Blog Tour – Love of the Game – Edited by Harley Easton


Book Info
Title: Love of the GameEdited by: Harley Easton
Publisher: Sexy Little Pages (https://www.sexylittlepages. com/)
Genre: Erotic Romance (primarily M/F but there are a sprinkling of M/M and F/F stories)


Love of the Game will knock you out with a one, two, punch of super sexy. From rugby players who can’t leave their passion on the pitch to Paralympians with everything to prove, these athletes are certainly playing for keeps. Warm yourself up with stories of:

  • Football: Where both college stars and former NFL hopefuls are ready to go long
  • MMA Fights: Where participants get rough and tumble inside the ring and out
  • Baseball: Where the boys of summer can score by making it big or completely striking out
  • Swimming: Where diving into bed with teammates or rivals is taboo, but oh so tempting

And so much more. Whatever sport you’re a fan of, Love of the Game is certain to make you sweat.





by Gregory L. Norris

Mel tipped her sunglasses up. Jason was hunched down, tensed, halfway between the second base bag and third. Her husband’s home white uniform complimented the shortstop’s lean mass of muscles with similar affection: double-breasted button-down accented by the classic black and red team colors of the Canton Cardinals Triple-A minor league affiliate of the Top Socks club, cap and shades, and those clean, tight pants. Even the red uniform stirrups rising up from well-worn cleats on big feet added to his magnificence. Jason Collins was a classic boy of summer, and all man.

A thunderclap shook the stadium, shocking Mel out of her thoughts, which were growing dirtier over Jason and all that she planned to do to him once they were back at their summer rental following the game. He’d have showered by that point, and stripped out of his uniform, which would be stained from hard-won sweat, infield dirt, and grass. Maybe she would get him to put on a clean one and don his shades. He hadn’t shaved that morning—an old tradition among baseball players meant to intimidate the visiting team. A day’s worth of stubble had transformed him into a bad boy, a pirate. The day’s building heat unleashed scintillating pinpricks over her bare arms, and deeper. Oh yes, in his baseball uniform. And out of it. A smile tempted her lips.



By Annabeth Leong

Margie didn’t know which way to go now that everyone was staring at her, so she headed in the direction of the nearest friendly face. He leaned in to speak only for her hearing.

“Stick around after the game,” Pete said. “I want to see if I can score off you.”

Baseball language always sounded so dirty, and Margie’s cheeks heated even though she knew what he meant. She cleared her throat and tried to make her expression innocent and blank.

“I’d love to.”


Phillips had stayed late too, eschewing the team’s after party in order to participate in Margie’s tête-à-tête with Pete Muñoz. She knew she needed a catcher, but part of her wished it could have been just the two of them.

She braced herself for more nonsense from Phillips as she stepped onto the field, but her pitch earlier that evening seemed to have made him a convert.

“I’ve got two bills down that you strike Muñoz out. He’s lucky this isn’t official, or you’d be messing up his precious over-.300 batting average,” he said.

“Nah, man. Margie’s good, but she’s about to give it up to me. I think she’s going to let me take her deep.” Muñoz spat in the dirt at his feet, then squinted out at the empty park.

Margie squared her shoulders. She recognized Muñoz’s trash talk for what it was — challenging, not sexist. He was chirping at her the way he would have with any hot pitcher. Telling her that she wouldn’t be able to keep him from hitting long and hard, far out into the outfield or maybe even over the fences. When he hefted his bat, however, he glanced at her with meaning in his eyes. Margie’s mouth went dry. It wasn’t just the language that seemed sexual. Muñoz obviously planned to take her deep off the field even if he didn’t manage the feat on the diamond.



by Megan McFerren

Taking her in, Cassidy couldn’t keep down her own smile. It always went like this, pressure building until cracks formed, followed by a sudden burst and then repairs to make her stronger the next time around. And always, always it came with the same offer: I can teach you some things, if you want to know them. They were the first words Ruth ever said to her, when Cassidy asked if she’d ever considered coaching rodeo. They were the words that Cassidy had whispered to herself again and again late at night, fingers slick between her legs.

She wanted to know everything Ruth could teach her about riding.

“Of course I do,” Cassidy answered, unhooking her other boot from the stirrup.

Slinging both legs to the same side, she slipped to the earth with a grunt. Her face pulled taut into a grimace, thighs screaming like a kettle left boiling too long, and she doubled over to rub them, fingers spreading over snug denim to work the cramps out. Ruth stepped forward to take Palisander’s reins, but Cassidy could feel her teacher’s eyes on her, on the way her hands pressed from the inside of her knees to the crevice of her groin, long strokes to pull shortened muscles long again. Cassidy was grateful for the singe of sun across her cheeks that concealed the blush welling from within, heating from the strain in her legs and up through her center into a tight, warm coil low in her belly.

“Wash him down and get him back for dinner,” Ruth said, holding out the reins to Cassidy. She couldn’t be certain if the roughness in Ruth’s voice was imagined or real, whether it came from annoyance for dallying or from something else entirely. It wasn’t like Cassidy to display herself so shamelessly, and she let herself believe her own lie that it was only a stretch, only tired thighs after hours of riding. She licked the dust from her lips and took the strap of leather from Ruth. Her heart sank a little as she turned towards the barn, shoulders weighted low by the high numbers she’d raced and by the dismissal.

“Cass,” Ruth called out as she made her way across the arena. Cassidy glanced back across her shoulder to her teacher. “Meet me in the equipment room when you’re done.”



By Jordan Monroe


I’d noticed him on the first day of practice. He’d come in a little late, his long, lean body wrapped in low-hanging black sweatpants and a tight grey tee shirt. After waving hello to our coach, he dropped his Speedo backpack on the bleachers. I’d put my goggles over my eyes, grateful for their reflective lenses. Everyone else was jumping in the water to begin the 1000-meter warmup, but I stood on the side of the pool transfixed. It took every amount of mental energy for me to not drop my jaw.

Travis’s hair was thick and wavy, the style of every guy in a surfer movie, with that sun-bleached hue. I watched him peel off his shirt almost in slow-motion, revealing tanned skin and a well-muscled torso; I swallowed the drool that was pooling in my cheeks. He kicked off his Adidas flip flops, hooked his fingers around the elastic waistband of his pants, and pulled them down his sculpted legs. When he stood up straight to exchange his pants for his cap and goggles, I shamelessly raked my eyes over his lower body: his black briefs and orange mesh drag suit revealed his solid thighs and clung to his hips, his butt taut, and the delicious angled lines of his lower abs pointing to the bulge between his legs.

“Let’s get in, Wile!” I jumped when the coach’s voice shook me out of my lustful reverie. Hopping in the cool water and easing into freestyle was enough to push Travis’s image from my mind, at least temporarily.

As I was down underwater, I looked up to see Travis come in to the wall in the next lane. He moved his body with graceful, exacting strokes, like an aquatic machine. As he flipped over to turn, he coiled his long body into a tight ball, then unfurled magnificently. This time, I did drop my jaw as he kicked off the wall in deliberate body rolls: his hands clasped above his head, arms smashed together in the tightest of streamlines, his chest lowering while the rest of his body followed. Like an animal, my eyes went straight to his hips thrusting in ways that suggested not only forward momentum but exquisite pleasure. It wasn’t until he came up to continue swimming that I remembered my need to breathe and resume practice.



Laughter and Sex with Annabeth Leong


Today we are lucky enough to have Annabeth Leong join us and talk to us about the comination of laughter and sex.  Thank you for joining us Annabeth and letting us help you celebrate the release of Get Laid!

Laughter and Sex with Annabeth Leong…

When I met the man who would become my husband, we tried fantasies I’d dreamed about for a long time, and we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. Of course, I knew that would change when we got married—and I hoped it wouldn’t dry up completely the way people often say it does. The way it’s changed, however, is something I would never have predicted.

These days, we often laugh through the whole thing.

Sometimes, he tickles me. Sometimes, we make funny faces at each other. Sometimes, he or I will say something ridiculous and then the other one will pick up on it and play it to the hilt. One of my favorites is to pretend that I’m utterly, impossibly naive.

Until this, I didn’t know sex could be so fun. I can’t remember feeling so comfortable with another person. A friend once described sex as “lying there trying to look skinny,” and I love that marriage has set me free of that sort of thing, allowing me to goof off with my best friend and gradually laugh my way into an orgasm.

I’m talking about all this because I think the sort of silly, comfortable romance I’m describing is hard to achieve with a hot stranger—when my husband was a hot stranger, it’s certainly not how I responded to him. Writing about couples who are already married opens up a bunch of new territory to explore. It gives me the chance to talk about what people do when they’re good friends, when they’re not afraid to laugh together.

Get Laid is one of the hottest books I’ve written, but it’s also the first time I discovered that I could be funny as a writer. Laughter is essential to the relationship between Jason and Eliza Wu, and it helps to hold them together and keep things hot between them even when their relationship faces serious challenges. I hope the laughter I share with my husband goes the long haul, just as Jason’s and Eliza’s does.


Renovators have invaded the home of Jason and Eliza Wu. The two haven’t seen a clean surface in months and, even worse, haven’t had a moment to themselves. With stress in their work lives added to stress at home, the couple desperately needs to have some fun. Jason and Eliza embark on a bold plan to make love and get out of the house—at the same time. Through a series of hot adventures and wild mishaps in the car, at Eliza’s mother’s house, on the top floor of the library and everywhere in between, Jason and Eliza find that not only can they survive renovations, they might even be sorry when they’re over.

A Romantica® contemporary erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave


“What are we going to do? We still don’t have anywhere to go. I’d suggest home, but I think our bedroom is a giant gutted hole in the floor at the moment.”

“I’d go to a motel right now if I hadn’t just been complaining to you about how we couldn’t afford takeout.”

“I thought you were hungry. Starving.”

“Some things are more important than food,” Jason said solemnly.

Eliza found herself grinning at him. Considering that she’d wanted to tear him a new one when she’d gotten in the car, it did seem Jason was on to something here. She wanted to lie down and she wanted a shower, but the idea of his hands all over her body sounded pretty good too. That might be just the messy, sweaty relief that could make her forget her worries for a brief but necessary period. “Okay, so where, then?”

Jason twisted the key in the ignition. The car’s motor ground to life. “I was thinking right here.”

“In the parking lot to my job?”

“No,” he said.
He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “How about in the car?”

“Not while it’s moving.”

“No, of course not. Didn’t people in the fifties do this thing called ‘parking’? Which really meant ‘making out’?”

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Annabeth Leong has written erotica of many flavors. She loves shoes, stockings, cooking and excellent bass lines. She always keeps a new e-book loaded on her phone and a paperback stashed in her purse, but her eyes are still bigger than her stomach whenever she visits a bookseller. She blogs at, and tweets @AnnabethLeong . Watch for her next contemporary erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave, Heated Leather Lover.


Check out the rafflecopters below for information on how to win one of my giveaways! For the all-digital giveaway, I’m offering a $5 gift card to Ellora’s Cave, and digital downloads of two of my other EC titles. For the goodie bag, I’ve got some fun swag from EC’s Romanticon 2013 (the physical prize is US only due to the cost of mailing—apologies to my international friends and fans). Good luck!

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