Today I am so pleased to welcome Lane Hayes to Joyfully Jay. Lane has come to talk to us about her latest audio release, The Jock Script. She has also brought along a great giveaway. Please join me in giving her a big welcome!
If anyone had told me I’d enjoy getting schooled by a pint-sized dynamo on the proper way to slice and dice various veggies in my own fucking kitchen, I would have thought they were psycho. But I had to admit, hanging out with Asher was highly entertaining. Hell, assembling a salad with him felt like an adventure.
Asher didn’t chop and toss ingredients into a bowl willy-nilly. Nope. He rinsed lettuce and washed veggies until they practically gleamed, then examined my knives and the cutting board before he got started. He got flustered when I insisted on helping.
“It’s my kitchen, Ash. I have to help. It’s like a law or something.”
“But I’m very good at solo salad-making. You’ll only get in my way, and I’m still trying to come to terms with the fact that you don’t own an apron,” he griped, chopping a cucumber with a bit more force than necessary.
“Well, tough luck. You obviously need a lesson on how to share. I vote that we split up the veggies, throw them in the bowl, and call it even.”
Asher closed his eyes briefly and inclined his head. “How about if I take care of the chopping, and you can be in charge of slicing the chicken and toasting the pine nuts?”
I held his gaze with my brow furrowed and gave him my best badass stare down. “Fine.”
He drew an invisible line across the island, smiling tightly as he picked up a knife. “I call this side.”
“Sure.” I bit the inside of my cheek in an effort to keep a straight face before adding, “I like to tear at a rotisserie chicken with my fingers. You’re cool with that, right?”
Asher snapped his head my way. “I am not. Thanks for asking.”
I chuckled. “Any time. Want some tunes?”
I turned on the portable Bluetooth speaker I kept in the kitchen and blasted a peppy playlist. I shook my ass to an old Backstreet Boys song and gave myself a mental fist bump when Asher swayed his hips in time with the rhythm while he asked twenty questions about lacrosse.
“Where did the game originate? And what year? Do you know?”
“Canada. But it’s a Native American sport. I think it’s been around for five hundred years and—oh, I love this song.” I broke off to sing along to NSYNC’s “Bye, Bye, Bye,” flipping pine nuts on the stove and sliding across the hardwood floor to boogie next to him before turning off the burner.
Asher grinned at my antics. His eyes lit up like a kid’s under those adorable glasses. Knowing I’d cracked his serious façade made me feel ridiculously smug. I was reminded of when he’d sat cross-legged on my bedroom floor poring over Star Wars comics in wonderment. He hadn’t been overly worried about increasing his brain bandwidth then or now. He was happy to be in the moment. And I felt the same.
We piled chicken salads onto our plates and sat next to each other at the island, alternately chatting about boy band lyrics and singing along to whatever popped up on my playlist. Okay, I did all the singing, but Asher didn’t mind. I could almost see his shoulders relax as he became more and more comfortable.
I couldn’t convince him to leave the dishes and cleanup for after we’d tackled the bookshelves, but hey…that was expected. So I turned up the music, sang a little louder, shook my hips with more gusto, and made it my goal to get him to laugh during the entire cleanup ordeal. He did.
And he still had a smile on his face when I pulled out my tool chest and opened the bookshelf boxes on my living room floor.
But then he got serious again.
The nerd, the coach, and the hookup…
Asher- Swipe left, swipe left, swipe left. Sure, the idea of a quick, no-strings intimate rendezvous via hookup app sounds oddly thrilling, but it’s simply not me. Or maybe it is me, because it happened…and I liked it. Until I realized he looked familiar for a reason. A bad reason. Now I’ve made a faux pas with the sexiest man on planet Earth, and my internal karma system requires me to fix it. Help!
Blake- I may seem like I have it together, but the truth is, I’m a hot mess. I’m so deep in the closet that I can’t remember my real name some days. That’s okay. The benefit of one-night stands is anonymity. Until Asher. Not a total surprise. I’ve always had a thing for geeks, but I’ve never met anyone like him. He’s a pint-sized dynamo on a quest for perfection who can help me come out…if I follow his script.
Hmm. I’m in.
The Jock Script is an MM bisexual, geek/jock romance starring a bowtie wearing nerd, a sexy lacrosse coach, and a shenanigan inducing script!
Lane Hayes loves a good romance! An avid reader from an early age, she has always been drawn to well-told love story with beautifully written characters. Her debut novel was a 2013 Rainbow Award finalist and subsequent books have received Honorable Mentions, and were winners in the 2016, 2017, and 2018-2019 Rainbow Awards. She loves red wine, chocolate and travel (in no particular order). Lane lives in Southern California with her amazing husband in a not quite empty nest.
- Website: https://lane-hayes.com/
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LaneHayesAuthor/
- Twitter: https://twitter.com/LaneHayes3
- Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7125719.Lane_Hayes
- Instagram: https://instagram.com/LaneHayesauthor
- BookBub: http://bookbub.com/authors/lane-hayes
Lane has brought $25 Amazon gift card to give away to one lucky reader on her tour. Follow the Rafflecopter below to enter.
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