Two-Man Advantage by Leigh Carman Guest Post & Excerpt!

Hi guys, we have Leigh Carman popping in today with her upcoming release Two-Man Advantage, we have a brilliant guest post and a great excerpt so check out the post and enjoy! <3 ~Pixie~

Leigh Carman - Two-Man Advantage Cover

Two-Man Advantage

(Players of LA 03)

Leigh Carman

A hockey star skating on the edge of a catastrophe.

A PR specialist so adept, he’s called “the Fixer.”

Working together will be the biggest challenge of both their careers.

The LA Vikings hockey team is fed up the violent outbursts of its huge, intimidating enforcer, Viktor Novak. Hounded by a homophobic and domineering father, Viktor takes out his frustrations by spilling blood—on and off the ice. Now he has one last chance to clean up his image, or his career is over.

That’s where Bowen Miller comes in.

Bo has taken on the hardest cases and succeeded—by micromanaging every aspect of a client’s life—at the expense of his own happiness. But in the stubborn, hot mess that is Viktor, Bo might have met his match—both in and out of the bedroom. One man is out of control, and one controls everything. But when sex and attraction come into play, those roles are open to negotiation.

Release date: 7th July 2017 Pre-order: Dreamspinner Press ebook | Dreamspinner Press paperback

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Why Athletes?

by Leigh Carman

Hello everyone! I’d like for you to stop what you’re doing for a moment and consider how many different genres of M/M romance exist. Can you come up with all of them? Me either. There are too many to even touch upon them all in one sitting. So out of everything there is to choose from, why did I ultimately decide to write about athletes? Sexy, angsty, sometimes sarcastic, always combustible, never predictable athletes.

If you happened to read my post when Match Point, book 1 in the Players of LA series by Dreamspinner Press, you’d have an idea as to how that story came about. If you didn’t, let’s just say the creative process involved me accidentally watching a beach volleyball tournament loaded with sweaty, shirtless men rolling in the sand, giving each other dozens of high fives and sexy butt pats. The jaw-dropping sight spun my world right off its axis and gave me the inspiration for Finn and Dex, my hot and sexy enemies to lovers.

Writing Match Point got me thinking… if beach volleyball is hot, and let’s face it, it is—both men’s and women’s—what else could my man-obsessed mind twist into a sexy story? With my M/F pen name, I’d already written several stories about MMA fighters. Aggressive, ripped, and naturally dominating? Uh, yeah, I couldn’t resist. Since I’ve done MMA and didn’t want to do another… yet, I began to go through the various sports in my head, ticking off those I found intriguing. Ultimately, I came up with a much longer list than I bargained for, including—football, soccer, baseball, rugby, swimming (hello speedos!), rowing, lacrosse, and my personal favorite… hockey.

Oh those hockey boys. Young and full of testosterone, they just tip the scales in terms of aggression, taking it to another level. A level that damn near blows the top off my head. Despite the bulky pads, the lack of visible skin, and the helmet that hides most of their faces, there’s something about hockey players that strikes a fire inside a hell of a lot of women (and men). Maybe I’m a bit off or a little kinky, but the more vicious the players are on the ice, the more it turns me on. For me, that savage display of raw masculinity is like throwing a match into a barrel of gasoline, taking the heat level from zero to “holy hell that’s hot!” faster than it takes to body check an opponent into the boards.

Do you know what makes that image even sexier? Take the alpha male hero, the one who dominates the ice and runs roughshod over the other players, and give that man a vulnerable side. A side his teammates don’t know exists. A side that a select few, if any, ever get a chance to see. That’s the story I want to write, and hopefully, in Two-Man Advantage, that’s exactly what I did.

I started by creating Viktor Novak. He’s one of the best wingers in the NHL and has more than his share of secrets. Secrets that begin to eat him up inside. Secrets that turn Viktor from a highly skilled player to an out of control, vicious beast. Secrets that toss him unprepared, back into his childhood, a time when he was nothing but a weak and defenseless child.

In comes Bowen Miller, the uptight, control-freak media relations expert. Tasked with taking Viktor’s violent image and spinning it into something more palatable for the fans, Bo has his work cut out for him. Just as Viktor has his reasons for falling more and more out of control, Bo has his own for acting like a dictatorial asshat. Needless to say, personalities clash… in more ways than one.

So, after describing the unusual direction my brain goes when watching an everyday game, is hockey something you enjoy? Or might enjoy? Or is there a different sport that gets your blood pumping? Me? I can pretty much watch anything involving men and competition and be happy as a clam. Okay, I draw the line at golf. Plaid pants just don’t do it for me.

Anyway, you don’t have to like sports to love Two-Man Advantage. There’s definitely something for everyone. I hope you enjoy Vik and Bo, and thanks for stopping by.


Leigh Carman

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The door opens, and I have to fight with myself to keep from openly gawking. One of the most beautiful men I’ve ever seen in real life breezes into the room looking like a male model stepping off the catwalk of a runway show. Tall and lean, he’s clad in a perfectly tailored, charcoal gray designer suit, paired with a crisp white shirt and dark tie. The polished look, combined with thick, dark hair and twinkling brown eyes, makes the man my perfect depiction of a walking wet dream. As my eyes continue to roam, I notice his jawline is sharply angled, his nose straight, and his lips full and red. My dick definitely takes notice, springing into action in my jeans.

Due to my… condition, I’m thankful the man doesn’t make me stand to shake his hand. Yet I’m pissed when instead, he completely ignores me, moving to the farthest possible end of the table, where he opens an expensive-looking leather briefcase and begins removing files, setting them on the table next to the case. I shift in my chair, uncomfortable from both getting a hard-on and the newcomer’s silent treatment. For the second time in five minutes, I’m thrown completely off-balance. First Rhonda and her over-the-top flirting, now this gorgeous man in a three-thousand-dollar suit moving around as if I’m not in the room while I’m sitting here sporting wood like a teenager in heat.

“Um, hello?” I say, clearing my throat.

The man continues sorting paperwork, not stopping or even glancing in my direction. Any attraction I had comes to a screeching halt at this blatant display of rudeness and my dick deflates in seconds. He may be hot, but the guy is a total douche.

What the hell is his problem?

I’m about to get up and teach this asshole some goddamn manners when Rhonda enters the room carrying a tray laden with dishes. She places the tray on the table and hands me my cup of coffee.

“Here you are, sweetie,” she purrs, making sure to drag a blood red fingernail across my hand when I reach out to take the drink. A shudder goes through me, and not in a good way.

Rhonda must have asked the other guy’s drink preference in the hall, because she goes about making a cup of coffee for the asshole, holding it out when she’s done. I chuckle under my breath when she receives the same stony silence and lack of acknowledgement from him that I did. The jerk doesn’t move to accept the cup. Confused, Rhonda places it on the table and leaves with what I assume is a scowl on her frozen face.

I leave my mug untouched, still working the hard candy in my mouth. Coffee plus sour apple isn’t a combination that is in any way appetizing.

Since Mr. Asshole still hasn’t addressed me, I decide to take charge of the situation. “If you’re not going to talk to me, or even look at me, I see no point in being here. I’m a busy guy and don’t have time for bullshit games. On that note, I guess I’ll see you later.” I push back my chair to leave.

Who does this fucker think he is, anyway? Coach won’t bench me—he can’t. Despite all the posturing, I’m the team’s leading scorer, so fuck this meeting and fuck this asshat in a suit.

When I begin to rise, piercing brown eyes land on mine, pinning me in place. With one pointed stare, this guy has rendered me not only speechless, which is a rare feat in itself, but immobile. Even though he’s clearly a massive douche, my hard-on returns with a vengeance. Bewildered by my body’s reaction, I stare into the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. They’re a medium brown with flecks of gold around the pupil. I swear my heart trips as our eyes lock.

Then the fucker speaks… once again crushing his good looks under the hefty weight of a shitty personality.

“I suggest you stay exactly where you are, Mr. Novak. If you want to keep your job, that is.” His voice is rich and smooth, like honey or fine bourbon, but his words combined with the cold, calculated expression on his face make me want to show him how my knuckles taste by slamming them right into the center of that luscious mouth.

“Now you’re going to speak?” I ask, my tone incredulous and dripping with condescension.

Mr. Asshole places his palms on the table and leans toward me, his gaze unwavering. “I’ll speak when I’m ready, and you’ll listen. That’s how this works. You make messes, and I clean them up.” He pushes off the table and strides closer, his eyes never leaving mine. My throat constricts, and my pulse kicks up a notch. His confidence is resolute, and I feel as if I’m being stalked by a predator. The thought is unnerving, and as disgusted as I am with this guy’s attitude and his egomaniacal power trip, it’s still a complete fucking turn-on.

I open my mouth to speak, and for the second time in mere minutes, I have nothing to say. I’m too busy being mesmerized by the vision in front of me. Six feet of lean muscle and perfect features clad in a fitted gray suit have my mind spinning with fantasies, most of which involve Mr. Dark, Rude, and Sexy bent over the table with my cock in his ass as I teach him some goddamn manners.

“So,” the guy says, placing one hand on the table in front of me and one on the back of my chair. On an inhale, I catch a whiff of his expensive aftershave, and my mouth practically waters. “Do you understand why we’re here?” Without thinking, I nod, my brain still conjuring filthy images starring the two of us tussling, all naked and sweaty.

“Good,” he says, smiling as he thrusts out a hand. “I’m Bowen Miller. Call me Bo”

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About Leigh!

Leigh Carman is the pen name for the M/M romances written by bestselling Contemporary romance writer, Heather C. Leigh.
She lives outside Atlanta with her husband, 2 kids, and French bulldog.

She is leaving explicit directions in her will for her friends to discreetly scatter her ashes around Fenway Park. Then they are to sit back, watch a game with a beer and a Fenway frank and have a wicked good time.

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