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Who Knew Ballet Could Be So Dangerous?

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Hi. I’m so happy to be here today at Divine Magazine. I’m Tara Lain and I write the Beautiful Boys of Romance. Today, I’m celebrating the release of book 1 in my new Dangerous Dancers Series. This book is called Golden Dancer and it combines art theft, kidnapping, daring rescues, Nazis, a steamy menage (MMM no less) and – ballet! True, we may not think of men in tights and pretty slippers as the most dangerous sportsmen there are, but my guys aim to change that! LOL.

The idea to create a book with a ballet dancer hero actually started for me in London a few years ago. I’ve always loved ballet and share that affection with a close friend who now lives there. On my visit, she surprised me with tickets to see the ballet at Covent Garden. I was thrilled. As I was sitting there enthralled by the beauty, grace and daring, I suddenly thought, maybe one of these brilliant men would make a good romance hero. The germ of a book was born.

Interestingly, the ballet dancer did not leap out to be the main character in my book. Instead, I conceived of another dancer – a statue called Golden Dancer – that was, hmmm, right, stolen! And what if the guy who stole it was – rich. Really rich! So he wouldn’t have any reason to steal it – would he? And my main character would be an investigative reporter who was trying to prove this billionaire is a thief at the same time he’s falling in love with my ballet dancer who the billionaire also wants!  All of a sudden I realized I wasn’t just writing romance, I was writing romantic suspense! I panicked. I assumed A. romantic suspense requires very particular skills and instincts to write and B. I didn’t have them! I’d been trained by the best, you see. My mother adored Agatha Christie and I cut my teeth on Ten Little Indians (And Then There Were None) and Witness for the Prosecution. If you’ve never read these books or seen the old movies, I strongly suggest them. Truly, it’s almost impossible to guess the secrets and you come away gasping in amazed delight at the outcome. Okay, so I’d never have those kind of sneaky plot creation skills, but still. I could probably cook up some tension and fear and angst. Just like that, my ballet dancer propelled me into a new subgenre.

Since that time, many of my books have become pretty suspenseful. Heck, in Tackling the Tight End, guns are drawn and people die! But now, for the sequel to Golden Dancer, I’ve actually undertaken my first-ever murder mystery. Hello Agatha! I’m finding that this kind of mystery requires some pre-planning. I need to create clues and possible suspects and introduce them carefully throughout the plot. I thought this would be super challenging – and it is – but I’m also enjoying the heck out of it.

For this kind of romantic suspense, details matter a lot, so my search history is pretty funny. (Don’t let the FBI get their hands on it). I’ve been searching –

  • Ballet steps and positions
  • Male ballet dancer’s underwear (yep, wouldn’t you want to know how they manage to look like that?!  LOL)
  • Streets in SoHo, NYC – to be sure my dancer can afford to live there and that it provides a sufficiently vulnerable environment to put him in possible danger
  • Whether wolves live in Finland – how’s that for obscure? My dancer has tattoos!
  • Police departments and positions in NYC
  • Police procedures relating to serial killers
  • Autopsies
  • Blunt force trauma
  • Methods for appearing to be dead
  • The ballet of Romeo and Juliet
  • And much more!

And all this started because I went to the ballet! What does the T-shirt say? “Be careful. I’m a writer and I’ll put you in a book.”  I hope you enjoy Golden Dancer and that it whets your appetite for the next book, which is called – Death Dancer.

Thank you so much for stopping by!

 Golden Dancer by Tara Lain

A reporter and the thief he’s investigating both fall for a golden dancer forging a ménage of love and lies that could send one to prison and one to the morgue. 

Mac MacAllister is obsessed; the online news reporter needs enough evidence to write a story accusing billionaire art collector Daniel Terrebone of stealing The Golden Dancer, a priceless work of art, from Horst Von Berg. The story promises the recognition Mac craves. But then Mac meets a real golden dancer, ballet star Trelain Medveyev, and his attraction to the man rocks his formerly straight world.

When the mysterious Terrebone “collects” this beautiful dancer, too, Mac rushes to the rescue like a knight in shining cargo pants and plunges into a three-way passion that tears him between love and guilt. Can Mac keep investigating when his story could send one man to prison and another to the morgue? Will this reporter get his story or get his men?

Publisher’s Note: This book has previously been released elsewhere. It has been revised and re-edited for re-release with Pride Publishing. 

General Release Date: 10th May 2016


Mac turned. Trelain rocked what he guessed would be called a dressing gown. It was a long robe, but more substantial than a bathrobe, and clearly made of silk. Far from an English country-house paisley, this was in some watercolor print of aqua and gold. I must be allergic to silk because, man, it is tough to breathe. In that get-up, the person in front of him could be a woman, and a very beautiful one at that. The face was a really handsome guy, but the golden hair softened everything. Jeez, it played with his mind.


Shit. He’d been staring. “Yeah. Here’s the stuff.” He pulled the little bottle from his jacket pocket where he’d stashed it in the restaurant.

Trelain took it and walked toward the kitchen, putting the analgesic in his robe pocket. “Can’t I tempt you with something more interesting than water? Some champagne, perhaps?” He didn’t wait for an answer—just removed the foil on the bottle and opened the cage with the precise six turns. Mac knew that piece of erudite trivia from the story he’d done on champagne last year. Trelain applied a thumb to the cork and, pop, it opened with the soft sound that indicated he knew what he was doing and hadn’t damaged the wine. He poured into the sides of two flutes and held one out to Mac. “Come sit.”

Trelain installed himself on the couch, set down his glass, pulled the little bottle from his pocket and opened it. He sniffed tentatively.

Mac laughed. “It won’t bite, I promise. Just drip some into your palm and then apply it to the area that hurts. I’d better get a washcloth so you can wipe clean afterward.” He walked to the kitchenette, found a clean towel, wet it then crossed to the chair. Trelain dropped a little of the blue liquid with the strong cinnamon smell into his long, slender hand. He sniffed again, raised a leg onto the couch, and uncovered himself up to his thigh. Shee-it. He’d seen his parents’ feet and legs thousands of times, but this felt…intimate. Trelain’s feet were heavily callused, the toes pushed together as only a true dancer’s could be. And the leg? It looked more like something carved from marble than from flesh. Sculpted, hard as stone.

Trelain began to run the scented liquid over the back of his calf and up onto his thigh. Jesus, he was playing patty-cake. “No, dig in. Really work it into the muscles.”

Trelain dug in for a couple of strokes but then pulled back his hands and shook them. Yeah, massaging marble couldn’t be easy. But crap, his leg hurt, and the magic blue stuff could help if he just did it right. Mac shook his head. “That’s not going to get the job done.”

“Sorry. I’m spoiled. I have a masseuse that travels with the company.”

In frustration, Mac rose and sat beside the man on the couch, handing him the damp towel. He grabbed the bottle from the table and dotted some of the warming liquid into his palm. “Here, let me.” He grabbed the dancer’s foot, pulled it into his lap, and began rubbing the carved muscle of Trelain’s leg with deep, penetrating strokes. “Like this.” One stroke, and he knew this was not his father. In fact, it was a hell of a mistake.

The beautiful head hit the back of the couch. “Chyort! That feels incredible.” Trelain moaned. Mac tried to pretend he didn’t feel the satin texture of that skin, like silk over steel.

Mac cleared his throat. “You, uh, really have to dig in, this way.” Mac’s fingers pushed into hard muscle, the liquid warming his fingers. Yeah, it wasn’t his fingers he was worried about. Why was he doing this?

Trelain moaned luxuriously, his head moving back and forth against the couch. That wasn’t all that was moving. Holy shit. This wasn’t happening. The front of the silk robe rose like an expensive tent. Wasn’t the guy wearing any underwear under that thing?

He felt like a damned snake charmer. He couldn’t look away or stop doing the thing making that serpent rise. He just kept rubbing. Trelain’s eyes stayed closed. Most guys would make a joke. He said nothing.

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Tara Lain writes the Beautiful Boys of Romance in LGBT erotic romance novels that star her unique, charismatic heroes. Her first novel was published in January of 2011 and she’s now somewhere around book 32. Her best-selling novels have garnered awards for Best Series, Best Contemporary Romance, Best Paranormal Romance, Best Ménage, Best LGBT Romance, Best Gay Characters, and Tara has been named Best Writer of the Year in the LRC Awards. In her other job, Tara owns an advertising and public relations firm. She often does workshops on both author promotion and writing craft.  She lives with her soul-mate husband and her soul-mate dog near the sea in California where she sets a lot of her books.  Passionate about diversity, justice, and new experiences, Tara says on her tombstone it will say “Yes”!

  • Thank you so much for having me as a guest today. I adore the magazine and am delighted to be here. : )

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