Hello
and welcome to the 2nd stop in Sensuous Promos Book Blog Tour for Whitley Gray’s, Shooting For The Gold - Going For The Gold Anthology. Throughout
this blog hop – which runs September 30th through October 26th
– there will be 5 stops. At the end of which all commentators (from all the
blog stops) will be eligible to win a $10 Amazon eGift Card. The winner will be
announced on October 27th in the evening and posted in the comments
sections of all the stops. Please remember to leave your email address so we
can contact the winner and get you your prize!
Bio:
Once upon a misspent youth, Whitley read and wrote
stories under the covers at night. At some point, real life intervened,
bringing with it responsibilities and a career in the medical field. After
years of technical writing, Whitley became enamored of romance and took on the
challenge of giving it a try. Inventing characters and putting them through
paces in interesting ways turned out to be addictive, and along the way,
Whitley discovered that two heroes is twice as nice. A pot of coffee, quiet,
and a storyline featuring a couple of guys makes for a perfect day. Stop by www.whitleygray.com and feed your fix for heat between the sheets
with erotica and M/M romance.
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| Purchase Links: AMAZON |
Matt Justice has worked for years toward his goal
of winning Olympic gold. Three decades ago, his father won an Olympic shooting
competition; he was Matt’s biggest supporter until he said two little words:
“I’m gay.” If he can emulate the feat his father accomplished in the past,
maybe Matt can mend their fractured relationship.
Physician Levi Wolf and his partner Brett had
looked forward to attending the London Olympic Games, until the car accident
that left Levi unscathed but killed the love of his life. It’s been three
years, and Levi has kept his heart under wraps. He’s attending the Olympics
alone—as a physician instead of as a tourist. The last thing he wants to
consider is letting go of Brett’s memory.
When Matt has an accident that threatens his
ability to compete, Levi uses his skill at acupuncture to treat the blinding
headaches. As the competition comes down to the wire, Levi discovers that
sometimes the prize is right in front of you.
EXCERPT:
Matt
squinted at the map. God, he hoped he’d taken the right direction to find the
shuttle to the shooting venue at the Royal Artillery Barracks. For the last
month, he’d anticipated seeing the unique decorations for the Olympic use of
the buildings. The equipment should’ve arrived, and until he saw with his own
eyes that the firearms had made it, he wouldn’t be able to rest. The campus
made no sense. Where the devil was the exit to this place? The Olympic Village
might as well be a labyrinth. Matt turned the chart to the side. North? Which
way was —
Clang.
Pain
exploded in his forehead and nose. Matt staggered sideways onto the grass, lost
his fight with gravity, and fell. The vision in his right eye blurred, and the
inside of his head reverberated with pain. “Fuck.”
“Okay,
mate?” The voice came from above, concern wrapped in a Cockney accent.
Matt
clapped a hand over his eye, which made the pain worse, and pulled his fingers
away smeared with red. Blood? No fucking way. What’d he hit? He turned his
head, and hissed as pain thumped his skull. Bad idea. “What hit me?”
“Ye
’it the scaffold.” Feet clanged on metal, clopped on concrete, and muted on the
grass. “Yer bleedin’. Shite.”
Through
bleary eyes, Matt squinted at the workman who squatted next to him. The man’s
wooly eyebrows knit in concern. He fumbled in his pocket and held out a
handkerchief. Matt watched himself take the cloth. A wave of nausea twisted his
gut, and he flipped on his side and retched, head pounding. Jesus Christ.
“Ye
okay?”
Kidding, right? Wiping the back
of his hand across his mouth, Matt rolled to his back and opened his eyes.
Overcast sky, smell of grass, and ringing in the ears. Just dandy.
More
footsteps rustled across the grass, and a blond man came into view. Lips tight,
he frowned and knelt beside Matt. “Hey there. Looks like a nasty cut. Can you
open your right eye?” Midwestern American accent. A fellow athlete?
“It
is open. Isn’t it?”
“No.”
The hanky was pulled out of Matt’s hand, and Blond Guy dabbed at the cut. “Better
get you to the clinic.”
Aw,
shit on a biscuit. Clinic? Doctors and X-rays and needles? He’d never live it
down. Matt groaned. “It’s not that bad. A little clean up and an ice pack and
I’ll be fine.”
Blond
Guy’s frown deepened, twin creases forming between his eyebrows. He leaned in.
Nice eyes, blue like the steel of a shotgun. “That’s not going to do it. Too
deep. Looks like you rang your bell when you connected with the post. You might
have a concussion.”
Matt
struggled to sit up, and the scenery took a drunken swirl. Nausea burbled in
his throat. “I don’t have a concussion.” He clamped his teeth together and took
a couple of deep breaths through his nose. Don’t
vomit. Sit for a minute, reassure the Good Samaritan, and go check on the guns.
“I need to go.”
A
warm hand landed on his shoulder. “A quick look. I promise I’ll make it brief
—”
“Wait
a minute. You’ll take a look?”
Probably some former military medic, like Norm.
A
brilliant smile broke across Blond Guy’s face and he extended a hand. “Levi
Wolf, M.D., at your service. Call me Levi.”
A
doctor? Here in the Village? On autopilot, he shook. “Matt Justice.”
“Staff
or competitor?” asked Levi.
“Competitor.
Shooting.”
“Clinic’s
right over there.” Levi nodded toward glass double doors on the opposite side
of the courtyard. “Can you walk?”
Target
estimated at twenty meters. That he could do. Matt grunted an assent.
“I
kin help,” the workman volunteered, glancing from Levi to Matt.
Well,
it couldn’t get much more humiliating. Might as well go to the clinic. “Let’s
go.”
It
did get more humiliating. Levi and the workman — who introduced himself as
Gideon — each took one of Matt’s arms and wrapped an arm around his waist. The
two carried more than walked him across the grass, through the doors, and into
a cubicle.
While
he waited for Levi to return, Matt contemplated the gray and white stripes of
the curtain, one eye at a time. Left eye clear, right eye blurry. Must not have
gotten the blood cleaned up well enough. That had to be it. Perfect vision in
his right eye was crucial for shooting. What if he couldn’t compete?
MLR Press: MLR Press
AMAZON: AMAZON
