Long and Short Reviews welcomes Leigh Dillon who is celebrating today’s release of Raising the Bar.
Life is just full of them, isn’t it? I think the most embarrassing thing that ever happened to me was the day my college roommate and I decided to salvage a wrecked rowboat. I waded out into the filthy bay, got my hands on the gunwale—and discovered that the rowboat had an owner, who came sculling over from a nearby dock and threatened to call the police on me. Lesson learned, and how! Then there was the time I started sedately down an embankment on an outing with friends, lost my footing, and skied down the bluff on my bottom. So much for dignity, and my friends laughing at me didn’t help my wounded pride one bit. I went to work once with my bedroom slippers still on my feet. What does it say about my coworkers that nobody noticed (or at least pretended not to)? Which didn’t stop me slinking around all day trying to keep my feet hidden under/behind various office furniture. In the same absentminded vein, there was that time I was picked to sit on a jury. On the first day, I filed in with the other jurors and plopped down in my seat—before the judge sat down. Breach of protocol! And jumping up again like the chair was on fire didn’t fool anybody. Finally, there was that time a marching band used the street I was rooming on to get in a little parade practice. I was gawking out the window, noticed a guy in a stopped car staring up at me in a strangely fascinated manner, and realized that I had run to the window, ahem, topless. For what it’s worth, the guy in the car was just as embarrassed as I was when he realized I’d spotted him. Two blushes for the price of one! But the upside of embarrassing moments is this: They happened because I dared to do something, whether it was taking in a new experience or just pushing my boundaries a bit. And as squirm-worthy as the memories are, the walk in the woods, the jury service, and the marching band on my quiet little residential street were totally worth the momentary hits to my self-esteem.
Destin Bellingham has inherited a problem. Thanks to his late playboy father, Destin faces putting a For Sale sign on his family’s historic horse farm. Getting his talented stallion, Black Sambuca, into the Grand Prix show ring would put Bellmeade back on the map—if only someone could make “Sam” behave like a show horse.
Disgraced top rider Tonio Benedetto has his own problems, but he can work magic with difficult jumpers, so Destin hires him despite his bad-boy reputation. The street-smart, openly gay loudmouth from Miami and the closeted, buttoned-down son of Old Dominion Virginia make a rocky pairing, but time is running out to save Bellmeade from bankruptcy.
Opposites attract, sparks of tension grow into flames of passion. But if Tonio fails to tame Sam, will true love become a lost cause too?
Enjoy an Excerpt
Destin retrieved some bandages, swabs, and antibiotic ointment from the medicine cabinet in the tack room while Tonio unloaded Butternut and Spot. Butternut pulled impatiently at the lead shank, eager to get back to his stall and his feed bucket, but Tonio cross-tied him and rubbed him down while Destin hosed Spot’s legs and tended to his scraped knee. Nothing serious, so Destin smeared the wound with ointment and took him back to his stall. Once both horses had full hay nets and a serving of alfalfa and oats—carefully measured, in Spot’s case—Destin turned his attention to Tonio.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Destin asked. “You’re kind of holding your arm down by your side like your ribs hurt.”
“I’m good. Don’t worry about it.”
“I do worry about it. Plus you’re my rider. You can’t work with Sam if you’re laid up.”
“It’s just a bruise. I’ll be fine tomorrow.”
“Maybe, or maybe you’ll be really sore and hobbling around like you’re ninety years old. I’ve got arnica gel and that muscle-strain liniment you use on horses. Take off your shirt and let me see what you need.”
Tonio’s eyebrows shot up, and a knowing smirk lifted the corners of his lips. “We’re making progress,” he crooned. “Now you want to see me naked.”
Heat invaded Destin’s ears. “Just the top half. Don’t get too crazy on me now.”
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“You sure know how to take the fun out of things, don’t you?” Tonio put on a mock pout as he shucked his vest and unbuttoned his shirt. “It’s tender as hell, but I’m sure nothing’s broken. It would hurt a lot worse if it were.”
Destin nudged Tonio’s arm aside and touched his ribs. Even bruised, Tonio’s torso felt like a sculpture under Destin’s hand—warm and soft, yes, but chiseled. The urge to put his other hand on Tonio’s waist, to pull him close and kiss him, to run his fingers up and down the muscular curves of his back and buttocks, consumed Destin’s brain like wildfire burning through dry brush.
What is wrong with me?
Destin closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to clear the desire away.
A gentle touch on his face pulled him back to reality, and he opened his eyes again to find himself staring into Tonio’s, only inches from his own.
“Hey.” Tonio slipped his other hand around Destin’s waist, burrowing under the thermal shirt to find bare skin. “Don’t fight it. For once in your life, just do what you want to do.”
About the Author: Leigh Dillon is a native of horse-happy North Central Florida but has deep family roots in the Virginia and West Virginia areas. Coming of age in the dinosaur days of cable television, when fledgling channels filled their empty blocks of programming time by airing entire equestrian competitions, Leigh’s young brain became infected with a lifelong mania for show jumping, three-day eventing, and other exotic horse sports. Though tragically denied a pony of her own in childhood, Leigh has wreaked her revenge by including equine characters in almost everything she writes.
A bookbinder and librarian by trade, Leigh has also worked on local thoroughbred horse farms. Leigh’s short fiction has been featured twice in the Florida Writers Association annual story collection, and one of her book-length works received Book of the Year honors at the 2017 Royal Palm Literary Award.
Buy the book at Dreamspinner Press or other book venues.
