Salut à tous,

Vous l’aurez remarqué le début de l’année est bien chargé pour moi. Les articles sont un peu moins nombreux sur le blog, mais ça devrait bientôt revenir à la normal. Surtout que j’ai déjà quelques lectures sympathiques à vous parler. On se retrouve aujourd’hui pour un petit article promotionnel concernant Down by Contact, le dernier Santino Hassell qui fut un énorme coup de coeur de ce mois de janvier.

Date de publication: 16 janvier 2018

Genre: M/M, romance contemporaire, romance dans le milieu du sport, ennemis à amants.

Quatrième de couverture:

Simeon Boudreaux, le quarterback armé d’or des New York Barons, a le charme irrésistible de la Nouvelle-Orléans et un visage pour faire fondre le cœur de sa maman. Il est universellement adoré par les fans et les médias. Faire son coming out en solidarité pour son coéquipier n’a pas nui à sa réputation, à l’exception de quelques railleries sur les médias sociaux du secondeur Adrián Bravo.

Même s’ils étaient autrefois coéquipiers, Adrian considère Simeon comme un traître et le nom numéro un sur la liste des ennemis des Predators du New Jersey. Lorsque l’animosité entre les deux joueurs de la NFL atteint un point culminant sur le terrain avec une bagarre sur le terrain, ils sont tous les deux mis au banc pour six matchs et condamnés à un service communautaire commun pour enseigner le ballon à des jeunes de Brooklyn.

Au début, ils peuvent à peine supporter d’être dans la même pièce, mais la gestion du camp les oblige à prendre sur eux. N’ayant d’autre choix que de travailler ensemble, Simeon se rend compte qu’Adrian est plus que son personnage d’alpha-jerk, et Adrián commence à se demander pourquoi il a toujours eu de tels sentiments pour le magnifique QB …

Liens pour acheter le livre:

Amazon | Publisher | Barnes & Noble

Extraits:

Teaser 1:

I swear I hated Simeon and the effect he had on my traitorous asshole of a body.

« Yeah, however you want to say it. I freaked out. Shouldn’t have pushed you and sent you home with, uh- » I licked my lips again, glancing down at his crotch. The heavy curve of his dick was clearly visible through his track pants. « With-« 

« Blue balls? »

I exhaled with a whoosh of air. « Yeah. »

« It’s okay. There’s still time to redeem yourself. »

« Redeem myself, » I repeated slowly. « I dunno about all that. »

« I thought you were inviting me over for wings and football and all that bro shit? »

« Oh. Right. »

Simeon’s evil smile went up several notches. « What’d you think I meant, boo? »

« Nothing. »

« Okay, Bravo. I’ll think about it. »

He was backing me into corner after corner, and I kept following and slamming into walls that had apparently encircled my common sense. The last thing I needed was to keep stretching this out after the gay rumors had just started to fade. Instead of pairing us up, they were implying we were sitting on a pressure cooker due to our teams playing not even a month after the brawl.

But even knowing all that, I couldn’t stop myself. He was talking to me again, giving me a shot, and agreeing to once again spend time with me even after I’d flipped out on him. I needed to nurture that willingness before I lost it again. Considering how precarious our moments of getting along were, I was gonna have to make a comeback in a big way.

Teaser 2:

« What else makes you uncomfortable? »

Adrián shrugged, still holding the empty glass.

« We should probably figure it out if we’re gonna keep the competition going, no? »

His throat bobbed with a heavy swallow. « Should we keep it going? »

« I dunno. » I sat up on the couch but kept my hands braced against the cushion and my face angled up to him. « Do you still wanna show me up? »

« I’ll always want to show you up, Boudreaux. »

« All right then, let’s see what makes you jumpy. »

I started to shift myself upward, but he put a palm against my chest and held me back.

« What happens when you lose? »

« You can have fun figuring that one out. I’m gonna leave it up to you. »

Adrián’s fingers pressed harder against my chest before falling away. There was a hint of apprehension in his pursed lips and loosely balled hands, but then he plastered on that rakish Bravo grin and lifted his chin.

« Do your worst, » he said, threading his fingers behind his head.

Every inch of him was touchable, so it was only a matter of where to start. What I wanted was his mouth, but that was off-limits. Fortunately, he had a lot more to offer.

I pushed myself up so I was kneeling on the cushion and started with his shirt. One after the other, tiny black buttons came undone on a piece of cloth that probably cost thousands just to make his body look like a masterpiece. And it did, but it was even better when I could see his flesh. Smooth golden brown skin sliding over the bumps and ridges of violently worked muscle that had been molded into something that could have been goddamn edible if it wasn’t so hard.

He didn’t so much as twitch, even when I pushed his shirt open with my fingertips brushing his skin. Instead, he grinned and popped his pecs, leering. That was perfectly fine because I liked a challenge. He wanted to show off about how comfortable he was being naked? Unsurprising. He was naked in front of other men all the time, but they usually didn’t get on their knees and make him moan like a porn star. That was my specialty. I’d started sucking dick as a teenager, and had always gotten a thrill from the power and control I had in a seemingly submissive position. Men had always thought it meant I was their bitch boy, but they were the ones begging me if I started to slow down.

Teaser 3

I extended one arm so I could lightly touch the corner of his mouth. “You’ve got something right there.”

The dark wings of his brows crashed down in consternation, and a flood of conflicting emotions danced across his striking face, but none of them was indignant or annoyed or disgusted—the reactions I was used to getting from straight men when I touched them and they weren’t interested. Or sometimes even when I touched them because of interest that was obvious to me and not to their own selves. Denial was powerful in most men, but Adrián Bravo settled on intrigued.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

I brushed the pad of my finger against his lips, wiping the syrup away even though it left the remnants of sticky residue. Touching his mouth sent my thirst into hyperactive overdrive, and my mind betrayed me. Filled with images of dragging him closer for a messy kiss where I used my tongue to get him clean right before dragging him to the bathroom to get really nasty.

Where was my common sense? My inner angel to tell me to stop craving this bastard just because he had a pretty face and, according to him, a talented dick? Hadn’t I learned my lesson? My dick going from half-mast to fully risen proved otherwise. I would absolutely go down on him in the bathroom if the opportunity arose. I could hate him even while he was in my mouth.

He wasn’t reacting as much as I wanted him to, so I dropped my hand next to his and upped the ante.

“You got some on your fingers too.”

“Yeah? You gonna get all mother hen on me about that too?”

He thought he was so cool and collected. It was kind of cute how much he underestimated my competitive spirit.

“Not quite mother hen, but . . .”

I grabbed his hand after a quick scan of the diner, and brought it to my lips. His arm locked up briefly, a spasm going through his fingers, but he didn’t fight. Not when I parted my lips, and not when I enveloped the syrup-covered digits with my mouth. I sucked the syrup off, suctioning harder than I needed to for the current situation, and flicked my tongue.

“Oh fuck.”

We locked eyes. There was no hiding how dilated his had become. The way his breathing had picked up, or the bouncing of his knee.

I slid my mouth off, leaving his fingers coated in saliva, and grinned.

“I won this round, Bravo.”

Adrián grabbed a napkin with trembling hands and roughly wiped his fingers.

“Yeah. I guess you did.”

Quelques mots sur l’auteur:

Santino Hassell a été élevé par une famille conservatrice, mais a grandi pour devenir un gamin grunge à la bouche intelligente, un jeune homme de vingt ans, et finalement transformé en un auteur grognon introverti et improbable ayant une affinité pour les casquettes de baseball. Ses romans sont fortement influencés par le paysage urbain de New York, et son désir d’écrire des relations alimentées par l’intensité et la passion.

Il a été finaliste aux Bisexual Book Awards et aux EPIC Awards, et a été nominé pour un prestigieux prix RITA en 2017. Son travail a été présenté dans BuzzFeed, Huffington Post, Washington Post, RT Magazine et Cosmopolitan Magazine.

Contacter Santino:

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