First Rodeo

Contributors: Jodi Payne and BA Tortuga
Series: The Cowboy and the Dom Trilogy #1
Genre: , , , , ,
Release Date: October 15, 2019
Pages: 303

First Rodeo: The Cowboy and the Dom Trilogy, Book One

When a killer strikes, Texan and former rodeo cowboy, Sam O’Reilly, loses his older brother. Unbeknownst to Sam, James was also the lover and sub of a sophisticated New York City Dom named Thomas Ward. Sam comes to the city determined to stay until he can bring the murderer to his own brand of justice, while Thomas’ more ordered mind is hoping for a legal solution. Neither man expects their connection to the other, but having each lost someone irreplaceable, their hearts are crying out for comfort almost as loudly as their bodies are screaming for each other.

Some yearnings refuse to be ignored, but transcending their differences to explore the fragile connection between them will prove to be a steep a hill to climb--the first of many. As Sam and Thomas take the first tentative steps on the rocky path that might lead to a relationship, the killer steps out of the shadows...

And this time, his sights are set on Sam.

*Note: Each of the books in The Cowboy and the Dom Trilogy have fully realized romantic HEAs. However, the overarching suspense element leaves readers on a cliffhanger after books one and two, to be resolved in book three.

Available to purchase, or to borrow with Kindle Unlimited.

 

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Chapter One

“What the fuck are you going to do, baby brother?” Bowie stood at the gravesite, staring down at him like Bowie always had. Gigantic prick. “Do you think you’re going to fucking fix this? James is dead.”

Like Sam didn’t know that.

Fury flashed inside him, hot and fueled by an agony he’d never expected, and he turned, his fist shooting out and catching Bowie right in the uniformed gut.

Rule number two: never monologue.

That surprised Bowie enough that it doubled him over, and Sam got an uppercut in. He had to get his shots in while he could. His big brother outweighed him by sixty pounds and towered over him by damn near a foot and, he had to be honest, had ten years of being a Ranger behind him.

“Motherfucker!” Bowie reached for him, and he danced out of range.

“You kiss my momma with that mouth, grunt?” He went for Bowie’s trick knee, thankful he had his shitkickers on. That pointed toe was useful, and he had a chance to fell the giant.

Rule number three: once you get them down, keep them down.

Used to be that him and James would work together to take Bowie down. That was never going to happen again.

Never.

The thought of that closed casket, that slashed-up face he’d had the misfortune to identify hidden under the oiled wood, made him gag and stumble, and Bowie took advantage, the fists on the back of his neck enough to face-plant him in grave dirt.

“Rule number one, baby brother. Don’t start shit you don’t have the strength to finish.” The hands around his throat were strong, the tremble in them only noticeable because they were so tight.

The sound of a pistol cocking was sharp and clear, and the fuzzy image of Aunt Linda wavered in his sight. “Boys, if you upset your momma and daddy, I will be put out. Get your skanky asses off the ground. Y’all are in your Sunday clothes.”

“Seriously, Aunt Linda?” Bowie muttered. “Even I didn’t come to the gravesite armed.”

“I know you boys. Can’t trust you as far as I can throw you. Get your asses up. Now.”

Bowie stood up and hauled him alongside, just as easy as pie.

“Now apologize,” she demanded.

“He started it.” Bowie was still a suck-up.

“Jim Bowie O’Reilly! You apologize to your baby brother for putting your hands on him right now!” God, she was a harpy—broad as a barn and fierce as any woman who had raised her own siblings had to have been.

“Sorry, asshole.”

“Yeah. Me too. I just…” Sam waved one hand toward the grave. This wasn’t right. James was supposed to be in New York, living this amazing life with lights and a zillion friends. Bowie had the adventure, James had the city, and he was supposed to stay home here and…hold down the fort or something. He was the baby, and… “It should have been you, Bowie.”

Everyone expected that awful phone call. Every time Bowie was deployed, they lived with that quiet fear.

James was a motherfucking school teacher. An elementary school teacher who didn’t get tattoos or take drugs or—

“Sam!” Aunt Linda sounded horrified.

“What? It’s true!”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” Suddenly Bowie looked…diminished. Gray and tired and older than the seven years that separated them. “Fuck you, Sammy. I know. So what the fuck are you going to do about James? I have to report back to work.”

“I’m going to go clean out his place.” He was between jobs. Hell, he was between lives—college was pretty much done with him, he’d educated himself into obscurity in ranching, and God knew, no one needed a broke-dick cowboy with a master’s in art history, a shattered leg from bronc riding, and a temper that tended to flare at inappropriate-at-best times. He would go clean things out and see if he could encourage the detectives to find out…anything.

“You sure you’re not going to short out, Sammy?”

“Fuck you. I’ve been to Dallas, Austin. Hell, I went with James to Mardi Gras in New Orleans. I ain’t a kid!”

“You’re my kid brother, Sammy, and I only have one left now.” An expression of pure agony crossed Bowie’s face, and Sam turned his back so he didn’t have to see it.

“I’ll be fine. I’ve got the time, and Momma’s got to take care of Daddy.”

Things hadn’t been good, but the news of James’s murder had made the little baby strokes turn into a real one, and while Daddy wasn’t crippled or nothing, no one was going to let him fly. Not yet.

“Come on. They’re waiting for y’all down to the big house. You know there’s food and all the Ladies Auxiliary waiting to make a fuss.” Aunt Linda didn’t so much as let a tear go, but she did slip her Saturday Night Special into her pocketbook. “Brother Martin will want to bless you both and lay hands.”

“That son of a bitch touches me and I’ll rip out his spleen,” Bowie growled, and Sam had to smile. That was his big brother.

He could hear James, right now, echoing in his head.

Be good, Jim, honey. You’re teaching Sammy bad habits.

God, it was never going to be right. Never.

“Come on. Let’s go.”

He turned and headed for his truck. James wasn’t here. That was a grave, a body, a stone. He was going to go find James where he’d lived.

 

Chapter Two

Thank God this was New York City, the only town he knew of, except maybe LA, where yellow police tape didn’t slow anyone down. Aside from the cops, he was the only one there, the only one who cared. Thomas had about as much privacy as he was going to get.

He leaned against the side of the building as the NYPD took the tape down, balled it up, and stuffed it into a nearby garbage can. The evidence markers had been gone for a couple of days, the chalk lines were gone now too, and even the bloodstains in the concrete were already fading. Another day or two and there wouldn’t be any evidence left that James had died here.

But Thomas wouldn’t forget. He couldn’t get away from it. He lived here, worked here, walked the same goddamn streets as whoever was responsible. He still carried around memories of his time with James that he’d never share with anyone. He carried around the plans they’d made and a future that could never happen now.

He hadn’t received an invitation to James’s funeral. This would have to be his closure, watching the investigation into his lover’s murder become routine, move on to the next “phase.” Watching all the evidence disappear.

That was perhaps the most awful addition to his grief. He understood that James couldn’t be wholly out to his family back home in…well, somewhere in East Texas, but understanding it while James was alive and in his arms was one thing. Coming to grips with his exile now was something else entirely. He was bitter; he was angry. Not at James, not at anyone in particular, just at a world that made them hide. He felt humiliated, and that wasn’t a pill he could swallow without choking on it.

Everything about his life was deliberate, yet at the moment, he was experiencing a lack of control he’d never imagined possible.

One of the cops walked over and offered him a smoke. Colletti was his name. “Wouldn’t you rather be home?”

“This is as close as I want to get right now.” God, listen to him. He refused the cigarette, but just barely. Vices sounded like such a good idea.

“Dobson is going to call you, routine stuff. Did they ask you not to leave town?”

“Yeah. It wasn’t an imperative, but it was strongly suggested.” Insult to injury.

Officer Colletti gave him a nod. “We’re done here. Take care, Mister Ward.”

“Thanks.”

The squad car drove off, and New York seemed impossibly quiet all of a sudden.

A man with a duffel and a cowboy hat walked up to the stoop, and for a second, Thomas’s heart stopped. He closed his eyes until he could breathe again.

Fuck, tourists were everywhere in this city. He just hadn’t been prepared for one in a cowboy hat. He took a breath and headed down the steps. He needed a coffee.

They passed each other, the man meeting his eyes and nodding. “Afternoon.”

“Where are you going?” He knew those eyes intimately. He reached out and grabbed the man by the arm, that hazel making his heart pound. “Who are you?”

“Who the fuck is asking, motherfucker?” The little guy just popped right up into his face, those eyes flashing.

Christ, the cowboy sounded just like James too. Only James would have known better than to meet his eyes.

He stood his ground, inches away, instinct and training helping him stare the kid down. “You’re an O’Reilly. Which one? Sam, right? The bronc rider? You’re too small to be Jim.”

“Bowie,” the kid corrected immediately, even as he nodded. “Who are you?”

Nobody you’d know.

“Right. Bowie.” He let go of Sam’s arm. He knew he should back down, but it took real effort. “I’m Thomas Ward. I…knew your brother.”

Fuck. I loved him.

“Knew him? Y’all worked together?”

What was he going to do? He wasn’t going to out James now. What would be the point? It hurt, though, denying James and jumping back into a closet he’d slammed the door on as soon as he’d stepped foot in this city years ago. “No. We are…were really good friends. He told me all about you guys.”

“Oh. I’m here to…clean up, I guess. Stuff.” Sam tilted his head. “Is this your building too?”

“Uh.” Well, fuck. James had always said Sam was bright. “No.” He’d asked about moving in together. James had been thinking about it. “I was just missing him.”

“Oh. I—come on up, huh?”

 

Title: First Rodeo: The Cowboy and the Dom Trilogy, Book One
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B07YM1QNK4
ISBN13: 978-1-951011-02-4

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Window Dressing

Contributors: Jodi Payne and BA Tortuga
Series: Merry Everything Series #1
Genre: , , , , , ,
Release Date: December 10, 2019
Pages: 189

When bull rider Sterling Kingsolver wins a national rodeo championship in a stunning upset, he becomes the public face of the rodeo league. But the big bosses had other plans, and Sterling knows he’s in trouble. Worst of all, though, he’s headed to New York City to do a publicity junket. Sterling is a quiet cowboy from New Mexico, and all the fancy trappings of his new title don’t sit so well with him.

Jonas Burke is an experienced public relations assistant. He’s been hired by the rodeo league to get a hick cowboy from the middle of nowhere cleaned up and presentable by New York standards, and he’s been told to cancel his week-long Christmas vacation to do it.

The two men square off a couple of times, but as they get to know each other, Jonas begins to understand what makes a real cowboy tick, and Sterling starts to realize there’s more to Jonas than a flashy smile. While taking in the sparkle and joy that is Christmas in New York City, their friendship slowly becomes more. But when trouble catches up with them, Sterling’s days in the city come to an end and Jonas nearly loses his job. Facing that infamous midnight hour, Sterling and Jonas have to decide what their New Year will bring.

Window Dressing is an opposites attract, enemies to lovers romance featuring a rodeo cowboy, a city boy in a suit, and the magic of New York City at the holidays.

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Prologue

Sterling Kingsolver was fixin’ to ruin his goddamn career for stupid pride, and he gave less than no shits.

He stood there, staring at Clint Masterson, the buzz of fury zipping between his ears like killer bees.

“Listen to me, boy. Cody Ball has been promised this year. You’re a baby. You’re a rookie. You throw this ride and we’ll make it worth your while.”

“I ain’t a cheat.” He might be a piece-of-shit caliche farmer, a desert baby balls to bones, but he wasn’t about to take a dive. He had Rookie of the Year in the bag, sure—but if he rode his last bull? Shit marthy, he would take the event win and the championship.

“We aren’t asking you to cheat, son. I’m telling you to make a smart career move, hmm?” Masterson had been one of the First Five, and he was the face of the league, the big boss. Shit, this man could ruin him. Shit.

“Fine. I think it’s bullshit, man. Total bullshit.” God. God help him. Was he considering this?

“This isn’t some little ranch rodeo, Kingsolver. This is the big time. Sometimes you have to lose a little. You got the Rookie of the Year money. Take it and run. Next year it will be yours.”

Right. Assuming he stayed healthy next year. Assuming he rode. Assuming he had another magic year. “Yessir.”

Fucker.

“Good boy. Go on. You need to strap in. Don’t make it obvious.”

Good boy?

Good fucking boy?

He stormed across the chutes, his boots rattling.

“Bit! Bit, come on! Tie on your damn glove! This is it.” Jack waved and bounced, his eyes as big as saucers. “What did Masterson want?”

“Nothing. Just to keep my ass on the bull.”

“Ah. Okay. Grab your bull rope. I’ll pull. Chance can hold your vest.”

“Right.” He went through the motions, acidic hatred burning in his belly. Motherfuckers, with their politics and shit. He could see Cody Ball and his long-assed ugly nose and sparse pussy-tickler mustache just staring him down with a bullshit smirk, knowing what they’d asked.

Just because Ball hadn’t fucking managed quite to keep himself centered, just because no one had thought Sterling was a goddamn threat until it was too late.

Now he was one ride away from taking the whole thing.

One ride.

His daddy was sitting there in the stands, the day sheet crumpled in his fingers. Daddy would know. He would know and judge, even if he never said a word about it.

“Focus, asshole!” Chance shook him. “Blue Belly isn’t going to thank you for woolgathering.” His old friend leaned close, peppermint on his breath. “Don’t do it. Ride this son of a bitch. Ride him into the motherfucking ground and make them all scream.”

“They said—”

“Don’t. Just hold on, cowboy. You ain’t a rodeo athlete; you’re a goddamn cowboy.”

Sterling nodded and got his legs set, slamming his glove shut over his rope. Blue Belly bucked in the chute, tossing his head, slamming Sterling’s leg against the gate. He didn’t nod, but the gate swung open, and he kept his mind in the middle.

Just hold on. You’re a goddamn cowboy.

That was right. He was. He was a goddamn cowboy, and he didn’t throw rides. This wasn’t a job; this was who he was.

By the time he finished telling himself that, the buzzer sounded, the arena going wild.

Well, okay then.

Time to hit the dirt and take his lumps.

Title: Window Dressing
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B0827D3CM2
ISBN13: 978-1-951011-04-8

 

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Christmas Bizarre

Contributors: Jodi Payne, BA Tortuga
Series: Sapphic #1
Genre: , , , , , ,
Release Date: December 20, 2022

Charlotte Miller is tired of feeling like a failure. She may have gotten herself fired, her love life has imploded…so when she gets the call that the annual Summit Springs Christmas Bazaar, which helps support her family’s farm, is in trouble, she heads home to try to save the day. Maybe her luck will change and she will be happier for the holidays. Too bad her car decides to break down on the way.

Naomi “Lars” Beckett is too busy with the tree farm she runs and Christmastime to worry about a stranded hottie like Charlotte, but when they get snowed in together at an old cabin, she figures that’s what she gets for trying to help. On the surface these two seem to have nothing in common, but opposites do attract, especially with the magic of the season, and they find they have more in common than they think.

Once they’re back in the crazy mix of family, well-meaning town folk, and trying to make things just right for Christmas though, will they be able to make something together that lasts longer than old wrapping paper and holiday leftovers?

Christmas Bizarre is a small town, opposites attract, lesbian romance set in fictional Summit Springs, Colorado.

Buy the Book: Amazon
Title: Christmas Bizarre
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B0B5K7FV9R

Breaking the Rules

Contributors: Jodi Payne and BA Tortuga
Series: Triskelion Series #1
Genre: , , , ,
Release Date: September 22, 2020
Pages: 450

Breaking the Rules: The Triskelion Series, Book One

Saul Reynolds manages a busy bicycle shop in downtown Boulder, Colorado. A recent CU graduate, he’s also a Dom, and has many friends his age in the scene. Saul’s an old soul, and even at twenty-five, he’s had enough experience to understand his own desires. He’s had plenty of lovers and he’s played the role of part-time Dom, but he’s never found the perfect combination of lover and sub in one man.

Troy Finch lost his lover in a rodeo accident twenty years ago, moved to Boulder, and has worked as a line cook in his friend Carter’s diner ever since. He’s attended many parties at Carter’s home with couples in the BDSM lifestyle and feels comfortable in a submissive role, but without a Dom of his own, Troy hasn’t explored what that really means to him. He has needs he doesn’t entirely understand and finds his only outlet at the hands of Carter’s husband, Geoff, a tattoo artist who has used Troy’s skin as a canvas for as long as they’ve known each other, covering Troy in colorful, intricate triskelia.

Troy doesn’t know what he was thinking accepting a dinner invitation from a kid half his age, but everything feels right about their evening together, including Saul’s Dominant side. The rules for a twenty-five year old gay cowboy from years ago, though, are totally different than for a twenty-five year old college grad in Boulder now, and despite Saul’s confidence, Troy isn’t sure whether they can make it work.

Saul and Troy manage to bend a good many rules in the name of caring and compromise, but in the name of love, there are some rules they’re just going to have to break.

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Chapter One

 

Saul held the mountain bike like a lover, like it was something precious, babying the new paint job and shiny chrome as he loaded it into the back of the pick-up truck. He wrapped it in a blanket so it would stay spotless on the drive and checked the tires for the third time.

Then he hopped out of the bed and shut the tailgate. All good. That bike was some of his best work. Thank goodness for Emma, he wanted to deliver this one personally and he didn’t have wheels of his own.

You got this.

It was another perfect spring day and downtown Boulder was busy. He drove up Canyon Boulevard and parked near the east end of the Pearl Street Mall, then reversed the process with the bicycle, gingerly lowering it to the ground. He got on it and took a lap of the parking lot, fucking with the gears and brakes. Damn, this was a sweet rebuild.

He walked the bike to Carter Lee’s diner, which of course he’d forgotten the name of, but he knew the one, he’d been there a bunch of times. Best cup of coffee in town, crazy good French toast. Small world, colliding with the man who owned that place.

He’d rebuilt the whole front end, put on new tires, a new chain, a new gear shift, replaced the scuffed-up pedals and the twisted handlebars, and had given the thing a new paint job. It sparkled like new, which was pretty much the least he could do after almost knocking out Carter’s front teeth.

He pulled up outside the diner and peered through the window, trying to see if he could catch Carter’s eye, but the place was hopping, and everyone was busy. He sighed and locked the bike up, making sure it was as far away from other bikes as possible, and headed inside.

“Just one?” The hostess grabbed a menu.

“Oh, I’m just… I was looking for…”

“This way, please.”

He blinked, totally off-guard, and followed her to a small table. “I’m actually just here to see Carter.”

“I’ll let him know you’re looking for him. Coffee?”

“Oh I, uh.” She peered at him expectantly. “Sure. Sounds good.”

“You take cream?” She handed him a menu, sighing as a group of mountain bikers showed up. “Ah, to-go orders. I’ll be right back with your coffee.”

“Yes,” he called after her. He glanced over at the bikers, but he didn’t know any of them. Must not be local. He knew a lot of the real enthusiasts in town from his shop.

He glanced at his watch. It was eleven-thirty and he’d been putting the finishing touches on the bike all morning. He supposed he could eat, but he really didn’t need the menu. He wanted that French toast with the berries and the vanilla-maple syrup. He could almost taste it.

“Troy! Troy, I need seven more turkey sandwiches to go. All chips.”

“On it, honey,” a rough drawl answered her, the John Deere ball cap the only thing visible through the pass-through.

That was one of his favorite things, the way Carter’s cook worked—steady, calm, fast and obviously damn good at his job.

He tried to think how long the guy had been working back there. Had to be forever, and in all that time he’d never heard the cook get ruffled. Just “On it,” or “Yes, ma’am” with that deep tone. He liked the voice, and he was pretty sure he’d have recognized it anywhere.

“Hey, man, how goes it?” Carter came and sat, offering him a smile. “Run anyone over this week?”

He grinned and felt his cheeks burn, totally embarrassed. “Nope. I’m finding you a tough act to follow. I think I’ve hit a dry spell. You?”

“Busy as a one-armed paperhanger.” Carter smiled for him, and, okay, he was totally glad he hadn’t knocked those teeth out.

“I see that. I have to say I’m sorry again. Hopefully your bike will make up for the bruises. It’s all done, I parked it outside. If you have any problems, you just let me know, I’ll get it right for you.” He smiled back, going for charming but not flirty. Carter was a handsome but married man.

“You rock, man. I mean it. Let me grab you a cup of coffee and…you’re the French toast, right?”

“My favorite. Thanks so much.” Carter was the coolest cat on the planet. He wasn’t sure if he could be that chill if someone barreled into his path out of nowhere, sent him flying and mangled his handlebars. He’d like to think he could, he tried to be level-headed, and shit happens, right?

“Right on.” Carter stood and went to pour his coffee. “Troy, I need a French toast with berries and a side of bacon on the fly.”

“On it, boss.”

On it, boss. Saul smiled and leaned back in his chair. That drawl was something. He thanked Carter again for the coffee and his stomach growled as he picked it up to take a sip. Yeah, he could eat.

He drank his coffee and checked his phone while he waited. He answered an email from Emma about the supply order he’d placed the day before. Thank goodness Emma was as much of a workaholic as he was. The shop was demanding and busy.

He also made a cocktail hour appointment with Khloe, who said she needed a hand. He wasn’t her Dom, but she didn’t have one at the moment and she was a friend. If she needed him, he’d be there.

“Excuse me. You’re the French toast?” Shocking green eyes stared at him. They seemed huge when paired with that bald head.

He stared right back and smiled, stunned by the handsome face that went with the drawl. “Actually, I’m Saul. But I’m having the French toast.”

“Good deal.” He got a smile, a nod as the plate was put in front of him. “Enjoy your breakfast, sir.”

“I always do. You make amazing French toast.” He boldly reached out and touched a triskelion tattoo on the cook’s wrist with curious fingers, keeping the man there another second. “Great ink. What’s your name?”

“Finch. Troy Finch. Pleased to meet you.”

As his gaze traveled up, he discovered the triskelions climbing up Troy Finch’s arm, some delicate and lacy, some violent and sharp-edged. It was fascinating, and he had all kinds of questions.

“I think the pleasure is really mine, Troy.” As much as he wanted to keep this lovely man talking, he lifted his fingers away. “I know you’re busy back there. Thank you for taking the time to run this out to me.”

“You’re welcome, sir. Boss is bad about letting his orders die in the window.”

“Get your ass in the kitchen. I hear you, telling lies about me.” Carter was barely holding his laughter back.

Troy snorted, but dropped him a wink. “Yes, sir. No smoke break for me?”

“Nope. Kitchen.”

“Thanks again, Troy.” Saul watched the guy take a few strolling steps toward the kitchen and then head back to work. He glanced up at Carter. “Interesting guy. Lots of pretty specific ink. Nice work.” He picked up the little glass jug of syrup and covered his plate in it.

“It is. My husband, Geoff? He did all the work.”

“Yeah? He must be pretty creative.” Who knew there were so many different ways to draw a triskelion? He’d seen at least ten or twelve and he figured there had to be more going up that arm. He started in on his French toast. “Mm. So good.” Like foodgasm good.

“Enjoy, huh? It’s on the house.” Carter grinned at him, dark eyes wrinkling with the power of his smile. “The bike looks great, man. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad you’re happy with it. I thought it came out pretty sweet.” Yeah, he could maybe be more humble. But he knew what his strengths were, and custom bikes was one of them. He was good at what he did. He smiled right back at Carter. “Try not to get in my way again, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah. Pay attention, and I’ll do my best.” The wink he got was pure mischief.

He laughed. “You’re on. Listen, what are you doing Sunday? You want to ride? We could have a rematch.”

“Sure. Sunday’s my day off. Let me check with Geoff, but he’ll be asleep. He works late on Saturdays.”

“Perfect.” He swallowed the big bite he had in his mouth. “Don’t let me keep you, I get that it’s busy. Thank you so much for the lunch.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll text you.” Then poof, Carter was off and running, greeting customers and bussing tables.

He knew Carter was going to like how he’d fixed up the bike. He knew it. Just like he was sure Troy’s stunning green eyes had gotten a good look at his ring, the one bearing the symbol that matched the carpet of amazing ink on the cook’s arm.

He finished his food and left a great big tip. Then he pulled out one of his business cards from the shop, flipped it over and wrote a quick note on the back before handing it to the hostess.

“Excuse me. Troy might need to reach me, so can you make sure he gets this?” He held the card out to her.

“Yeah, sure. Have a good day.”

“Thanks much. You too.” As he was leaving, he heard her calling back to Troy for more sandwiches to go.

 

 

Title: Breaking the Rules, The Triskelion Series, Book One
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B08HL47PTT
ISBN13: 978-1-7330076-2-7

 

 

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Special Delivery — A Wrecked Holiday Novel

Contributors: Jodi Payne and BA Tortuga
Series: East Meets Western #2
Genre: , , , ,
Release Date: November 24, 2020
Pages: 192

And baby makes three?
It’s fall in Vermont. The holidays are coming, the leaves are turning brilliant colors, and Skyler and Beckett are expecting a baby! They’re picking out furniture and paint colors for the nursery. They’re looking at ultrasounds and choosing names.
But nothing is ever simple for these two, and something they’re not expecting throws a wrench--or a great big crowbar--into Beck’s carefully planned paternity leave and Sky’s nursery decorations. But is it a disaster, a blessing, or both?
As with all deliveries, they’re at the mercy of fate and mother nature. They’ll be adding to their family—but they’ll be doing it in the most chaotic way possible.

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Also in this series:

 

Chapter One

 

“Thank you, ma’am. Yes, ma’am. No, sir, I’m retired. Nice to meet you, sir. Hey, kiddo, I like your hat.”

Skyler had spent ten days doing publicity to support his annual Vermont invitational bull riding event that happened every spring. It was a big hit with the locals, and it drew folks from all over the country too, which made him popular in Burlington. He’d been shaking hands and signing shit like hats and programs, nodding, making goofy faces at babies, and pretending he was jealous that all the young guys were still riding.

Thank goodness for Danny, last spring’s champ, and one of those younger riders. Danny was great at pulling people in, had three times his energy, and was eager to please.

With Danny’s help, he’d secured sponsors and spread around a lot of good energy. But now he was sore, tired, and grumpy and ready to get home to his man and his critters. Flying, even in first class, was less than fun, and he had a husband waiting for him.

He finished his tomato juice and watched the orange and yellow trees. Pretty pretty.

The seat next to him was empty, which he appreciated, and he just wanted to rest until they landed. He knew Beckett was ready for him to get home too. They had to start doing the dance of his next exhibition.

This one would be number three, for chrissake. Number three in the spring, and Lord willing and the creek didn’t rise, there’d be three of them too.

Lord help him. Miss Angie had caught pregnant straightaway; one time with the turkey baster, and she was ready to go. Beckett had done good homework. Whatever service he’d found hooked them right up—he’d just made a donation in a cup, and now their little one was cooking. They would be busy as all get out come the event.

“Sir, can you put your seat back up, please?” The stewardess was a pretty girl, all big black eyes and warm smile.

“Surely.” He put the deal up, and then they were landing in short order. Lord have mercy, he was ready for this. As soon as they hit the ground, he turned his phone on.

It led to a bunch of texts.

Miss you.

Did you make your flight?

Are you home yet? I want to get my arms around you. That one was followed by a string of eggplants.

Please. Home btw. Yay.

Hey, husband. Where are you?

Pulling up to the gate. Be heading your way soon. Sky leaned a little hard on his cane when he stood, but he got his bag down without toppling over, or losing his hat, which was a win.

Beck caught sight of him before he made it off the escalator, and hurried his way. “Oh, my God! It’s Skyler Paulson! Can I get an autograph?”

“You got a buck?” He winked at Beck, one arm sliding around his lover’s back as he stepped off. It still felt bold as all get out to touch in public.

“I’m fresh out of bucks.” Beck caught him up, taking some of his weight off his hip and hugged him tight. “You good? Welcome home.”

“Thanks. Glad to be here.” They headed for baggage claim to wait. “How’s your week been?”

“Busy. I hated not coming with you, but…you know.”

“Yeah, I know. Important man.”

Beck let him lean a little bit more, handing off his phone. “Hey, did you see this yet? Angelica sent it a couple of hours ago. She had some weird cramping, and they sent her for an ultrasound.” Beckett’s hand tucked tighter around his waist. “She’s fine. The baby is fine. She had…Braxton Hicks…or something. Fakey contractions. No big deal. But isn’t our little Sky-ling perfect? The baby looks more like a baby and less like a blob this time.”

His husband sounded so damn proud.

“Is she okay? Does she need anything?” Sky’s heart raced at the thought of anything happening to either Angie or their wee one.

“She said she’s fine. She was a little worried, but she’s not anymore. I have a brief to get out, but maybe you could stop by with some of that ice cream she likes tomorrow and check in on her?”

“Sure.” God, no. He wanted to sleep. Still, no rest for the wicked.

Beck grinned at him, eyes twinkling. “And so it begins, huh? Pretty soon I’ll be on paternity leave.”

“You’ll be a man of leisure,” he teased back. He’d never even heard of paternity leave, but it worked for them, yessir.

“Leisurely not sleeping, you mean?” Beck kept both hands on the wheel but cut his eyes over to Sky. “I think it’s time to put the nursery together. Order some furniture and all that. Paint. Pick some names.”

“Okay. I’m good at putting shit together.” He liked the whole idea of painting that little room, making it all fun and somewhere a baby belonged.

“So for boys I’m thinking Ozzy, or Axl…or maybe Mick,” Beck grinned over at him. “Jimi? Elvis?”

“I will hurt you. No weird-assed names for my baby. Tanner, Dalton, Sterling, Stetson?”

“Stetson? Reel it in, cowboy.” Beck laughed. “I like Dalton, though.”

“Cheyenne if she’s a girl?” He liked Cheyenne. “Or Dallas. Denver is unisex…”

Beck raised an eyebrow. “What’s with the map names? You’re not even from any of those places.”

“What are your ideas, then? Lita? Madonna? Scary?”

“Ooh, Madonna.” For a horrifying second, he thought maybe Beck was serious. “Scarlett. Violet. Hazel…or if you’re not into colors maybe ice cream flavors. Vanilla, Raspberry…” Beckett was having way too much fun.

“Uh-huh. Brittany? Oakley? Shenandoah?”

“Shenandoah is kind of a mouthful, huh?” Beck snorted. “I’ll play along. Charlotte? Elizabeth? Sierra?”

“I like Elizabeth and Sierra both.” Actually, he thought they were beautiful. “Sierra Elizabeth. I like that.”

“Oh. Sierra Elizabeth Paulson-Adler. That’s nice.” Beck reached over and squeezed his hand.

“It is!” Oh, one down, one to go. “Dalton MacKenzie after Mackey?”

Beck nodded. “Yes. After Mackey. Perfect.”

“Wow.” He looked over at his Beck. “That was easy. I missed you all week, bad.”

Beck nodded as he pulled into the driveway. “Yeah. I was waiting on that until we got home.” Even in the dark, he could see all the bushes in front had been trimmed and the garden beds were mulched for winter. Someone had been keeping himself busy this week. “And now we’re home, so…” Beck parked the Jeep and shut it off, then pulled him closer by his shirt and kissed him hard.

The world stopped for a second, and his eyes rolled back in his head. Oh, thank fuck, that was perfect. He reached up and cupped Beckett’s jaw, giving in to the pressure of those hungry lips.

Beckett kissed him until he could only gulp air, before letting him go. “Okay. You’re home.” Beck took a deep, heavy breath, jumped out of the Jeep, and came around to his side. “Now I can breathe. It’s hard without you here.”

“I’m home. I’m tired, but so fucking happy.” Oh, the dog was losing his mind. Sky could hear him. He thought maybe he heard Walter too, meowing under the barking and howling.

“I’m not the only one who missed you. Bruiser’s had his nose to that window for days, and Walter’s been sulking.” Beck scooped Sky right out of his seat and into his arms. “Hey, you.”

“Hey, lover. Tell me I don’t have to leave again forever.” He rubbed their noses together, laughing at his weird codependence. Still, since they’d decided to have a baby, he found himself ready to nail his shoes to the floor.

“Never, ever.” That was a lie and they both knew it, but it felt good to believe it right now. Beck carried him to the front door and set him down. “I’ll get your suitcase. Don’t let the furballs knock you over.”

He braced himself and opened the door, Bruiser hitting him like a ton of bricks. “Oh, my puppy. Has Walter been mean to you, you giant beast?”

Bruiser howled and moaned, telling him all about it, and all the while Walter was staring at him, tail twitching. Uh-oh.

“Bruiser! Down, boy. Inside, go on.” Beck stepped around him and shooed the dog inside, then dropped his suitcase in the foyer. “Hey, Walt. Look who’s home.” Beck ran a hand over Walter’s back and up the length of the cat’s furry tail. “You want a beer? Should I order pizza?”

“Yes, and God, yes.” He toed his boots off, putting them beside the door. “I brought you a present from Vegas.”

“A present?” Beck pulled out his phone and Sky knew the pizza would be on its way shortly. His husband loved the whole ordering by app thing. “You mean other than the gift of finally having you here where I can touch you?”

“Yep, although that’s pretty cool.” He dug out the two bags. The first was a crazy mobile from one of the Cirque stores for the baby—the whole thing made from goofy little polka-dotted monsters. The second was another Venetian mask for the dining room. He’d been buying them for Beck for ages.

Beck’s eyes lit up as he turned the mask over in his hands. “Oh, look at this one! A devil. Those horns…I love it, Sky.” Beck kissed him and ducked into the dining room. “Where should we put it? I’ll hang it tomorrow.”

“Yeah? I’m glad you like it. I thought it went well with the winged one from last year.”

“Yes. That’s where we’ll put it.” Beck held it up on the wall near the winged mask. “Here.”

Walter howled at them from the doorway like he was possessed.

“Uh-oh.”

“Do you not want it there, Walt?” He needed the kitty treats. Stat.

Walter glowered at him, still as stone except for a jerky twitch of his tail.

“There’s a can of tuna on the counter,” Beck whispered, angling his head toward the kitchen.

“You are a gentleman and a scholar.” He went and popped the can open. “Come here, sexy one.”

Walter hesitated, but only for a second before waltzing into the kitchen with his head held high and his tail flagging. Bruiser followed, but Sky knew all he wanted was kisses. Walter required bribery.

He hand-fed his best bud with tuna, whispering to him about how he’d missed him most of all. Christ, he was owned.

Walter purred and devoured the offering, stopping every so often to trill at him and rub against his fingers. Beck distracted Bruiser with love and a chew toy, keeping the big fluff-ball out of their way.

“Walter won’t admit it, but while you were gone…he slept with the dog again.” Beck whispered the last bit. “On your side of the bed. Just like last time.”

“Oh, he’s my good buddy, you know. I don’t know what I’d do without him.” Walter had been there from the time he’d separated off from Beck, hopping right into his truck like he belonged there.

“Come get off that hip.” Beck waited for him to wash the tuna off his fingers, handed him a beer, and led him to the sofa. “Now that all the animals have said hello, you think we can make out until the pizza gets here?”

Someone had missed him bad. “This is a marvelous fucking idea.”

He took a drag of his beer, then pulled Beckett in for a hard kiss.

Beckett set his beer down with a loud thud on the table and held him with both hands. One of them caught him by the nape and the other gripped his shoulder as if making sure he were real. His husband’s kiss was reassuring, but he could feel the rough need around the edges, the heat barely under control. He smiled against Beckett’s lips, and found the heavy, denim-covered cock, rubbing nice and hard.

Damn, it was good to be wanted, to be desired. Craved, even.

“Sky.” Beck had never been shy about what he wanted. Beck groaned and shifted, spreading to give Sky more access. Sky nodded, working open Beck’s fly so he could fish out that sweet cock.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day.” Beck dropped a hand low, trying to reach his fly but couldn’t quite, so those hot fingers teased along his waistband instead.

“All day?” He stroked, base to tip, fingertip working the head. “I couldn’t wait to get back to you.”

Beck nodded, eyes starting to glaze over. “All week. But today, once I knew you were on that plane…” Beck pulled him into another kiss and rocked up into his fingers.

Someone wasn’t going to have to sleep alone tonight, and he was getting laid too.

He dove into the kiss, humming into Beckett’s mouth.

Beck shifted again stretching out and pulling Sky down on top of him, panting softly. Both hands worked his fly open. They’d never quite outgrown the appeal of rubbing off together. “This okay…on the hip?”

“Uh-huh. ’S okay. Want you.” He got them lined up, just right. “Good?”

“So good.” Beck’s hands landed on his ass as he bucked up off the couch. “You…missed me, huh?”

“Every friggin’ second.” That was clear, right? “Every breath.”

“Yeah.” Beck nodded, breathing hard and hauling on his ass. The couch was creaking ominously, which would have been funny if they hadn’t been so fucking focused.

They didn’t have time to linger, either. That pizza was coming, and they didn’t need to answer the door covered in spunk.

Beck shoved one hand between them and tightened it around both of their cocks, sweetening the friction. “Ready, baby?” Beck squeezed, giving him something to work against.

“Fuck!” He arched hard, driving them harder, pre-come slicking the way. “Beck. Beck, right there.”

“Good, yeah? I’ve got you.” Beck looked up at him, deep brown eyes holding his. “Close.”

“Yes. Love you.” More than anything on earth. He dove back into the kiss, both of them working together to get off.

“Mm. Mmm!” Most of Beck’s shout was muffled by his lips, and Beck broke the kiss long enough to get a breath as wet heat spread between them. He followed right behind, only needing a stroke or two more.

He blinked at his lover, swaying a little, heart pounding hard. “Wow.”

Beck chuckled and gave him a drunk-looking smile. “Always wow with you.”

“No shit on that.” He nibbled Beckett’s bottom lip, as lazy as he could be.

“Love you, Stud.” Beck kissed him, then rolled him suddenly, dropping him gently on the couch. “Let me clean up for the pizza guy. You relax.” Beck had his shirt off before he’d even left the room.

Damn, he loved how Beck moved, like it was still easy. He envied that a little, but he liked watching it more. It was good to be home.

 

Title: Special Delivery
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B08MZ7GMFW

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Deviations: Domination

Contributors: Jodi Payne and Chris Owen
Series: Deviations #2
Genre: , , , , ,
Release Date: December 30, 2019 (Third Edition)
Pages: 324

In this sequel to Deviations: Submission, Dom Tobias and Sub Noah are back, learning more about each other and their relationship, and testing the boundaries of what they can and can’t handle, both together and apart.

Tobias works at becoming more comfortable and finding his balance as a full-time Master again. His work brings out the true submissive in Noah, who faces some of his greatest fears, and his greatest secrets, finally confessing to Tobias about a terrible time in his past.

But Noah is not the only one who has a rough time. Tobias breaks down and shows Noah he's not all Dominance, too, which sends shockwaves through their romance, leaving them to wonder if they can hold onto their balance together.

Dominations is a deep exploration of the BDSM scene, with secondary characters who enhance the story and a central romance that has the reader rooting for Tobias and Noah to work through their obstacles and come out stronger.

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EXCERPT FROM DOMINATION

Wednesday. It had been a long, drawn-out week, and Tobias couldn't believe it was still only Wednesday.

He'd had a full day, out of town as usual in the morning, helping a mare to foal. She threw a beautiful dark bay colt that presented very much like his particularly handsome sire, and Tobias had considered making a bid for him right then and there but restrained himself. He was already training Noah; he didn't need another colt to complicate their weekends. Things were busy enough in his life without adding a new horse to his stables, a new responsibility to his already full plate.

In the few weeks since he'd met Noah at his club, Tobias had swung from one rush of feeling to another. Sexually, they were more than compatible, Noah's natural submissive tendencies meshing well with Tobias' own need to dominate. It went deeper than just mere sex, however, and in very short order Tobias and Noah had signed a six-month contract binding them together in a more tangible power exchange.

It was serious, it was important, and it was very heady. Tobias found almost all of his time taken up with thinking about his new submissive, lost in plans and a fair number of daydreams. It made his hours working as a large animal veterinarian seem almost relaxing by comparison. He only hoped that Noah's daydreams were confined to when he wasn't in his patrol car -- a police officer with his mind on his relationship wasn't good for anyone.

When Tobias walked in the door of his uptown condo, he set his keys down on the hall table and hit the play button on the answering machine as he pulled off his boots. After a long beep a rich male voice began to speak. ''Hello, Tobias, it's Bradford. I haven't seen you or your boy around the club in nearly a month. I trust this is a good sign? I'd like to get together and hear about how things are going. Yes, as a matter of fact, I am checking up on you; don't get your knickers in a twist, friend, it's just that... well, I worry. Oh, thank you for sending me a copy of your contract, I've put that in your files. Give me a call, Tobias, and let's have dinner. I'd like to catch up.''

Tobias sighed ruefully and nodded to himself. On some level he'd expected the call, though he hadn't really thought about it in terms of Bradford checking up on them. Still, it wouldn't be a trial to talk about Noah and where things stood at the moment; in fact, he'd welcome another perspective. He had a plan for the weekend and it might be a good idea to talk it over with someone who knew them both.

After stopping in the kitchen long enough to determine that he needed to order out for dinner, Tobias picked up the phone and called Bradford's direct line at the club. If the man didn't pick up, he'd at least be able to leave a message.

''Hello?'' Bradford was a man who'd done very, very well for himself. Part of his success was due to the fact that he could always be relied upon to respect the anonymity and privacy of his members and guests. Case in point, he never answered the phone with his own name or the name of the club, just a simple, discreet greeting, giving away nothing until he knew who was on the other end of the line.

''Good evening, Bradford,'' Tobias said with a smile. ''I got your message, Mother.''

''Ah, sonny-boy, so good to hear from you.'' Bradford snorted. ''Don't give me that crap, Tobias. I set the two of you up, you're both important members, and I want to know how it's going for you. That's called integrity, hmm? Trust me, I haven't a maternal bone in my body.''

Tobias grinned, not buying it for a moment. ''Sure. Whatever you say. You can stop worrying, though; things are fine.'' He crossed to the big window in his living room and looked out at the city lights, counting blocks until he found Noah's.

'''Fine' is such a drab, generic word, Tobias. Tell me what you really mean,'' Bradford encouraged.

''I mean... fine. Good. Great. He's coming along nicely; we've established a base level trust, I think.'' He turned and leaned on the window sill, facing the room. ''He had dinner with Phantom last week.'' Tobias resisted the urge to cringe at the thought of the two men, his new lover and his past lover, chatting happily over dinner. They both tended toward the unpredictable, and that worried him.

''Oh, yes, I know he did. That's part of the reason for my call. I gather it went well? Phan thought he was 'hot.''' Bradford loved gossip and made himself privy to all the rumors around the club. At first glance one might call it catty, but Tobias knew better -- he was simply protecting his own.

''It seemed to go well. Noah was fine when I saw him later. Calm, steady... he seemed to think Phan was -- look, how deep do you want to go here? I'd rather do this in person if you're looking for a long debrief. If you're just needing quiet assurances, both Noah and I are fine. The weekends are going well, and we're in touch through the week as well.''

Tobias knew as soon as he spoke that he'd sounded snappish and protective and that Bradford wouldn't miss it. The trouble was, he wasn't sure why he suddenly felt like pulling back -- and that meant he needed to talk it out. He sighed. ''Damn circular logic,'' he muttered.

''Tobias,'' Bradford sighed and made a clicking sound with his tongue. ''Be my guest tomorrow night for dinner. Here. What would you like to eat? I'll make sure it's prepared for you.''

Tobias rolled his eyes, safely several miles out of Bradford's view. ''Something gentle. Linguini in clam sauce?'' He hoped the tacit acceptance would be enough.

''Done. I look forward to seeing you, Tobias, it's been long enough,'' Bradford said softly, and Tobias could practically hear the man's very genuine smile.

He found himself smiling in reply. ''I'll see you tomorrow night, old friend. Around seven, I think.'' He hung up and turned once more to look out over the city, watching the cars cruise along Lincoln, toward downtown and Noah.

Title: Domination
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B0839M66Z6
ISBN13: 978-1-951011-19-2

 

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Domination is available in FRENCH!
Purchase it from Juno Publishing directly,
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Making a Mark, Triskelion Book #2

Contributors: Jodi Payne, BA Tortuga
Series: Triskelion Series #2
Genre: , , , , , ,
Release Date: October 5, 2021
Pages: 332

When Troy and Saul became lovers, they worried about a lot of things. There was their age gap, their younger Dom-older sub relationship, and Troy’s health, which was made worse by job stress. They managed all that and more with a deep commitment, and with a lot of help from Troy’s longtime best friends, fellow Dom and sub couple Carter and Geoff.

In fact, Saul seems to be what all three of the other men need to see what’s been there all along, and to provide the balance they need to deepen their relationship in a very meaningful way. They’ve already made their marks on each other’s hearts. Now it’s time to start living the life they’ve all been dreaming of.

Nothing is ever perfect or easy, though, and they all have to shift their perceptions. Geoff has to come to terms with his need for submission and desire to dominate Troy, and Carter must redefine the two most important relationships in his life. Troy struggles to understand why Geoff and Carter want this with him now, after years of watching from the outside. And Saul has to create a whole new definition of family. Can they all break the rules again and become something more special than they can even imagine?

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Title: Making a Mark
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B09GX963VV
ISBN13: 978-1-951011-64-2

Hide Bound, A Les’s Bar Novel

Contributors: Jodi Payne, BA Tortuga
Series: Les's Bar #2
Genre: , , , , ,
Release Date: January 18, 2022
Pages: 276

Peter Marshall has had enough of working for Parks and Rec when he comes across an opening for a real carpentry job and decides to give it a go. Building things is his passion, so even though the shop seems a little out there, and the owner seems pretty grumpy, Peter decides to go for it.

Brandon McPhail wishes he didn’t have to hire a new carpenter, but his current one is going out on maternity leave. He’s especially wary of this kid who can’t possibly be old enough to spell BDSM, let alone know what the lifestyle means. But Peter impresses Brandon with both his talent and his tenacity, so Brandon hires him on, reminding himself that he’s in a wheelchair due to his MS, he had a terrible experience in his last relationship, and despite how clueless Peter is about the lifestyle, he’s not interested in taking on another sub.

The chemistry between them is undeniable, though, and it’s not long before they’re exploring what they can learn from each other. Peter is a natural at fulfilling Brandon’s needs, and Brandon thinks he’s teaching Peter everything he’s eager to learn, but when danger threatens, they have to help their friends through it while trying to navigate their new relationship. Can they forge bonds strong enough to bind them together for life?

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Title: Hide Bound
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B09PGKXTSK
ISBN13: 978-1-951011-68-0

Land of Enchantment

Contributors: Jodi Payne and BA Tortuga
Series: Higher Elevation #2
Genre: , , , , ,
Release Date: September 24, 2019
Pages: 330

Land of Enchantment

An East Meets Western M/M Romance

East meets west. City meets country. Though there’s no denying opposites attract, can a college kid from New Jersey and a New Mexican cowboy learn to speak the same language, let alone trust each other?

When Mason Wild heads west to escape his past, he doesn’t have a plan or a penny to his name. Luckily he finds a job with a roofing company run by a rodeo cowboy who’s kind, easy to work for, and even with his jaw wired shut, hotter than July in the high desert.

Bull rider Levi Yost knows what it’s like to be down on his luck. He’s not much older than Mason, but he’s been around the block a few times, or at least around the rodeo arena. He takes a chance on the kid, giving him a job and a place to live on his ranch. The two of them discover a surprising amount of common ground, but trouble has a way of finding each of them. Mason has to learn to be fully honest with Levi, who in turn has to realize he’s not just riding out for himself anymore. 

Available to purchase, or to borrow with Kindle Unlimited.

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Chapter One

MASON WILD’S first stop after leaving New Jersey was a rest area west of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, where he met a truck driver in the men’s room who was headed down Interstate 81 toward Roanoke. It was the farthest away from home he’d ever been.

He had a little money on him but not much, and he had to stretch it pretty far because it was slow going finding rides after that until he’d passed through Knoxville and Nashville and landed in Jackson, Tennessee. By then he was a kind of hungry he’d never been in his whole life. He asked around, found some day work, and stayed there two days, keeping his head down and moving rocks around. It was shit money, but it was better than nothing, and nobody cared what his name was.

From Jackson he hitched a ride to Memphis. He was doing his best to be a good passenger, be polite like his mom taught him and just keep his stupid mouth shut. That was hard. He usually liked people and could talk about whatever when he wanted to, but right now he didn’t want to be too memorable.

Outside Memphis, he finally found a truck driver who was on a long haul. The guy was headed all the way to El Paso, and Mason figured what the hell, that was pretty damn far away, right? On the way, while the driver talked on and on for hours, he looked out the window as everything he understood disappeared in the rearview mirror and the world around him got flatter and drier. It felt like he spent weeks in that truck.

When he got to El Paso, he lucked into a stretch of work gutting some houses in town, but man, that was a long week. It was hot out and not only did the guys he was working with all seem to know each other, but they all knew what they were doing too. He knew some Spanish—you didn’t grow up in North Jersey and not know some Spanish—but apparently only enough local slang to figure out when he was being made fun of. Still, he was pretty much the biggest guy on the job, and he managed to hold his own even if they didn’t like his sneakers.

Mason hated them lately too. Everybody he knew wore sneakers at home, but out here, not only did he stand out as a city kid, but they were totally useless. He demolished a kitchen with a couple of guys one morning and stepped on a screw sticking up out of a cabinet door. It went right through his sole but luckily not into his foot. After that he spent half his time making sure he didn’t step on anything else or drop anything on his toes either. He couldn’t afford to do the hospital thing.

He was pretty sure he had enough money for some decent boots now, though, and he decided he’d buy some at his next stop—not that he knew where that was yet. But he was running out of real estate and he’d better figure something out soon. He couldn’t travel much farther away than he already had.

From El Paso the interstate only went north. He found a guy headed up 25 through Albuquerque, and hitched a ride, hoping he could bail somewhere near civilization.

It was an amazing drive—the grays and the tans and pinks seemed to be everywhere, the mountains and mesas like a whole foreign landscape.

“You know where you’re headed, kid?” The old cowboy didn’t look the slightest bit worried about picking him up. In fact, “Almon Ryder from right outside Dallas, pleased to meetcha, I do have my conceal carry permit,” looked like he might enjoy a bit of a fight.

“No.” Mason glanced over at him, wondering how polite the old guy expected him to be. He wasn’t planning on fighting anyone again. Ever. “Uh… no, sir. I’m just looking for work. You know.” Not too friendly, keep it to small talk. He’d gotten pretty good at riding in the passenger side of a semi and mostly pretending he wasn’t there, but a pickup was closer quarters.

“I do. There’s always work for guys that are willing. I’m going to see my son at UNM. He plays baseball there.”

Mason had no idea where that was. Baseball was awesome, though. “Yeah? That’s cool. Is he on a scholarship?”

“Yeah. He’s a good kid. My youngest. I have eight.”

“Sons?”

“Children. Seven of them are girls.”

“Holy crap!” He winced. “Uh. I mean, wow. That’s great. You’re totally outnumbered. And lucky. You’re very lucky.” He rolled his eyes. He should be keeping his stupid mouth shut. “Sorry.”

“I am totally outnumbered, kid. I lost my wife to breast cancer five years ago, with three still in school. Thank God for the oldest girls or the youngest might have starved.” The huge laugh boomed out, filling the cab.

Whoa. Small world. “I’m sorry, man. I lost my mom two years ago, same thing.” What a horrible time that had been. His whole senior year. “What was your wife’s name?”

“Sueann. She was a good woman. I’m sorry about your momma. It ain’t right.”

“Sueann. That’s a pretty name.” Nope. It wasn’t right. He used to think there was a bigger plan, but he wasn’t so sure anymore. He was just glad he didn’t have to break Mom’s heart when he left home. “So your youngest is in college. Where’s your oldest?”

“Married with four babies in Dallas. She’s an ER nurse. Her husband does something on the computer for work. He’s good to her and loves those babies, so I suppose I won’t have to kill him.”

“Uh. Well, that’s good, I guess?” Jesus. Everything he’d ever heard about Texans was true. Other things were true too, like this guy was super friendly and kind, but the whole gun-toting, bigger-than-life, major-accent thing? Totally true. And awesome. He’d never met anyone from Texas before now. Or wait, one of the truck drivers? The guy who’d driven him from Harrisburg to Roanoke… no wait, he was from Georgia.

His stomach growled. Loud. He looked out the window and pretended like he didn’t notice.

Almon grinned over at him. “You too, huh? There’s a McD’s up here. I’ll buy you a burger. You ain’t a vegetabletarian, right?”

He cheeks got hot. He hated handouts, but he wasn’t exactly flush at the moment. “Not me. If it’s food, I’ll eat it. That’s really nice of you. Thanks.” Vegetabletarian. Awesome.

“I hate eating alone, and I been down on my luck once or twice.”

“I’ll figure it out. I can work. I don’t know how to do much, but I’m big enough and I learn fast.” He had no choice, right? Thank God he didn’t have eight kids to feed. Whoa.

“Then you’ll be fine.” Almon pulled off and parked. “Let’s go in. Christ, my ass is too old to make this drive for a ball game.”

He got out of the truck. Almon was paying; he’d eat wherever the guy wanted to. He stretched, still a little sore from the last day of work and all the heavy lifting the smaller, older guys seemed happy to let him do. “Did you drive all the way from Dallas?”

“No, sir. I had been in Austin, seeing my four girls there; then I headed this direction.” He loved the way Almon said, “die-rection.”

“That’s a long drive. Geez. For a baseball game? He must be really good.” He followed Almon inside, getting blasted by the cool air as he held the door. The smell of the burgers and fries made his stomach growl again and his mouth water.

“Well, I haven’t seen my boy in a few months. What’s your poison?”

“Uh. The Buttermilk Crispy Chicken thing. Sandwich. Please.” And a ton of fries and a vanilla milkshake, but he wasn’t going to get greedy. Son in college in New Mexico, daughter in Dallas, four girls in Austin… he was missing one.

“Where’s your other daughter?” he asked as they headed over to a table with their food. He knew he probably shouldn’t be so chatty, but it felt good to have a real conversation with someone after almost a month of mostly keeping to himself. No one back home would believe he managed to keep quiet for this long.

“Two others.” Almon laughed happily. “Missy is in nursing school in Arlington, and Bessa’s in a band on the road. Last time I talked to her, she was in Oklahoma City, but I think she’s heading to Kansas City next. She’s hard to keep track of, that girl.”

“Two! Geez, that’s right. I’m glad you can keep track of them all.” He laughed. He’d have left one somewhere by mistake.

They sat, and the table got quiet as Mason sucked down his chicken. God, he could eat four of these things, easy. His sister had just… well, before he left, Izzy had told him she thought maybe he was still growing. He figured he just had a big appetite.

“They gave me an extra set of fries by mistake, kid. You want?”

“You don’t want ’em? Sure. Thanks.” Almon slid them over his direction, and he snarfed those down too. He had a feeling they weren’t there by mistake. He’d lucked out big-time on his ride. Back East he’d be wondering what the guy wanted from him, but Almon seemed like the legit dad type. Mason liked him.

“No problem. Doc doesn’t want me having too many, you know? I ain’t getting any younger.”

He nodded and grinned at Almon. “Better listen to the doc. If you need help with the rest of those, just ask.”

“Fair enough. I tell you what, this getting old shit is for the birds.”

“You’re not old, man. You just did a ton of driving today. Gotta be eight or nine hours to Austin maybe?”

“Thirteen by the time we get to the Duke City. We’re right outside of T or C right now.”

What? “I have no idea what you just said.” He laughed pretty hard. “I don’t know if it was the words or the accent. Sometimes I feel like I’m on another planet out here.”

“Albuquerque is the Duke City. T or C? That’s the town out here. Good camping.” Almon winked. “You’ll figure it out. New Mexico is a lot like Texas light.”

Like that was helpful. The only thing he knew about Texas was that it was huge, took forever and ever to drive across, and he didn’t really want to go back to El Paso.

“So you know where to find work in the city? If not, you might try starting down near the farms in Corrales. My son and his roommates do some odd jobs for beer money, and they always talk about driving up the hill to Rio Rancho, Bernalillo, Corrales. That direction. I will holler at him and ask, if you want.”

“Yeah? That would be awesome. I figured I was going to have to ask around, you know? But if they could maybe hook me up with a place to start, that would rock so hard.” He repeated the names in his head. Rio Rancho, Bernalillo, Corrales. He didn’t need beer money, and he wasn’t old enough to buy it yet anyway. But beer money could buy him some real food instead. He had enough in his pocket from El Paso for a couple of nights in a cheap place and a pair of decent boots. That was a start. If he could find work fast, he’d be golden.

“Can’t hurt to ask. Troy knows a shit-ton of folks.” Obviously Troy got that from his father.

“I really appreciate it, man. Thanks.” He hopped up. “Not rushing you, I just need to stretch my legs.” They were long—they got tired of being folded up under a dashboard after a while.

“Stretch away.” Almon pulled out his phone and started typing.

Mason looked at Almon’s phone, feeling kind of jealous. He missed his phone. He missed texting his crew and his sister, and Snapchat and iTunes. He even missed that stupid foulmouthed weather app. Not that he needed a weather app out here. The weather was the same every day. Hot.

He shook his legs out and scanned the other booths. People even looked different out here. More relaxed maybe. Tan too. There was an awful lot of good-looking skin out here.

The wind was blowing when he went outside, the black clouds covering the mountains like a blanket. Did black clouds mean rain? Down here or just up there? He knew he’d have a lot to learn out here, but he hadn’t expected understanding the weather to be on that list.

Mason stuck his hands in his pockets and breathed in the air. It did seem a little cooler. Sticky. And it was definitely cleaner than the city. He didn’t recognize the scent on the breeze at first, but it finally hit him about a half second before the wall of water started moving across the parking lot.

Jesus. Jesus, look at that.

He stepped back under the awning by the door and watched it march toward him. Where the hell had that come from? He got a little spray as the rain hit the sidewalk and drenched the building, but not enough to drive him back inside. This was way too cool.

The rain came down in waves, the parking lot turning to standing water in seconds. This was a deluge, and it had hit so fast.

If he were home, he’d be snapping pictures. Instead he just tried to memorize the way the water dumped from the sky and how he could just barely make out Almon’s truck at the end of the parking lot, so maybe he could tell Izzy about it one day.

“Look at that, huh? I ain’t never seen rain come down so fast and hard like here.” Almon grinned from the open door. “It won’t last.”

“I’ve never seen anything like this at all. I looked up and it was just coming at me. Like this crazy wall just cruising across the parking lot.” He shook his head. “Insane.”

“Rain in the desert. Talked to Troy, and he says he’ll make up a list of places that have steady work.”

“No way, really? That’s… wow. Thank you so much. Tell Troy I owe him a solid.” Steady work. Maybe this could be his last stop for a while. He could handle that. It was beautiful out here even if was hot and poured buckets sometimes.

“He’s a good kid. I think I’ll….” Just like that, the rain stopped like someone turning off a faucet.

He stuck a hand out from under the awning, then stepped out as well and looked up at the sky. “Huh. That’s it?” The clouds just rolled away the way they’d rolled in.

“That’s it. You ready to go?”

“Yeah. Sure.” He stared at the sky as he headed over to the truck, though, like maybe it might change its mind and start pouring again. He hopped up into the passenger side and stretched his neck as he pulled on his seat belt, feeling a little stiff and headachey. Probably that storm rolling through so fast. His mom used to get weather headaches. Or maybe like a blood sugar thing. “Thanks again for the food, man.” He was going to have to buy some Advil or something wherever Almon dropped him off.

“No problem. Thanks for the company.”

He leaned his head back on the headrest and stretched his legs out as far as he could manage, which wasn’t really far enough. “What do you do for work?”

“I own a cattle ranch, raise cuttin’ horses, and I run futurity bulls. Little bit of everything, I guess.”

Language barrier again. Some days he felt dumber and dumber by the minute out here. “You lost me again. What’s a futurity bull?”

“It’s a baby bucking bull, for all intents and purposes. You know, for the rodeo?”

“Oh yeah, I’ve heard of a rodeo. Guys have to ride crazy bulls and they win all kinds of money if they stay on long enough.” Why anybody would do that, he had no idea. He’d never seen anyone ride, but he kind of thought the guys were crazier than the bulls.

“If they’re on the big show, yeah. The steadier money is in the ropers.”

As they drove on, Mason had a bunch of questions, and Almon answered them patiently and told him about all the different rodeo events. It passed the time for one thing, but he kind of thought Almon enjoyed teaching him.

The mountains just kept getting bigger and closer. There weren’t any trees, really, just these huge rocky things. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to so much open space.

Things got quiet, and Almon turned on the radio. He closed his eyes after a while, not feeling all that great. Carsick maybe. It didn’t feel like a lot of time had passed, but when he opened his eyes again, it was almost dark out. He must have fallen asleep.

“Grab you some water, kid. You look green.” Almon pulled into the city, the trails of light flashing madly.

“Huh? I’m good.” He wasn’t good. The streetlights made him squint, and his brain was trying to escape out the top of his head. He’d sell his soul for some Advil. He reached over the seat and grabbed a bottle of water. “Is this Albuquerque? You can let me off anywhere, man. I really appreciate everything. I know you have people to see.”

“This is Albuquerque. Do you have somewhere to go?”

He shrugged. “I’ll find something.” All he needed was that list. He could find somewhere to crash for tonight, head right out in the morning to get work, and then—oh, shit. “You’re gonna want to pull over, man.” Seriously? He was gonna hurl.

Almon didn’t say a thing. The truck just swerved right off to the curb and Mason jumped out and brought up his lunch. After that, his head really started to pound. He rinsed his mouth and spat, then leaned back against the side of the truck with a groan. “Fuckin’ A.”

“Water, kid. Pound water. You got altitude sickness.” Almon handed him another bottle.

He took the bottle and swallowed back a huge gulp, but it didn’t sit right in his stomach. “I’ve got what?” He wasn’t sure that water wasn’t going to come back up too, but he kept drinking. Almon seemed to know what he was talking about. “There’s a little alien in my head, and the bastard is going to town with a jackhammer, I swear to God.”

“Water will fix it. Keep it down, and then we’ll try Tylenol. Do you have somewhere to go?”

“Not yet. I’ll find some… something. Shit.” He turned around and braced a hand on the truck, sure he was going to puke again, but he didn’t quite. His guts just felt punky.

“No. I’ll get you a room at the Motel 6. Just for a night until Troy can get you some information. Drink your water.”

He leaned on the truck again and finished off the bottle in his hand. “Thanks. It would be great if you could drop me at the Motel 6. I can get myself a room.” He felt like he was dying. He needed a room tonight; he’d figure it out. He could let his boots wait another week.

“I’ve got a room too. No stress.” Almon grinned, the look a little wry. “Troy’s got five roommates. Male ones. I’m not staying there.”

He snorted. He tried for some sort of grin but wasn’t sure he managed it. “Oh. Gross. I hear that. Can I get another water?”

“Absolutely. Keep drinking, have a nap and a shower. You’ll be okay.”

He climbed back into the truck and pulled out another bottle of water. “I guess you’re used to this altitude thing?” He sipped the water and sank back into the seat.

“Not everyone has a problem. I have a daughter that just has to fight it with all she is.” Almon gave him a half grin. “You ready for me to move again?”

“I guess I can relate to her, huh? Yeah, I’m good. Just gonna keep my eyes closed.” He’d like to look around, get his bearings, but that was going to have to wait for tomorrow.

“We ain’t got far.”

Almon was telling the truth—they pulled into a Motel 6 a minute later, and then Almon handed him a key card for a room, just like that. “I got to go grab my boy and take him to supper. You get some rest, and if you want, I’ll introduce y’all in the morning over breakfast.”

He looked at the key card and then back at Almon, trying hard to just accept help gracefully. It wasn’t easy. “Thanks. I owe you. Have a good dinner. I’d love to meet Troy tomorrow.” Hopefully he’d feel better by morning. Right now, he was going to fight back the frustration he was feeling and try to be grateful, crawl into bed, and die for a while.

“Drink your water. It will help, huh? Even if it makes you feel like your back teeth are floating.”

“Totally, man. I’m on it.” He stuck out his hand to shake, looking Almon right in the eye like Mom taught him to. She said nobody trusted a man that couldn’t look them in the eye. “Thanks again.

“You’re welcome. Get some good rest, and I’ll knock in the morning, okay?”

“Will do. Night.” He gave Almon a nod, backed up a few steps, and then set off to find his room.

He sucked down the rest of his water as soon as he got inside. He wanted to shower. He knew he should. He probably smelled like a… huh. Like a homeless guy, which he pretty much was right now. But that bed was calling his name, and that’s as far as he got. He’d clean up in the morning.

Title: Land of Enchantment
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B07XJHS2VW
ISBN13: 978-1-7330076-8-9

 

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Cowboy Protection

Contributors: Jodi Payne & BA Tortuga
Series: Merry Everything Series #2
Genre: , , , , , ,
Release Date: 11/22/22
Pages: 256

Maverick “Mackey” Keyes keeps the rodeo cowboys safe on his watch and he knows how to make his bullfighting team walk the line. He might be starting to feel his years, but he’s a pro, and he’s not afraid of anything that might happen on the arena floor.

Sidney Scott knows how to go with the flow, so when his dream job passes him by, he grabs the chance to work the bull riding circuit as a TV producer. He’s going to do the job right, traveling with the show, even if he hears some rumbling from the riders.

Mackey and Sid butt heads more than once, but when it really counts, they manage to get on the same page. When Mackey is injured, Sid steps up to help, and things take a far more personal turn. They might have been able to ignore the growing attraction between them at work, but a long road trip over the Christmas holiday and time away from the other cowboys lets them find something together that neither of them expect, but both of them need.

Cowboy Protection is an opposites attract, rodeo romance featuring a bullfighter and a corporate suit, with a side of holiday magic.

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Also in this series:
Title: Cowboy Protection
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B0BG3DZCHC