Salute to the Stud by Beth Laycock

Publisher: Rainbow Romance Press

Release Date: February 21, 2019

Subgenre: Contemporary Romance

Order Here: Amazon only

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The novella will be only $0.99 on ebook during release-week and tour, February 21-27!

Synopsis:

Jasper is licking his wounds in paradise after being dumped, according to his ex, for someone more adventurous. The romantic Hawaiian getaway for two he booked hadn’t featured his sister as his plus one, but sometimes real life sucks.

For the two weeks he’s there his plans include hot dates with a sun lounger and working his way through the local craft beers. Nothing more.

Until he receives a sext from a wrong number. A mystery yoga instructor offering a private session to teach him the plow, and maybe even get plowed. Jasper’s never had a hookup with anyone before, but perhaps it’s time to prove his ex wrong.

One night with Tamal, no matter how hot it is, isn’t enough, yet that doesn’t change the fact this thing between them can’t last. Because time is running out. Jasper has to leave, has to return to London and real life.

 

7 a.m. Far too bloody early to be up on holiday yet there I stood, half asleep on the beach. At least I thought I was awake; I could have been dreaming. The sky was beginning to lighten as the sun rose, painting the horizon orange. Clouds of white spray fell where the sea broke against the rocky shoreline yet further down quietly crept up the beach towards where I stood. Palm trees swayed on the gentle breeze laced with the briny tang of the ocean, and the rustle of the fronds and the soft splash of the sea the only sounds – total fantasy setting and a world away from the grey, soggy overcrowded streets of London my sis and I had left behind for a whole two weeks.

The view only got better when the yoga instructor sashayed down the beach to where I waited with several older women. Bare feet. Long, muscular legs clad in stretchy pants that stopped mid-calf. A vest clung to his chest, the definition of his pecs visible and muscled arms naked apart from the tribal-looking tattoo that ran down one of them, his long black, curly hair tied back in a ponytail. I recognised him from the bar the previous night, and I almost swallowed my tongue when he stopped in front of the handful of people waiting for the class. He was fucking gorgeous. Full, pouty, pink lips with a hint of stubble darkening the skin around them. Black eyebrows slashed across his face above eyes so dark they looked black. Not for the first time, it crossed my mind this was a bad idea. I had no clue what I was doing. What if he wasn’t my mystery sexter? What if he was? Was I really gonna arrange a hookup with a virtual stranger? My heart thundered at just the idea, but my blood rushed south.

“Aloha. We have a few new faces this morning.”

He smiled, and it was like the sun breaking free from an overcast London sky – beautiful, and rare in winter.

“Welcome. If you will unroll your mats, we’ll come into the Salutation Position as the sun rises and start the Sun Salutation or Salute to the Sun to relax.”

Salute to the Sun? More like Salute to the Stud. With a shake of my head, I flipped my mat out in front of me and stood in the middle of it. See, I can do this. Our gazes clashed, and I swallowed against the dryness of my mouth. Was he my secret sexter? Jeez, not the time for those thoughts as my dick twitched in my shorts which were far too snug to hide anything.

Instead, I concentrated on trying to follow his moves. Until he got down on all fours, and then I couldn’t stop staring. The flex of his biceps. The corded muscles along his neck as his head dropped back, sending those curls tumbling down to his butt. His back dipped and made his arse tip up. My gaze traced the curve of his arse cheeks and I licked my lips.

“Coming into Cobra Position. This is a soothing pose for the back and to increase body heat.”

When he got to his feet, I let my head drop to the mat and blew out a sigh of relief. Until a hand landed on my shoulder, and I jerked up to look straight into his warm eyes.

“How are you doing?”

His voice, low and deep, washed over me like a gentle wave, and I shuddered.

“Yeah. I’m good.” I cleared my throat, my voice sounding husky like I’d worked my way through all the local brewery beers in one night.

“Make sure your arms are in line with your shoulders and then lift the pelvis.”

Dear God, somebody save me. His barely-there touch burned through the thin cotton of my T-shirt and the sweet smell of him – like coconuts – wrapped around me and made my mouth water.

“Good. Now take a breath in and straighten your legs, pushing up and letting your head drop between your straightened arms.”

He removed his hand from my shoulder, and I relaxed a little.

“Do you mind if I touch you?”

I clamped my lips together at the inappropriate responses trying to escape and instead just shook my head. But then he cupped my stomach, and my muscles contracted. His touch gentle yet sure had my stomach flipping and my mind racing, wondering what it would be like if he caressed me when we weren’t in a yoga class. It had been three months since Sam and I split. Three months without the touch of another man, and my eyes stung as it hit me how much I’d missed a caring touch, because it had been much longer than three months since Sam had held me that way.

“Good. Now blow the breath out and let your stomach hang down.”

He moved his hands round to my hips, lifting and turning them, and my breath stuttered.

“Excellent. Keep going.”

At last, his hands disappeared, and relief warred with disappointment at the loss of his touch. He moved on to the woman beside me, and with him no longer a distraction, I concentrated on the view in front of me. It really was beautiful and calming. The gentle waves scurrying up the beach and the sky changing from orange to blue. The peace only broken by the squawking, almost whistle-like sounds of the bird calls from the trees. Voices carried from the hotel as the place slowly came to life, the pace much slower and relaxed there. Unlike London, which struggled to take a deep breath most of the time

 

Beth Laycock’s books are influenced by her time living overseas as well as the gritty, urban landscape of the north of England where she grew up. She has been reading romance since she was old enough to tell herself that line every book lover does—just one more chapter.

As a teenager, she attempted to write her first novel, and many more since then are still gathering dust on her bookshelf. It wasn’t until she discovered the M/M genre that her muse showed up and refused to quit telling her stories about beautiful men finding love together. She hasn’t stopped scribbling them down since. Beth’s muse usually shows up when she is in the shower, is allergic to cleaning, rarely lets her watch TV, and insists she drinks copious amounts of coffee so she can turn caffeine into words.

When not writing or reading, Beth can be found procrastinating on social media or being dragged around the English countryside by her dog Freddie.

 

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