Oh, y’all, I have to tell you, I’m so damn proud of these boys that I’m fixin’ to pop.
Sage is an ex-con, Win is a sheriff’s deputy. What could go wrong?
Hell, what could possibly go right?
Sage walked out to the truck and grabbed his duffel, thankful the storm hadn’t found them yet. He carried the bag to the trailer, standing and staring at it for a long time. Damn. It was plumb nice, really, even had a wee baby porch on it.
He didn’t see the pit bull sitting there, not until he climbed the stair. Little and blue, the whipcord tail set to wagging, thump, thump, and he frowned. “Copper?”
It couldn’t be. She’d been an old dog when he’d gone to California. She had to be long buried. Still, the pup was her spitting image and had a collar on her with a tag. He put the bag down and the plate on the porch rail, then bent down. “Who the hell are you, pup?”
Her tag said “Penny,” and he couldn’t help but grin. Momma did have a wicked sense of humor.
She licked his face, tail just thumping. Lord, lord. Looked like he’d have some company.
“Come on in, then, but you’d best not piss on my floor.” He liked a clean house. He’d never live in filth. Never again.
She trotted in next to him, and she didn’t jump on nothin’, just settled on a dog bed in the corner of the little front room.
The place was spotless and simple, with a TV, a little DVD player, and a sofa. The kitchen had the basics, and Sage knew if he looked, the pantry would have Corn Flakes, cans of Wolf Brand Chili, and quick grits.
Hell, there was even a mason jar filled with green apple Jolly Ranchers.
Oh sweet Jesus. He was home.
His knees buckled, and if that sweet pup came and licked tears off his cheeks, well shit, there wasn’t a living soul to tell on him.
For the first time in ten years, no one was watching.
They say a man can always come home. So after doing hard time, Sage Redding heads to his family’s northeast Texas ranch to help his ailing daddy with the cutting horses.
Adam (Win) Winchester is a county deputy and the cousin of one of the men killed in the incident that sent Sage to prison for almost a decade. While Win’s uncles, Jim and Teddy, are determined to make Sage and the entire Redding family pay for their loss, Win just figures Sage has paid his dues and maybe needs a friend. Maybe he needs more than a friend. In fact, Win’s counting on it.
No one’s denying Sage is an ex-con who went to prison for manslaughter. Regardless of the love he has for his father, he’s returned knowing things will likely go badly for him. Maybe a man can always come home, but he may not be able to stay.
Much love, y’all!
Because sometimes fistfights are foreplay. ;-)
Oh, y’all. Life has been crazy here, but I’m so glad to be here and to celebrate TRS’s anniversary.
I am tickled to let y’all know that the next Roughstock book comes out Wednesday. Adam and Landon were an absolute hoot to write and I can’t wait to share them.
What all do y’all have planned for this glorious weekend? I’m going to sit in my chair and crochet all day long.
Hey, y’all! Did you see that I have a new m/f book out?
No, really. :D Me.
Bodie and Addie appeared in my one afternoon and then, suddenly a month later, I had them in a neat little hot package. Cowboys, kidnapping, guns, hot sex, beer, a twin, horses, and two gay daddies.
What more could you want?
“Did you know frowning that deep will give you wrinkles?”
Bodie started a little, then turned to glance behind him before looking back at her and raising one almost-black brow. “You talkin’ to me, honey?”
“I most definitely am.”
He was long and lean, with leather-tanned skin and bright blue eyes. Hoo, yeah. She was so talking to him.
His frown shifted into a smile, which gave him even better lines. “Well, then, I got to tell you, no one has cared about my lines in years.”
Those pretty blue eyes were checking her out, though, making her blood pump faster.
“Too bad. That sounds like an incredible waste of one hell of a mouth.” Why pretend to be shy? Addie knew being the retiring type was not one of her failings, so to force it now would be silly.
The smile lines got deeper, the expression reaching his eyes. Gracious. That was lethal. “Thank you, ma’am. Whatcha drinkin’?”
“Shiner,” she said, and winked. “I’m back in Texas. Might as well have the good beer.”
From Guatamala to Ghana, Moscow to Mozambique. She’d been and done it all. Now she wanted home and spring and bluebonnets and hot cowboys in her bed.
“Cool. Another Shiner for the lady, Carl.”
Carl, a skinny old cowboy with a three-inch lift in his left boot, nodded, staring at her with wide eyes. Obviously, he expected her to drop dead on the spot from talking to Bodie. When she didn’t, he grinned, the look pure shit-dipped evil. “Lord, that ain’t no lady. That’s Chris and Brandt’s youngest girl, Addison.”
Oh, she hated to be called by that name. She rolled her eyes, rubbed the bridge of her nose with her middle finger, then turned back to Bodie. “Addie. Thanks for the beer, cowboy.”
She let herself look, obvious and slow, admiring all the way along.
“Not a problem. Have a sit.” He motioned at the stool next to him, and she wasted no time plopping down.
“So, tell me something odd about yourself. Something I couldn’t guess.”
“I like cotton candy.” He grinned again before taking a swallow of his beer, his tanned throat working in an addictive way. “What about you?”
“I’m a wildcat in bed.”
Because sometimes fistfights are foreplay.
Hey, y’all! I’ve been posting free fiction every day in December on my blog. Please come and read and comment for a chance to win any ebook in my backlist! :D
Much love, y’all!
Lord, y’all. I was 40K plus into this novel when the file corrupted and I had to start from scratch. O.o
So, 3 years and many tears later, I’m happy to say I did it. Calleigh got her cowboys.
Calleigh and Adrian have always had an open marriage. Adrian being on the road all the time has made it easy for them to have separate lives, but neither of them acted on their agreement to see other people until Adrian met fellow Aussie and force of nature, Packer Stevens.
Now Packer and Adrian are always together, and Calleigh is left at home, missing her man. When Calleigh decides she’s not going to let Adrian go without a fight, she comes up with what she thinks is the perfect plan. She hits the spa, and the gym, and sets out to find her inner buckle bunny, intent on getting her bullrider back, and maybe on impressing Packer a little, too. She heads out on the road, ready to fight for her husband.
What Calleigh doesn’t understand is that her plan will be wildly successful, and also the hardest thing she’s ever done in her life. Packer is more than willing to play, but he’s as complicated as Calleigh is emotional. As much as he loves Calleigh and Packer, and the sexy games they play, Adrian has to try to set things right, but can he find a way to give Calleigh what she wants, and make everyone else happy at the same time?
Smiling when Packer shifted closer, Adrian pushed a hand down the length of Packer’s torso, loving the width of the fuzzy chest and the ridged beauty of the most underrated belly in bullriding.
He hummed, wrapping his fingers around Packer’s rising prick and tugging.
“Morning, you. Did you make the coffee?” Adrian asked. He could smell it, acrid and somehow dark brown, as if the smell itself had a color.
“Naw. I been sleepin’.” Still mostly asleep, Packer’s Aussie accent was thick as late-summer pond water.
Adrian raised his head, frowning a little. “Did it have a timer?”
Packer grunted softly, tugged him in closer, hips moving the heavy cock through his fingers.
“Mmm.” He forgot all about the coffee, that velvety skin covering the hardest prick ever making him a little distracted and a lot horny. Adrian started kissing his way down, wanting to give it a fine good morning.
Packer was all for it, too. Adrian could tell. Jesus, he loved the way those tight abs rolled and jerked.
He licked a little at Packer’s belly button, his fingers working the extra skin at the tip of Packer’s cock. He loved that foreskin, found it fascinating. Packer moaned low and arched, bowing up toward him, the sheet falling away. Adrian laughed a little, blowing air on the tip of Packer’s cock before pushing the foreskin back and licking at the head. Salty. Damn.
“Oh, now. That’s pretty.” A camera flash went off, blinding him.
Adrian shot up on the bed, Packer grunting when Adrian’s hand landed hard on his belly. “What the fuck!”
“Oh, don’t stop on my account, boys.”
Oh, fucking hell.
He knew that voice. Adrian looked over and saw Calleigh, his wife, sitting on the chair, a cup of coffee in one hand, a camera in the other.
Packer rose up on both elbows, staring past him. “Well, hullo Calleigh. What brings you to Des Moines?”
One red eyebrow arched, and Calleigh smiled, slow and wicked. “I got tired of waiting at home for someone to give me some attention, honey.”
Adrian was completely speechless. His cock wilted. Packer’s didn’t.
Bright green eyes met his. She was made up — eyes and lips and everything — and she was a fucking wet dream, or would have been if she hadn’t been an evil bitch. “I told you, I’m not waiting for you anymore, Adrian. I’ve been taking pictures for about an hour. If you want me to come along on the road, I’ll clear out the memory card. Otherwise, I’ll take them to Ace. It’s totally up to you.”
His mouth opened and closed like a landed fish’s. “Come along?”
“Yes. Twelve years we’ve been together and I’ve never traveled farther than downtown Dallas with you. I’m done. I want in. I want to play, too.”
“Play…” Adrian felt like a parrot. Calleigh wanted to play. She was a hard-working nurse. Lost job or no, he wasn’t sure she knew the meaning of the word play.
“You heard me. I’ll give you time to figure yourself out.” She stood and he saw her, like it was a dream. Jesus, she was in the tiniest little leather skirt and boots up to there and a tiny, lacy top. “I’m going to get some more coffee. If you want,
I’ll buy you both breakfast.”
“Give us half an hour,” Packer said, hands holding Adrian back when he would have gone after her.
“No hurry.” Calleigh turned and walked out, heels clicking on the floor.
What She Wants is available at ARe, Amazon, and here: http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=97&products_id=3758
Much love, y’all.
I wanted to share my Christmas story with you. Derrick and Stone came to live in my head a year ago October and they persisted through the spring, so I knew they were going to be my Christmas story this year. Stone is a bull rider and Derrick is a closeted rancher that wants him, at least for one night. ;-)
Writing holiday stories always helps me get started with the Christmas spirit, even when I’m writing them in August and it’s a million degrees in central Texas, and these boys are dear and wonderful and a pure joy to write.
Official type blurb: Rancher and homebody Derrick loves going to the bullriding finals in Reno, especially when he gets to see his favorite rider, Stone. This year he gets way more up close and personal with Stone than he ever expects, and all of his fantasies come true.
After Reno, though, Stone has nowhere to go for Christmas, so he shows up at Derrick’s ranch, knowing there’s something about Derrick that makes him think of settling down. Will Derrick panic and send Stone away, or will he had the rodeo cowboy to his collection?
Stone sat on the rail against the wall, sipping his beer and humming along with Alan.
He was in the money tonight, and that was the third round he’d ridden. It wasn’t going to win him a championship or any such shit, but it was going to get him to January, God willing and the creek didn’t rise, and it was going to keep him in the top twenty, which meant sponsorship money come next season. Praise Jesus and bull ropes.
The crowd was jumping like a frog in a skillet tonight — the buckle bunnies out in spades, all glitz and sparkle and more fake boobies than you could shake a silicone stick at. Sometimes he wondered what made anyone work so hard to look so fake, then he remembered how much money he spent on getting his jeans starched and he’d feel like an asshole. Still, those spider eyelashes scared the living fuck out of him. They looked like they could cut a man. Flap, ow!
Now, that big old boy who just walked in wearing Wranglers and a pressed, snap-button shirt? He wasn’t scary a bit. No, sir. He was pretty with a capital P. Solid and broad, with hands that would be rough and hard on a man’s skin — that was just Stone’s type. Sometimes a cowboy needed a good, hard ride. This one looked like he didn’t get to town much. Oh, the boots were clean, and the hat was obviously expensive, but the guy scanned the crowd like he was starving, like he had a powerful itch.
Come on, pretty baby, look over here.
Like the message actually went through, the man glanced at him, then stared, eyes widening a little. Down boy. Could just mean he knew bullriders.
He tipped his hat, though, nodded. It was a fine fucking line — straddling between making sure someone knew you were interested and not getting your ass handed to you. The message was received, and received well, he thought. The man started moving toward him at least, and Stone didn’t think it was for an imminent ass-kicking.
He stayed where he was, holding those dark, hungry eyes.
Coming to a stop about a foot away, the man nodded. “Buy you a drink?”
“Bud Lite. Please.”
Oh, fuck him raw, that was a pretty man.
“Sure. Two Bud Lites, please,” the man told the waitress who hovered nearby. “I’m Derrick.”
“Stone.” He held one hand out, shook. The handshake was everything he could hope for, warm but not sweaty, that hand big and callused.
“I know. Hope that’s not weird. You made a fan out of me.”
“Oh, now, a man likes to hear that. You out just for the event? You liking Reno?” You wanna fuck?
“I am, and yeah. I come every year. First time I’ve seen you here.” Those eyes weren’t as dark as he thought. Oh, they were a nice, deep green, but the pupils were dilated, Derrick looking at him like he was dessert to a good meal.
“I been on the little tour for a while. This is my first time with the big boys.”
“You did yourself proud.” Derrick swallowed hard. “Looked good doing it, too.”
He tipped his head, the brim of his hat dipping. “Much obliged.”
“You, uh, do any private demonstrations? Of how you ride?”
“Oh, hell yes.” He grinned, slow and easy. “Did I say that out loud?”
Adding to the Collection is available on Amazon, ARe, and here: http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=78_85&products_id=3765
Much love, y’all!
Because sometimes fistfights are foreplay.
Hope everyone’s having a lovely day. It’s weirdly hot and sticky in central Texas (even for central Texas) and everyone’s a little grumpy about it. I mean seriously, 8 heat records broken in December and it’s only the 19th? O.o
Still, we’re ready for the holidays. We’re wrapped and decorated, cooked and sung. I’m looking forward to having a lazy week in the week ahead and doing my best to avoid the stores and the last minute stuff.
Oh, who am I kidding? I’ll be out there hunting bargains and going… but Julia! Look at *this*! on the 23rd. ;-)
Are y’all ready for the big day? Still shopping?
I’m sitting here with Sean Michael, making my final grocery store list, and, when Julia wakes up for her nap, we’re going to walk the dogs, then go have margaritas!
Tomorrow will be cooking, cocktails, plotting and Boggle.
I’m so grateful to have my best friend visiting and both Julia’s dad and my daddy well enough to come Thanksgiving with us!
Because sometimes fistfights are foreplay.