Saturday, November 5, 2016

Blogtour: Private Dances by B.A. Tortuga





Please welcome B.A. Tortuga with 

Private Dances 




Hey, y’all! I’m BA Tortuga, resident redneck and lover of all the voices in my head. This is an excerpt from the rerelease of my erotic romance, Private Dances, the story of a cowboy-turned-pole dancer and the millionaire that desires him.




About the book:




Blurb:

Dale is working his way through college as an exotic dancer. While he prefers to keep his performances public, it’s tough to say no to the private dances, even though they’re risky. Three songs, just dancing, no touching—Dale can do this and be handsomely compensated.

For Italian businessman Adriano “Gen” Genovese, the handsome cowboy tempts him into wanting more than one dance. Gen convinces Dale to indulge in another dance and a night in his decadent hotel room. He introduces Dale to a glittering world of wealth on a scale Dale has never even imagined.

As the romance between the down-home Texas student and the millionaire playboy heats up, they come to realize the only risk they face is losing their hearts.



Excerpt:



Mmm… hey.” He licked and kissed, heart starting to come back to normal.
Long lashes swept up and down as Gen blinked slow. “Hello, Dale.”
Dale grinned, blinking back. Houston’s lights made patterns in Gen’s dark eyes.
“How are you?” Gen shifted them, fingers back to nimble, doing up their clothes and all. “How is school?”
“Finals are next week—I’m ready. Work sucks. I’m looking forward to the break.” He grinned, straightening Gen’s tie for him. “How was Canada?”
“Dreadfully boring. I kept thinking of you….” They got their clothes straightened as the car coasted to a stop. “What are you doing for the holiday?”
“Working, I guess.” He opened the door, slid out. “You?”
Oh, the condo complex was real nice. One of those places with a pool and a security gate and all. Gen took his arm. “I plan on going home. I was hoping you would come with me.”
“Home? Like Italy home?” He blinked, a little stunned. Oh, man. Italy. Too fucking sweet. They walked up a flight of stairs, Gen warm and solid beside him.
“Yes. I thought we could go to Naples for a bit, and then to my home on the coast. Perhaps spend a day or two in Rome on the way in.” The place was like the hotel from last time. All tasteful and luxurious, with carpet that ate up sound. Low light sprung to life under Gen’s hand. “Would you like a drink? Some food?”
“I’m cool.” He shrugged off his jacket, looked for a place to put it. “That sounds like… well, like a dream, Gen, but I can’t come up with a plane ticket in time, or a passport. Maybe by summer I could save up.”
“You do not have a passport?” Gen sounded, and looked, downright shocked. “Well, that will be easy enough to remedy, so long as you can get to your birth certificate.”
“No. No, I don’t know anybody that has one. Well, I mean, except you. That’s all you need? A birth certificate?” He didn’t think he’d ever even seen a passport.
“Usually it takes several weeks, but yes, all you need is a birth certificate and a few pictures. And it can be expedited. As for a plane ticket, well….” Gen grinned. “I have a private jet.”
“You’re shitting me.” Real people didn’t have jets. Hell, even the Cowboys’ quarterback flew Delta. “What do you do, Gen? Drill for oil?”

“If I did the drilling, I would hardly have the suits….” Moving close, Gen grabbed his hips, pulling him in. “Come with me.”
He stepped in, hips rocking some, moving against Gen’s hands. “Mmm… feels just fine.” He smiled over, cheeks heating. “Better than cobbler.”



Much love, y’all.

BA Tortuga



Get the book:




Meet the author:

Texan to the bone and an unrepentant Daddy's Girl, BA Tortuga spends her days with her basset hounds and her beloved wife, texting her sisters, and eating Mexican food. When she's not doing that, she's writing. She spends her days off watching rodeo, knitting and surfing Pinterest in the name of research. BA's personal saviors include her wife, Julia Talbot, her best friend, Sean Michael, and coffee. Lots of coffee. Really good coffee.

Having written everything from fist-fighting rednecks to hard-core cowboys to werewolves, BA does her damnedest to tell the stories of her heart, which was raised in Northeast Texas, but has heard the call of the high desert and lives in the Sandias. With books ranging from hard-hitting GLBT romance, to fiery menages, to the most traditional of love stories, BA refuses to be pigeon-holed by anyone but the voices in her head.


    






Promotional post. Materials provided by the author.

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