Leigh Carman on Tour for her Players of LA and ‘Two-Man Advantage’ (exclusive excerpt)

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Two-Man Advantage (Players of LA #3) by Leigh Carman
Dreamspinner Press

Available for Purchase at

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iBooks

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B&N-

Dreamspinner

Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words is happy to  host Leigh Carman today on her Two-Man Advantage tour.  She’s brought along an exclusive excerpt for everyone to enjoy!

 

Blurb

A hockey star skating on the edge of a catastrophe.

A PR specialist so adept, he’s called “the Fixer.”

Working together will be the biggest challenge of both their careers.

The LA Vikings hockey team is fed up the violent outbursts of its huge, intimidating enforcer, Viktor Novak. Hounded by a homophobic and domineering father, Viktor takes out his frustrations by spilling blood—on and off the ice. Now he has one last chance to clean up his image, or his career is over.

That’s where Bowen Miller comes in.

Bo has taken on the hardest cases and succeeded—by micromanaging every aspect of a client’s life—at the expense of his own happiness. But in the stubborn, hot mess that is Viktor, Bo might have met his match—both in and out of the bedroom. One man is out of control, and one controls everything. But when sex and attraction come into play, those roles are open to negotiation.

Exclusive Excerpt

Vik and Bo’s first encounter

Bo

When Vik doesn’t move, I take a closer look. I know what I’m seeing; I just don’t believe it. No fucking way. His lightly stubbled face is flushed, nostrils flaring wide. His light blue irises are nearly gone, eclipsed by enormous dark pupils. Vik’s full red lips are slick, and I can see the restraint in his clenched jaw, his twitching muscles, all of them jumping as he fights his primal urges.

He wants me. Viktor Novak wants me.

“That picture in your office,” Vik says, his voice a low, seductive rumble that vibrates straight to my cock. “The one of the football player, Van Archer.”

Wait, what?

Now I’m the one who tenses up, once again ready for a fight with the exhausting Viktor Novak. Maybe what I’m reading as desire on Vik’s face is actually hostility. Maybe I’m only seeing what I want to see when in reality, there’s nothing there.

“What about it?”

“He’s gay.”

“He is,” I answer, bracing myself for an almighty argument.

Vik nods. He begins to say something, and then his mouth snaps shut as he hesitates. More curious than cautious, Vik presses on. “Are you?”

“Does it matter?” I snap, every one of my defenses at the ready. It’s no secret I’m gay. I don’t hide my sexuality, but I don’t announce it when I meet people either. If Vik wants to come at me, he’s going to get a knockdown, drag-out fight.

Vik shifts closer, splaying an immense hand on the stone countertop on either side of my waist. Intimidated by his sheer size and proximity, the fight drains out of me, and I lean back, the unforgiving granite pressing painfully into the base of my spine, making me acutely aware that this man has the ability to hurt me quite seriously any time he chooses. The fact that he could so easily dominate me physically unexpectedly turns me on so much my dick is suddenly harder than the granite surface I’m trapped against.

What the hell? I dominate, I don’t submit. So why am I rock hard and leaking like a faucet at the thought of Vik overpowering me?

“It matters to me,” Vik murmurs, his gaze dropping to my mouth before returning to my eyes.

The way Vik answers allows me to exhale, letting go of some of my fear. My initial assumption was correct. The man before me isn’t angry, he’s… hopeful.

I inhale a shaky breath and swallow. “Yes. I’m gay.”

For the briefest of seconds, Vik’s gaze widens, and a spark of desire flashes in his bright blue eyes. Then so many things happen at once, I have no time to process it all. Vik’s heavy lids drop to half-mast and he closes the remaining space between us, pressing the hot, hard length of his body against mine. Two strong, masculine hands grip either side of my head, fingers long enough to curl around the base of my skull, and Viktor Novak, star hockey player and noted brawler, lowers his face to mine and kisses me.

Sensory overload hits, and I’m frozen in place. Hot skin covered in tattoos, the faint taste of mint toothpaste, the warm scent of Viktor, the feel of his rough hands on my clean-shaven face—all of it combines to render me completely useless as his lips move over mine. It’s only when Viktor boldly thrusts his stiff cock against my groin, grinding it against my own rigid length as he simultaneously swipes his tongue across my mouth, that I wake up and get with the program.

Vik slides that wet tongue over my lips again, more insistent this time, and I can’t help but groan, opening my mouth as heat builds at the base of my spine. Vik takes advantage of my parted lips, immediately plunging his velvet tongue deep into my mouth. I release the countertop and wrap my hands around his backside, grabbing two big handfuls of those spectacular, rock-hard glutes, and tug him closer, smashing our erections together.

“Oh fuck,” Vik breathes against my lips. Those two little words nearly have me coming in my pants. I’ve never been so out of control in my life. The threads of reality unravel around me, spinning away as raw instinct takes over my conscious behavior. No twink hookup has ever incited this type of reaction from me. I’m wanton, willing, and completely uninhibited. Out of control. It’s frightening yet… freeing.

Viktor’s hands leave my skin, and I whimper from the loss of contact, leaning forward to chase that delicious mouth. When Vik’s thick fingers begin pawing desperately at my clothes, shoving the custom-fitted jacket down my arms to land on the floor then moving to unbutton my shirt, I realize his intentions. In a flash, I begin to eagerly assist Vik in shedding my clothes, yanking my silk tie loose and sliding it off my neck.

Halfway through undoing my dress shirt, Vik growls and loses patience with the dozen tiny pearl buttons. With one swift tug, he tears open the front of my shirt, buttons pinging off the kitchen cabinets and skittering across the hardwood floors. My cuffs are still fastened by a pair of platinum cuff links, so now my shirt is inside out, hanging from my wrists, and I can’t get my hands free. Vik either doesn’t notice or could care less. In the blink of an eye, he has my slacks unzipped, shoves his hand in, and takes my aching cock in his scorching hot palm.

“Jesus, Vik,” I rasp, my chest heaving. The touch of his hand on my dick is blistering hot and so fucking good, but much too brief. Vik lets go of my cock, and I panic. “What? Why are you—?”

My question dies in a strangled moan as I watch Vik shove down his own sweats and underwear, not even bothering to pull them all the way off. Instead he hooks them under his huge, tight sac, lines up our cocks, and wraps a calloused hand around both of our rigid lengths. Vik squeezes them together and my eyes roll back in my head. I struggle to free my arms, desperate to touch this man and his gorgeous, thick cock. Vik lets out a low growl when I fight the fabric binding my hands. His eyes flash, and quick as a whip, he reaches behind me, grabs the remains of my shirt, and twists it around his free hand until my wrists are tightly bound at the base of my spine, trapped by a pair of cuff links.

I want to struggle, to shout and kick until I can get my hands free. To demand my freedom so I can take charge of the encounter. But Vik ignores any effort I make to unbind my hands. He gives me a dark, lust-filled look and waits until I stop fighting and calm down. Once I’m still, Vik keeps his eyes locked on mine and spits obscenely into his palm before lowering it to stroke our cocks in tandem. At that moment, any fight left in me dies, superseded by the unbelievable pleasure of Viktor’s talented hand and the feel of his sculpted body against mine. It’s uncomfortable to give in to someone, to willingly let Vik overpower me, and part of me is still freaking out. My sexual partners are always smaller than me for a reason. I just can’t let go of that damn need to control everything and everyone. It’s my experience that when you have no power, you get hurt.

“Let it go,” Vik whispers as if reading my mind, all the while continuing to stare into my eyes as his hand speeds up between us. The friction of Vik’s slick, rough palm, the sensation of his smooth cock rubbing against mine, is sublime. But with the nagging need to free my hands still plaguing me, I can’t enjoy his talented touch to the fullest.

“I see your brain working to figure out how to take charge,” Vik says. He gives me a dark look, those sensual lips curling into a wicked smirk. “You can’t take control here, Bowen. I won’t let you. You can’t get away either. I have you at my mercy.” He leans in to growl in my ear. “I can do anything I want to you.” Vik’s husky, dominating voice reverberates through my body, making my cock impossibly harder. “Let go and enjoy the ride, Bowen, because I plan on blowing your goddamn mind.”

To find out what happens next, check out Two-Man Advantage

About the Author

Leigh Carman is the pen name for the M/M romances written by bestselling Contemporary romance writer, Heather C. Leigh.

She lived outside Atlanta for 15 years and recently moved to Houston with her husband, 2 kids, and French bulldog.

She is leaving explicit directions in her will for her friends to discreetly scatter her ashes around Fenway Park. Then they are to sit back, watch a game with a beer and a Fenway frank and have a wicked good time.

Twitter- @heatherleighauthor

Facebook- https://www.facebook.com/LeighCarmanAuthor/

Website – http://heathercleighauthor.com/leigh-carman-novels/

In Book Release Spotlight: Match Point (Sports of the Seasons #1) by Leigh Carman

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MatchPointFS

Match Point (Sports of the Seasons #1) by Leigh Carman
D
reamspinner Press

Cover Artist Catt Ford
Release Date:  July 20, 2016

Buy Links

Dreamspinner Press | Amazon | ARe | iTunes | Barnes & Noble

Dexandfinnbeachad
  

BLURB

Two stubborn men.

One is a rude jerk. The other, the life of the party.

It was hate at first sight.

Pro beach volleyball players Finn Callahan and Dexter Savage have been rivals since college. While Finn always comes out on top on the court, Dexter’s carefree and fun-loving personality earns him scores of adoring men and women. And as much as Finn fights to deny it, there’s another reason for the tension he feels when Dex is around. Hate wasn’t the only thing he felt when he first laid eyes on his opponent.

When they’re forced to team up, the two men must bury their differences—on and off the court—if either of them is going to succeed professionally.

EXCERPT

Finn
“Get it. Get it. Hurry, hurry!”
I scramble for the ball while Coach yells out encouragements—or possibly reprimands. I can never be sure which. Either way I’m on top of my game today. I hustle to the net, get under the ball, and bump it with my wrists, arcing it high for Dex.
Dex waits for it to come down and lifts it using his fingertips. As the ball goes in the air, I take a running jump, curve my body so it doesn’t touch any part of the net, and smack the ball over our opponent’s head. It hits the sand.
“Yes,” Dex shouts and holds up a hand for me to high-five. Grinning, I reach out and slap my hand into his. Dex holds on to it for a brief moment. The contact is quick—less than a second—but the heat that sears through my palm leaves a lasting impression. It’s time to switch sides and it’s my turn to serve. Dex puts his hands behind his back and gives me the signal to hit it left with no spin. I toss the ball up and hit it over the net.
Beautiful. Our opponent drops to his knees and makes the save, but he can’t get to his position quickly enough to reach the ball his partner perfectly sets for him. Dex cheers and pumps his fist in the air. I grin at his enthusiasm. Watching Dexter Savage have the time of his life is mesmerizing. It infuses me with an energy I’ve never felt before. I no longer see Dex as just another charming guy. He has me spellbound and hanging on his every word.
“Nice whiff, dickhead,” I call out when he misses a dig and comes up with a mouthful of sand.
I can’t have him thinking I like him or something.
Dex laughs and spits out the sand. “Shut up, Callahan.”
By the end of the day, we should be exhausted, but we’re riding high on winning the New Orleans Open, and on the thirty-minute ride back to the hotel on the river, we both get our second wind. Dex is literally bouncing around. He’s so full of energy, he’s making me dizzy.
“Come on, Finn. Let’s go out to celebrate. This is New Orleans, The Big Easy. There’s sin on every corner and a ton of awesome clubs here.”
I roll my eyes. “I doubt your idea of an awesome club is the same as mine, Savage.”
“What?” Dex squints at me. Then his eyes widen almost comically. “Oooooohhh. You don’t think I can handle a gay club?” A slow, snarky grin spreads across his handsome face, and my breath hitches.
Hello dimple.
I shake off my dirty thoughts to get back to the subject at hand. “No. I don’t. God. I can’t even think about you going into a gay club without laughing.”
Or getting hard and groaning.
“Hmph.” Dex levels his intense hazel eyes at me and quirks one eyebrow in challenge.
“No, Dex.”
“Yes, Finn,” he sings gleefully.
“No way.”
Dex chuckles and nods his head. “Oh yes. Pull out your sparkly top, baby, because we’re hitting the gay clubs tonight.”
“Fuck you, Savage. I don’t own a sparkly top.”
“Rainbow?”
“No.”
Dex gives me a disgusted look. “What kind of gay man are you?”
“Not a very good one, I guess.”
One who crushes on his straight teammate, that’s what kind of gay man I am. A stupid one.
After five minutes of back and forth, I finally get Dex to let go of the idea of cruising gay clubs tonight, but only on the promise that I’ll take him to one when we get back to LA. I’m hoping he’ll forget by then, because seeing his gorgeous ass shaking on a dance floor while hot, sweaty guys grind on him? I’d implode before the night was over.
We change and grab a cab, and Dex directs the driver to head toward Bourbon Street. “Really, Dex? Bourbon Street? Can’t we go somewhere a little less—”
“Less fun? No, Callahan, we can’t. You’re having fun if it kills me. Tonight I’m officially removing the stick from your ass….” Dex twists his head and shoots me a scorching look that has my dick throbbing painfully in my shorts. “Even if I have to pin you down to yank it out.”
Holy fuck.
I swallow, and my mouth suddenly disconnects from my brain as every drop of blood in my body turns to lava and collects in my groin.
“Whatever, Savage,” I mumble, turn to the window, and shift my hips so Dex can’t see my now fully hard cock.
Dex laughs and shoves my shoulder. Does he not know what he’s doing to me? I sneak a glance at my teammate. He’s looking out his own window, eyes glittering, smile as wide as a kid on Christmas morning.
No. He has no clue. He’s truly excited to go out and have fun. In fact he’s practically bursting out of his skin, he’s so wound up. But then, Dexter Savage always was the life of the party. He’s comfortable in his own skin. It’s what makes him so attractive. Well, besides the tousled, just out of bed hair, the perfectly straight nose and full mouth, and the body to die for. But his outgoing personality was what had me crushing on him in college—and the reason I hated his guts. I watched him every day at practice as he charmed everyone around us, and knew he would never be available to me.
“Here it is.” Dex throws some money at the cab driver and leaps out of the car. I take a look at my surroundings and thump my head on the glass. We’re on a street thick with pedestrians clutching hurricane glasses and sipping through long straws as they mingle in the crowd. Neon signs line the business fronts on both sides of the cab, each promising a different kind of debauchery inside.
Dex leans down and sticks his head in the backseat. “What are you waiting for, Callahan? Let’s get this party started.”
Ugh. Tonight is going to be pure torture.

 

Heatherheadshotcolor

About the Author

Leigh Carman is the pen name for the M/M romances written by bestselling Contemporary romance writer, Heather C. Leigh.

She lives outside Atlanta with her husband, 2 kids, and French bulldog.

She is leaving explicit directions in her will for her friends to discreetly scatter her ashes around Fenway Park. Then they are to sit back, watch a game with a beer and a Fenway frank and have a wicked good time.

Social Media

Heather C. Leigh

Amazon, iTunes, and Barnes and Noble Bestselling Author of the Famous Series
Also writing M/M as Leigh Carman. You can reach me at leighcarmanauthor@gmail.com if you want to be on the M/M mailing list only.
Finnanddexfanad2

Need a New Series? Check out the Upcoming Match Point (Sports of the Seasons #1) by Leigh Carman

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Match Point

Match Point (Sports of the Seasons #1) by Leigh Carman
D
reamspinner Press

Release Date: July 20th from Dreamspinner Press

Buy Links

Dreamspinner Press | Amazon | ARe | iBooks | kobo | B&N

Google Play | Amazon Ca | Amazon UK

BLURB

Dexandfinnbeachad

Two stubborn men.

One is a rude jerk. The other, the life of the party.

It was hate at first sight.

Pro beach volleyball players Finn Callahan and Dexter Savage have been rivals since college. While Finn always comes out on top on the court, Dexter’s carefree and fun-loving personality earns him scores of adoring men and women. And as much as Finn fights to deny it, there’s another reason for the tension he feels when Dex is around. Hate wasn’t the only thing he felt when he first laid eyes on his opponent.

When they’re forced to team up, the two men must bury their differences—on and off the court—if either of them is going to succeed professionally.

FinnandDex

EXCERPT

Finn

“Get it. Get it. Hurry, hurry!”

I scramble for the ball while Coach yells out encouragements—or possibly reprimands. I can never be sure which. Either way I’m on top of my game today. I hustle to the net, get under the ball, and bump it with my wrists, arcing it high for Dex.

Dex waits for it to come down and lifts it using his fingertips. As the ball goes in the air, I take a running jump, curve my body so it doesn’t touch any part of the net, and smack the ball over our opponent’s head. It hits the sand.

“Yes,” Dex shouts and holds up a hand for me to high-five. Grinning, I reach out and slap my hand into his. Dex holds on to it for a brief moment. The contact is quick—less than a second—but the heat that sears through my palm leaves a lasting impression. It’s time to switch sides and it’s my turn to serve. Dex puts his hands behind his back and gives me the signal to hit it left with no spin. I toss the ball up and hit it over the net.

Beautiful. Our opponent drops to his knees and makes the save, but he can’t get to his position quickly enough to reach the ball his partner perfectly sets for him. Dex cheers and pumps his fist in the air. I grin at his enthusiasm. Watching Dexter Savage have the time of his life is mesmerizing. It infuses me with an energy I’ve never felt before. I no longer see Dex as just another charming guy. He has me spellbound and hanging on his every word.

“Nice whiff, dickhead,” I call out when he misses a dig and comes up with a mouthful of sand.

I can’t have him thinking I like him or something.

Dex laughs and spits out the sand. “Shut up, Callahan.”

By the end of the day, we should be exhausted, but we’re riding high on winning the New Orleans Open, and on the thirty-minute ride back to the hotel on the river, we both get our second wind. Dex is literally bouncing around. He’s so full of energy, he’s making me dizzy.

“Come on, Finn. Let’s go out to celebrate. This is New Orleans, The Big Easy. There’s sin on every corner and a ton of awesome clubs here.”

I roll my eyes. “I doubt your idea of an awesome club is the same as mine, Savage.”

“What?” Dex squints at me. Then his eyes widen almost comically. “Oooooohhh. You don’t think I can handle a gay club?” A slow, snarky grin spreads across his handsome face, and my breath hitches.

Hello dimple.

I shake off my dirty thoughts to get back to the subject at hand. “No. I don’t. God. I can’t even think about you going into a gay club without laughing.”

Or getting hard and groaning.

“Hmph.” Dex levels his intense hazel eyes at me and quirks one eyebrow in challenge.

“No, Dex.”

“Yes, Finn,” he sings gleefully.

“No way.”

Dex chuckles and nods his head. “Oh yes. Pull out your sparkly top, baby, because we’re hitting the gay clubs tonight.”

“Fuck you, Savage. I don’t own a sparkly top.”

“Rainbow?”

“No.”

Dex gives me a disgusted look. “What kind of gay man are you?”

“Not a very good one, I guess.”

One who crushes on his straight teammate, that’s what kind of gay man I am. A stupid one.

After five minutes of back and forth, I finally get Dex to let go of the idea of cruising gay clubs tonight, but only on the promise that I’ll take him to one when we get back to LA. I’m hoping he’ll forget by then, because seeing his gorgeous ass shaking on a dance floor while hot, sweaty guys grind on him? I’d implode before the night was over.

We change and grab a cab, and Dex directs the driver to head toward Bourbon Street. “Really, Dex? Bourbon Street? Can’t we go somewhere a little less—”

“Less fun? No, Callahan, we can’t. You’re having fun if it kills me. Tonight I’m officially removing the stick from your ass….” Dex twists his head and shoots me a scorching look that has my dick throbbing painfully in my shorts. “Even if I have to pin you down to yank it out.”

Holy fuck.

I swallow, and my mouth suddenly disconnects from my brain as every drop of blood in my body turns to lava and collects in my groin.

“Whatever, Savage,” I mumble, turn to the window, and shift my hips so Dex can’t see my now fully hard cock.

Dex laughs and shoves my shoulder. Does he not know what he’s doing to me? I sneak a glance at my teammate. He’s looking out his own window, eyes glittering, smile as wide as a kid on Christmas morning.

No. He has no clue. He’s truly excited to go out and have fun. In fact he’s practically bursting out of his skin, he’s so wound up. But then, Dexter Savage always was the life of the party. He’s comfortable in his own skin. It’s what makes him so attractive. Well, besides the tousled, just out of bed hair, the perfectly straight nose and full mouth, and the body to die for. But his outgoing personality was what had me crushing on him in college—and the reason I hated his guts. I watched him every day at practice as he charmed everyone around us, and knew he would never be available to me.

“Here it is.” Dex throws some money at the cab driver and leaps out of the car. I take a look at my surroundings and thump my head on the glass. We’re on a street thick with pedestrians clutching hurricane glasses and sipping through long straws as they mingle in the crowd. Neon signs line the business fronts on both sides of the cab, each promising a different kind of debauchery inside.

Dex leans down and sticks his head in the backseat. “What are you waiting for, Callahan? Let’s get this party started.”

Ugh. Tonight is going to be pure torture.

Heatherheadshotcolor

About the Author

Leigh Carman 

Leigh Carman is the pen name for the M/M romances written by bestselling Contemporary romance writer, Heather C. Leigh.

She lives outside Atlanta with her husband, 2 kids, and French bulldog.

She is leaving explicit directions in her will for her friends to discreetly scatter her ashes around Fenway Park. Then they are to sit back, watch a game with a beer and a Fenway frank and have a wicked good time.

Heather C. Leigh

Amazon, iTunes, and Barnes and Noble Bestselling Author of the Famous Series

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