Welcome to the Poster Boy Blog Tour! *confetti*
As you may or may not know, Poster Boy is the fifth in the Theta Alpha Gamma series, and (at least as far as I’m able to be sure about such things) the last TAG book. No, no, don’t be sad, be happy—we’re gonna go out in style!
Let’s discuss the nitty-gritty: the Blog Tour Giveaway. The prize package this time includes: one lovely “Theta Alpha Gamma Beer Terrorist Response Team” sweatshirt (I believe I have sizes M-XXL available, choice of two styles); one paperback copy of Frat Boy and Toppy with the new cover art, signed and inscribed to the winner; a bar of soap I bought in Les Baux (was going to send olives from Sainte-Remy, but we ate them . . . sorry about that) and; of course, one penis crocheted by moi.
How does one win, you ask? By following the tour, collecting all the official “prize” words (posts will have them clearly marked), and using them as directed at the end of this post (it’s complicated).
Happy word hunting, and enjoy the tour (psssssst, this one is heavy on the cut scenes).
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Poster Boy buy link.
It’s all fun and games until someone puts his heart out.
When Jock meets sexy grad student Toby at a frat party, things finally start looking up. After having been outed to his hockey team and then changing schools, he figures he’s due something good—like the sex he missed out on in the closet. Toby seems like a great place to start, and their night together is an awesome introduction to the fine art of hooking up.
Toby’s heart takes a bruising after the near-perfect experience with Jock leads to . . . nothing. He’s been left on the outside as his friends pair up into blissful coupledom, and he’s in danger of never completing (or starting) his thesis. Can’t something go right?
Then Toby’s coerced into chaperoning a Theta Alpha Gamma trip to France. Not that he’s complaining. What better place to finish his thesis and get over that frat boy? Except Jock’s outing is leaked to the press, making him an unwilling gay rights martyr, and he decides France is a great escape, too. It’s a break from reality for both guys, but they soon find their connection is as real as it gets.
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Early on, in the Poster Boy timeline, there was a whole thread about how Tank (Jock’s older brother) was protective, and took every opportunity to intimidate Toby, “the player.” I (mostly) dropped that plotline because adding in the resolution of it increased the wordcount up to a ridiculous amount. This was my favorite scene from it—Toby is just about to leave for Provence, and Tank (Jock’s older brother) drops by to ask him to watch out for Jock while there. You’d think all the power would be in Toby’s hands, wouldn’t you? Yeah . . .
Toby all but fell over when he answered the doorbell—thinking it was Collin, who’d agreed to give him a lift to the airport—to find the big hulk lurking on his doorstep, hands shoved in his pocket, head and brow lowered. And was that a sulky lip?
“Uhhhh . . .?” Toby said in greeting. Would now be a good time to call up his very rusty and very inadequate martial arts skills? Did taking one three-month class in grade school count as having “skill”?
“Hey,” Tank grunted.
“Come in?” He meant it as a question about whether hospitality was appropriate for this visit, but Tank took it more literally, stepping through the doorway.
“Thanks.” His intonation was slightly less grunterly this time. He shifted his weight, staring at the floor while Toby shut the door (after some hesitation, but it was cold outside, even for late March). Then Tank fidgeted some more, looking first around the kitchen, then yanking his hand out of his pocket to pinch his lower lip, letting it go after a few seconds and shoving his hand back into his pocket.
“Can I help you with something?” Toby asked.
Tank cleared his throat. “Wanna talk to you about Jock,” he mumbled.
At least that’s what Toby thought he said. He definitely heard “Jock” and his heart definitely bobbled at the sound of the name. “Your brother?” he clarified. Had he said anything to this guy that wasn’t a question so far? No?
Tank nodded hard, once. “Yeah. ‘Cause, you know . . .”
Seriously, were all straight boy conversations this detailed? It was amazing they managed to communicate anything at all. If it weren’t for the female primates, the males alone might never have made it onto the savannah. “Um, no. I don’t know. Maybe you could give me a little more information?” The words might be sarcastic, but Toby worked on presenting them in his most straightforward way, standing straight, hands by his sides in plain view, no sly or cynical intonation. He was beginning to feel this visit might be illuminating if not beneficial.
“He’s going to Provence,” Tank spit out.
“I know.” Toby nodded. “Collin told me. Who, by the way, should be here any minute to take me to the airport for my own flight to France, so possibly you should get to the point of your visit.”
Tank lifted his head. “I don’t want to see him get taken advantage of over there.”
By whom? “Meaning what?”
“Meaning I know something happened between you two and I don’t want him hurt or screwed over—“
“Oh, so that is what this is about.” Toby couldn’t stifle the smirk rising up his throat. He was too annoyed. He leaned his butt against the counter, crossing one ankle over the other. “You’re here to chastise me for leading your innocent little brother astray. It wasn’t like that, not that it’s any of your business.”
Tank swallowed, his face tinged with green. “I don’t really want to think about what it was like, thanks.”
“And don’t even try to warn me off,” Toby—and his index finger—felt compelled to add.
Shifting his stance, Tank shoved his hands in his pockets, but Toby could see them bulge where he fisted them. “I’m not.”
“He’s nineteen, and he’s free to pursue the kind of sex he wants for the first time in his life. He’s not going to settle down with the—“ Toby started hacking, his throat rebelling over his near mention of being Jock’s first. “Um,” he coughed again. “He’s got some wild oats to sow. Um. Yeah.”
Tank’s brow had wrinkled up, but he shook himself out of confusion or whatever his issue was. “What I mean is I thought maybe since there’s, you know, a connection between you that you’d . . . help him.”
“I’m not going to help him get laid,” Toby said before catching himself.
Tank lifted his brows. “I think he’s got that covered. I’m worried about him getting himself in trouble again.”
“‘In trouble’?” The way he had with the picture? “As sexist as this is going to sound, he’s not your little sister, he’s your brother, and he’s stubborn, in case you didn’t notice. He’s very determined to get what he wants once he decides he wants it, and I don’t think anyone can stand in his way.”
“You know him pretty well.” Tank cocked his head.
Toby half-snorted and looked away. “Not really. He’s just easy to read.”
“If you say so, dude.”
Isn’t that what he’d just said? “I don’t have a lot of time, as I think I mentioned—“
“He’s my little brother.” Tank sighed, and Toby looked back to see his head bowed, toe nudging the floor a lot like the person of interest in this tete-a-tete had a habit of doing. “Without going into too much detail, I looked out for him when we were growing up. Our parents’re career-oriented, very busy. We had nannies and stuff when it was necessary, but we kind of raised each other more than anyone else did. We’re close.”
“And?”
Tank ran a hand through his hair, dropping his shoulders with a sigh. “Look, it’s like this. When he was sixteen I came home from school for Christmas break, and he sat me down one night and told me he thought he was gay. I don’t know man, he was so . . .” he shrugged. “He looked, like, happy about it. I mean, nervous, of course, but like he’d fucking found something out that made sense for him. It was weird to get used to, but I did, for him. I was kind proud of him, facing up to that . . .” He’d ducked his head, so Toby couldn’t see his face.
“Not everyone can accept it that easily.” Christ, this big lummox was going to make him all emotional. He cleared his throat and said what had to be said. “You’re a good guy.”
Tank shook his head, huffing. “I was the only one who knew for years. And then when Brad came out, I slipped and told the whole frat—“
“You what? You outted him?” Okay, yeah, now he was ready for Collin to arrive and end this confab.
Tank looked utterly tortured. Hard lines bracketing his mouth and the muscles around his eyes tightening up. “I told him right away, you know? And he wasn’t even mad. He told me it would be all right, and not to feel bad. But now that he’s out? He’s totally pissed. All the time. At me. He, like, cringes when he hears my voice.” Tank took a deep breath, exhaling fully. “So he’s going to Provence to get away from all this shit with the picture, and maybe me, and he probably doesn’t need it, but I just . . . I’d feel better knowing someone is looking out for him.”
“And you think I’m the guy to do it? I’m the defiler of virgins, remember?”
Tank gave him doubtful sideways look, and then he dished up sarcasm to match Toby’s own. “Yeah, you sounded like a real player when you were talking about him, man.”
Ah, a worthy opponent. Fuck. “I’m not a player. Just because I’ve taken what’s on offer in the past doesn’t mean, if the right guy comes along, I’d avoid getting serious.”
“So you think he’s the right guy?”
Toby threw out his hands. “How’m I supposed to know? We spent one night together and he immediately went out and found a couple of others guys to hook up with after. If you’re worried about someone’s feelings getting hurt, here, maybe they should be mine.” Most inappropriate. Surreal. Revealing conversation. Ever. One for the record books.
“So you are into him?” Tank lifted a brow—the straw that broke the camel’s back. The brow that forced Toby into fully accepting that the balance of power in this conversation had changed. He’d given away far too much, and Tank was not one of the stupid fratbros.
Nothing for it but to get all petulant. “Why would I tell you?”
“You pretty much just did, man.”
His index finger got in on the action again, leveling itself at the guy. “Don’t read too much into it. I’m just trying to explain how relationships work.”
Tank half-rolled his eyes. “I think he could be into you, if you gave him a chance.”
“If I gave him a chance? Did you miss the part where he couldn’t get out of here fast enough to find other guys to fuck?” Oh, he was just all about shooting himself in the foot wasn’t he?
Tank held up his palms. “Okay, you’re probably right about that, what do I know? Just let me know if you’re going to look out for him, okay?”
Jesus. But in reality, all Tank was asking him to do was what Toby’d do by his own inclination anyway. “Fine,” he muttered, trying to sound pressured into it. This guy had already made too many assumptions about his feelings for Jock. “I guess.”
Tank exhaled, slouching against Toby’s wall a second before beaming. “Thanks, man. You’re a good guy.”
Really? Because he felt like a schmuck who was stuck on a guy that couldn’t be less interested.
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For those of you playing to win the blog tour prize cache, here’s the word: lick.
The word game—the rules are that I provide a bunch of words, and you have to create an ode to testicles. Hey, it’s fair—I gave you an ode to testicles in the book (well, part of one), you should give me one in return, using all the words from the tour. You may add any other words you need to, but it must include every word I gave out on the tour.
Of course, creative cheating might receive a pass from me . . .
At the end of the tour, send your ode to me at anne @ annetenino.com and I will choose one lucky winner from all the entries I receive by paying one of my children some exorbitant amount to draw an ode out of a hat (or other handy receptacle). All masterpieces must be to me by May 4th, 2014 at midnight Pacific Daylight Time (GMT -7:00). For a schedule of all tour stops, you can go here.
Oh, and:
*If the winner will be at GRL, GayRomance Northwest or the RT Booklover’s Convention, I’m also offering a lunch with me. And yes, I’ll pay. 😉
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Raised on a steady diet of Monty Python, classical music and the visual arts, Anne Tenino was—famously—the first patient diagnosed with Compulsive Romantic Disorder. Since that day, Anne has taken on conquering the M/M world through therapeutic writing. Finding out who those guys having sex in her head are and what to do with them has been extremely liberating.
Anne’s husband finds it liberating as well, although in a somewhat different way. Her two daughters are mildly confused by Anne’s need to twist Ken dolls into odd positions. However, other than occasionally stealing Ken1’s strap-on, they let Mom do her thing without interference.
Wondering what Anne does in her spare time? Mostly she lies on the couch, eats bonbons and shirks housework.
Check out what Anne’s up to now by visiting her site. http://annetenino.com
Read Carissa’s 4.5 star review here:
https://lovebytesreviews.com/2014/04/22/recent-release-review-poster-boy-by-anne-tenino/