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:
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:
Amazon: http://mybook.to/grandslam
All Romance eBooks: http://bit.ly/29hlQwU
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/29hEN1n
iBooks UK
iBooks US
Kobo: http://bit.ly/298kRyG
Smashwords: http://bit.ly/29bspyg
Add to Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18212109-grand-slam
More sports romances
from Lily Harlem & Lucy Felthouse: http://www.rawtalentseries.co.uk
*****
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.
“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 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 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 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
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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
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