Monday, January 11, 2016

Twofer Review Tour

Bottoms up!

If a college freshman can’t get laid in sun-drenched Miami, he’s doing something wrong. Frankie Perez is determined to help his roommate get some man action in any way possible.

When Frankie’s arsenal of dating apps, fashion advice, and playing-hard-to-get lessons doesn’t work, he realizes Jeremy needs remedial help. Except tutoring Jeremy in the art of sex gets steamier than Frankie expected—and it scares the hell out of him.

Jeremy’s not sure why he’s wasting his time hooking up when he’s only got eyes for the slinky, sexy roommate he comes home to at night. But the hotter their chemistry simmers, the quicker Frankie dances away.

In near desperation, Frankie suggests the two of them team up to find a third to top them both, forgetting that two bottoms aren’t immune from lusting after each other. In a world where every man is an option, choosing one to love can be the sexiest risk of all.

Warning: Contains questionable morals, copious immature hijinks, an X-rated photo shoot, and disastrous threesomes. Sex toys were misused (but not harmed) in the making of this book.


“Yeah, sure.” Jeremy shuffled under the covers, hiding the fact that he couldn’t seem to get his erection under control. Normally, humiliation was enough to make even the most insistent h**d-on shrivel, but Frankie’s hint of accent was just like the guy in the porn movie’s had been.

Though he’d grown up in Miami, Frankie still had a bit of his parents’ Spanish accent. Mostly Frankie talked like anyone else Jeremy had met at Miami Central University, but when he got drunk, Frankie started dropping his h’s and he got rounder in his vowels.

“You need to get out more, honey.” Frankie went to his bed, spun, and landed on top of his folded clothes. “Tonight’s that party you’ve been planning to go to, right?”

Jeremy bit at the edge of a fingernail. He hated looking like he had no social life. “I’m not sure I’m going.”

“Of course you are.” Frankie unfastened his jeans. In a sinewy move, he rolled his skinny jeans down his legs, revealing a fascinating stretch of brown skin between his fuchsia briefs and the white denim at his ankles. “That guy you like is going to be there?”

Jeremy dragged his attention away from the sight of Frankie Perez crunched into a ball to free his feet. “Yes. Yacob is going to be there.” Jeremy stood to get his toiletry bag but lingered by his shelves. “He’s hot, isn’t he?”

“Oh, yeah.” With his pants off, Frankie wore nothing but a deep V-neck and bright underwear. He stretched his arms over his head, filling his bed, and casually scratched his balls. “I dig the foreign-exchange thing. Russian, huh? What was the last one, Greek?”

“Yeah.” Jeremy had a thing for exchange students. So what? They always seemed nice. Not only that, but they were the only gays in school who might also be virgins. “My friend Austin has to work, though, and I don’t think going alone would—”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter if you go alone. You’ll run into people you know.”

Jeremy shrugged. Other than Austin and Frankie, Jeremy hadn’t made too many friends at school. Between being gay and being from a small town, he always felt out of place. What few gay men he’d met were all like Frankie. Jeremy supposed the polite word was cosmopolitan, though Jeremy’s older sister would have called them sluts. “I have to study anyway, so—”

“Good Lord, I’ll go with you.” With a dramatic yawn, Frankie climbed out of bed. “I can’t handle you walking around with a twenty-four-hour erection anymore. We could use that thing as a coat hook.” He grabbed a fresh pair of underwear.

Check back this weekend for my review of Twofer!

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Author Bio and Links:
Retired party girl and science fiction enthusiast, Daisy Harris spends most of her time writing sexy romance and plotting the fall of Western civilization. Her books can be found on Amazon, Nook, and wherever else fine erotic romance is sold.

Ms. Harris lives in Seattle, where she tortures her husband by making it rain. She enjoys watching bridges cause traffic, watching football games cause traffic, and blithely wearing wool socks with sandals.

She has never taken a single picture in which her bra strap is not showing.

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