stylo Yeux in espresso gave collegiate vibes.”
“Uh, no. I didn’t mean smart in that sense. That is to say, I’m sure you’re very intelligent, but I meant that you look…nice.”
His smile didn’t waver. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Well done, old chap. Now, leave it alone. Unfortunately, I couldn’t shut my gob. This was bad…very bad. “Ancient Egyptian men wore cosmetics, and depending on their rank and social class, they wore a lot of it. The kohl liner they used had practical purposes, too. It shielded one from the sun’s rays and repelled insects. They used animal fats and oils to create moisturizers, shampoos, and even to prevent baldness. Interesting, isn’t it? They’d rub fat from a snake or a—”
“Okay.” Winnie held his hand up. “That’s a lot of information.”
“That’s hardly the tip of the iceberg,” I assured him.
“I bet.” He gestured to the corner of his eye. “I made a last-minute trip to Sephora for this stuff. Much easier than wrangling a snake.”
“Sephora, derived from the Greek sephos, or beauty.”
Oh, bloody blooming bollocks. What is wrong with me?
*****
Author Info:
Lane Hayes lives in sunny Southern California with her amazing husband, who thankfully doesn’t mind cooking, and their fabulous fox red Labrador, George, who’s pure mischief. Both provide oodles of inspiration for the low-angst, humorous books Lane loves to write.
She’s been telling stories about sexy, funny, sometimes geeky and quirky men who find love for a dozen years now and loving every minute. In her previous life, she sat at a desk and dealt with numbers, so yes…romance is much more satisfying!
Lane loves tea, travel, and chocolate…in any order. Add a book and she’s set!
The rookie superstar, the desperate cowboy, and a naughty proposition…
Denny
The press calls me this year’s hotshot, the rookie who scores at will and conjures plays out of thin air. Truth is…I’m a PR nightmare. Seriously. Ask my agent.
My anxiety is off the charts. I can’t talk to the media without breaking into a cold sweat, but once I get through the season, I can regroup at home. Life is simpler in Vermont.
Well, not anymore. There’s a new cowboy in town. Literally, a cowboy. At least, Hank looks like one—he owns a horse, wears a hat, and did I mention he’s hot?
And get this…he has a proposition for me.
Hank
Proposition is a strong word. I prefer to call this a mutually beneficial arrangement. See, I could use Denny’s help with a family business venture, and though I was planning to offer cash, the jock has a sexier idea.
Not gonna lie, I’m interested.
This could be a fun distraction while I’m stuck in Elmwood. Nice enough place, however, the locals are wary of an outsider taking over the neighboring mill. Long story short…they don’t trust me. But they love their hometown hockey hero.
I get it.
I’ve never met anyone like Denny—skittish in street clothes and a feral beast with cunning instincts on the ice. He’s fascinating, sexy, smart, and—
Whoa! I’m not falling for the hotshot rookie. No way, no how, no chance…
Too late.
Hotshot is an MM bisexual, age-gap, small town romance featuring a hotshot rookie, a sexy cowboy, and a proposition that changes everything.
“Ouch. I can’t remember the last time anyone was happy to see me,” he groused without heat. “Except Steve the contractor. He likes me okay, but he’s being paid well. Our employees do well too, but sadly, they don’t like me at all.”
“I can’t help you with that. Sorry.”
Hank sipped his beer and shrugged. “Yes, you can. I’m extorting you, remember?”
“Oh…yeah.” I chuckled.
And fuck, I didn’t want to be amused. I didn’t want to like Hank at all, but it was hard not to appreciate his self-deprecating honesty. He emanated “nice guy” vibes with the right amount of edge. No wonder drunk me had gotten flirty with him. Fortunately, sober me knew he was more than I could handle.
Which was fine since Hank wasn’t interested anyway. He wanted my alleged star power, not me.
So why was I grinning like an idiot?
Fuck, I had a bad feeling my eyes were twinkling too. I had to rein that shit in, stat.
“So…let’s make a deal,” he said, thankfully unaware of my inner detour. “I need an Elmwood buddy. My dad gave me the all-clear to make my offer sexy, so…what’ll it be?”
I bugged my eyes out. “Sexy?”
“Yeah, something interesting. If it’s money, name your price. Tell me what you want in exchange for your time.”
You.
The word tripped to the tip of my tongue. I bit it back and swallowed it, clearing my throat to be sure it was gone.
“I just…want to make sure that whatever I blabbed while I was wasted off my ass stays between us.”
“Yeah, but I’ll do that for free. You can trust me.”
“I don’t know you,” I retorted.
“True,” he conceded, sipping his beer. “But you don’t really have a choice. I can’t prove that I won’t sell you out. It’s a trust thing. Let’s talk about the sexy angle, ’cause I need an Elmwood buddy like yesterday.”
“I can’t believe I’m asking this, but…what does an Elmwood buddy do?”
“He shows the new guy the ropes.” Hank leaned in. “Introduce me, give me tips on who’s who and what to avoid. I suck in Elmwood and I need a champion, a liaison…a friend. That can be you.”
I huffed in amusement, feeling strangely at ease. He was charming as fuck and I was not immune. “How can you suck in Elmwood? Everyone is cool there.”
He slumped on his stool. “I don’t know, but I’m even worse in Wood Hollow. I don’t get it. People in Denver like me just fine. Even you like me.”
“No, I like your hat.” I reached for his water and winked.
I fucking winked.
Me.
That was me flirting. Ugh. Bad, Denny. Bad.
I felt surprisingly relaxed with him. Like I had last weekend when I’d spilled my guts and…other things. The point was, I could talk to him without feeling immediately depleted, and that alone was a minor miracle.
Hank kicked my shin playfully. “Nah, you like me. You did last weekend, anyway.”
“I was drunk, and I’m still mortified. Go easy on me.” I took a swig of water as if I were knocking back whisky.
“I’ll try, but…you shook your dick at me, then fell buck-ass naked in my bed, so c’mon.”
My eyes had to be saucer-sized. “I shook my dick at you?”
He inclined his chin and winked in a touché move that made my cock swell against my zipper.
“A week later, I’m still thinking about it,” Hank drawled.Whoa. Was he serious?
*****
Author Info:
Lane Hayes lives in sunny Southern California with her amazing husband, who thankfully doesn’t mind cooking, and their fabulous fox red Labrador, George, who’s pure mischief. Both provide oodles of inspiration for the low-angst, humorous books Lane loves to write.
She’s been telling stories about sexy, funny, sometimes geeky and quirky men who find love for a dozen years now and loving every minute. In her previous life, she sat at a desk and dealt with numbers, so yes…romance is much more satisfying!
Lane loves tea, travel, and chocolate…in any order. Add a book and she’s set!
Thin Ice is now available in audio! I’m so excited that listeners get a chance to meet Smitty and Bryson. (You an see what I thought about the book here.)
Thin Ice
The Elmwood Stories, Book 4
By Lane Hayes
Narrated by Nick J. Russo
Blurb:
The hunky dad, the hockey coach, and a new start…
Bryson
Elmwood isn’t good for my love life. Hey, I’m a positive person and I have nothing but wonderful things to say about small-town living, but I haven’t had a date in years. That’s fine—my son is and always has been my number one focus.
Except now he’s grown and gone. And it’s lonely.
Okay, yes, the new hockey coach is hot and single, but he’s off-limits. Smitty’s trouble with a capital T, and his baggage might outweigh mine. Besides, we said nothing would happen after “that” night. It was a one-time, never to be repeated deal.
At least…that’s what I thought.
Smitty
Am I sad about retiring from pro hockey? Honestly, no. I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t in pain. I need a rest and I could use a distraction from unwelcome memories at home. Stat.
So…Elmwood.
Look, we all know I won’t last a whole season of coaching high school kids, but stepping in till they find a better candidate is a good temporary plan. And Bryson’s here.
There’s something about the hot dad with the sunny smile and bad dad jokes that makes me feel alive again. I’m not in the market for forever—been there, done that. Look, I’ve taken risks for my sport, but I’m not giving my heart away again. I know thin ice when I see it.
Smitty gamely followed me to the next vignette at Pinecrest’s premiere home and furniture boutique. “It’s a coffee table, Bry. It serves two functions—a footrest and a place to leave dishes…and the remote control. Anything is fine.”
“Yeah, right,” I huffed. “Somehow I doubt the guy who couldn’t live with yellow walls and had lots of opinions about the sectional he special ordered doesn’t care about the coffee table that will go in the same room.”
Smitty darted his gaze around the store and leaned in close. “Places like this intimidate the fuck out of me. It smells like a perfume factory and everyone is smiling…but their eyes are dead. Like they’re zombies. Is this a Pinecrest thing or a bougie thing? I don’t do well with hot cotchure.”
I burst into laughter. “Haute couture?”
“Sure, whatever.”
I brushed my hand against his in a show of solidarity, then linked our pinkies for a brief moment and pointed at a handsome dark-wood coffee table with a wide base. “What about that one?”
Smitty shrugged. “Looks nice.”
“I think so too.” I clandestinely checked the tag. “Yikes. It’s pricey. Let’s keep looking.”
“Do they have a coffee table with cupholders?”
“Absolutely not, and why would anyone want a cupholder in a coffee table?”
Smitty widened his eyes comically. “Are you kidding me? Why would anyone not want a safe place to plop a cup? You never have to worry about spilling a drink or knocking it over, and you wouldn’t have to fumble for it when you’re watching a game, ’cause your cup is right where you left it.”
“Okay, that’s a whole lot of nonsense. And thankfully, a moot point.” I glanced at our surroundings as if to be sure that was true and noticed the salesperson watching us from the register. I couldn’t remember her name off the top of my head, but I was pretty sure I’d sold her and her partner a house two years ago. I lowered my voice and added, “They don’t have such a thing, but even if they did, I’d stop you from buying it.”
“How? I’m bigger than you. And I’m fast. I could whip out my credit card in a flash and shove this fucker into my truck before you could say ‘No, bad table!’ ”
*****
Author Info:
Lane Hayes lives in sunny Southern California with her amazing husband, who thankfully doesn’t mind cooking, and their fabulous fox red Labrador, George, who’s pure mischief. Both provide oodles of inspiration for the low-angst, humorous books Lane loves to write.
She’s been telling stories about sexy, funny, sometimes geeky and quirky men who find love for a dozen years now and loving every minute. In her previous life, she sat at a desk and dealt with numbers, so yes…romance is much more satisfying!
Lane loves tea, travel, and chocolate…in any order. Add a book and she’s set!
Elmwood isn’t good for my love life. Hey, I’m a positive person and I have nothing but wonderful things to say about small-town living, but I haven’t had a date in years. That’s fine—my son is and always has been my number one focus.
Except now he’s grown and gone. And it’s lonely.
Okay, yes, the new hockey coach is hot and single, but he’s off-limits. Smitty’s trouble with a capital T, and his baggage might outweigh mine. Besides, we said nothing would happen after “that” night. It was a one-time, never to be repeated deal.
At least…that’s what I thought.
Smitty
Am I sad about retiring from pro hockey? Honestly, no. I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t in pain. I need a rest and I could use a distraction from unwelcome memories at home. Stat.
So…Elmwood.
Look, we all know I won’t last a whole season of coaching high school kids, but stepping in till they find a better candidate is a good temporary plan. And Bryson’s here.
There’s something about the hot dad with the sunny smile and bad dad jokes that makes me feel alive again. I’m not in the market for forever—been there, done that. Look, I’ve taken risks for my sport, but I’m not giving my heart away again. I know thin ice when I see it.
Smitty gamely followed me to the next vignette at Pinecrest’s premiere home and furniture boutique. “It’s a coffee table, Bry. It serves two functions—a footrest and a place to leave dishes…and the remote control. Anything is fine.”
“Yeah, right,” I huffed. “Somehow I doubt the guy who couldn’t live with yellow walls and had lots of opinions about the sectional he special ordered doesn’t care about the coffee table that will go in the same room.”
Smitty darted his gaze around the store and leaned in close. “Places like this intimidate the fuck out of me. It smells like a perfume factory and everyone is smiling…but their eyes are dead. Like they’re zombies. Is this a Pinecrest thing or a bougie thing? I don’t do well with hot cotchure.”
I burst into laughter. “Haute couture?”
“Sure, whatever.”
I brushed my hand against his in a show of solidarity, then linked our pinkies for a brief moment and pointed at a handsome dark-wood coffee table with a wide base. “What about that one?”
Smitty shrugged. “Looks nice.”
“I think so too.” I clandestinely checked the tag. “Yikes. It’s pricey. Let’s keep looking.”
“Do they have a coffee table with cupholders?”
“Absolutely not, and why would anyone want a cupholder in a coffee table?”
Smitty widened his eyes comically. “Are you kidding me? Why would anyone not want a safe place to plop a cup? You never have to worry about spilling a drink or knocking it over, and you wouldn’t have to fumble for it when you’re watching a game, ’cause your cup is right where you left it.”
“Okay, that’s a whole lot of nonsense. And thankfully, a moot point.” I glanced at our surroundings as if to be sure that was true and noticed the salesperson watching us from the register. I couldn’t remember her name off the top of my head, but I was pretty sure I’d sold her and her partner a house two years ago. I lowered my voice and added, “They don’t have such a thing, but even if they did, I’d stop you from buying it.”
“How? I’m bigger than you. And I’m fast. I could whip out my credit card in a flash and shove this fucker into my truck before you could say ‘No, bad table!’ ”
*****
Review:
I, like pretty much everyone else apparently, loved Smitty. He’s like a big, likable puppy who just throws his whole self into things. He’s struggling a bit with his past and where he’s going next so he’s taking a bit of time in Elmwood to figure things out. It definitely doesn’t hurt that Bryson is nearby.
We’ve met Bryson before and most of us were curious about his story. He’s such a great dad and an upstanding member of the community but there has to be more there, right? Of course because he’s just a bit too … perfect 🙂 There are issues in his past, things that have left him a little scared to stray too far from the straight and narrow. It leads to some complications with Smitty in town. Putting him on some people’s **** list because of how he treats Smitty at first. But it definitely doesn’t take him long to get past that 🙂
Thin Ice, like the rest of The Elmwood Stories, is a low angst, slow burn, feel good love story. There’s moments of humor (between Bryson’s dad jokes and Smitty’s ingenuity in getting Bryson’s attention), steam (oh, the steam), and all the emotions (as both come to terms with their pasts and what a relationship together might look like). I loved seeing everyone again and wallowing in all the warm & fuzzies & snark & fun. Looking forward to whatever Hayes has for us next.
*****
Author Info:
Lane Hayes lives in sunny Southern California with her amazing husband, who thankfully doesn’t mind cooking, and their fabulous fox red Labrador, George, who’s pure mischief. Both provide oodles of inspiration for the low-angst, humorous books Lane loves to write.
She’s been telling stories about sexy, funny, sometimes geeky and quirky men who find love for a dozen years now and loving every minute. In her previous life, she sat at a desk and dealt with numbers, so yes…romance is much more satisfying!
Lane loves tea, travel, and chocolate…in any order. Add a book and she’s set!
The gentleman, the hot mess, and a little British adventure…
Raine
Moving to London is scary and daunting, but I desperately need this job–and a redo. Okay, so I may have oversold my qualifications. That shouldn’t be a big deal, though. I mean, being an assistant’s assistant seems easy enough, and I’m a fast learner.
Hold up!
I’m already in over my head with spreadsheets, new pronunciations, and temperamental appliances. And just as I’m mentally preparing to face going home early, the big boss offers me an opportunity I can’t refuse. And I definitely should because Graham Horsham is an infuriating, complicated grumpy bear with a razor-sharp tongue, a wickedly dry sense of humor, and…I like him far too much.
Graham
I’ve been bamboozled. I’m not quite sure how I ended up with an assistant who spills coffee daily, wears wrinkled shirts, and chatters nonstop. He can’t stay, but I don’t want him to go and that’s madness. The Horsham Group is closing one of our biggest deals ever and I won’t jeopardize it. This one is personal.
Yet so is Raine.
He’s a breath of fresh air—silly, impetuous, lighthearted, good-natured, and…quite lovely. I like him more than I want to admit. For some reason, I can let my guard down with him. It’s unnerving and probably unprofessional.
But not to worry…I will not, under any circumstances, fall for Raine.
Falling for Raine is an MM, age-gap romance featuring a British gentleman, a desperate but adorable American, and a UK adventure!
What in the hell was going on? It was as though I’d entered an alternative universe. Everything looked the same, but it was different.
Of course it was Raine.
I studied him shaking hands with everyone in the shop as I shrugged on my jacket. He was…hypnotic, addicting—a cross between an inappropriate dinner party guest and a fistful of forbidden sweets when you were on a diet. He didn’t fit in this world I’d carefully constructed, yet I kept inviting him in and forgetting whatever reason I’d concocted for this to make sense.
Like now.
“Perhaps you’d like to try something on.” I stuffed my hands into my pockets so I wouldn’t be tempted to touch him.
He widened his eyes and sidled close, whispering under his breath, “Are you nuts? One shirt here costs half my rent. Unless…oh, no. Oh, no, no, no!”
“What?” I demanded, pulling him with me outside.
“Are you going daddy on me?”
“Excuse me?” I furrowed my brow, stopping under the eaves where rain sluiced off the roof and fell like a curtain around us on two sides.
“Slow your roll, G, I’m not looking for a meal ticket, and I’m not taking hand-outs. I can be talked into bedroom daddy kink, but if you want me to call you Daddy—”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, you daft man. I do not want you to call me Daddy,” I growled just as a well-dressed man stepped onto the mat next to me, pausing for a moment to close his umbrella and dart a quick look between us.
Raine pursed his lips, then burst into laughter when the man entered the shop. “Ha! You should see your face. I was kidding.”
“You’re ridiculous,” I huffed, my lips twitching.
“I’ll be good, Daddy. Don’t spank me.”
“Don’t test me.” I pretended not to notice him fanning himself with a slack-jawed expression as I gestured toward the pub on the next block. “If we stay under the eaves, we’ll stay dry, but we’ll have to hurry.”
“No need. I bet they sell umbrellas in there.”
I squinted at the tourist shop at the corner on the opposite side of the street, its windows papered with Union Jack memorabilia. “That’s crap, Ray-n.”
“So what? It’s fun crap. My treat.”
He sprinted into the deluge, dashing into the tourist shop while I stared after him. What was he doing? Now he’d be wet and stuck with a tatty tourist umbrella that would undoubtedly flip inside out at the first gust of wind.
A crack of thunder spurred me into action. I borrowed a sturdy umbrella from Ives and Harris with the promise to return it as soon as possible, then walked down the street to find Raine.
I shouldn’t have been surprised that he’d managed to make a friend in under five minutes. He stood in front of a wall stuffed with tartan throws, holding two compact umbrellas and chatting up a salesman. It took a bit of persuading to convince him he didn’t need the blanket—however, I couldn’t talk him out of purchasing two Union Jack umbrellas. I warned him that they were poorly made, but he didn’t care.
We squabbled all the way to the pub, argued over what to order, who was paying, and where to sit before finally settling into a table for two at the window. I frowned when he beamed a sunshine smile my way.
“Stop being so happy,” I teased, cradling my glass. “It’s miserable out there.”
“But it’s warm and yummy in here,” he countered, sliding his calf along mine under the table. “And you’re cute when you’re cranky.”
“I am neither cute nor cranky. I’m—okay, never mind, I am cranky. If we’d come straight here, we could have avoided the queue and had that corner booth.” I pointed at the booth currently inhabited by a gaggle of noisy businessmen. “Do you ever listen to reason?”
“Have you met me?”
*****
Author Info:
Lane Hayes loves a good romance! An avid reader from an early age, she has always been drawn to well-told love story with beautifully written characters. She loves wine, chocolate and travel (in no particular order). Lane lives in Southern California with her amazing husband and her fabulous pup, George.
To celebrate the release of Falling For Raine, Lane is giving away the Winner’s choice of an audiobook or ebook of your choice from her published works!
Enter the Rafflecopter giveaway for your chance to win!
The gentleman, the hot mess, and a little British adventure…
Raine
Moving to London is scary and daunting, but I desperately need this job–and a redo. Okay, so I may have oversold my qualifications. That shouldn’t be a big deal, though. I mean, being an assistant’s assistant seems easy enough, and I’m a fast learner.
Hold up!
I’m already in over my head with spreadsheets, new pronunciations, and temperamental appliances. And just as I’m mentally preparing to face going home early, the big boss offers me an opportunity I can’t refuse. And I definitely should because Graham Horsham is an infuriating, complicated grumpy bear with a razor-sharp tongue, a wickedly dry sense of humor, and…I like him far too much.
Graham
I’ve been bamboozled. I’m not quite sure how I ended up with an assistant who spills coffee daily, wears wrinkled shirts, and chatters nonstop. He can’t stay, but I don’t want him to go and that’s madness. The Horsham Group is closing one of our biggest deals ever and I won’t jeopardize it. This one is personal.
Yet so is Raine.
He’s a breath of fresh air—silly, impetuous, lighthearted, good-natured, and…quite lovely. I like him more than I want to admit. For some reason, I can let my guard down with him. It’s unnerving and probably unprofessional.
But not to worry…I will not, under any circumstances, fall for Raine.
Falling for Raine is an MM, age-gap romance featuring a British gentleman, a desperate but adorable American, and a UK adventure!
What in the hell was going on? It was as though I’d entered an alternative universe. Everything looked the same, but it was different.
Of course it was Raine.
I studied him shaking hands with everyone in the shop as I shrugged on my jacket. He was…hypnotic, addicting—a cross between an inappropriate dinner party guest and a fistful of forbidden sweets when you were on a diet. He didn’t fit in this world I’d carefully constructed, yet I kept inviting him in and forgetting whatever reason I’d concocted for this to make sense.
Like now.
“Perhaps you’d like to try something on.” I stuffed my hands into my pockets so I wouldn’t be tempted to touch him.
He widened his eyes and sidled close, whispering under his breath, “Are you nuts? One shirt here costs half my rent. Unless…oh, no. Oh, no, no, no!”
“What?” I demanded, pulling him with me outside.
“Are you going daddy on me?”
“Excuse me?” I furrowed my brow, stopping under the eaves where rain sluiced off the roof and fell like a curtain around us on two sides.
“Slow your roll, G, I’m not looking for a meal ticket, and I’m not taking hand-outs. I can be talked into bedroom daddy kink, but if you want me to call you Daddy—”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, you daft man. I do not want you to call me Daddy,” I growled just as a well-dressed man stepped onto the mat next to me, pausing for a moment to close his umbrella and dart a quick look between us.
Raine pursed his lips, then burst into laughter when the man entered the shop. “Ha! You should see your face. I was kidding.”
“You’re ridiculous,” I huffed, my lips twitching.
“I’ll be good, Daddy. Don’t spank me.”
“Don’t test me.” I pretended not to notice him fanning himself with a slack-jawed expression as I gestured toward the pub on the next block. “If we stay under the eaves, we’ll stay dry, but we’ll have to hurry.”
“No need. I bet they sell umbrellas in there.”
I squinted at the tourist shop at the corner on the opposite side of the street, its windows papered with Union Jack memorabilia. “That’s crap, Ray-n.”
“So what? It’s fun crap. My treat.”
He sprinted into the deluge, dashing into the tourist shop while I stared after him. What was he doing? Now he’d be wet and stuck with a tatty tourist umbrella that would undoubtedly flip inside out at the first gust of wind.
A crack of thunder spurred me into action. I borrowed a sturdy umbrella from Ives and Harris with the promise to return it as soon as possible, then walked down the street to find Raine.
I shouldn’t have been surprised that he’d managed to make a friend in under five minutes. He stood in front of a wall stuffed with tartan throws, holding two compact umbrellas and chatting up a salesman. It took a bit of persuading to convince him he didn’t need the blanket—however, I couldn’t talk him out of purchasing two Union Jack umbrellas. I warned him that they were poorly made, but he didn’t care.
We squabbled all the way to the pub, argued over what to order, who was paying, and where to sit before finally settling into a table for two at the window. I frowned when he beamed a sunshine smile my way.
“Stop being so happy,” I teased, cradling my glass. “It’s miserable out there.”
“But it’s warm and yummy in here,” he countered, sliding his calf along mine under the table. “And you’re cute when you’re cranky.”
“I am neither cute nor cranky. I’m—okay, never mind, I am cranky. If we’d come straight here, we could have avoided the queue and had that corner booth.” I pointed at the booth currently inhabited by a gaggle of noisy businessmen. “Do you ever listen to reason?”
“Have you met me?”
*****
Review:
Sometimes reading m/m romances I’ll find their interactions to be written a little … different than I’m used to. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to find them sexy or not and the beginning of Falling for Raine fits into that category. I get the whole one night stand and anonymous sex thing but some of Hayes’s descriptions were a bit much for me. I actually started to put it down but I know Hayes writes excellent stories so I pushed through. And oh am I glad I did! I loved Raine and Graham together. And I liked that their relationship didn’t go the way I expected.
Raine needs to get away, regroup, and get past his troubles. Taking a job in London has a chance to do that, until it becomes apparent that he’s way under-qualified. And to make matters worse, he runs smack dab into a one night stand. As his new boss.
Graham didn’t expect to see Raine again but since he’s not been able to forget him maybe he can take advantage of the situation. As long as both of them agree to certain terms, most important is not getting their hearts involved. Shouldn’t be too hard, right? Right.
Raine is a delightfully positive foil to Graham’s more serious reservedness. It’s entertaining seeing Raine help Graham to relax, take life a little less seriously. To look at things and people in a different way. And to embrace a more carefree person hidden underneath his well tailored suits.
Funny, cheeky, and with a good amount of heat, Falling for Raine proves to me once again that Hayes just knows how to write stories that I love.
*****
Author Info:
Lane Hayes loves a good romance! An avid reader from an early age, she has always been drawn to well-told love story with beautifully written characters. She loves wine, chocolate and travel (in no particular order). Lane lives in Southern California with her amazing husband and her fabulous pup, George.
To celebrate the release of Falling For Raine, Lane is giving away the Winner’s choice of an audiobook or ebook of your choice from her published works!
Enter the Rafflecopter giveaway for your chance to win!
The hockey has-been, the barista, and some holiday magic…
Court Cut from the team, fired my agent…now what?
This can’t be it for me. Unfortunately, the phone isn’t ringing. My best bet is to head home for the holidays and regroup.
Problem: I don’t know what to do with myself. Helping out at the rink might be my ticket out of here, but nothing is happening fast enough. And then there’s Ivan. No, no, it’s not what you think. We went to school together. We’re acquaintance-friends…nothing more.
But you know, I like him. A lot. He’s funny and relentlessly upbeat. I’m a better person when I’m with him—the kind who volunteers to deck the halls and wrap garland on lampposts and—
Whoa. What’s happening here?
Ivan I love the holidays! But running the coffee shop on my own during the busiest season of the year is going to be a challenge. And the sudden appearance of my former crush is all kinds of distracting.
See, I spent my formative years mooning over Court Henderson, our high school’s hockey phenom, even though he was out of my league. Thankfully, I grew up and left the silly remnants of my youth behind. Or did I?
Grown-up Court is full of surprises, and under his gruff yet extremely fine exterior, he’s a good soul with a huge heart. He’s charming, sweet, handsome, and— Uh-oh.
My crush is back. Just in time for the holidays…
Holiday Crush is an MM bisexual, small town romance featuring a renewed ancient crush, some mistletoe latte art, and a little seasonal magic.
Court shook his head at my amazing, incredible Christmas tree on his way to the door. “I can’t get over that thing. It’s wild.”
I beamed. “I know. I love it. I buy a regular tree too, even though it’s holiday overkill. But who cares? This is my favorite time of year, and I celebrate to the nth degree!”
He shoved his arms into his jacket, a playful grin on his handsome mug. “And do you celebrate by watching scary movies and stringing candy corn and plastic spiders into garland?”
“No, smartass, but damn, that’s a great idea for Halloween next year.”
He chuckled. “So…what do you do for Christmas?”
I braced my left hand on the doorjamb and cast a quick glance at the fireplace to keep from staring at my guest. Standing a foot apart in the cramped doorway between my foyer and living room felt oddly intimate. Court took up space in my tiny abode, with his broad shoulders, towering height, and big muscles. I was more aware of him than ever. It took me a second to gather my thoughts and remember what we were talking about.
Christmas. Right.
“The usual—decorate my house, string lights outside, drape fresh garland everywhere. And yes, there’s always mistletoe. I also watch holiday movies and listen to Christmas music from mid-November till the end of the year. I bake cookies too, which always turn out to be a hot mess, but baking is festive and fun, and my family and friends are kind enough to compliment me anyway. And…I sign up for every holiday event in town, including the Skate with Santa party at the rink, caroling at Wood Hollow’s Home for the elderly, Toys for Tots Sled Fest next to the Christmas Tree Farm in Fallbrook, and of course, Holiday Bingo. By the way, all of those, including Bingo, have volunteer positions…if you’re interested.”
“I’d rather shovel snow in Siberia,” he deadpanned.
I grinned. “Your holiday spirit needs a tune-up.”
“Yeah, yeah. I don’t do holiday spirit.”
“That’s an awful thing to say!”
“Why? There’s no point. I’m usually on the road, so I’ve never bought a tree and I don’t always remember to buy gifts, either. My brother shamelessly shows me up every holiday. Oren bought our folks an oil painting of their ten-year-old golden retriever a couple of years ago. And it was really nice. I bought Mom the same gloves I bought her the previous year and the wrong-sized slippers for Dad.”
“Oh, dear. Well, I’m happy to help you this year. I’m an expert at gift-giving and—what’s so funny?”
“Ha. Ha.” I moved by him to unlock the door. “Good-bye, Grinch.”
He snickered. “Later. And thanks for tonight. It was fun.”
“Yeah. It was,” I agreed, smiling as he stepped closer.
This was where I was supposed to shuffle out of the way to give him room to slip outside without letting the cold inside, but my feet were seemingly glued to the floor. And now, we were inches apart. So close I could see flecks of gold in his blue eyes and a scar half-hidden in his left brow. I should have jumped away and laughed off this little dance before I accidentally made it awkward.
Too late.
Ugh. Now I was staring at him and he was staring at me and…his mouth was right there, hovering over mine. I could feel his breath on my lips and smell gin and something woodsy and masculine on his skin. And nope, I couldn’t resist.
I leaned in, set my palm on his chest and pressed my lips to Court’s.
And that was the match that started the fire.
*****
Review:
I loved this story and read it in less than a day. It’s perfect as a holiday read, full of winter cheer & fun with minimal drama.
Ivan is a delight, with his mix of brashness, charm, and awkwardness. He’s a proud romantic and embraces everything about the holidays. Court on the other hand doesn’t really want anything to do with the season, especially now that he’s at loose ends. But a few run-ins with Ivan soon has him embracing what Elmwood has to offer. Especially the sexy barista.
Court already accepts his bisexuality, which helps keep the angst to a minimum. I don’t mind a bi-awakening, they can be interesting and full of emotion (like Next Season). But here our main characters get to move straight into getting to know each other again … and getting to KNOW each other. It’s steamy but also playful and sweet. The first book, You Again, might not have been quite my thing, but everything else by Hayes has been a delight and Holiday Crush is no different. I’m so ready for what she delivers next.
(Although this is book three in the series, I feel like it can be read as a stand alone. There are returning characters, and Ivan & JC’s amusingly unusual friendship was a highlight in book two, there’s not anything that would have directly impacted this story.)
*****
Author Info:
Lane Hayes loves a good romance! An avid reader from an early age, she has always been drawn to well-told love story with beautifully written characters. She loves wine, chocolate and travel (in no particular order). Lane lives in Southern California with her amazing husband and her fabulous pup, George.
My time playing pro hockey will be up soon. I can feel it. And I’ve heard the rumors: he’s too old, he’s had too many injuries, he’s lost his edge. I don’t want to admit it, but they could be right. Next season might be my last.
Or this season. Because of course, this is when the universe decides I need another concussion. It’s a doozy too—the kind that’s going to keep me off skates for a while.
Which is how I end up in a small New England town in the middle of nowhere Vermont, eating every meal at a diner where a grumpy chef from Quebec makes haute cuisine…and burgers. Jean-Claude is funny and charming and—
Okay, I have a crush on a gay man.
This is a new one.
Jean-Claude
Confused straight men are entertaining. But Riley is…fascinating, sexy, and curiously vulnerable. His injury has rocked his confidence a bit, so perhaps he’s in need of a friend. Any friend. Even moi.
I’m an unlikely choice, but maybe he just likes my tuna salad.
No…I think it’s me.
And though I’m happy to help him explore his bisexual curious side, I have career concerns of my own. See, the things I love most about Elmwood seem shaky and uncertain, but not Riley. He’s solid and genuine. Suddenly, this temporary secret liaison feels more real than anything in my life.
I need more than this season. I want it all. With Riley.
Next Season is an MM bisexual-awakening romance featuring a grumpy chef, an injured hockey player, and a big HEA in a small town where anything can happen.
Riley shook his wrist and stole a glance my way. “You don’t strike me as the type who likes to follow rules.”
“Not true. Religion was a big part of my life when I was a child. Church on Sundays and high holidays, Catholic school. I always did well with structure and discipline. Hockey gave me that too. The practicing, the camaraderie…the game is always bigger than one player, but your contribution matters. It’s like that in a kitchen too. Everyone has a role to play, and we’re better at it when we work as a team. Rules are good, but…” I pulled the dough from him and grinned. “It’s fun to break them.”
He snickered, diligently pushing and folding the dough. “Uh-huh. Now, me? I was a quintessential rule follower. Even after I left home, I made my own rules about…everything in my life. Food restrictions, daily exercise, sleep, alcohol…I even had a no masturbation rule twenty-four hours before a game.”
I wrinkled my nose in distaste. “Is this some kind of testosterone bullshit?”
He blushed, and it was so fucking cute I couldn’t resist looping my arm around his waist, nuzzling his neck, and pressing kisses behind his ear.
“Cut it out.” He wriggled in my arms, then leaned against me. “To be honest, I got carried away with the rules. I have a mild obsessive-compulsive streak, and I’m hard on myself. I was like this as a kid too—always trying to be the best and do the best. It’s fucking exhausting.”
“I bet. I can’t relate. I was terrible.” I sighed. “My poor parents. I was the kid who fell asleep in church, ditched school to smoke with my hooligan friends, and the D-man who showed much promise, but spent far too much time in the penalty box for using my fists instead of my brains. It’s not that I didn’t want to follow rules, but some of them seemed pointless to me.”
“Yeah, that sounds more like you.”
“Oui. I had too much energy or not enough. I never got the balance right until I worked in a kitchen and found out the hard way that everything I touched would turn to shit if I didn’t pay attention. So I learned to be patient and put in the work. And because of that, I don’t have to cross my fingers or double-check my recipes. I know this bread will be amazing…unless you fucked it up somehow.”
Riley swatted my ass with a dish towel. “I made it better. Admit it.”
“We shall see.”
*****
Review:
I loved this story. It’s low angst, so sweet, and I didn’t even mind that 90% of it is just the two of them together (although seeing JC interact with others is a hoot and a half). It is a joy getting to know all of JC’s secrets as Riley gets him to open up bit by bit. He had a few forks in the road that helped make him into the grumpy, caring, funny man he is today.
Riley is impatient to get back on the ice, but JC proves to be a good distraction. Maybe too good as Riley starts to realize that his feelings are turning a direction he didn’t anticipate. I didn’t mind that Hayes lets them explore this new side to Riley without a lot of drama. He just goes with the flow, evaluating his comfort level every step of the way, and JC’s calm support definitely helps as things get steadily more steamy.
When I read You, Again I felt that any issues with the book were squarely on me and I was right. With this follow up book Hayes reminds me what I like so much about her stories. Her MCs are great together – I love JC’s playfully gruff personality and Riley is a superstitious mess as he faces his future & his feelings for JC. Together, they are loving, so supportive, and they made me very happy. I’m excited that there’s a holiday story coming soon because I’m ready to get back to Elmwood.
*****
Author Info:
Lane Hayes loves a good romance! An avid reader from an early age, she has always been drawn to well-told love story with beautifully written characters. She loves wine, chocolate and travel (in no particular order). Lane lives in Southern California with her amazing husband and her fabulous pup, George.
The hometown hockey hero and his best friend’s brother…
Vinnie
Hockey is in my blood. I learned to skate before I learned how to ride a bike. I’ve been on a wild ride, playing at the highest level for some of the biggest and best teams in the league. But now it’s over, and I’m not sure what to do with myself.
So I’m going home to Elmwood.
But I’ll tell you what I’m not gonna do—I’m not going to coach my buddy’s junior hockey league. No chance. I don’t know how to deal with kids, and besides, the other coach—who happens to be my best friend’s brother—hates me. With reason.
That may be old news, yet something tells me we’re going to have to deal with the past.
And that’s almost as scary as coaching teens.
Nolan
No, I don’t hate Vinnie, but he drives me nuts.
He’s cocky, goofy, selfish, and yeah…after all these years, I’m still attracted to him. But I’m a responsible adult now. I run my family’s business, and with the help of my ex, I’ve made Elmwood Diner into a New England institution.
So maybe my life isn’t particularly exciting at the moment, and maybe Vinnie isn’t the worst. Nonetheless, I have no desire to rekindle a friendship with the hockey hero who no doubt will be on the first flight out of town the second he gets bored or gets a better offer.
And I’m not coaching with him. No way.
Ugh…
I can’t believe I’m doing this again.
You, Again is an MM bisexual, best friend’s brother, frenemies to lovers romance featuring old friends, a new quest, and a little hockey HEA!
Vinnie set a twenty on the table and stood. “Thanks for the coffee.”
“It’s on the house,” I insisted, pushing the money toward him.
“No, no. I support local businesses. Keep the change.”
His over-the-top wink practically begged me to roll my eyes, but I had more to say. We had to clear the air…at least a little.
“Um…hey, even if you don’t make it through summer, your presence alone is good for business for the whole town. ‘NHL Hero Comes Home’ and all that bullshit. If you don’t mind the attention, and I’m assuming you don’t—come help out at the rink. It’s easy and fun. You won’t regret it.”
Vinnie rubbed his scruffy jaw thoughtfully. “Okay. I’ll do it.”
I smiled tentatively and raised my hand for a high five. “Great.”
“But only if you’re my assistant.”
“What?” I pulled my hand away before he could slap it, furrowing my brow. “No way. Gavin is perfectly capable of—”
“Nope. It has to be you.”
I frowned. “Why?”
“ ’Cause…” Vinnie blew out an exasperated breath. “I want to fix this. Me and you. And I can’t do that if you ignore me.”
And just like that, the invisible wall between us shook in its foundation.
“We’re fine,” I bluffed.
Vinnie arched a brow. “You’re mad at me. I know why, and I get it. We don’t have to go into it now, but at the very least, we should call a truce ’cause if we’re working with impressionable teens, you really oughtta be nice to me, Moore.”
My mouth opened in a perfect O. “I’ve been perfectly civil to you. More civil than you deserve, Kiminski.”
“See? That wasn’t nice,” he teasingly scolded. “I can’t believe I’m the voice of reason here.”
I fixed him with a bored sardonic stare. “You are never the voice of reason.”
“I kind of am now.”
“No, you aren’t.”
“Yes, I am.”
“No, you—oh, my God.” I pointed at the door. “Good-bye, Vinnie.”
He snickered, flashing a lopsided devil-may-care grin my way. “Wait up. Let’s seal the deal on this truce.”
“Oh, brother.”
“I’m serious. Let’s shake hands, hug it out, kiss and make up, or all of the above.”
I regarded his outstretched hand suspiciously and cautiously slid my palm against his. “Fine. Truce.”
“See, that didn’t sound friendly. You ruined it. Gimme a hug,” he demanded, pulling me into a bear hug, squeezing me hard enough to crack a rib.
I let out an oomph of surprise and tried to wriggle out of his hold. He took the hint and loosened his grip. I knew it was all in good fun or at least meant to playfully rile me up, but when he bent to kiss my cheek, I turned my head just as he swooped in and bam! Our lips collided in an actual, honest-to-God kiss.
A fucking kiss.
I couldn’t speak for Vinnie, but I was too shocked to move.
We’d been here before.
Sure, it had been almost twenty years ago, but I was positive neither of us was looking for a repeat. I certainly wasn’t. Any second now, he’d back up, swipe his hand across his mouth and make some ridiculous joke to right the balance. But he didn’t.
He softened his lips and molded them to mine, tilting his chin as if testing a new angle. And suddenly, this felt real.
Oh, no.
Oh…no.
I pushed out of his arms, sucking in a gulp of air.
Holy shit.
My heart beat like a drum, and my mouth was bone dry.
“I think—I think we’re good now,” I rasped.
Vinnie’s shell-shocked expression gave way to something unreadable. He scratched his nape and stepped aside.
“Yeah. Uh…what time is practice?”
“Thursday at three.”
He nodded and tried a smile that never reached his eyes. “Cool. See ya, Nol.”
I froze in place as the door swung shut behind him, willing my heartbeat to calm the fuck down.
Did that happen?
It wasn’t real. I knew that, but he didn’t pull away. He lingered, he pressed closer, he…he kissed me.
Reality check: Vinnie was a notorious prankster. He was always doing something to push boundaries—make you laugh, make you mad, make you stop taking life so damned seriously. Silly was his fallback language. If lighthearted pranks and teasing kept some uncomfortable parts of the past at bay, I was all for it.
But I was still confused. Very confused.
*****
Review:
I’m going to say straight up that I’m pretty sure the reason I didn’t like this one as much as the other books by Lane Hayes that I’ve read is … me. I just didn’t like Vinnie as a character. He’s one of those overgrown guy’s guys that just irritates me to no end. He’s in his late 30s, still giving people noogies, playing practical jokes, and acts the class clown. Not that I’m against people having fun but that’s not my idea of fun and that colored my reading of the book. I get that he’s got a lot of issues – from his mother’s death to his father’s absentee parenting to coming to grips with his future and sexuality. But I just couldn’t let the rest go to really invest in him. When he was more serious, though, I definitely could see the appeal.
On the other hand, I loved Nolan. He’s a pillar of the community and his family, a fabulously loving & supportive uncle, and once he gets over the way things ended between them he’s there for Vinnie too. Even knowing it most likely means another broken heart.
I always enjoy Hayes’s writing — she gives readers robust characters (even when they aren’t my type), compelling stories, and satisfying HEAs. And I’m definitely excited to see what happens next – the little teaser with JC has me impatient to see him and Riley together. This one character being not my favorite in no way reflects on Hayes and her skills, it’s just a me thing.
*****
Author Info:
Lane Hayes loves a good romance! An avid reader from an early age, she has always been drawn to well-told love story with beautifully written characters. She loves wine, chocolate and travel (in no particular order). Lane lives in Southern California with her amazing husband and her fabulous pup, George.
Romantic Reads and Such 