Taylor Maid
by Tara Lain
Blurb:
He'll marry the maid to get $50 million but a secret could queer the deal.
Taylor Fitzgerald needs a last-minute bride.
On the eve of his twenty-fifth birthday, the billionaire’s son discovers that despite being gay, he must marry a woman before midnight or lose a fifty-million-dollar inheritance. So he hightails it to Las Vegas… where he meets the beautiful maid Ally May.
There’s just one rather significant problem: Ally is actually Alessandro Macias, son of a tough Brazilian hotel magnate. But if Ally keeps pretending to be a girl for a little while longer, is there a chance they might discover this marriage is tailor-made?
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Release Date:
March 1, 2016
Taylor Maid by Tara Lain
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Excerpt
Excerpt #1
Excerpt #2
The wall in the elevator held him upright. So much
to do—quitting his job being at the top of the list. The door opened on his
floor. Oh well, he had his time and passion. That he’d give to the kids at the
youth centers—not that anybody could pay the rent with it.
He dragged himself down the hall toward his suite,
staring at the phone that never rang. With his right hand, he grabbed the key
card, looked up, and stopped so fast he might have had rubber shoes on a shag
carpet. Ally stood in front of his suite, leaning against the wall.
He tried not to gasp too loudly. Ally minus the ugly
glasses and in street clothes was a sight to see. Long, slim legs in trim jeans
and a pink checked shirt that set off her pale complexion and bright red hair.
Adorable. Her hips were so narrow and chest so flat, she could have been a boy
but for the high ponytail. A very cute boy. Obviously Taylor’s cock suffered
from gender confusion, because it wiggled, and Taylor did not do girls. “Hi.
You came.”
She nodded but didn’t smile. “You wanted to see me.
You’re a VIP guest, and I’m a maid. Not wise to refuse.”
That wasn’t the best way to start. “I didn’t mean
for it to be a command performance.”
“Oh?” Lasers behind those brown eyes.
Hell, this was his one chance. No time to argue.
“Could you come in for a minute?” He keyed open the door and held it.
Another nod. She crossed in front of him and stopped
in the middle of the entry. He closed the door and pointed toward the living
room. “Please, come on in and sit.”
She paused, then walked into the living room and
perched on the edge of one of the couches. He sat across from her. Jesus, this
was hard. “Uh, you remember that I got a shock while you were here. Bad news,
right?”
“Yes. You seemed upset as I was leaving. I hope
things have improved.”
“Not yet, but they could.” He took a deep breath.
“Are you married or attached?”
She stood straight up with her mouth open. He
bounded up opposite her. “Wait. I said that badly. It’s just that I want to
make you a proposal that requires that you not be married and—”
She started walking toward the door.
“No, wait, please.”
She kept walking.
“Ally, will you marry me?”
Okay, that stopped her. She looked over her shoulder,
and her eyes could have been stop signs, they were so huge. “What did you say?”
The words tumbled out. “I’ll give you a million
dollars to marry me.” Well, damn, Mr.
Smooth strikes again. “Please, sit down and let me explain. I know I sound
nuts, but I’m harmless.”
She stared at him and suddenly started to laugh. She
stumbled back and collapsed on the couch. “Okay, I confess, there’s not the
slightest chance I could walk away and not hear the rest of this story.” She
held up a hand. “But keep your distance in case you’re as crazy as you sound.”
“Can I get you something to drink?”
She glanced at a serviceable-looking watch on her
arm. “Sure, I’m off the clock. I’ll have a beer.”
Taylor used the trip to the service kitchen to take
a breath. He hadn’t quite thought this through. She was right. He must sound
crazy. Damn, he wasn’t too bad with men. Being with a female was throwing him
off. Or maybe it was being the one who needed something. In business he was
powerful enough and wealthy enough to always be on an even footing. Now he was
a beggar. The cute maid held all the cards. Time to put on his poker face.
He grabbed beer bottles from the fridge, opened them,
and poured into two glasses. For a guy he would have skipped that step.
Carrying the beer, he walked back into the living room. She was sitting
forward, elbows leaning on her knees, staring sideways at the view of the
thousands of lights. Her profile, with its high-bridged nose and strong
cheekbones, was etched against the softly lit room. Pretty.
“Here you go.” He extended the glass, and she took
it.
“Thanks.” She took a long drink. Cleaning rooms must
be thirsty work.
He sat opposite her and took his own sip. “Okay,
here’s the deal. I live in San Francisco. My family has money, and I work in
the family business. My grandfather, who started the business, died a number of
years ago, and my father now runs it with a lot of help from me.”
“Don’t you have a board of directors?”
Taylor glanced up. That wasn’t the question he’d
expected. “Uh, yeah. We do, but it’s a privately held firm, so all the
directors are kind of figureheads who report to my father.”
“I see.”
Did she? “Anyway, I just found out—” He glanced at
his watch. “—a few hours ago, that the inheritance my grandfather left me came
with unusual strings attached. My father hid this from me.”
“Why? He wanted the money for himself?”
“Exactly. What he didn’t tell me was that I have to
be married by my twenty-fifth birthday in order to collect the inheritance.”
She raised an eyebrow. They were a lot darker than
her bright hair. “Daddy has been a very bad boy.”
Were all maids this savvy? “Yes. The problem is my
birthday is tomorrow. In other words, it starts at midnight tonight.”
“Wow.” She frowned. “Do you have to be married by
your birthday or on your birthday?” She took another mouthful of beer.
“The will said by
my birthday, and I can’t talk to the lawyer who drew it up to determine the
meaning, because he’s on my father’s side.”
“Holy crap.”
Taylor grinned. “Yeah.”
“How come you let that happen? I thought you were so
good in business.”
He almost laughed. Who was she? Bill Gates? Instead
he sighed. “When my grandfather died, I was an eighteen-year-old kid busy
trying to figure out his sexuality. I loved him, and his death broke my heart.
I didn’t have any energy to protect myself from my father.”
“I’m really sorry.” She sipped. “So, easy. You call
a woman you know, ask her to marry you, and tell her she gets a cut.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
She looked around. “So where is she?”
“Remember when I got the upsetting phone call?”
“Yes.”
“That was me finding out that the woman I was
planning to ask had been in an accident and isn’t coming.”
“Oh dear.”
“Yes.”
“So call another girl.”
“I did. You.”
Taylor held Ally’s arm tightly as they walked, the
play of muscle under the jacket very noticeable—and appealing. Must be all that
bathtub scrubbing.
The minister pointed to some documents on the table.
“Please sign these.”
Ally clutched his wrist. He smiled. Sound calm. “Come on, easy does it.” He
barely looked at the license as he signed, he was so busy focusing calming
energy on Ally. “Okay, your turn.”
She swallowed hard, looked at him like she’d just
run over the deer in the headlights, grabbed the pen, and signed Ally May in a scrawl.
The minister clapped his hands. “Lovely, lovely.
Come now.”
He grabbed her hand, ignored the electricity that
sparked up his arm at the feel of her warm skin, and pulled her to the head of
the aisle.
A woman sat at an organ and started playing the
wedding march.
Ally shook her red hair again. “No, I don’t want to
march.”
“Okay, we’ll walk up together, how does that sound?”
“Okay.”
Taking her hand, he started to walk, and she took
off like there was a prize for how fast you could get to the altar. The lady on
the organ sped up the wedding march to a wedding run, and it almost made Taylor
laugh—almost.
He kept hold of Ally’s hand. Her flowers shook like
Disney had animated them. She set them on the front seat of the first row of
chairs.
The minister walked around them since he’d gotten
there last, looked at his watch, and picked up the Bible. Must have another couple coming in soon. “Dearly beloved, we are
gathered here to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony.”
“Taylor?”
The minister stopped. “Is everything all right?”
She shook her head. “There’s something I need to
tell you.”
Taylor nodded. Uh-oh.
“Okay.”
With a bang that made them all jump an inch, the
door to the chapel burst open. A big bald man stood there, frowning, staring
around the room.
The minister cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind,
there’s a wedding in progress.”
The man’s frown got deeper. “Yeah, okay. Sorry.”
“Did you wish to take a seat and attend the
ceremony?”
“Uh, no. I’ll stand.” He sounded like he’d escaped
from Guys and Dolls.
The minister looked at Ally. “Miss, I believe you
were saying something?”
She’d turned white as her shirt. Her big eyes
strayed toward the door and then back to Taylor’s face. “No, nothing. Just get
on with it.”
Taylor whispered, “Shall I ask him to leave? Is he
bothering you?”
“No, no. Don’t do that, please.”
God, he felt like he was torturing her. “Do you want
to change your mind?”
The door to the chapel closed. The intruder was
gone.
She glanced at the entrance, sighed, and stared at
her shoes.
“Ally?”
For a full thirty seconds she said nothing, then
finally shook her head. “No. Continue.”
The minister smiled. “Ah, good.” He started talking
about the sacred union of marriage.
Okay, that made Taylor feel fully weird. But hell,
people got married because they drank too much and wanted memories from Vegas.
His union wasn’t the strangest—was it?
“Do you, Taylor Fitzgerald, take this woman to be
your lawfully wedded wife?”
“What? Oh yes, I do.”
“And do you, Ally May, take this man to be your
lawfully wedded husband?”
He squeezed her hand. He kind of expected another
long wait, but she piped up, “Yes.”
“Do you have a ring?”
Taylor produced the beautiful diamond and sapphire
circle. He had to reach down for her hand, and it shook so hard he could barely
get the ring on, but it fit perfectly.
He handed her his ring, and she managed to get it on
his left ring finger, but it was a near thing—twice she almost dropped it.
The minister clapped his hands. Probably out of
relief. “You may kiss the bride.”
Well, hell, he’d forgotten that part. She looked up
at him, and those brown eyes glittered. Oh,
she wears contacts. Wonder why she needs glasses? Her breath smelled like the
mint ice cream she’d eaten for dessert, and it made him shiver. He leaned
forward and pressed his lips gently against hers. Her mouth was freezing like
her hands—but sweet. So sweet.
He pulled back, and she instantly stared at the
floor. God, his cock even danced a bit at that kiss. Maybe when he went to bed
he’d have time to think about why he responded like this to a woman. He never
had before.
About the Author
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 23. Her bestselling novels have garnered awards for Best Series, Best Contemporary 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 soulmate husband and her soulmate dog in Laguna Beach, California, a pretty seaside town where she sets a lot of her books. Passionate about diversity, justice, and new experiences, Tara says on her tombstone it will say “Yes”!You can find Tara at
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