Release Blitz, Exclusive Excerpt & Giveaway:
Baxter’s Right-Hand Man by Lane Hayes

The Baxter Chronicles, Book 2

The movie star meets his match…

Pierce

Welcome to Hollywood, baby! Perhaps you’ve heard of me. I play Baxter, the adventure-seeking, crime-fighting hero, adored by fans around the world. Nice gig, right? My job has its perks for sure—private jets, a chauffeur, and the best tables at the fanciest restaurants in town. It’s nuts!

Downside—it’s hard to know who you can trust.

But I trust Lorenzo. He’s funny, sweet, and very real.

Look, I’m not in the market for anything serious. Between my greedy brother and the old man who claims we’re related, I’m a little wary, but I could use a friend.

And a sexy distraction.

Lorenzo

What is happening here? Major movie star, Pierce Allen wants me.

Me!

I don’t get it. I’m too fabulous and he’s too famous.

No, wait. He wants something from me, like my help and maybe my body. This should be a no-brainer. However, closing the last chapter on a long-term relationship has left me feeling a little fragile, and the last thing I need is to risk another broken heart.

But I’m too intrigued to walk away. I can play the part of Pierce’s “right-hand man” and keep things light and friendly. No problem.

I’m way too smart to fall for a movie star.

I hope.

Baxter’s Right-Hand Man is a MM, bisexual romance featuring a sexy, slightly egotistical movie star and the adorable diva who brings him back to reality.

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“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I didn’t tell you all that so you’d feel sorry for me. I just know what it feels like to leave home with nothing and hope for the best. And I guess, I wanted you to know that this…” I spread my arms wide. “This isn’t where I’m from. It’s not who I am.”

Lorenzo tilted his chin quizzically. “Who are you?”

“I’m just…me. I play video games in my spare time and study old movies. Exciting, huh?”

“Which ones?”

“Hitchcock, James Bond, and Humphrey Bogart films like The Maltese Falcon and The Big Sleep. I have a thing for the Golden Age of Hollywood.”

“Me too. I’m a Cary Grant fiend,” he gushed. “Gary Cooper does it for me too.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Oh, yeah.”

His smile was warm and teasing. He chattered on, reciting films he’d watched with his grandmother, listing seemingly every actor he’d ever had a crush on. Gregory Peck, Rock Hudson, Henry Cavill, Chris Pine…

God, I could lose myself in his pretty brown eyes and his meandering conversations with no rhyme, no reason, no marquee label, no outside interference.

Just him. Just me.

Fuck, I wanted him.

I took a chance and set a hand on his hip, drawing him close. “You’re very fucking pretty. Can I touch you?”

“What’d you have in mind?” Lorenzo flattened his palm on my chest.

I covered his hand and lifted it to my lips, kissing his knuckles, and the tips of each digit. His Adam’s apple slid theatrically as he briefly closed his eyes.

“This.” I sucked on a second digit, dropping his hand a moment later to cage him against the island. I nibbled his earlobe and traced the shell with the tip of my tongue, loving the way he shivered in response. “Or this.”

He sighed breathlessly, tilting his chin till our noses brushed. “Kiss me.”

 

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