Toys: Season 1” Male/Male Romance Series
(a series of fun & sexy novellas centered around four gay best friends who get into all sorts of trouble in the big city)
∙ Caysen’s Catch
∙ Wade’s Workout
∙ Dean’s Dare
∙ Garret’s Game
> Complete 4-book Season 1 Box Set <
“Boys & Toys: Season 2” Male/Male Romance Series
(a new series of fun & sexy novellas that each follow a different resident in a downtown apartment complex in the heart of the “gayborhood”)
∙ Connor
∙ Brett
∙ Dante
∙ Zak
“The Brazen Boys” Male/Male Romance Series of Stand-Alones
(stand-alone novellas filled with sexual exploration, coming of age, and romantic adventures)
∙ Dorm Game
∙ On The Edge
∙ Owned By The Freshman
∙ Dog Tags
∙ Commando (Dog Tags 2)
∙ All Yours Tonight
∙ Straight Up
∙ Houseboy Rules
∙ Slippery When Wet
A College Obsession Romance Series
(a new adult college romance series)
∙ Read My Lips
∙ Beneath The Skin
∙ With These Hands
∙ Through Their Eyes: Five Years Later
The Beautiful Dead Saga
(a post-apocalyptic fantasy saga)
∙ The Beautiful Dead
∙ Dead Of Winter
∙ Almost Alive
∙ The Whispers
∙ Winter’s Doom
∙ Deathless (coming soon)
The OUTLIER Series
(an epic dystopia saga in six large multi-perspective novels)
∙ Rebellion
∙ Legacy
∙ Reign Of Madness
∙ Beyond Oblivion
∙ Weapons Of Atlas (coming soon)
∙ Gifts Of The Goddess (coming soon)
Kings & Queens (an OUTLIER companion novella series)
∙ The Slum Queen
∙ The Twice King
∙ Queen Of Wrath (coming soon)
Football Sundae (Excerpt)
Daryl Banner
FOOTBALL SUNDAE
(an excerpt from the first chapter)
M/M New Adult Romance
This book is a sweet & sassy standalone set in Spruce, Texas. It is chronologically the first in the series.
Copyright © 2017 by Daryl Banner
Published by Frozenfyre Publishing
All rights reserved.
Billy
Just when I thought my day couldn’t get any worse, Tanner Strong struts through the diner doors with his entourage of jock buddies.
Tanner Strong. Let’s take a minute to appreciate the lean slab of meat that was the high school quarterback of my horny, teenage wet dreams. When Tanner Strong enters the room, everyone turns their heads—and it’s not just because he’s something of a town hero. Tanner’s body is built to order—straight from the sex fantasy factory, apparently—and his crushingly adorable face matches the goods, framed by short, dusty brown hair that pokes and jabs in all directions. He has this chiseled nose with a tiny scar across it that gives him this tough I-beat-people-up-for-a-living look. His full, plush lips half hang open as he turns in circles, ignoring the loud shouts of his comrades as he drinks in the sight of my family’s diner, likely noting how much it’s changed in the past three years.
He hasn’t changed much. I could watch that dang face for hours. Those muddy brown eyes can still pull all my focus, just like they used to in the middle of history class when I should’ve been learning what year prohibition was repealed. It was 1930-something, by the way.
And please, let’s not spend another hour discussing Tanner’s broad, muscled shoulders that have obviously rammed into countless firm, hard-bodied rivals during his time on the field. Or the thick, bulging arms that come from those shoulders, the muscles of which make a stretch rack of those poor, tortured sleeves of his too-tight shirt. Or the pecs underneath said shirt that show through in perfect, distracting detail.
This is the first time I’ve really seen Tanner since high school. He scored some football scholarship and took off to Oklahoma, which is a twelve hour drive north from our little country hometown of Spruce. Every time he’s come home since, the whole dang populace seems to throw a parade, even though he spends all his time out on his family’s big ranch. Hell, the first summer he came home, I think he was sent off on some luxurious trip to Europe, or so said half the gossips that run through our diner.
But the sight of him and his buddies crashing through our door does not inspire the same wave of joy in me that it does in all our sports-loving, cheer-happy patrons. All four years of my high school career, I had suffered when, after every football game, win or lose, the whole team would burst through the doors and make a mess of our diner. Sure, it was great for business. Sure, my pa’s a big fan of football and loved every second. But having to serve upwards of twenty-five to forty rowdy, cocky, Coke-guzzling, burger-chomping athletes and all their adoring fans after every game quickly became my Friday night hell. While they were here, it was a headache of nonstop noise, and after they left, it was hours of cleanup.
And it was always