Everyone’s favourite dominant tennis player, Travis
Connolly, is back! Grand Slam, a
M/F BDSM sports erotic romance by award-winning authors Lily Harlem and Lucy
Felthouse has been re-launched with a brand new cover, but is the same gripping
book—so if you’ve read it before, be aware the content hasn’t changed.
*****
Blurb:
California had seduced me with promises of a new life
working at Los Carlos Tennis Academy. What I didn’t expect was the dark,
brooding number one seed, Travis Connolly, resisting my help. He wasn’t
interested in my psychology skills. Instead his attention was drawn to the edgy,
sharper corners of my desires, proving that they existed, setting me challenges
and driving me crazy to the point of combustion.
I’m the best tennis player in the world—officially—so
why would I need a damn woman full of psychobabble to get me on form? Despite
my irritation, however, I can’t resist pushing Marie Sherratt’s buttons even
though doing that shows her the darkest shades of my lust, the parts of me I
buried deep. So I set her a challenge, one she rises to, one that has me rising
too, and before long my game relies on her calling the shots, hitting the
target and bending to my will. One thing was certain, being not just master of
the court, but also of Marie is seriously good for my soul.
Buy links:
*****
Excerpt:
I turned to the door. I always kept it ajar when
expecting a client, to give the impression that I was open to whatever they
needed to talk about. It was a subliminal thing.
Travis stood in the frame, his wide shoulders filling
the space, the top of his head almost brushing the wood and his jawline holding
a heavy sprinkle of black stubble.
Fuck, he should come with a warning. Hazard to the
health of every female heart. He looked good enough to eat, or lick all over at
the very least. Tasty.
“Knock, knock,” he said, slipping his gaze down my
body.
“Come in. Take a seat.” I gestured to the couch and
made a point of not letting my attention slide over his body. I didn’t need to
look at soft blue jeans worn in all the right places or at his black polo top
with a Nike logo just over his right nipple to imagine what was beneath them. I
took a deep breath to stop myself doing just that. His physical attributes
weren’t my concern, it was his mind I was after.
He shut the door and sat sideways on the low S curve
of the black leather recliner, his long legs folding over and his knees coming
up high.
“Please,” I said. “Lie back, make yourself
comfortable.” I took a seat on a soft chair just to his left and crossed my
legs.
Damn, I hadn’t realized how short this tight little
red skirt was. Quickly I uncrossed, then started to worry there was a gap
between my knees that would flash the top of my stockings or worse, what was
between them. Hurriedly I pressed my notebook over my lap, resisted a squirm and
forced a gentle smile at Travis.
“You wear glasses,” he said.
“Contacts usually.” I touched the black frames and
pressed them up the bridge of my nose a fraction.
“You were in a hurry this morning then?” He frowned,
as though irritated by me being in a hurry.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“You were in a rush to get to work?”
“Not especially, it’s just the heat and being tired,
it’s made my eyes a little sensitive. I thought it best to opt for my glasses
when I left home this morning.”
“So you slept at home last night?”
“Pardon?” I creased my brow in confusion.
His fists were clenched and a muscle twitched in his
jawline. “You slept at home then and not at…?”
I struggled to keep the surprise out of my expression.
Bloody hell, was he getting at what I thought he was? Did he want to know if
I’d slept at Peter’s?
His dark eyes were boring into me; they were deep
chocolate-brown, almost black. Annoyance swirled in their depths, so did a
curious certainty that I’d answer his question. He was definitely a man who was
used to getting what he wanted.
Well, I supposed he would again now, because if he
didn’t chill out we’d get nowhere and I had things to start work on. Plus I
hadn’t slept with Peter. I wasn’t a to-bed-on-the-first-date kind of woman, so
what was the harm in being truthful? “Yes, I slept at home last night.” I
opened my notepad, clicked the spring on my ball-point pen and tilted my chin.
“Alone.” I caught his steady gaze. Yes, I’d told him something he had no right
to wonder about. But by telling Travis what he appeared to want to know, he
owed me something in the confessing stakes.
He nodded slowly, then lifted his legs and did as I’d
asked, lay back on the chair and settled his gaze over the L.A. skyline.
“And what about you?” I asked, watching as he unfurled
his fists and rested his hands over his flat belly. “Did you sleep alone?”
He frowned. “You know I did.”
“No I don’t.”
“I was eating alone, Marie. You saw me.”
“Yes. I did. But you could have been heading out to
meet someone or catching up with other players. I’m not a mind-reader.”
I waited for him to elaborate on our chance encounter
or offer some information on the rest of his evening. He didn’t.
“In these sessions, Travis, it’s important for me to
know who else is in your life, who you hang out with, who you share your
thoughts and feelings with.”
“You have everything you need to know in my file.”
“Your file is full of facts. I’m more interested in
the non-tangible things.”
“Like what?”
“Things like who your special someone is.”
He sucked in a breath, rolled his lips in on
themselves and stared out the window.
“Have you left someone you care about back in
England?” I asked gently.
“I think this is all very much beyond the realms of
what we’re supposed to be doing here.” He’d fisted his fingers again and
shifted his right foot irritably, as though kicking something away. I wondered
if he was imagining it was my head.
“It’s up to us to decide what we want to do with our
time together, Travis. We can talk about your accident or cognitive methods for
keeping calm and focused under pressure, or you can unload all the stuff that
fills your mind and stops you from being able to concentrate on court. Entirely
up to you.”
“Great, in that case we won’t discuss my love life. It
really is the last thing that plays on my mind when I’m beating an opponent
into submission.”
Okay, now was the time to play my trump card. “Yet you
feel it necessary to ask me about my love life.”
“You didn’t have to answer.”
“No, I didn’t, but you wanted to know, and since we’re
stuck with each other for three hours a week for the foreseeable future I
figured it would make sense for us to know a little about each other’s lives.”
“So now we do. I know you’re dating my coach and he
wants to get into your knickers, and you know I sleep alone and have done for a
long time now.” He paused. “Too long.”
Great, now we were getting somewhere. “And would you
like that to change?”
“What?”
“Sleeping alone.”
He sighed and shoved his hand through his hair. I
watched the black strands feather through his fingers and an image of myself
doing that to him as he kissed down my sternum, onto my stomach, lower,
suddenly stole into my mind.
I tightened my legs together. Felt a pleasurable
little rush of heat in my lower abdomen. No. That was a ridiculous thing to
daydream about. Travis Connolly was not only way out of my league, he was also
a surly grump. Sitting here talking to him was stretching seconds into minutes.
“Are you asking me if I want to get married?” he
asked, his gaze slipping to my chest.
Damn it, my nipples were tingling now.
“No, not at all. Simply wondering if you feel your
career allows you to have a romantic relationship or if it’s something you’ve
sacrificed in the name of tennis.”
“I’ve sacrificed lots of things to be number one
seed.”
*****
About Lily Harlem
Lily Harlem lives in the UK and is an award-winning
author of erotic romance. She writes for publishers on both sides of the
Atlantic including HarperCollins, Totally Bound, Pride Publishing, Evernight
Publishing, All Romance eBooks, Stormy Nights Publishing, Tirgearr and
Sweetmeats Press. Her work regularly receives high praise and industry
nominations.
Before turning her hand to writing Lily Harlem worked
as a trauma nurse and her latest HarperCollins release, Confessions of a
Naughty Night Nurse draws on her many experiences while nursing in London. Lily
also self-publishes and The Silk Tie, The Glass
Knot and Scored have been blessed with many 5* reviews since their release.
Lily writes MF, MM and ménage a trois, her books
regularly hit the #1 spot on Amazon Best Seller lists and Breathe You In was
named a USA Today Reviewer’s Recommended Read of 2014. Her latest MM novel is Dark Warrior.
Lily also co-authors with Natalie Dae and publishes under
the name Harlem Dae - check out the Sexy as Hell Trilogy - The Novice, The
Player, and The Vixen - and That Filthy Book which has been hailed as a novel
'every woman should read' and is available in book stores nationwide.
One thing you can be sure of, whatever book you pick
up by Ms Harlem, is it will be wildly romantic and down-and-dirty sexy. Enjoy!
Check out Lily’s website
for details of her other books. Subscribe to her newsletter to get a FREE
ebook and be the first to hear of new releases and free reads, and if you
enjoy Facebook, hop on over
there and say hi!
About Lucy Felthouse
Lucy
Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of
Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of, and an
Amazon bestseller) and Eyes Wide Open (winner
of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award, and an Amazon
bestseller). Including novels, short
stories and novellas, she has over 140 publications to her name. She owns Erotica For All, is book editor for Cliterati, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more about
her writing at http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk,
or on Twitter and Facebook. You can also
subscribe to her monthly newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9
