You Are Beautiful

Contest: A Cowboy for You

The kindness of others never ceases to amaze me.

A few weeks back I ran a little charity auction for an original graphite pencil drawing; a companion piece for my latest book. An amazing lady won the bidding, and donated two hundred dollars to the It Gets Better project. But she wasn’t done there. In addition to helping a worthy cause, she also wanted to make sure the drawing went to someone who truly loved cowboys and would cherish it as it was meant to be.

She’d like to gift it to you.

What do you have to do in order to take this drawing home with you? Simply leave a comment right here on my blog, on my Goodreads contest post, or on Twitter (with the hashtag #cowboy4u), and tell us in a paragraph or less, why you love that rugged, elusive cowboy. That’s it.

The Long Tall Drink Companion Drawing
8” x 10” original graphite pencil drawing by L.C. Chase
Contest closes Monday, August 29 @ 11:59pm PST. One winner will be chosen from the entries, and will be announced Tuesday AM.

I’m looking forward to your comments!

Music Monday: Get Some

Get Some by Lykke Li

Because Lykke is just a bit wild, and this tune has just the right groove.

Hanging with Sheriff Zef "Crazy Wind" Kokinos

I was passing through Texas and took the opportunity to turn the tables of Sheriff Zephyr Kokinos, aka Crazy Wind. Good afternoon, Sheriff. Please, have a seat. Thank you for indulging me. Can I get you anything before we get started?
      
*holds chair for LC* I’m fine, thanks. And thank you for having me. And call me Zef, please.

Thank you, Zef. Such a gentleman. Okay, then, we’re officially on the record now… You were a big city cop, why did you decide to sheriff in a single-stoplight town?
       I was tired of everything that went along with the city. The crime, the gangs, and just the overwhelming amounts of bullshit. I’d rather be out here with piles of actual bullshit, you know? At least I can watch my step out here.

And take up Internet dating?
      Well, it wasn’t really dating. It’s more of a matter of finding friends, chatting. Reaching out to connect with other people. It’s funny. I lived in cities with millions of people, but I never connected with any of them. I moved to the sticks and found something more tangible online than anything I ever found offline.

What is one physical attribute you are proud of?
      Jeez. I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?

*I blush* Erm… What one physical attribute would you change?
      *runs his hand over his chest* I hate to say it, but probably the wings. I got them when I first went in the air force, and I’ve had to live up to them ever since.

When you walk into a room, what do you notice first?
      The exits. Then the people, the layout of the room, how to get everybody out safely if there is an emergency.

When you walk into a room, what do you expect people to notice about you?
      I expect they notice the uniform and the badge, although I’d hope they can look past it and just be comfortable with me, the person.

If you were granted three wishes, what would you ask for?
      World peace, an end to famine, and a cure to all diseases? Seriously, I need very little to make me happy. There’s so many who need so much, it would be selfish of me to ask for more.

Did you turn out the way you expected? The way your parents predicted?
      I really don’t know. I’d like to think so. It was just Dad and me for so long. He was disappointed I didn’t love the dirt the way he did, but I think he understood.

What really moves you, or touches you to the soul?
      Everything. I know that sounds like a cop out, but everything touches me in some way. The laughter of children, the shouts in a bar fight, the smell of road kill. It always touches me, whether for better or worse. It’s all a force for change - smile more, hate less, watch where you’re driving.

What's the one thing you have always wanted to do but didn't/couldn't/wouldn't? What would happen if you did do it?
      I can’t think of anything. I don’t like to live in the ‘what-ifs’ and ‘why-nots’. I just try to relish what I have and not go borrowing trouble.

What's the worst thing you've ever done? Why?
      *shakes head* I don’t think I can say. Or should say. The Job, you know?

What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done?
      *laughs* Oh, man, that list is too long to go into here. I can’t even remember most of it. Let’s just say that Jose Cuervo is a friend of mine, and I like to drink him with a little salt and lime. The rest of what happens is just between us, okay?

Describe your ideal mate.
      He’s over six feet tall, green eyes, and drives me crazy when he wears his chaps. *chuckles*
Seriously, it’s more about his spirit. His generosity, his compassion, who he is in the world, those things move me so much more than his physical appearance. And it’s hard to put those things into words. It’s just a quality that you know when you find it. That tuning fork goes off inside you to let you know you’ve found your perfect pitch in someone else.

Do you love anyone?
      I love everyone, to some degree. Every person you meet has something to offer you. Sometimes it’s just a smile when you’ve forgotten yours, sometimes it’s how not to greet someone.
Sometimes, if you’re really lucky, they trust you with their heart. The key is to cherish that and return the gift.

Do you hate anyone?
      I hate peoples’ actions, and their behaviors, but people? No, I don’t hate people. It takes a lot of energy to hate, so I save it for the things that deserve it.

Do you have any deep dark secrets?
      Don’t we all?

What are you most afraid of?
      Cave-ins.

What's the most important thing in your life? What do you value most?
      My relationships. The friendships and camaraderie I have with my deputies is just as valuable to me as the romantic and physical one I have with Bobby Joe. I treasure every one of them, and I will do whatever it takes to keep them.

How do you feel about your life right now? What, if anything, would you like to change?
      Things are going pretty well for me right now. The things that weren’t working? I’m changing those. You can’t get mad at the wind for blowing, all you can you do is adjust your sails, you know?

What do you do to relax?
      Pretty much the same as everyone. Surf the web, curl up with a book and Bobby Joe and just let the world spin.

*sigh* What are you going to do now?
      Now I’m going to have to decide if I actually want to run for the office. I was appointed when the last sheriff retired, so I didn’t have to run a campaign. I know I can do the job, I just don’t know if I’m cut out to get the job, you know?
Outside of that, I plan to spend as much time as it takes getting to know Bobby Joe as thoroughly as I can.
For specifics, well, I’ll just leave that to your imagination.

And my imagination is running a bit wild, so I’m calling this interview. Thanks again, Zef. Now that he’s left the room, I gotta say, if I didn’t love Zef before, I sure do now.

If you want to fall in love with Zef and Bobby Joe, be sure and pick up CRAZY WIND at Dreamspinner Press! And for upcoming stories and the latest scoop, visit Xara X Xanakas.

Guest Blog & Giveaway: Moonlight Becomes You

Hey, all. Piper here. Today M.J. O’Shea and I are taking over L.C.’s blog. In a second, I’m going to talk about inspiration. But the good news is this isn’t just me rambling, this is also a giveaway post! Comment below between now and 9PM PT on Saturday, August 20th, to enter for your chance to win a copy of our new release, Moonlight Becomes You. The prequel, More Than Moonlight, which is comprised of three short stories featuring the characters from Moonlight Becomes You, is also available as a free download on both Goodreads and All Romance eBooks in PDF, EPUB, and MOBI formats.

So, getting back to the topic at hand, I never actually thought I’d write a rocker story. I like to read them, and I love rock stars, but I’d just never had even the slightest hint of an idea for one (and, trust me, that’s kind of surprising because there are a ton of ideas spinning around in my brain). But then one day, as I was sitting there minding my own business and eating a snack while I watched South Park, I was suddenly struck by an idea. And, actually, this idea sprang from the plot of the South Park episode I was watching. Which one, you ask? Oddly, or maybe appropriately, enough, it was Guitar Queer-O. If you’ve seen the episode, you know that Stan and Kyle get hooked on playing Guitar Hero and then they’re approached by a record label, except there’s a catch—the label wants Stan, but not Kyle. So Kyle is dropped from the “band” and replaced by someone else. And, thus, the idea for Moonlight Becomes You popped into my head. What if, I thought, these two boys were older…and they were in love…and one of them was forced into that choice? What would happen? Is that something that could be forgiven? Could their love survive such a thing?

Right away—like literally the minute I finished the episode—I knew I wanted to ask M.J. to write it with me. See, we’d started a critique group a few months before and at some point I’d mentioned to her the possibility of collaborating in the future. I thought it was some distant possibility that might never actually happen, but when I approached M.J. with this idea, she was totally down with writing it together. And what started as the little idea I mentioned above evolved into our novella. Then the idea for that novella turned into an idea for an entire series. (This happens with me a lot. One of the members of my critique group actually calls me the “Sequel Queen” because I constantly have my eye on the horizon.) And now that Moonlight Becomes You has been out for a few days, M.J. and I are happy to see that there is an audience out there for this series. Readers have already been asking for more, and we are beyond grateful to the people who bought the book the same night of the release and had even posted reviews by the next morning. Seriously, we were not expecting that, but let me just say that it was so awesome to see that people were excited and anticipating the release.

As any author will tell you, inspiration can and does come from the most random place sometimes. Just like I thought I’d never write a rocker story, I never thought an episode of South Park would inspire a M/M romance. So in the end I guess M.J. and I owe Matt Stone and Trey Parker a little bit of thanks. Were it not for this idea, we might never have started writing together. Now we have ideas for over a dozen different collaborative projects, and I don’t think I could have chosen someone better to write with. Since the start of this project, M.J. has become one of my best friends. We work well together, and our second joint project is already on submission. You’ll be seeing a lot more titles from us, so keep your eyes peeled! And, of course, we’ll both be writing solo as well.

I’m going to post an excerpt from Moonlight Becomes You below, but before I do, I want to officially hand over the floor to our readers. If you have a question about the characters from Moonlight Becomes You or the prequel, or what’s coming next, feel free to drop it here! If it’s something we can answer without spoilers, we will do so! And, now, without further ado, here is an exclusive excerpt from Moonlight Becomes You. We’re flashing back to when Shane and Jesse were young, about 11 years prior to the start of the book.

~*~

The Excerpt

Then…
Chicago

“Can you believe that guy chucked a beer bottle at Nicky last night?” Jesse asked with a laugh. He covered his mouth like he always had, even though the embarrassing braces had come off over a year before. Jesse was lying on his stomach on his bed, legs bent at the knees, twirling a pencil around in his hand. Occasionally he paused to make a random note in the notebook that rested on the mattress between his elbows.

Shane chuckled at the memory of his brother’s stunned face and strummed a few chords on Jesse’s acoustic. He was sitting cross-legged on the carpet, and he craned his neck to look up at Jesse.

“Nicky shouldn’t have yelled ‘fuck off’ at him.”

Jesse smiled, but he tucked his head down and to the side. Shane knew they were going to have to work on the self-esteem issues if Jesse wanted to be a rock god.

“I can see why he did it, though. That guy was being a total asshole.”

Shane nodded. Jesse was right. He’d been heckling them ridiculously, not even listening to their intro chords before yelling “you suck!”

“Guess we won’t be playing at that bar again,” Shane muttered with a sigh.

“No, we are. Next Wednesday. The owner said some of the regulars are already asking about us. He asked me to control Nicky, though.”

Shane snorted. “I can barely control him, and he’s my brother.”

“True.” Jesse nodded with a shrug and went back to scribbling in his notebook.

Shane strummed a few more chords on Jesse’s acoustic, his mind on the past few months. The local bar scene was brutal. None of them were even old enough to be in most of the venues they played, and they were rarely allowed to leave the stage area for anything other than to use the restroom. The audiences were usually about a half step above blatantly rude, and some, like the previous night’s, were just plain awful. But he knew that Luck had to put in their dues. They’d started after a few months’ practice, playing cover tracks for the school dance and bar mitzvah scene. That had sucked, and the pay was terrible. Shane and Jesse worked the whole time, writing their own material and making call after call, trying to break into something real. They’d played a few open mic nights and gotten the attention of a local booker, who’d signed them up at most of the places they were currently playing.

In the two years the band had been together, they’d gotten so much better, meshing well with each other and getting tighter with every performance. They had to work around Jesse’s college classes and Nick’s school schedule. There was no way that Shane was going to let his little brother drop out no matter how many times he begged, and Jesse…well, he would never even consider it. But Shane knew Jesse thought it was worth it sometimes to stumble into class tired as hell if they’d happened to get a good weekday gig. Shane hoped upon hope that someday soon their gigs would be stadiums and not seedy bars.

Shane had even been working on Jesse a little bit. He’d convinced him to lose the bowl cut for a bit of a punky spike and talked him into a stylish (and much smaller) pair of glasses. The pleated khakis Jesse had worn in high school had long since been replaced by jeans, which were a vast improvement. There wasn’t much Shane could do about…well, about the rest of it. But he didn’t see it so much anymore. He saw pretty gray eyes, nice skin, and soft-looking lips, and there was that voice, which still managed to give him the chills.

Aw, shit…am I into him? No. Not Jesse. Not his nerdy, pudgy best friend. Shane had been dating. Well, not dating, but screwing around. It was surprisingly easy to find random bar hookups, even if you were in an underage no-name band that played every Friday night for free beer and tips. But he’d been feeling lately like something was missing. That couldn’t be it. Could it?

“Hey, listen to this.” Jesse twisted around so that he was leaning forward halfway off the bed with his notebook on the ground. “I thought it would be cool if we had an acoustic track, something pretty.”

“Yeah? Let’s hear it.”

“Start with a B minor chord, then switch to a G.”

Shane tried that out.

“Yeah, do it again, just like that. Play it in three.”

Jesse started to sing, the melody haunting and a bit sad.

“Second glances,
warmed from the sun,
moments slow passing,
never done.”

Shane tried to hide the shivers that raced up his spine with a chuckle. “Hey, that’s pretty cool. Nothing like our usual stuff. You got any more?”

“I’m having trouble with this next part.” Jesse gestured to the notebook.

Shane studied the page Jesse had pointed out, trying not to notice how close his friend’s face was. He could feel the warmth coming from Jesse’s cheek.

“So ‘For the first time’…?”

“Yeah, then I’m lost.”

“How ’bout ‘Someone sees who I am’?”

“And I can’t let you…slip through my hands.” Jesse finished the verse in a whisper, his face turned toward Shane, those intense gray eyes unwavering. Shane leaned forward just a touch.

What the hell? He wanted to…he was going to… Jesse’s mouth got closer. Shane could feel the heat from Jesse’s breath radiating across his face. He couldn’t believe it—he wanted to kiss Jesse…Jesse. And Jesse wanted to kiss him back. Shane reached up, his thumb brushing across peachy cheeks tanned from the late-spring sun. Their lips were brushing, barely touching, and then Jesse curled his hand around Shane’s neck and kissed him. Really kissed him. It was amazing. Shane didn’t have room to think, barely remembered to breathe. All he could do was feel Jesse’s lips on his, soft and eager, pure and sweet, exactly what he hadn’t known he wanted. And it made perfect sense.

~*~

The Blurb

Eleven years ago Shane Ventura made the biggest mistake of his life when he caved in to pressure from his record label to kick his best friend Jesse Seider out of their band, Luck. Though he had a gorgeous voice, Jesse wasn’t beautiful, and didn’t fit the label’s ideal look. But Shane’s never wanted anyone else more, and all the sex and alcohol in the world can’t fill the void Jesse left behind.

As his thirty-second birthday approaches, Shane feels more miserable than ever. Even the prospect of teaming up with Britain’s hottest band, Moonlight, for an epic world tour can’t get him out of his depressive funk. Until he meets lead singer, Kayden Berlin, and falls into instant lust.

Though Kayden acts like he’s not interested, Shane knows he feels the spark between them. But the harder Shane pushes, the more Kayden pulls away. Then one explosive night things finally come to a head and Shane is left nursing a broken heart. That seems to be Shane’s lot–lucky at everything but love, the one thing that matters most. But there’s a lesson Shane still hasn’t learned: when it comes to love, you can’t always leave things to chance.

~*~

Linkage

Babes in Boyland - M.J. and Piper's joint blog
Piper's Website
M.J.'s Website

Guest Blog: 18% Gray by Anne Tenino

The most awesome Anne Tenino came by to hang out on my blog today. She's here to chat about how her new release, 18% GRAY, came to be -- and to share an exclusive excerpt. *squee* Let me tell you, this is one cool story. Both of them. :-)

Okay, Anne. Take it away!

* * *

I was really sick for a few years, which can screw with your mental health. I saw a therapist weekly to deal with what a total downer lying on the couch and/or bed all day was. I still see her twice a month.

What, you may ask, does that have to do with 18% Gray? Weeeellll, it's kinda like this...

My therapist is a Mindfulness practitioner, and she's taught me so much about myself. One of the things she taught me is that it's sometimes easier to see myself as multiple disparate elements. Sometimes even multiple personalities, or fragments of personalities.

Now, I'm bringing in the second thread of this little story, so bear with me. About a year and a half ago, I accidentally bought an M/M anthology, The Ties that Bind. (This is one of the dangers of buying e-books at 3:30 a.m., so beware.) Regardless, it was a very happy accident.

I loved M/M from the minute I started reading it. My husband was confused as hell, but whatever. His problem. Suddenly I wanted to write again, more than I can ever remember wanting to, and I wanted to write M/M. I went to our gay friends and started harassing them for help with my research (the husband loved this, *snort*), and I started doing research on-line.

Yeah, you know the kind of research I mean.

I couldn't figure out why I wanted to write M/M, or why I even liked it so much. Enter my therapist. We started talking about this idea that not only do you have multiple persons or fragments inside you, some of them may not be the same gender as you are physically.

Lightbulb.

I realized that all I needed to do to write M/M was to find that male part of me. I knew, unequivocally, that he was there. I was pretty sure he'd be a smartass twink with a shitty attitude, too. So I went looking, and lo and behold, there he was! Lurking near my spinal column.

That guy is Matt Tennimore, the main protagonist in 18% Gray. Since then, I've found it pretty easy to tap into other male characters. Sometimes they just sort of wander in and start bugging me. Matt will always be special, though. He's one of the ones that's really me.

So, when people read 18% Gray or Happy Birthday to Me, they are reading stuff I basically gutted myself to write. That's not a veiled request to "go easy on me", it's just the way writing is. Hemingway said "There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed."

Okay, since you put up with my ramble, you can have an excerpt, now. One that's not to be found anywhere else. An L.C. Chase exclusive. :-)

This is a few chapters into the book, I think it's Chapter 7. James has ESP he isn't quite in control of, and Matt is fully aware of it. Matt and James are on the run, camping out, and Matt has first watch.

So he watches James.

* * *
The Excerpt:

Matt glanced over at James. His forearms were bare even with the temperature dropping rapidly. He only wore a tight old-style t-shirt to sleep, and his broad shoulder was impressive even hunched over his chest in sleep.

And dammit, his hair was still sexy. Matt didn’t recall ever finding any other guy’s hair sexy. He didn’t even like curly hair. Except on James. His Basque ancestry gave him a golden skin-tone, and his hair was a few shades darker, sort of brownish golden. Even his eyes were dark brownish gold, heavy on the gold. He should appear mono-chromatic and blah, but instead he gave the appearance of a lion. He was… tawny. Especially with the hair. It was sort of like a short mane. James even moved a little like a lion. Slow and smooth. Negligently graceful.

Matt’s mind started to wander into areas better left alone. Like, what would it be like to be run down and caught by that lion, the back of your neck gripped in his jaws while he shoved his cock in you?

“Fuck,” Matt muttered, rubbing his hand over his face. He was half hard and having bestiality fantasies about the guy who not only persecuted him in high school, but could crack his mind like an egg and make him do stuff he didn’t want to do. Or did want to do, but knew was a very bad idea.

“You are a sick fuck,” he told himself under his breath. He glanced back over at James. His eyes were open, watching Matt. Matt looked away after a second. Had he been projecting to him? “Fuck,” he muttered one more time.

When he looked over again, James’s eyes were closed.

* * *
Shameless Self-promotion Section

There are more excerpts on my blog if you're still undecided, annetenino.wordpress.com and of course, feel free to buy at www.dreamspinnerpress.com

There's a free download of my novella Whitetail Rock on my blog, or on Goodreads. If you need .mobi format, I'm hoping to have it up soon on All Romance eBooks. Or you can pay $0.99 on Amazon (sorry, couldn't do it any other way :-( )

Happy reading!
Anne Tenino

Author D.H. Starr is in the House

I’m thrilled to have D.H. Starr, author of Wrestling with Desire, Wrestling with Love and Meant for You, here to talk a little about writing and his upcoming release, FEED. PREY. LOVE.

Thanks so much for dropping by, D.H.

Tell us a little about your upcoming book.
       Well, the book is a combination of two things I love: M/M erotic romance and paranormal stories. In this story, you meet Talib, a 200-year-old vampire who can read minds. He made one big mistake in his past and has been punishing himself ever since. In comes Conley, an innocent and sweet young man who sweeps Talib off his feet. Talib must fight with his inner fears in order to open up to love. This is Book One of a series I’m calling Whispering Hills. Whispering Hills is a residential complex housing both paranormals and humans; the first of its kind.

What was your favorite chapter (or part) to write and why?
       It’s one of the last chapters where Talib is faced with his past and his future and has to make some really difficult decisions. Very dramatic, angsty, and emotional. Just the way I like things to be.

Sweet! I love a good angsty, emotional tale. What does your protagonist think about you? Would he want to hang out with you, the author, his creator?
       I think Talib [would] like me, but only be able to take me in small doses. I have way too much energy for him. There’s a side character, Purvis, a horny little fae fairy who would probably be my best friend.

LOL Great answer! If I came to your house and looked in your refrigerator, what would I find?
       Lots of Brisk Iced Tea.

Are there certain characters you would like to go back to, or is there a theme or idea you’d love to work with?
       I love all my characters and think about them all the time. Each one has more than just one story to tell. But the thing I keep coming back to is the emotional, love-driven plot. I’m more of a character writer than an action plot writer. My characters suffer emotional angst, stress out, dig deep, and in the end they find an inner strength they never knew they had which ultimately leads them to happiness.

What was one of the most surprising things you learned in creating your books?
       That I can write. Sheesh. Who knew?

That you can! What do you find to be the hardest part of writing?
       Revising. Getting the story out is the fun part. Honing the story and crafting it into precisely what my characters need to say is so hard.

Who would win a battle between a ninja and a pirate?
       Ninja, no question, the pirate would be distracted by the shiny things the ninja uses.

So true! When did you first start writing and when did you finish your first book?
       I started writing about two and a half years ago and it took nine months to land my first contract. I was published nine months after that and then had two more books come out rather quickly after that.

Do your characters try to make like bunnies and create ever more convoluted plots for you? Or do you have to coax them out?
       Oh, I have my ideas when I start writing, but my characters take over as soon as the story starts. Those little devils never stick to my outline. They have their own personalities and, alas, I can only convey their story. I wish I could get them in line, but I can’t.

Is there any particular author or book that influenced you in any way either growing up or as an adult?
       Well, I always loved fantasy and science fiction. I read Lloyd Alexander and Susan Cooper when I was younger and then Octavia Butler when I got older. There are two authors who have influenced me greatly in my journey as an author.
       Ally Blue is the first. I read her Bay City Paranormal Investigation series and emailed her to tell her how much I loved her work and she emailed me back. One thing led to another and she was encouraging me to submit, submit, submit.
       Sedonia Guillone is the other author who has really developed and supported me as an author. As the owner of Ai Press, she saw the type of story I like to write and we just connected. The angst, emotions, and character-driven plots are just her style. It’s a match made in heaven. I’m very thankful to her and the press.

What was the best thing before sliced bread?
       Is there anything better than sliced bread? Hmm, I’ll have to think on that.

What would you like your readers to know about this book, or you in general?
       I just want to thank all of the people who have reached out to me, befriended me, and encouraged me along the way. Your excitement, praise, and feedback have inspired me to continue this wild ride.

What can we expect to see next for you?
       Variant Breed: Book One Chris and Zach
       Meant For Him (sequel to Meant For Each Other)
       Variant Breed: Book Two Bishop
       The Omega’s Mate (Book 2 of Whispering Hills)

Thanks again for taking time out of your schedule to hang out, D.H. Good luck with FEED. PREY. LOVE., and all your upcoming releases.

* * *
FEED. PREY. LOVE. Will be available in September at AI Press and Amazon

Get the latest happenings and exclusive excerpts at D.H. Starr’s web/blog: www.dhstarr.com & www.dhstarr.blogspot.com

Music Monday: You Are My Joy

You Are My Joy by Reindeer Section

I first heard this song in a Queer as Folk episode and every time I hear it, I miss Brian and Justin just a little bit more.

The Edge of Glory (is Love)

This video is for everybody. Who has ever loved. And has been loved in return. To those that think it never does or will get better. It does. It does get better, it becomes beautiful.

Release Day Giveaway!

Today is the day Long Tall Drink rides. In celebration I'm giving away a copy of my new ebook to one random reader. Throw your name in the comment hat and I'll draw a winner on Friday, August 5th at midnight (PST).

In the meantime, I leave you with a blurb and an excerpt.

Enjoy!

* * *

The Blurb:
Fourth generation rancher, Ray Ford has lived a lie for nearly forty years. Having seen what can happen to an openly gay cowboy in small town America, and not willing to risk his ranch Ford Creek’s legendary reputation, he keeps that part of himself tightly locked down. Everything changes one Sunday morning when Ray, out of character, picks up a handsome hitchhiker looking for work. Hiring the enigmatic cowboy stretches the bounds of Ray’s control and, suddenly, he finds himself asking just what he'd be willing to risk for a chance at true love.

Travis Morgan learned a hard lesson early in his life -- love is conditional. Even though he’s a world-class horse trainer in high demand, he lives the life of a drifter, moving from ranch to ranch like the wind. He’ll play when the opportunity arises, but he won’t invest himself emotionally. But when he takes on the job training horses at Ford Creek Ranch, the stoic rancher with the sexy five o’clock shadow just might change all that -- if Travis can take the risk and stick around long enough to find out.

Chapter One:
Hands braced at ten and two on the steering wheel, Ray Ford locked his elbows and pressed his shoulders firmly into the solid backrest. Forty minutes in the cab of his pickup hadn’t helped the kink in his spine. A kink that had less to do with last night’s lumpy motel bed than his and Landon’s horizontal acrobatics.

With a satisfying pop he relaxed into the heated leather seat and dropped his right hand from the wheel onto the center console. His fingers tapped along with Toby Keith, who was singing on the radio about bullets and guns and Mexican hotels. A slow smile stretched his lips. Today was a good day to be alive.

Landon had been as wild as a Pryor Mountain mustang—nearly a year and a half later and still endlessly creative. It often surprised Ray when he thought about how that one-time Internet hookup had turned into the mutually beneficial relationship they had now. The hour-plus drive for a night in Billings with his secret lover had always been exactly what he’d needed to take the edge off.

But Ray wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep up with the much younger man, even if it was only every other month. After forty years on this earth, he was beginning to feel every hard-lived day. There was more to it than age. Landon was tiring of the secrecy and had begun to drop subtle hints about wanting a relationship he didn’t have to hide. If Ray were honest with himself, he was tiring too. And that scared the shit out of him. Landon was a good man and deserved much more than Ray could, or would, give him.

For now though, he was content as things stood, and those few stolen hours that allowed him to be himself. But if Landon pushed—

A moving flash of gold light ahead, like a distress signal, pulled him from his thoughts. Focusing on the source of the signal, Ray made out the shape of a lone cowboy camouflaged in faded jeans and a tan jacket, walking along the cracked edge of rough road, a beat-up dust-colored duffel bag heaped over his shoulder. If the sun hadn’t reflected off a buckle, Ray probably wouldn’t have noticed the man until he was on him.

Closing in on the wanderer, Ray realized the smooth, effortless gait couldn’t really be called a walk, more like a swagger.

The cowboy turned around and hooked his thumb to the sky. Long legs planted shoulder-width apart staked his ground. The collar of the well-worn ranch jacket was flipped up, shielding against the chill spring breeze that danced across the plains from the East.

Even though dark sunglasses and a cowboy hat that sat low on the brow worked together to hide most of his face, it was his presence alone that seemed to command attention.

Ray wasn’t one for picking up hitchhikers—not that there were many, if any, on this deserted stretch of US-310, especially in the early hours of a Sunday morning—but something about the man on the side of the road compelled him.

Before he’d thought it through, his foot had moved from the gas pedal to the brake. As if on its own accord, the truck pulled off the two-lane highway, steel-belted tires growling over rumble strips, and came to a stop fifty yards beyond where the cowboy stood. Dust billowed into a small tornado in the wake of the vehicle’s draft, obscuring the man from view. Ray watched in his rearview mirror as the cowboy stepped out of the swirling cloud like a rising phoenix—or the hero in an action movie emerging in slow motion unscathed from a fireball.

“Well, would you look at that,” Ray mumbled. “There’s a long, tall drink of sexy if I ever did see one.”

Lean legs ate up the pavement with an unhurried stride only a truly confident man could master. Now that the cowboy was facing the bright morning sun, the concealing Stetson and sunglasses couldn’t hide the slightly crooked nose, strong square jaw, cleft chin, and lips worthy of exploration.

An odd niggle of anticipation teased the edges of Ray’s consciousness.

He turned off the radio and pressed a button on his armrest to lower the passenger-side window as the cowboy reached the truck. The hitcher removed his sunglasses and leaned in. Intelligent, deep green eyes flecked with bronze, a hint of mischief sparked in their shadows, gazed back at Ray.

“Where you headed, cowboy?”

“Bridger.” Just one word and the deep, resonant voice sent an unexpected spike of heat through Ray’s nervous system.

The words escaped before his brain caught up. “You’re in luck. Hop in.”

The cowboy flashed a magazine-cover smile that revealed impossibly white teeth and inclined his head. “Thanks.”

He opened the door, tossed his duffel on the backseat, and climbed gracefully into the cab. A rush of cold air followed him in and swirled around Ray’s legs.

The quad cab of the fire-engine red Dodge Ram 3500 shrank to the size of a Mini Cooper as the man settled into the leather bucket seat beside him. Ray watched as his passenger hit the button to close the window and buckled himself in. He was tall, solid, and exuded a kinetic energy that could knock a bottle off the fence at a hundred paces.

The cowboy turned to face him, and time stretched out in weighted silence. A glint in the man’s eye held Ray captive, as though he were on the verge of sharing a great secret—a secret Ray suddenly wanted to know. Needed to know.

A crooked grin spread across the ruggedly handsome face. “Name’s Travis.”

The skin at the back of Ray’s neck warmed. He nodded. “Ray.”

Time continued to saunter on without them as they sat facing each other, immobile, truck idling smoothly. Travis broke the time glitch by tapping his forefinger to the brim of his hat, his intense gaze not leaving Ray’s. In that deep, whiskey voice, he drawled, “S’a pleasure, Ray.”

The air in the cab buzzed. Perspiration broke out between Ray’s shoulder blades. He pushed his hat back on his forehead a little. He briefly contemplated switching the truck’s heater off in favor of the air-conditioning.

Ray had experienced the occasional instant attraction in the past, but nothing at this level. Not this…biting. Not to the point where if he squinted his eyes, he’d see electricity arcing between them.

His groin tightened. What the hell? Had he not just left Landon’s bed less than two hours ago? At the moment, however, it felt as though he hadn’t seen to the need in years. The sudden urge to lean over and run his hands over Travis’s solid legs, peel off his jacket and shirt, and feel smooth skin under his hands was overwhelming. And more than a little disconcerting.

Ray cleared his throat. “Okay then.”

He forced himself to face forward, shifted the big truck into gear, and pulled back onto the deserted highway. Both hands tight on the wheel, he was acutely aware of the man sitting on the other side of the cab. He stole a sideways glance at the strong, rugged profile. Dirty-blond hair long enough to fist spilled over the jacket collar. A lean-fingered hand splayed loosely on a muscular thigh. What would that hand feel like on his own thigh, strong and sure, inching slowly upward…?

Ray looked away, cleared his throat again, and shifted in his seat. He had Landon when he needed him. Landon was safe. Landon took care of him. What he didn’t need was some crazy attraction to a drifter that could only come to trouble. The kind of trouble Ray had managed to avoid his whole life.

The quicker he got rid of his passenger, the better. “What’s in Bridger?”

“Ranch job,” Travis said. “Hopefully.”

“Hopefully?”

“Heard there might be work.”

Ray chanced another look at his passenger, staring longer than someone behind the wheel of a three-ton machine should. “There are only two working ranches near Bridger.” And please, God, say you’re headed to the Double T.

Travis shrugged a shoulder in response, gaze focused on the passing Montana landscape. The man seemed completely at ease, unconcerned with the possibility of having to turn right back around to wherever he came from.

Ray forced his attention back to the long, straight road ahead of him—a feeble attempt at ignoring the increasing discomfort of his jeans. Wide-open empty highway, sparsely treed plains, and endless blue sky left entirely too few distractions from his entirely too sexy passenger. “Any ranch in particular?”

“Ford Creek.”

Ray nearly choked. His heart kicked up a triple beat. He looked over at his passenger again. “Ford Creek Ranch?” He winced at hearing his voice crack on the last word.

“Yep.” Travis angled himself to face Ray, one eyebrow cocked, that mischievous glint in his eyes. “Know the place?”

“You could say,” he replied quietly and turned away from the heavy gaze that burned his skin. Rein it in, Ford. “What are you hoping to do there?”

“The best quarter horses in the country deserve the best trainer.”

Silence filled the cab again as Ray struggled for an air of indifference. “You’re a horse trainer?”

“The best.”

“Not lacking for confidence, are you?”

Ray caught another nonchalant shoulder shrug from Travis in his peripheral. “What’s your last name, Travis?”

“Morgan.”

Ray released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. This far too attractive hitchhiker was Travis Morgan. Headed to Ford Creek Ranch. What were the odds?

“The Travis Morgan?” He risked a glance at Travis and was once again trapped in that impossibly magnetic gaze. Travis nodded, a checked smile playing on his lips. Lush, kissable lips… “Well, shit.” Ray turned back to the road ahead of him, hands tightening on the wheel.

Travis Morgan’s reputation traveled far ahead of the man himself. A world-class trainer, Morgan was one of those people with a rare ability to draw the best out of even the most dangerous, untamable animal. Any ranch fortunate enough to have him cross their gates was left with champions in his wake. And having that trademark signature on your stock was akin to winning the lottery. Morgan chose the ranches he wanted to work on seemingly whimlike. He couldn’t be contacted or contracted. The man was elusive, an enigma, an apparition emerging from a swirling cloud of dust.

Ray distractedly lifted the top panel of the center console and reached in for a pouch of cinnamon sticks. He’d quit smoking years ago, but in chewing on cinnamon sticks to help break that habit, he’d gained another. At least the new one was healthier.

The Morgan name would catapult the price of Ford Creek’s already top-dollar working and performance horses substantially, further cementing his family’s legendary reputation.

Having the man on his ranch, working beside him day-in day-out, however, would be dangerous. He’d overheard the whispered rumors about Morgan having a penchant for the company of men. With the crazed reaction Ray was having to him already, “danger” wouldn’t even begin to describe the situation it could put them both in. The damage it would cause if he lost control of this sudden desire, the risk to his family’s reputation and livelihood—his own life—would be too great.

He’d never forget what had happened to Dwayne Harrelson all those years ago, and there was no way in hell he was going to suffer the same fate.

And despite all that he was going to anyway. It just wasn’t good business sense to pass on having the Travis Morgan name tagged onto Ford Creek’s horses.

He’d just have to make a few extra trips into Billings.



“Was that a good ‘shit,’ or a bad ‘shit’?” Travis asked, studying Ray as his thoughts played across a strong, angular face. He hadn’t missed the telltale flare in those dark, amber-flecked eyes, nor the hard-set jaw. A master of body language—in both horse and man—Travis could read every subtle nuance, shift, and sound, giving him the unique ability to anticipate and counter actions.

The man at the wheel would probably be shocked to know just how eloquent his unspoken language was.

Ray cleared his throat and shot Travis a quick, almost nervous glance. “No rancher in his right mind would turn down the opportunity.”

Travis nodded.

He’d noted the wary shift in other man’s expressive eyes. It was clear Ray had heard of more than Travis’s reputation with horses. The man had appeared interested but was obviously not about to act on it now. Not after hearing Travis’s full name. Even though Travis felt a thread of annoyance at that, he wasn’t surprised. No one was willing to play a role in the rumors that rode alongside him. No one dared take the risk.

Good for the ranch, bad for the rancher.

Just as well. With that last debacle in North Dakota, he wasn’t willing to risk letting the truth behind the rumors see the light of day. It had been three weeks, and the bruises had faded, but his ribs were still sore.

But damn if Ray didn’t make him think things, want things, he couldn’t have.

With a drawn-out sigh, he turned his attention from the driver with the soulful brown eyes and sexy five o’clock shadow to the untamed Montana landscape.

Wild arnica and Indian paintbrush colored waving pale green brome and sage grass with bright splashes of yellow and red. Sparse clusters of ponderosa pine followed snaking, unseen tributaries. The Pryor Mountains reached for the heavens on the eastern horizon, and the carpet of desert grasslands raced up its base.

The state’s famous big sky stretched far and wide above them, stirring a brief, unwanted memory of the massive Texas spread he’d grown up on. That sky had been as big as everything else Texan, but somehow the skies currently overhead seemed more immense, intimidating.

A reminder of how insignificant he was in the grand scheme.

Twenty minutes of silence passed before Ray slowed the big truck and turned onto a graded dirt road. From this vantage point, all Travis could see was wide-open land.

They bounced over a cattle guard and passed under a log archway with FORD CREEK RANCH burned into its smooth bark.

“I hadn’t expected a doorstop lift,” Travis said. “Much appreciated.”

Ray shrugged without looking at Travis. “Like I said, you’re in luck.”

Travis hadn’t expected to come across a man he wanted to run into again either.

An odd twist akin to disappointment pinched in Travis’s gut when a large homestead came into view over a small rise. It went against his better judgment, but he’d hoped the drive to the ranch would have been longer. Something about the driver had him wanting more, even though he couldn’t risk taking the chance. No matter the signs he’d read. His reputation wouldn’t survive much longer, and with his reputation, so went his only source of income.

He’d thank Ray for the ride, wish him well, and never see him again. Judging by Ray’s reaction, it would be best for the both of them.

Ray pulled up in front of the rambling log home with a burnt red roof and wraparound veranda like he owned the place. Not as splashy as some, but it didn’t need to be. The house felt comfortable; even looking through the bug-splattered windshield, he knew it was the kind of place he’d be happy to call home. Travis frowned. Home hadn’t entered his mind in eighteen years.

It had to be the comforting scents of leather and cinnamon that permeated the interior of the big cab.

Ray put the truck in Park, turned off the engine, and exited the cab without so much as a glance back. Travis reached into the backseat and grabbed his bag. Unfolding from the truck, he walked around to meet Ray in front of the near shoulder-high hood.

“Thanks for the lift, Ray,” Travis said as he hefted the duffel over his shoulder. “Don’t suppose you know the owner?”

Ray cast a long gaze over him, unmistakable desire flashing in those telling eyes. Then he shuttered his expression with a near audible thud and opened his mouth to speak.

“There you are, Raymond.” A strong female voice cut the man off. Travis turned to find an older woman with silver hair pulled back in a loose ponytail and piercing pale blue eyes. She wore faded jeans, a tan western shirt, and an unlaced pair of beat-up barn boots. She stood on the veranda, hands on her hips, scowling at Ray as though he were a disobedient child. “I hope you’ve sown your oats. We have a ranch to run here, young man.”

Ray sighed. “It’s Sunday, Dot.”

Travis slanted a glance at Ray, intrigued by the somewhat chastised tone of the man’s response.

“Stock doesn’t take a day off eating just because you take a day off working.”

Dot stepped down the three steps off the porch and shifted her sharp gaze to Travis. She was a good half foot shorter than he yet seemed to tower over him. He shifted his feet apart, attempting to balance himself under the weight of her stare. He felt exposed somehow and certain very little escaped the woman’s notice. Travis knew right then, without a doubt, she was one woman he’d be wise never to cross.

Ray’s response to her wasn’t quite so intriguing anymore.

“And who might you be, son?”

He removed his hat, held it against his chest, and stepped forward as he extended his hand. “Travis, ma’am. Travis Morgan.”

She eyed him as if deciding whether or not to believe he was who he said he was, and took his hand. Her grip was strong and sure as they shook. Then her eyes softened, and a smile lit them from behind, putting him immediately at ease. This one would no doubt keep him on his toes. He liked her already.

“What brings you to Ford Creek, Travis Morgan? Besides Raymond here?”

“Looking for work, ma’am. I train cattle horses.”

“Dot. Call me Dot, please.”

He smiled warmly. “Dot. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She regarded him for a moment. “Travis Morgan, you say?”

“Yes’m.”

“Yes, I’ve heard of you. Well, you’re certainly welcome here.”

“Thank you, ma—Dot. Don’t suppose you could introduce me to the owner?”

Dot looked from Travis to Ray, laughter dancing in her sharp eyes, and chuckled. She shook her head and turned back for the house.

“You’re standing next to him, son,” Dot said over her shoulder as she opened the door and disappeared inside.

Travis turned to face Ray, the man’s expression locked down and unreadable. Well, shit was right. If he had any sense at all, he’d turn around and hightail it out of there right now.

Ray struck out his hand. “Ray Ford. Owner of Ford Creek Ranch.”

Travis reached for Ray’s hand, ignoring the need to run. The rancher’s grip was firm, confident, and the warmth of his skin tingled in Travis’s palm. They stood facing each other, gazes locked, hands clasped but no longer shaking. Ray let go after an extended beat. Travis felt the instant absence of the simple touch.

Ray cleared his throat, but his voice sounded rough when he spoke. “Just so happens I have a herd of green horses fresh off winter pasture in need of training.”

“Just so happens I train horses.” And shit if his voice didn’t sound the same.

“So it would seem.”

“You’ll be needing what I’m offering then.”

Ray paused, and the muscles in his clenched jaw twitched. “As I said. You’re—”

“I know,” Travis cut in with a half smile, “I’m in luck.”

Ray didn’t move, his eyes and body language once again giving his thoughts away. For a second—a drawn-out, charged second—Travis thought Ray would take a step forward, reach out, touch. Travis almost made the move to do so himself, but Ray took a step back. Shutters dropped firmly into place.

Ray cleared his throat and gave Travis a cool smile, but he wasn’t fooled. The man was just as affected as he was.

“I’ll introduce you to my foreman. He’ll get you sorted out.”

Travis tipped his head, tapping the brim of his hat with a forefinger. “Boss.”

Ray regarded him a moment longer, then nodded and turned toward the barns. Travis grinned as he hiked his duffel bag higher on his shoulder and followed Ray, enjoying the view of that tight ass wrapped in snug jeans.

Long Tall Drink at Loose Id

© L.C. Chase, August 2011
All Rights Reserved