Love You so Madly (A Love You So story) by Tara Lain | Cat's Release day Review, Excerpt & #giveaway @Dreamspinners @taralain ~ '

A Love You So Story

Ben Shane has it all… and he’d like to give some of it back. While he loves his job heading a foundation that funds worthy causes around the world, his engagement to one of America’s wealthiest men leaves him feeling more like a trophy wife than a valued partner. The first warning that his relationship might not be designed to last is his irresistible lust for Dusty Kincaid, the golden-haired, bright-eyed handyman for his company.

Though Dusty is odd for a twenty-three-year-old—no liquor, no sugar, and he can’t even drive—the more Ben gets to know Dusty, the more he admires him. But is Ben going to give up a guy who drives a Ferrari for one who takes the bus? He must be mad. Dusty knows he and Ben can never work. After all, Ben’s perfect… and Dusty isn’t. But Ben might surprise everyone with proof that he’s only mad in love.

Buy links: Dreamspinner | Amazon

Cat gives this one 4 Meows with a 3 Purr heat index...

Love You SO Madly is a very sweet short story. Ben is head of the Clearwater foundation over charities. He is engaged to a wealthy man but isn't really happy. Not physically or emotionally. Alan wants him to quit work so they can travel and go to fancy parties. That is not what Ben wants and Alan seems to ignore his feelings.

Dusty is the handyman at work and younger than Ben. He also has epilepsy and thinks that he is below Ben's station and that his illness would keep Ben away if the money issue didn't.

I really liked this story. It is a fun read. All the characters are interesting, the storyline is predictable but good. I liked that Tara Lain attacked the illness of epilepsy since I have it I could really relate to Dusty.

If you're looking for a fast pace, fun, fluffy romance, May/December, office romance, health issues and an allover good romance this is for you.

Excerpt...

OH MY freaking god. I’m mad.
Ben Shane forced his eyes back to his computer screen so he wouldn’t stare at him. Him.
Outside the huge glass wall of his office, across the aisle in his admin’s cubicle, the handyman crawled on his knees under the desk, ratting out some kind of wire and cord nightmare. His blue T-shirt had pulled from his jeans and showed off two exquisite inches of creamy beige, slightly muscled, zero-fatted skin.
Ben swallowed hard and released his breath long and slow, contracting his lungs as he couldn’t quite contract lower parts of his anatomy. Perfection. Wide shoulders narrowing down the middle of his back like a roadway to even finer things—tiny waist, round butt. And yet he wasn’t big. Dusty Kincaid—Ben had casually asked his admin the guy’s name—couldn’t stand more than five eight with those lean muscles, like maybe a swimmer or long-distance runner. He bounced around ClearWater Technologies shedding sunshine into every corner, seemingly undaunted by all levels of stress and hysteria over impending deadlines and missed product releases. Apparently his job was simple. He was a gofer, handyman, box filler, and carrier. Whenever anyone needed any menial task done fast, they seemed to yell, “Dusty!”
But Ben didn’t know his story. Why was a guy who appeared to be maybe twenty-one or twenty-two doing this work? Did he have aspirations? Goals?
And why the hell do you care?
His phone buzzed on the desk, and he smiled. Well, kind of smiled. “Hi, Alan.”
“Hi, dear. What time shall I pick you up?”
Ben stared at the volume of emails that had come in just while he was mooning over a tight ass. Seriously? “How about seven?”
“Jesus, Ben, give it a rest. You’re the damned head of the foundation.”
“Yes, which means I work hardest and longest.” Wealthy from birth, Alan Ashland didn’t know the meaning of work. Man, what Ben could do with Alan’s money in the ClearWater Foundation, the nonprofit arm of ClearWater Technologies. It could mean clean water. Malaria cures. Alzheimer’s protocols. But damn, I’m lucky to have him.
The annoyance in Alan’s voice vibrated across the phone. “And if you’d get those gorillas out of your house, maybe I could spend the night, at least.”
“You can spend the night now. You just have to excuse a little mess.” He sighed very quietly.
“‘Little mess.’ Good God, the construction of the damned pyramids didn’t create as much chaos as your so-called renovations.”
Okay, his house had exactly one habitable room currently. In Ben’s defense, that habitable room was the bedroom, but Alan didn’t seem willing to wade through construction workers to get to the bed. Shortsighted of him. Some of those workers were adorable.
Ben snorted. “Come on, Alan. You wouldn’t like it if it were as quiet as the Egyptian tombs. You just hate the house.”
“Hurry up with your construction. When we get married, you’ll get better money for it if it’s got a new kitchen and bathrooms.”
Right. He really wanted to sell his house right after he renovated it. Damn. Ben didn’t have time for the same old argument. “I’ll see you at seven. Pick me up here.”
“Okay.”
Ben hung up and set the phone carefully on the desk. Alan was fun—sometimes. And everyone loved him so much. That includes me, right?
He glanced up again, but no Dusty. Good, maybe I’ll get some work done. He wiped a hand over his face. Right, and maybe I should spend some time working on why a happily engaged man is staring at other guys’ butts.
He settled down to answering the emails, but after about half an hour a tap on the door brought his head up again. “Hey, Craig.”
Craig Elson, his VP of marketing, stood in his doorway. “Hi, Ben. Got a minute?”
“Sure. Come on in.” Ben sat back, but he couldn’t keep his gaze from inspecting the hall and every person who walked by.
“I wanted to go over the advertising strategies for the foundation.” Craig followed Ben’s glance to the window. “But if you’re waiting for someone, I can come back.”
“Oh no, sorry. I’m not.” He pointed at the round conference table in the corner of his office. “I’d love to see them.”
Craig sat and slid his laptop toward Ben, who started scrolling through a series of bullet points on the goals for the campaign—showing corporate America and private donors the brand-building advantages of corporate responsibility. In other words, why they should give money to save whales or cure cancer instead of buying their CEO another beach house.
Craig leaned back in his chair. A tall, nice-looking guy, Craig tended to be on the shy side but was confident in his skills and really excelled at marketing, planning, and analytics. He’d come to the company the previous year, right before Ben had been brought on as VP and executive director of the ClearWater Foundation—the youngest VP in ClearWater’s history.
Movement beyond the glass wall of his office caught Ben’s eye. He looked up and froze. Dusty was back. This time he slowly bent at the waist as he unwound wires around Mary Kaye’s desk. Dear God. Ben’s face went cold, then hot.
“Uh, Ben?”
“Oh God, Craig I’m sorry. I was just, uh, concerned about the wiring going in at my assistant’s desk.” He dragged his eyes back to the laptop screen, trying to ignore the little smile tugging at Craig’s mouth.
Ben furrowed his brow in forced concentration.
Craig murmured, “He’s something, isn’t he?”
“What?”
Craig nodded his head toward the window. “Dusty. Like a ray of sunshine captured in a beautiful bottle.” He smiled. “He reminds me of my Jesse.”
Ben smiled to cover his embarrassment. “Do I know Jesse?”
“Oh right. I forget everyone hasn’t met him. My fiancé. Jesse Randall. First time I ever saw him, he was bounding into a coffee shop wearing a T-shirt that proclaimed I Would Bottom You So Hard.” Craig shook his head, but the smile on his face spoke of the sweetness of joy. “I was pretty much done for at that moment. He changed my life at every level, like I’d been someone else and suddenly became me.” He looked back at the screen. “I’ll bet Dusty has that power.”
Ben stared at the laptop. “Why do you say that?”
Craig shrugged. “It seems like it would be hard to ever tell him a lie.”
Just the idea made Ben swallow a lump in his throat.

Tara Lain writes the Beautiful Boys of Romance in LGBT romances that star her unique, charismatic heroes. Her best-selling novels have garnered awards for Best Series, Best Contemporary Romance, Best Erotic Romance, Best Ménage, Best LGBT Romance, Best Gay Characters, and more. Readers often call her books “sweet,” even with all that hawt sex, because Tara believes in love and her books deliver on happily-ever-after. In addition to writing dozens and dozens of romance novels, Tara also owns an advertising and public relations firm. Her love of creating book titles comes from years of manifesting ad headlines for everything from analytical instruments to semiconductors. She does workshops on both author promotion and writing craft. Together with her soulmate husband and her soulmate Dog, she recently realized a vision to live where there were a lot more trees and a lot fewer cars by moving to Ashland, Oregon. She hasn’t stopped smiling since.