B.A. Tortuga's Blog, page 76

Wayback Wednesday: No Bull

Okay, so hey, it's August, but I wanted a little Christmas, a little breath of holiday-to-come, so I'm featuring these boys. :D

It doesn't hurt that the story starts in Hawaii, does it?

Official blurb:

In the rough game of professional bullriding, younger is better, and Joss is starting to feel his age. When he's injured far from home, who can he count on but his best friend, Mackey, to ride to the rescue? When his injury threatens to end his career, Mackey is right there to show Joss he has other options. Mackey's been thinking of retirement, and has plans to make a new life himself. Will that life include Joss? Mackey sure hopes so, but for now he'll settle for having Joss with him, home for the holidays.

Excerpt:

Man, it sucked hairy donkey balls to wake up in the hospital.

It wasn't the first time Joss had done it. Lord knew, you rode bulls enough, you were gonna get stomped and forget where you were. He remembered them asking him if he knew where he was, and he remembered saying, "On the floor..."

Now he was in one of those beds with the rails, and there was beepy shit, and his head was hurting fierce. Not as fierce as his arm and ribs and his shoulder. There was something really wrong with his riding arm. Something that had it all immobile and hanging in suspension and shit...

"Joss, man? You really awake this time or is it more stoned stupid?" A bright red head appeared in front of his face, just like magic. Damn. Mackie looked like hammered shit -- dark circles under his dark circles -- but that grin was familiar as all get out.

If he'd had a free arm, cause the one not all wrapped up was full of tubes, he woulda swung and seen what he could hit. As it was, he settled for a hard snort.

"Yeah, m'here. You look like warmed over poo."

"Yeah, well, you give us a scare, man. I had to come as soon as the round was over. Hell, I called your momma and all. She got all fluttery."

Oh, lord. Mackie calling Momma? Never good. Never.

"So I ain't dead. What all is wrong? And tell me you ain't got momma flying over?" They were somewhere. Australia? New Zealand? Hawaii? Someplace where it took hours to fly.

"You got pins in your shoulder, your elbow. You broke a metric fuckton of bones and cracked a couple ribs. Your head's okay, though..."

"Well, why couldn't I have hurt somethin' I don't use?" He gave Mackey a grin, because his best buddy was looking downright panicky.

"Oh, that'd've been too fucking easy." He got one of those wicked smiles. "You won the go-round."

"No shit?"

Available to buy here. 

 

Daily Walks

I hike with Julia and my pups 5 days a week.  (We dog park twice a week to give the puppies' paws a break.) It's an amazing trail with ups and downs and climbs and...

Critters.

Bunnies.

Quail.

Jackrabbits the size of donkeys.

Hawks.

Roadrunners.

Coyotes.

Every walk we see at least some of these guys and it makes my heart happy.

Last week? We saw teeny tiny desert toads (the size of a thumbnail). Also? A lizard that looked a little like a velociraptor. 

Go desert!

Much love, y'all.

BA

Six Sentence Sunday: The Terms of Release

Whatever happened years ago, the evidence didn’t show that anyone was a cold-blooded murderer, just a stupid shit who got lucky and didn’t burn to death. All eighteen year olds were stupid. Look at Win. He’d joined the Army...

Shitty as it was, it was better than the pen.

The food might be worse.

***

Much love, y'all.

BA

What I Worked on this Week

Almost 30K written this week. My fingers are WORN.

 

Active Writing:

Catnipped (working title) -- m/m/f shifters. Final scene. O.o

Cereus: Training (co-write with Julia) -- Weed and Feed -- the m/m/m has turned into a m/m/m/m

On hold:
m/m/f novel (co-write with Julia) -- fun, sexy menage. This one doesn't have a home or a deadline, so it keeps getting pushed back.

 

In edits/rewrites:

The Four Horsemen: Ace and Kitty: working on the rewrites

The Terms of Release: Back from beta. Goal is to make fixes and submit this week.

Little Bear: In to editor

Bartender Rescue: In to editor

New West: In to editor

Next week's plan?

Finish Catnipped, work on Weed and Feed, start f/f piece for EC and ponder what to work on for the open window...

 

Much love, y'all.
BA

What I'm Reading this Week

Finishing up the fab Cindy Gerard book. I bought a neat book yesterday about the math involved in designing circular knitting patterns. Also, I'm fixin' to start "Under the Dome". :D

What are y'all reading this week?

Much love,

BA

How the Hell Did It Get to be August Already?

O.o

August 1, really?

Who stole July and were can I go to get it back?

Honestly. I'm filing a complaint.

;-)

Much love, y'all.

BA

Wayback Wednesday: Sound and Fury

Ten years ago, give or take, I was having an affair with pseudo-Victorian erotica. What does this mean? I was writing what Julia calls Hollywood style, taking the feel and the romp without bogging it down in detail. I don't consider this historical, more hysterically hot. :D

 

***

Official blurb: 

Running from his past, Declan Murtagh arrives in London and immediately sets it on its ear, earning himself so many duels with his temper that he never needs to shoot for target practice anymore. One early morning assignation leads him to the most intriguing, and infuriating, man he's ever met. Seth Rhodes.

Seth is a old rakehell, and he sees something of himself in Declan, vowing to take the young man in and teach him a few things about controlling his temper, polite society, and debauchery. When they come together it's like lit gunpowder, but what will they do when their pasts catch up to them?

Available at Torquere Press, Amazon, and All Romance Ebooks.

***

Excerpt:

Hiding his deep yawn behind his hand, Seth Rhodes wondered, not for the first time, why anyone would wish to leave the warmth of their bed at dawn to be shot at.

Or why anyone would think he would want to be there to witness it.

Still, Carlton was one of the few, rare friends he maintained from his formative years, and he was therefore bound to agree to second him in this ridiculous duel.

Such utter tripe, the insult Carlton claimed the young pup he was to meet gave him. The man was simply feeling his age, longing for the supposed adventures of his youth. And Seth had the terrible feeling that the young man who just rode up on a rather impressive Irish racer was a much better shot than Carlton could ever be.

The young man slid from the horse, eyes flashing even in the early morning light. Odd, really. He didn't believe such fiery anger could be pretended before noon, much less honestly felt.

''Are ye ready? I've plans by eight bells. Let's move this along, yes?''

Carlton surged up, nostrils flaring in a most amusing manner, and Seth put a hand to his arm. He looked the lad over, stifling a smile with less success than he had the yawn.

''Yours was the insult, you have chosen your weapon?'' A formality, as he knew very well the lad had chosen pistols.

''Pistols. The distance?'' The rich brogue was clipped, lips tight, but the stocky body was relaxed, easy, no sign of distress.

''Twenty paces should suffice.'' He looked at Carlton. ''I don't suppose you would care to apologize?''

Grim-faced, his friend shook his head. Seth shrugged. ''Very well. Pace off, and I will call to fire. Unless you have seconds arriving, sir?''

''I don't. You ready, then? I've not much time to play with you.'' At Carlton's nod, the men stood back to back, Carlton's challenged a head shorter and a bit wider, curly red hair flaming in the rising sun. Then they paced off and faced one another.

Seth waited until they were at right angles to one another, both at the ready before he called. ''Fire!''

The explosions were loud, a small, dark hole appearing in the meaty part of Carlton's shoulder, his friend's pistol falling to the ground. The young man stood and watched, eyes hooded. ''Our argument's done now.''

Carlton staggered, went down on one knee, but looked nonetheless as though he would argue, so Seth went to him and took the pistol from his hand. ''Your honor has been satisfied. Leave well enough alone, you fool.'' He summoned the doctor with a wave, and went then to the other participant.

''Are you satisfied, sir?''

''I am. Tell your friend to watch who he passes judgment on.'' Green eyes flared, lips firming. ''I'll not be so kind next time.

***

Author's Note: Warning - not a historically acurate, dripping-with details historical. This is a historical romance, Hollywood style.

 

Looking for Guest Bloggers for Tuesdays!

Come chat about your book, your process, hot guys, your life. :D

I'm willing to host if you're willing to play.

Much love,

BA

Man, Friday didn't turn out how I'd hoped

We were supposed to have company, they had to cancel.

We were supposed to see Luke Bryan, ABQ had the worst storm in history (it was an outdoor concert).

We were supposed to tape the Tim McGraw special, we have satellite and the worst storm in history.

We were supposed to go hiking Saturday, the trail was too wet.

:P

On the good side, I got tacos and J and I sat in bed and watched Jurassic Park.

Still...

;P

 

Much love, y'all.

BA

Six Sentence Sunday: Weed and Feed (m/m/m paranormal cowritten with Julia)

And boring him out of his mind. Unlike your average novelist, Cian was not an introvert.

He wanted to be where the people were. Where the blood ran hot.

He wanted to play.

Hard.

***

:D

Much love, y'all.

BA