Roughstock: Part One
Blind Ride
Jason Scott has everything a bull rider wants—success, money and traveling partner Andy Baxter. When he loses his sight in an accident, he stands to lose it all.
Jason Scott is at the top of the bull riding game, on his way to a winning season. Along with his traveling partner, Andy Baxter, he’s riding hard on the circuit, working around the country with all of the other bull riders and bullfighters, living the good life. The only thing he wishes he had is Bax, but he’s afraid to take the step that would make them more than friends, worried that it will ruin everything.
When a terrible accident leaves Jason unable to see, his whole life goes south. Jason decides to chuck it all, determined to go home and hide at his momma’s ranch. Bax has other ideas. He wants to make sure his best friend doesn’t give up, and he hatches a plan that stuns Jason and makes their friends and family think he’s crazy.
With the help of the other bull riders and a very persistent bull fighter named Coke, Bax convinces Jason to give life one more try. With Jason cautiously learning to hope, and his relationship with Bax going to the next level, life gets pretty complicated. Everyone gets in on the project, from Jason’s strong-willed mother to an entire ranch full of children, all of them working to help Jason do what he loves.
And a Smile
All Coke Pharris wants is for his cowboys to be safe—all of them. When rodeo clown, Dillon, sets to prove that there’s more to the bullfighter, people could get hurt.
It’s Coke Pharris’ job to save bull riders from bulls, and he takes his work very seriously. Which is why he’s devastated when one of his favorite riders gets hurt, and he’s determined to help the young man ride again. Dillon Walsh is the arena entertainer for the bull riding tour, and he wants to help. He also wants Coke, has been admiring the man for a long time. He hasn’t made a move on Coke for fear of messing up their friendship, but when he finds out Coke might feel the same way, Dillon has to try to win Coke over.
Coke thinks he’s too old for Dillon, too beat up and scarred, but he can’t resist when Dillon finally makes a play for him. Dillon is like a wet dream for Coke, and the two of them have a great time getting to know each other better, at least until the danger of their job threatens to come between them. Will Dillon and Coke be able to help their friend and weather the problems that blow their way?
File Gumbo
Beau is riding like the two-time champ that he is, but nothing is assured in the world of bullriding—not happiness, not wealth, and not survival.
Beau is a two-time champion bullrider who is working on his third title. Sam is his long-time lover and traveling partner, who is feeling the sting of having just about the worst season he can remember.
The two of them are on the road together twenty-four-seven, and it’s starting to get to them a little, between the constant injuries Sam faces, and the relentless press that Beau has to put up with.
Add in friends on the circuit who need their help and the fact that they have to hide what they mean to each other, and it’s no wonder that Sam and Beau’s relationship is starting to wear a little from the friction.
When things blow up in their faces, Sam leaves the bullriding tour for a while, but the boys find out they’re far more miserable apart than they are together. Beau and Sam may agree to disagree in order to make peace and help out their friends Jason and Coke, but in the unpredictable world of extreme sports, nothing goes as it’s planned. Can Beau and Sam recover from what just might be the last ride of Sam’s life?
Publisher's Note: These books were previously released elsewhere. They were revised and reedited for release with Pride Publishing.
General Release Date: 1st October 2019
Jason stood there with the big fake check for the event win, watching the crowd go one of two ways—up and out of the stands, or down to wait for the guys to make the autograph circuit. He fucking hated this part.
That little broad from the XSports channel was waiting with her bright orange hair and her too tight jeans. He knew how it’d go, too. Blah blah blah Jason Scott blah blah blah race for the finals blah blah blah new kids chasing his ass.
Goodie.
He managed to get through all the questions without being an asshole, but not before a huge stack of fans were hanging over the fence, waving programs and hats, hollering his name. He ducked under into the pens and headed toward the back. He just wasn’t good at that whole meet-and-greet thing.
“You’re gonna get a reputation as an asshole, man.” His best buddy, Andy Baxter, fell in beside him, boots clacking against the concrete walkway back to the locker room.
“Yeah, yeah. Better let them think I might be than know I am. ‘sides, I don’t see your happy ass out there, Bax.”
And shit, nine times out of ten Bax was out there glad-handing.
“It was a long night. My knee’s killin’ me.”
That slow Texas drawl always made him smile, because it made everyone think Bax was laid-back, maybe not so bright.
Jason knew better.
“Yeah?” He winced, shook his head. “You came down on it fucking hard. I swear that bull has it out for you.”
It was hell getting old.
“I did.” Bax shrugged, sticking his hands in the pockets of his old school Wranglers. “I ain’t the man of steel I used to be.”
“Bullshit.” There wasn’t any bastard on Earth tough as Bax. He knew it to the bone. “You want to go get a steak?”
“Hell, yes. Someplace not at the hotel.” They were staying at the sanctioned hotel because the sponsors had asked Jason to, but eating there was like sitting in a fishbowl.
“I got the truck here. We can go anywhere.” He nodded to Little Jack and Harvey who were still waiting outside sports medicine. DJ had taken one hell of a spill, just got caught up and dragged. “Y’all heard something?”
Jack shook his head. “They ain’t called the am’blance. That’s gotta be good, huh?”
“I guess.”
“Well, you call me, you hear something, yeah?” Bax said, nodding. “Come on, man. Food.”
“I hear you, old man.” He winked at Jack, headed off, following that tight little ass to get their gear.
“Not that much older than you, Mini.” Bax took every opportunity to give him shit about how much shorter he was.
“Three years is a fucking eternity.” He ducked the lazy swing, just hooting with it. “You still scattered from the round, man? You missed.”
“You were on the move. Stand up and let me hit you, man.” That laugh was sure enough the best way to make him forget all the shit his sponsors wished he would do.
“Fuck you.” He started stripping off his shirt, hunting something clean and less dusty.
“Here.” One of his hanging shirts landed on his shoulder. “That one looks good on.”
“Thanks.” He redid the smell-good, the deodorant. Then he changed his boots. “Man, I need a beer.”
“We can have that with supper. Or, hey, we could go play some pool.” Oh, yeah, because Bax wanted to shark that five thousand he’d won in the second go-round.
“We could do both. Hell, after a steak, I might feel ten years younger.” He got himself put together, tucked in his shirt and got his belt buckled. Okay. Wallet. Phone. Bag. Time to get out of Dodge. “Besides, all the buckle bunnies’ll be gone home by late.”
“True enough.” They went out the back way, Bax’s white shirt setting off his deep tan, that black hat playing hide and seek with Bax’s dark brown eyes and smile lines.
Jason tossed his gear into the back, thumping his cock but good as it did its dead-level best to wake up and say hello and howdy to Bax.
Good night. You’d think he was a Brazilian after a good ride. Down boy.
Bax threw his duffel back, too, sliding into the driver’s side. “So, where to? I figure that one little place where you circle your order will be closed.”
“There’s that one place by the highway—about twenty minutes out. It’s nothing but old ranchers taking their women out. Nice T-bones.” And he always got tickled by those tables with the ads printed on them. Reminded him of going to auction with Pa-paw.
“That works.” The big dualie slid into traffic like an elephant into a herd of zebras, Bax muscling them right in.
They scooted down 35, radio blaring. He found a pack of smokes in the console and lit one for Bax, then got himself one. Three days of rest, then Tulsa.
“You think we ought to try and hit home ’fore Tulsa?”
It was kinda eerie sometimes, the way Bax read his mind. Then again, they’d been on the road together for nigh on six years.
“We can. Momma’d like to see us. ’Course, we could go on to the city. Goof off. Depends on how much you want Momma’s pineapple upside down cake.”
“Oh, I’d rather go see your momma.” That man did have a sweet tooth. Pineapple upside down was Bax’s very favorite.
“Cool. I’ll call her. Let her know we’ll be in.” He took a deep drag, grinned. Lord, lord. “I hope your knee’s up to riding fence.”
“Shit, you know it. Just don’t ask me to walk fence.” Wheeling around a little Honda, Bax started humming with George on the radio, off tune as anything.
“Nah. You wouldn’t be worth shit in Tulsa, then.”
They both hooted, and Jason leaned back, easy in his bones.
Man, event win number three. Check in his pocket. Him and Bax heading for steak.
Life, she was good.
Texan to the bone and an unrepentant Daddy’s Girl, BA Tortuga spends her days with her basset hounds and her beloved wife, texting her buddies, and eating Mexican food. When she’s not doing that, she’s writing. She spends her days off watching rodeo, knitting and surfing Pinterest in the name of research. BA’s personal saviors include her wife, Julia Talbot, her best friends, and coffee. Lots of coffee. Really good coffee.
Having written everything from fist-fighting rednecks to hard-core cowboys to werewolves, BA does her damnedest to tell the stories of her heart, which was raised in Northeast Texas, but has heard the call of the high desert and lives in the Sandias. With books ranging from hard-hitting romance, to fiery menages, to the most traditional of love stories, BA refuses to be pigeon-holed by anyone but the voices in her head.
You can check out BA's website and blog, and follow her on Pinterest and Instagram.
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