Blog Tour and Giveaway – SHORT ORDER – Pat Henshaw

BLOG TOUR

Title: Short Order

Series: Foothills Pride #8

Author: Pat Henshaw

Publisher: Dreamspinner Press

Publication date: December 13, 2017

Price: $3.99/£2.99

Format: eBook

Genre: Contemporary Gay Romance

Cover Design: AngstyG

Length: 28,400 words/89 pages

Add on Goodreads

 

Buy links

Dreamspinner Press

Amazon US  | Amazon UK  | Amazon AU

Kobo   | Barnes & Noble  | Google Play

 

Blurb

When recent horticulture graduate Dr. Fenton Miller arrives in Stone Acres, California, he thinks his only concern is which job offer to accept after spending the holidays working at his cousin’s plant nursery. But after he rents a room from another shorter-than-average man, sous-chef John Barton, Fen falls in lust.

While he’s attracted to Fen, John’s got bigger concerns when two men from his past arrive in town and pressure him to return to San Francisco. Although John tries to stop Fen from getting involved, Fen realizes his lover is in trouble and is determined to protect him.

As the holidays get closer and Fen makes his own enemy, the joy of the season gets lost in the ill will around them. To ensure love triumphs, Fen and John must stand tall to show that short, dark, and handsome is a recipe for love.

 

 

Excerpt 

That night I stood freezing at Barton’s door, admiring Blue Cottage. The snow drifts piled on the lawn made the house look greeting-card perfect. I searched for a doorbell. Instead, a lion-headed knocker snarled at me. I grinned. Every house needed an intimidating guardian, right?

A man who looked about my age and height opened the door and slipped out, shutting it behind him. I was curious to see inside, but I got that the guy wanted his privacy. No problem.

“Hi. I’m Fen.”

He looked me over, then turned to the left along the shoveled porch. As he walked, he played with the keyring, bouncing a key in his hand. Did I make him nervous? If so, was that a good thing?

“This way.”

Okay. I took a breath and followed his pert ass and brisk steps as we rounded the porch to a steep staircase. From my brief glance at his face, he seemed okay. I was still slightly put off by his brusque manner. But hey, I reminded myself, I was renting from him, not fucking him.

In silence I followed him up to a small porch and a solid-looking back door, which he opened after only a little fumbling.

I was greeted by the stuffy, closed-up odor of a place long left undisturbed.

“You’d be my first renter. It’s furnished, but I can store anything you don’t want.” He made quick eye contact with me. The words erupted from him like I made him uncomfortable or something. Maybe it was my piercing and the tattoo, or maybe the hair color. I tried a smile, but he blushed and turned away, gesturing to the rooms.

Even though the air inside was chilly, I looked around and fell even more in love than I had when I’d first seen the house. The 1940s era furniture and knickknacks turned what could have been sterile rooms into my kind of home. I exhaled, letting the ambience settle in my soul as I wandered through a country kitchen, tiny dining room, sitting room, two bedrooms, and a classic bathroom, ending eventually at a circular tower room. I fell even deeper in love along the way as I touched the scratched kitchen table, a velveteen-covered parlor settee, a solid-looking four-poster bed, and the needlepoint-cushioned window seat in the tower.

If I were Barton, I’d charge thousands a month for this place. I prayed he wasn’t me and was relieved when my prayers were answered.

“You want to keep the furniture?” He still didn’t look at me as he bent over the kitchen table to fill out the rental agreement. Who needed him staring? I could live with letting his voice pour over me and seeing his kissable lips.

“I can’t imagine living here without all of it.” Or maybe even you, I thought, eyeing his pert butt wiggling at me as he wrote.

He stopped, stood, and eyed me for a few seconds before bending and going back to writing. I hadn’t said that about his butt out loud, had I?

As I was daydreaming about his ass and the scarred table, he stopped writing, looked over the form, and finally twisted it toward me. “Sign here, initial here, and date it. Then I need your rent for the month.”

I was signing before he changed his mind. The rent was ridiculously cheap. “No deposit?” There had to be a catch, right?

“No.”

I glanced up. He was gazing down at the table, or maybe at my hands. Or my groin? I signed as fast as I could and wrote a check to John Barton, the name on the rental agreement. So he had a first name, and we had a deal.

 

I drove back to my cousin’s house whistling. Within an hour, and with Beth and Kate’s help, I was moved in. Having only clothes and electronics made the move a one-trip job. Then I went food shopping for breakfast stuff and frozen dinners. We all celebrated by eating a late dinner outside town at a diner called the Rock Bottom Cafe. Renting a place with a wonderful kitchen hadn’t automatically taught me to cook.

Even with an enigma for a landlord, my life was perfect.

 

Rafflecopter Giveaway

Enter to win one of THREE $10 Coffee Gift Cards

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

About the Author

Pat Henshaw, author of the Foothills Pride Stories, has spent her life surrounded by words:  Teaching English composition at the junior college level; writing book reviews for newspapers, magazines, and websites; helping students find information as a librarian; and promoting PBS television programs.

Pat was born and raised in Nebraska where she promptly left the cold and snow after college, living at various times in Texas, Colorado, Northern Virginia, and Northern California.  Pat enjoys travel, having visited Mexico, Canada, Europe, Nicaragua, Thailand, and Egypt, and Europe, including a cruise down the Danube.

Her triumphs are raising two incredible daughters who daily amaze her with their power and compassion.  Fortunately, her incredibly supportive husband keeps her grounded in reality when she threatens to drift away while writing fiction.

Author Social Media Links:

Website

Facebook

Twitter

Amazon

Goodreads

Google+

Email

 

BLOG TOUR SCHEDULE

December 16

Stories That Make You Smile  GUEST POST

Noteworthy Book Reviews GUEST POST AND REVIEW

December 17

The Way She Reads   GUEST POST

Millsy Loves Books 

The Blogger Girls   GUEST POST

December 18

Wicked Faerie’s Tales and Reviews  GUEST POST

Hearts On Fire Reviews  GUEST POST

December 19

Megan’s Media Melange 

Lily G Blunt

December 20  

Valerie Ullmer | Romance Author  REVIEW

Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words 

Tangents and Tissues    

Bayou Book Junkie  REVIEW

Blazing Zane Book Blog   REVIEW

December 22   

Drops of Ink  GUEST POST 

~

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

 

Release Blitz and Giveaway – SHORT ORDER – Pat Henshaw

RELEASE BLITZ

Title: Short Order

Series: Foothills Pride #8

Author: Pat Henshaw

Publisher: Dreamspinner Press

Publication date: December 13, 2017

Price: $3.99

Format: eBook

Genre: Contemporary Gay Romance

Cover Design: AngstyG

Length: 28,400 words/89 pages

Add on Goodreads

 

Buy links

Dreamspinner Press

Amazon US  | Amazon UK  | Amazon AU

Kobo   | Barnes & Noble  | Google Play

 

Blurb

When recent horticulture graduate Dr. Fenton Miller arrives in Stone Acres, California, he thinks his only concern is which job offer to accept after spending the holidays working at his cousin’s plant nursery. But after he rents a room from another shorter-than-average man, sous-chef John Barton, Fen falls in lust.

While he’s attracted to Fen, John’s got bigger concerns when two men from his past arrive in town and pressure him to return to San Francisco. Although John tries to stop Fen from getting involved, Fen realizes his lover is in trouble and is determined to protect him.

As the holidays get closer and Fen makes his own enemy, the joy of the season gets lost in the ill will around them. To ensure love triumphs, Fen and John must stand tall to show that short, dark, and handsome is a recipe for love.

 

Excerpt 

That night I stood freezing at Barton’s door, admiring Blue Cottage. The snow drifts piled on the lawn made the house look greeting-card perfect. I searched for a doorbell. Instead, a lion-headed knocker snarled at me. I grinned. Every house needed an intimidating guardian, right?

A man who looked about my age and height opened the door and slipped out, shutting it behind him. I was curious to see inside, but I got that the guy wanted his privacy. No problem.

“Hi. I’m Fen.”

He looked me over, then turned to the left along the shoveled porch. As he walked, he played with the keyring, bouncing a key in his hand. Did I make him nervous? If so, was that a good thing?

“This way.”

Okay. I took a breath and followed his pert ass and brisk steps as we rounded the porch to a steep staircase. From my brief glance at his face, he seemed okay. I was still slightly put off by his brusque manner. But hey, I reminded myself, I was renting from him, not fucking him.

In silence I followed him up to a small porch and a solid-looking back door, which he opened after only a little fumbling.

I was greeted by the stuffy, closed-up odor of a place long left undisturbed.

“You’d be my first renter. It’s furnished, but I can store anything you don’t want.” He made quick eye contact with me. The words erupted from him like I made him uncomfortable or something. Maybe it was my piercing and the tattoo, or maybe the hair color. I tried a smile, but he blushed and turned away, gesturing to the rooms.

Even though the air inside was chilly, I looked around and fell even more in love than I had when I’d first seen the house. The 1940s era furniture and knickknacks turned what could have been sterile rooms into my kind of home. I exhaled, letting the ambience settle in my soul as I wandered through a country kitchen, tiny dining room, sitting room, two bedrooms, and a classic bathroom, ending eventually at a circular tower room. I fell even deeper in love along the way as I touched the scratched kitchen table, a velveteen-covered parlor settee, a solid-looking four-poster bed, and the needlepoint-cushioned window seat in the tower.

If I were Barton, I’d charge thousands a month for this place. I prayed he wasn’t me and was relieved when my prayers were answered.

“You want to keep the furniture?” He still didn’t look at me as he bent over the kitchen table to fill out the rental agreement. Who needed him staring? I could live with letting his voice pour over me and seeing his kissable lips.

“I can’t imagine living here without all of it.” Or maybe even you, I thought, eyeing his pert butt wiggling at me as he wrote.

He stopped, stood, and eyed me for a few seconds before bending and going back to writing. I hadn’t said that about his butt out loud, had I?

As I was daydreaming about his ass and the scarred table, he stopped writing, looked over the form, and finally twisted it toward me. “Sign here, initial here, and date it. Then I need your rent for the month.”

I was signing before he changed his mind. The rent was ridiculously cheap. “No deposit?” There had to be a catch, right?

“No.”

I glanced up. He was gazing down at the table, or maybe at my hands. Or my groin? I signed as fast as I could and wrote a check to John Barton, the name on the rental agreement. So he had a first name, and we had a deal.

 

I drove back to my cousin’s house whistling. Within an hour, and with Beth and Kate’s help, I was moved in. Having only clothes and electronics made the move a one-trip job. Then I went food shopping for breakfast stuff and frozen dinners. We all celebrated by eating a late dinner outside town at a diner called the Rock Bottom Cafe. Renting a place with a wonderful kitchen hadn’t automatically taught me to cook.

Even with an enigma for a landlord, my life was perfect.

 

Rafflecopter Giveaway

Enter to win one of THREE $10 Coffee Gift Cards

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

About the Author

Pat Henshaw, author of the Foothills Pride Stories, has spent her life surrounded by words:  Teaching English composition at the junior college level; writing book reviews for newspapers, magazines, and websites; helping students find information as a librarian; and promoting PBS television programs.

Pat was born and raised in Nebraska where she promptly left the cold and snow after college, living at various times in Texas, Colorado, Northern Virginia, and Northern California.  Pat enjoys travel, having visited Mexico, Canada, Europe, Nicaragua, Thailand, and Egypt, and Europe, including a cruise down the Danube.

Her triumphs are raising two incredible daughters who daily amaze her with their power and compassion.  Fortunately, her incredibly supportive husband keeps her grounded in reality when she threatens to drift away while writing fiction.

 

Author Social Media Links:

Website

Facebook

Twitter

Amazon

Goodreads

Google+

Email

 

RELEASE BLITZ SCHEDULE

December 13

Valerie Ullmer | Romance Author  

Millsy Loves Books

Bayou Book Junkie

MM Midnight Cafe 

Blazing Zane Book Blog

December  14

MJ’s Book blog and Reviews  

Gay Book Reviews  

Wicked Faerie’s Tales and Reviews  

Lily G Blunt

December 15

Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words

Tangents and Tissues    

Bookaholic & Kindle  

~

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

 

Cover Reveal – Short Order by Pat Henshaw

COVER REVEAL

 

Title: Short Order

Series: Foothills Pride #8

Author: Pat Henshaw

Publisher: Dreamspinner Press

Publication date: December 13, 2017

Price: $3.99

Format: eBook

Genre: Contemporary Gay Romance

Cover design: AngstyG

Pages: 89

Words: 28,400

Goodreads Series Link

Pre-Order Link

Dreamspinner Press

 

Blurb:

When recent horticulture graduate Dr. Fenton Miller arrives in Stone Acres, California, he thinks his only concern is which job offer to accept after spending the holidays working at his cousin’s plant nursery. But after he rents a room from another shorter-than-average man, sous-chef John Barton, Fen falls in lust.

While he’s attracted to Fen, John’s got bigger concerns when two men from his past arrive in town and pressure him to return to San Francisco. Although John tries to stop Fen from getting involved, Fen realizes his lover is in trouble and is determined to protect him.

As the holidays get closer and Fen makes his own enemy, the joy of the season gets lost in the ill will around them. To ensure love triumphs, Fen and John must stand tall to show that short, dark, and handsome is a recipe for love.

Excerpt: 

That night I stood freezing at Barton’s door, admiring Blue Cottage. The snow drifts piled on the lawn made the house look greeting-card perfect. I searched for a doorbell. Instead, a lion-headed knocker snarled at me. I grinned. Every house needed an intimidating guardian, right?

A man who looked about my age and height opened the door and slipped out, shutting it behind him. I was curious to see inside, but I got that the guy wanted his privacy. No problem.

“Hi. I’m Fen.”

He looked me over, then turned to the left along the shoveled porch. As he walked, he played with the keyring, bouncing a key in his hand. Did I make him nervous? If so, was that a good thing?

“This way.”

Okay. I took a breath and followed his pert ass and brisk steps as we rounded the porch to a steep staircase. From my brief glance at his face, he seemed okay. I was still slightly put off by his brusque manner. But hey, I reminded myself, I was renting from him, not fucking him.

In silence I followed him up to a small porch and a solid-looking back door, which he opened after only a little fumbling.

I was greeted by the stuffy, closed-up odor of a place long left undisturbed.

“You’d be my first renter. It’s furnished, but I can store anything you don’t want.” He made quick eye contact with me. The words erupted from him like I made him uncomfortable or something. Maybe it was my piercing and the tattoo, or maybe the hair color. I tried a smile, but he blushed and turned away, gesturing to the rooms.

Even though the air inside was chilly, I looked around and fell even more in love than I had when I’d first seen the house. The 1940s era furniture and knickknacks turned what could have been sterile rooms into my kind of home. I exhaled, letting the ambience settle in my soul as I wandered through a country kitchen, tiny dining room, sitting room, two bedrooms, and a classic bathroom, ending eventually at a circular tower room. I fell even deeper in love along the way as I touched the scratched kitchen table, a velveteen-covered parlor settee, a solid-looking four-poster bed, and the needlepoint-cushioned window seat in the tower.

If I were Barton, I’d charge thousands a month for this place. I prayed he wasn’t me and was relieved when my prayers were answered.

“You want to keep the furniture?” He still didn’t look at me as he bent over the kitchen table to fill out the rental agreement. Who needed him staring? I could live with letting his voice pour over me and seeing his kissable lips.

“I can’t imagine living here without all of it.” Or maybe even you, I thought, eyeing his pert butt wiggling at me as he wrote.

He stopped, stood, and eyed me for a few seconds before bending and going back to writing. I hadn’t said that about his butt out loud, had I?

As I was daydreaming about his ass and the scarred table, he stopped writing, looked over the form, and finally twisted it toward me. “Sign here, initial here, and date it. Then I need your rent for the month.”

I was signing before he changed his mind. The rent was ridiculously cheap. “No deposit?” There had to be a catch, right?

“No.”

I glanced up. He was gazing down at the table, or maybe at my hands. Or my groin? I signed as fast as I could and wrote a check to John Barton, the name on the rental agreement. So he had a first name, and we had a deal.

 

I drove back to my cousin’s house whistling. Within an hour, and with Beth and Kate’s help, I was moved in. Having only clothes and electronics made the move a one-trip job. Then I went food shopping for breakfast stuff and frozen dinners. We all celebrated by eating a late dinner outside town at a diner called the Rock Bottom Cafe. Renting a place with a wonderful kitchen hadn’t automatically taught me to cook.

Even with an enigma for a landlord, my life was perfect.

 

Rafflecopter Giveaway

Enter to win one of THREE $10 Coffee Gift Cards

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

About the Author

Pat Henshaw, author of the Foothills Pride Stories, has spent her life surrounded by words:  Teaching English composition at the junior college level; writing book reviews for newspapers, magazines, and websites; helping students find information as a librarian; and promoting PBS television programs.

Pat was born and raised in Nebraska where she  promptly left the cold and snow after college, living at various times in Texas, Colorado, Northern Virginia, and Northern California.  Pat enjoys travel, having visited Mexico, Canada, Europe, Nicaragua, Thailand, and Egypt, and Europe, including a cruise down the Danube.

Her triumphs are raising two incredible daughters who daily amaze her with their power and compassion.  Fortunately, her incredibly supportive husband keeps her grounded in reality when she threatens to drift away while writing fiction.

 

Author media links:

Website

Facebook

Twitter

Amazon

Goodreads

Google+

Email

 

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

 

Blog Tour ~ WAKING THE BEHR by Pat Henshaw

 

WakingCover

Book Title: Waking the Behr (A Foothills Pride Story)

Author: Pat Henshaw

Cover Artist: AngstyG

Genre: contemporary gay romance

Length: 29,689 Words/88 Pages

Release Date: September 20, 2017

WakingtheBehr_Meme17

Buy Links

Dreamspinner Press

Amazon US 

Amazon UK

Amazon Australia

Kobo

Barnes & Noble 

Google Play 

Add on Goodreads

Blurb

Both Ben and Mitch think they know exactly what they want. Turns out, they don’t even know their own hearts.

Good old boy Ben has dated women his entire life, while gay nightclub owner Mitch has never considered unsophisticated country boys his type. But after they start hanging out, the small-town contractor and the urban entrepreneur are both stunned by the electricity sparking between them.

As they step outside their comfort zones to spend time together, Mitch finds he enjoys rural car rallies, and Ben is intrigued by the upscale bars Mitch owns in San Francisco. When they share their lives and grow closer, they start to question the way they’ve always defined themselves. Then they kiss and fling open the door to love. Now they must step up and travel the road that may lead to happily ever after—even if that path isn’t one they ever expected to walk.

WakingtheBehr_Meme10

 

Screen Shot 2017-08-10 at 20.26.23

Blog Tour Schedule

WAKING THE BEHR BLOG TOUR SCHEDULE

SEPTEMBER 25

Stories That Make You Smile

The Way She Reads 

Love Bytes Reviews

SEPTEMBER 26

Valerie Ullmer | Romance Author 

Drops of Ink 

My Fiction Nook 

SEPTEMBER 27

Lily G Blunt 

Socially Awkward Book Nerd  

SEPTEMBER 28

Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words 

Making it Happen 

SEPTEMBER 29

The Paisley Rowan Reviews 

SEPTEMBER 30

Tangents and Tissues 

Bayou Book Junkie

Louise Lyons 

Zipper Rippers   

MJ’s Book Blog and Reviews 

WAKING THE BEHR COVER 2

WakingtheBehr_Meme05

Meet the Author

Pat Henshaw, author of the Foothills Pride Stories, has spent her life surrounded by words:  Teaching English composition at the junior college level; writing book reviews for newspapers, magazines, and websites; helping students find information as a librarian; and promoting PBS television programs.

Pat was born and raised in Nebraska where she promptly left the cold and snow after college, living at various times in Texas, Colorado, Northern Virginia, and Northern California.  Pat enjoys travel, having visited Mexico, Canada, Europe, Nicaragua, Thailand, and Egypt, and Europe, including a cruise down the Danube.

Her triumphs are raising two incredible daughters who daily amaze her with their power and compassion.  Fortunately, her incredibly supportive husband keeps her grounded in reality when she threatens to drift away while writing fiction.

81K35AAJl2L._UX250_

Social Media Links

Blog

Website

Facebook

Twitter

Google+

Amazon

Email

Giveaway

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win one of THREE $10 Coffee gift cards

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Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

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Release Blitz – Waking the Behr by Pat Henshaw

 

unnamed

Book Title: Waking the Behr (A Foothills Pride Story)

Author: Pat Henshaw

Cover Artist: AngstyG

Genre: contemporary gay romance

Length: 29,689 Words/88 Pages

Release Date: September 20, 2017

WakingCover

Buy Links

Dreamspinner Press

Amazon US 

Amazon UK

Amazon Australia

Kobo

Barnes & Noble 

Google Play 

Add on Goodreads

Blurb

Both Ben and Mitch think they know exactly what they want. Turns out, they don’t even know their own hearts.

Good old boy Ben has dated women his entire life, while gay nightclub owner Mitch has never considered unsophisticated country boys his type. But after they start hanging out, the small-town contractor and the urban entrepreneur are both stunned by the electricity sparking between them.

As they step outside their comfort zones to spend time together, Mitch finds he enjoys rural car rallies, and Ben is intrigued by the upscale bars Mitch owns in San Francisco. When they share their lives and grow closer, they start to question the way they’ve always defined themselves. Then they kiss and fling open the door to love. Now they must step up and travel the road that may lead to happily ever after—even if that path isn’t one they ever expected to walk.

Excerpt

MEETING A potential client for the first time was usually a mixed bag. As a contractor and partner in Behr Construction, I never knew what I was going to get: a fanciful dreamer, an actual customer, or a combination of both.

So I was surprised when I opened the door to the gutted restaurant and found a giant of a man twirling Julie Andrews–style. He was grinning like a loon as the light poured over him.

That should have been laughable since he was alone, but he was kickass savoring the moment. Instead of appearing loco, he struck me as a big overgrown Peter Pan. He looked so happy, I had an urge to join him, which gave me a moment of panic because I’m not an old boy who does much dancing or cavorting—in public or in private.

“Uh, hello? Mr. O’Shea?”

When he turned toward me, my jaw dropped. I’m sure I musta looked like the village idiot.

The guy was unbelievably gorgeous. I don’t usually think men are good- or bad-looking. They’re men. Before that moment, I would have said men weren’t my type. But, damn! He was smoking hot.

He looked about my height—six four or maybe a little taller—and was dressed in a classy three-piece suit with a gleaming tie tack, had one pierced ear, and wore a sparkling watch. His raven hair stood up in a tall buzz cut in front and tapered long enough to curl around his ears in back.

But what stopped me and turned me to jelly were his wickedly merry eyes and his shit-eating grin.

He acted like a kid who’d found Santa or the Easter Bunny.

In the middle of the total disaster of the old Thompson’s steak house, this guy looked like he’d hit the jackpot.

Fuck me. I’d come to a standstill and was staring at him openmouthed. Since I’m your basic laid-back good old boy, nothing usually bothered me. Now I was poleaxed. He was bewitching. Too hot for somebody like me to handle.

He’d stopped spinning. Without missing a beat, he strode over to me with his hand held out. In the blink of an eye, he changed from the picture of kidlike excitement to a polished city businessman.

I stood stock still, wondering what the hell had just happened. Had I hallucinated the twirling around? Maybe it was time to get away from work for a while, take a vacation, maybe go do some fishing.

“Isn’t this place great?” he greeted me. His voice held a leftover tinge of joy.

He didn’t look embarrassed or bothered that I’d caught him dancing around like an ass. Up close, he was even more powerfully sexy and self-assured. Face-to-face, his lively, assessing stare unnerved me. His unbridled enthusiasm wrapped around me and lifted me off my feet.

The guy seemed to be pulling my personality and soul toward him as he decided whether I was friend or foe. Then he grinned even wider, stuck out his hand, grabbed mine, and shook like we were on the verge of becoming tight. Why did I find this move hot as fuck?

I shook his hand, stunned, and almost wanted to run back to the alley, where I’d left my regular, easygoing self.

His eyes brightened and his smile turned sexy, as if he’d discovered a delightfully lascivious secret.

“Mr. Behr? May I call you Ben? I’m Mitchell O’Shea. Call me Mitch.” He squeezed my hand one more time, then dropped it. “Great space here. I’m going to buy it.”

His hand swept up in an extravagant Vanna White gesture. I was about to tell him he couldn’t afford a vowel, much less a remodel, when he grinned and sucked me in again.

Fuck. Oddly, my body agreed with that sentiment. Why was this happening? To me, of all people. I wasn’t gay. Even a little bit.

My brothers, Abe and Connor, had come out a while back, but everybody knew I was the straight Behr. I’d been dating girls since I was twelve (but looked sixteen). I wasn’t attracted to guys. Ever. I didn’t go for tall girls, especially ones as huge as me, so why was I attracted to a big man?

I stepped back and gave him the once-over. My body sure as shit was a little interested. Okay, maybe more than a little.

Like all the Behrs, I’m tall and squared off. As my grandpa always said, I’m built like a brick shithouse. A brown brick shithouse. Brown hair, brown eyes, brown tan. Nothing exotic about me.

But this guy? This guy had dark blue eyes flecked with light blue and green. His big body was lithe, with a tapered torso, and he moved like a dancer. He hit me like a gorgeous morsel of urban life. Somebody polished and sophisticated except for a patch of boyish fun. His smile was so engaging, I figured my friends would even like him.

My buddies had always said I was attracted to bright, shiny things. Was that all this was?

Noise from outside burst my bubble. Mitch O’Shea and I’d been standing too long staring at each other and not talking.

Through the blush heating up my cheeks, I cleared my throat and shifted uneasily.

“What can Behr Construction do for you, uh, Mitch?”

There was no way under God I was asking him what I could do for him. Or to him. Or whatever. I made myself stop overthinking. Just focus.

His grin grew, embracing me. My prick rose. Dammit.

“I’d like you to take a look at this place’s structure and tell me if it’s sound enough to remodel. Or should I just raze it and start over again?” His voice had changed to one only board presidents and big money used around us peons.

I took a shuddering breath. I’d dealt with hundreds of Mitches as a contractor. Estimates and suggestions I could do.

We both turned to the dismal interior of the former steak house. I cleared my throat, then took a breath.

“Okay. Sure.” I took a step away from him and looked up at the lung-cancer ceiling. “What do you plan to do with this place?”

His grin tried to lasso me again, but I was onto him. I met his gaze with a frown. His eyes twinkled in response. Damn him.

“Well, I own a bunch of clubs in San Francisco, but I’ve always wanted to start a family restaurant, kinda like Chuck E. Cheese’s but not with the costumed characters.” He fucking winked at me. “I want to start a place with an Old West theme, where parents can get a great steak for a reasonable price and kids can play old-fashioned arcade games without their folks watching them the whole time. You know, where families can come and enjoy a night out.”

Okay, his idea wasn’t as flashy as he looked. I would have thought he’d want more Vegas—bright lights and pink cocktails—while he was thinking more Main Street, America. Thompson’s would be a great place for his vision if the Silver Star gourmet restaurant wasn’t nearby, feeding the rich and famous.

“Uh, yeah. You did see the place across the street, right?” I thumbed toward the Star.

He laughed, a hearty bellow of delight.

“Oh, Chef Adam de Leon won’t be challenged by my little family place. This is a big block. Our clientele won’t overlap at all.”

I was skeptical. We’d done some work for Adam, but I didn’t really know the guy very well. From what I’d gathered, the celebrity chef didn’t like to be messed with. Ever. Would he want chattering kids and cranky parents cluttering up the street in front of his place?

I shrugged. “Okay. Whatever. If you give me fifteen to thirty, I’ll have a rundown of what needs to be done and write out a preliminary cost estimate so you can make up your mind.”

He nodded as I bent my head to get an appraisal sheet and pencil from my shirt pocket.

“Oh, Ben,” he called over his shoulder as he walked away.

I glanced at him.

“Mind if we talk about this over lunch?”

“Sure, no problem.” My dick was on board even if the rest of me was wary.

“How about I meet you outside? Maybe we could drive somewhere? I bet you’ll want to try out my car.”

I shrugged again. What’d he have? A Maserati or something? Since I’d come in through the back, I hadn’t seen him drive up.

But I was more concerned about my reaction to him than his ride. Was it possible to turn gay? Is that what had happened to my brothers and it was just now catching up with me?

Damn. I didn’t know how I felt if that was the case. Maybe being gay was a family thing?

I waved to him. Then, as I got one last eyeful, I shouted a piece of advice.

“I’d lose the jacket, vest, and tie if I were you. We’re pretty laid-back around here.”

If nothing else, he wouldn’t stick out quite as much as he would in the suit. He’d certainly attract the single gay men the way he was dressed. I didn’t need… competition?

Shit, what was I thinking?

Read more at Dreamspinner Press 

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Release Blitz Schedule

WAKING THE BEHR RB SCHEDULE

SEPTEMBER 20

Hoards Jumble

Millsy Loves Books

Zipper Rippers

Tangents and Tissues

The Way She Reads

Bayou Book Junkie

Making it Happen

Louise Lyons

SEPTEMBER 21

Valerie Ullmer | Romance Author 

MJ’s Book Blog and Reviews 

SEPTEMBER  22

Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words 

Lily G Blunt 

Meet the Author

Pat Henshaw, author of the Foothills Pride Stories, has spent her life surrounded by words:  Teaching English composition at the junior college level; writing book reviews for newspapers, magazines, and websites; helping students find information as a librarian; and promoting PBS television programs.

Pat was born and raised in Nebraska where she promptly left the cold and snow after college, living at various times in Texas, Colorado, Northern Virginia, and Northern California.  Pat enjoys travel, having visited Mexico, Canada, Europe, Nicaragua, Thailand, and Egypt, and Europe, including a cruise down the Danube.

Her triumphs are raising two incredible daughters who daily amaze her with their power and compassion.  Fortunately, her incredibly supportive husband keeps her grounded in reality when she threatens to drift away while writing fiction.

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Cover Reveal ~ Waking the Behr by Pat Henshaw

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Book Title: Waking the Behr (A Foothills Pride Story)

Author: Pat Henshaw

Cover Artist: AngstyG

Genre: contemporary gay romance

Length: 29,689 Words/88 Pages

Release Day Date: September 20, 2017

Pre-Order Link

Dreamspinner Press

Blurb

Both Ben and Mitch think they know exactly what they want. Turns out, they don’t even know their own hearts.

Good old boy Ben has dated women his entire life, while gay nightclub owner Mitch has never considered unsophisticated country boys his type. But after they start hanging out, the small-town contractor and the urban entrepreneur are both stunned by the electricity sparking between them.

As they step outside their comfort zones to spend time together, Mitch finds he enjoys rural car rallies, and Ben is intrigued by the upscale bars Mitch owns in San Francisco. When they share their lives and grow closer, they start to question the way they’ve always defined themselves. Then they kiss and fling open the door to love. Now they must step up and travel the road that may lead to happily ever after—even if that path isn’t one they ever expected to walk.

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Excerpt

(From Ben Behr’s point of view. Contractor Ben has signed up new client Mitch O’Shea and is going to lunch with him outside Stone Acres, California, at the Rock Bottom Cafe in the Sierra Nevada foothills. Mitch has nicknamed his custom-made muscle car Rita.)

Driving Mitch’s Rhino GX up to the Bottom was every good old boy’s wet dream. The thing greedily gobbled up the road. A couple of times I felt like I was holding it back with a thin piece of rope that was on the verge of breaking.

Mitch, the bastard, laughed at me the whole way.

“Let her have some head.”

“Can’t. We’re coming up on a couple of tight switchbacks. Don’t want us to go off the road before we’ve had lunch.”

“Pussy,” he whispered.

Easy enough for him to say. I was sure glad I hadn’t let him drive. We’d have been careening all over the place and probably would’ve had a lot more near misses.

I could just imagine my cell lighting up with calls as we passed some of my friends in their trucks. I felt them all staring at Rita as we flew by.

“You could have let her go,” he grumbled after we parked at the Bottom.

My hands were shaking from exhilaration. My zillion-dollar smile had to be glowing. Fuck. A guy could come just from driving this baby.

“Whatever,” I mumbled, because I really didn’t have any words at all. I had no native language at that point. I was cruising on the blissful release of having danced with Rita.

As we rounded the corner of the parking lot and headed for the front door, my brother Connor nearly bumped into me.

“What the fuck is that thing, Ben?” He was practically panting as he took in Rita.

“Well, damn me. There are two of you beauties,” Mitch whispered close to my ear.

“Yeah, well. Mitch O’Shea, this is my younger brother, Connor. Connor, Mitch.”

They stared for a split second before Mitch thrust out his hand and Con grabbed it.

“Hey, nice to meet you. What kind of car is it?”

They stood much too close, in my opinion, as Mitch listed Rita’s specs.

Not that I was jealous or protective or anything. I mean, Mitch had said he was gay, and Con definitely was. So they were a perfect match, right?

Are you kidding? my dick sneered.

My gut screamed that Con was encroaching, which was really weird. It wasn’t like I had any real designs on Mitch. I mean, I’m straight, even though I was between women and didn’t really feel like hunting down another one at the moment.

So what if I was attracted to Mitch? He was a good-looking guy. I had a lot of good-looking friends.

True, none of them made me want to run my hands all over them, though. Which was beside the point, right?

“So you’re here for lunch?” Con asked Mitch.

I nodded, but Con didn’t acknowledge me.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, staring at Mitch.

Couldn’t he tell he was the third wheel at this party?

I shrugged, and Mitch nodded. I had no clue what the nod meant.

Lorraine, the Bottom’s co-owner, latched on to us near the hostess stand, scooped up three menus, and said over her shoulder, “Right this way.”

Connor was having lunch with us, then.

“Let me give you a quick overview about the roadhouse, Mitch. Then you’ll have some basic info to think about. Okay?” This was a working lunch, right? So I’d best be acting businesslike.

Mitch nodded, and Con, fortunately, figured out what was going on and shut the fuck up.

After we ordered, I walked Mitch through the building’s long list of minuses and its one plus—it was a sturdy old bugger. He told me he’d get back to me about what he was going to do. I had a feeling he’d already decided and was going to call the Realtor to make an offer once we were back in town. You don’t often find guys dancing around like crazy idiots who don’t already have their minds made up.

As we ate, I watched Mitch and Con chat. I sat there and mentally took notes on how gay guys flirt. If nothing else, I guess I could chalk lunch up as a learning experience.

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Meet the Author

Pat Henshaw, author of the Foothills Pride Stories, has spent her life surrounded by words:  Teaching English composition at the junior college level; writing book reviews for newspapers, magazines, and websites; helping students find information as a librarian; and promoting PBS television programs.

Pat was born and raised in Nebraska where she promptly left the cold and snow after college, living at various times in Texas, Colorado, Northern Virginia, and Northern California.  Pat enjoys travel, having visited Mexico, Canada, Europe, Nicaragua, Thailand, and Egypt, and Europe, including a cruise down the Danube.

Her triumphs are raising two incredible daughters who daily amaze her with their power and compassion.  Fortunately, her incredibly supportive husband keeps her grounded in reality when she threatens to drift away while writing fiction.

81K35AAJl2L._UX250_

Social Media Links

Blog

Website

Facebook

Twitter

Google+

Amazon

Email

Giveaway

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win one of THREE $10 Coffee gift cards

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

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