Monday, July 30, 2012

What If...

This is my favorite game of all time.

What if there was this guy that collected celery dishes? What if there was a puppy and you adopted him and he was a were puppy? What if my toenail feel off and underneath there was an eyeball?

Julia and I play this game, oh, 20 hours a day. 

We can do it for hours and hours. We do it while watching TV (Cajun Pawn Stars and Top Chef and Project Runway and American Restoration and Grimm and Criminal Minds...). We do it while knitting (I'm currently working on a cowl). We do it while walking dogs in the middle of the night and doing dishes while the coffee maker warms up. 

We do it while deciding which dollhouse kit is going to be the haunted dollhouse of joy or trying to figure out whether we want to settle in New Mexico or Spain or Colorado. 

During rides at Disneyland or concerts or rodeos.

Or in the car. We do this a *lot* in the car...

Saturday we put this up in the office, on the wall where I can see it everyday. 

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Tuesday, July 24, 2012

Saloon Girls (Cotton/Emmy, m/f)

“Em. Love? Are you ready, baby?” Cotton tapped his foot, impatient. They were going to be late for the party, and there were supposed to be all sorts of folks there – media, sponsors, guys. It was a big Western dress-up shindig and he’d promised folks he’d be there. He was all dressed up, even, in his old timey get up, brown slacks and a vest with a pocket watch, a bandanna.

The bathroom door opened and his lady stepped out, hair pink and purple, teased to the ceiling, eyes painted up, little sparkles all around the edges. That wasn’t what made his lips about as dry as Arizona in July. It was that dress – the top cut down to there, barely covering her assets with black ruffles. Those assets were held up with a bright pink corset and there was a black full skirt pulled up, showing off her legs, the fishnets disappearing into high-heeled lace up boots.

“I. What. You. That.” He sputtered.

“Saloon girl.” She winked, smiled at him. “If I’m naughty at the party, will you arrest me, Sheriff Cotton?”

He gaped. Good lord and butter.

“Woman. I. You.” His cock was battering at his costume, more than happy to ponder a wicked Emmy. “Shit, girl. I’m the one gonna get arrested, if one single man lays eyes on you.”

Her giggle made him groan. He was in for one hell of a night.

She leaned forward, left a quick kiss on his cheek, her perfume sweet and light. “Let’s go play, baby. Dillon says he’s driving, so I can indulge.”

Please, God, Cotton prayed. Please, let me not beat anybody down tonight.

At least not anybody he liked.

(You can find Cotton and Emmy in City/Country on Amazon)

copyright 2012 BA Tortuga

Monday, July 23, 2012

Chair and Ink :D

Spent my days off doing my two of my favorite things -- getting ink and antiquing. 

I know, I know. It's weird, but, believe it or not, my tattoo artist? Totally into antiques.

I tell her that's good, as neither one of us are getting younger. ;-)

I sat for five hours and had the roses colored in on my chest piece. I swap back and forth from chest to sleeve to chest -- it gives the skin a chance to heal and lets me relax. The roses were partial coverups, so that was intense, but they're done and lovely, so they were totally worth it. 

That was Thursday (I take Thursday and Saturday's off), and on Saturday Julia and I went antiquing, as we're wont to do. We found a neat old saucier, a fabulous fat odd gravy boat, the ugliest footstool in history (and man, we have some UGLY footstools) and my new chair. 

OMG, y'all. My CHAIR! Ugly. Old. Weird. Amazingly comfy and large and fabulous and I fit with my basset and...

Oh, yeah. 

Writing chair of 1940s joy.

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Rose #1.

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Roses #2 and 3

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Me and my chair!

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My sexy boy in the chair, waiting for writing time.

*hugs y'all all so hard*

Much love and kisses.

BA

Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Just a quickie, right?

So, I'm working on my newsletter fiction. Usually I run an installment of Sara and Cal's sequel, because, well, they love to be written, but every few months I give them a break and let a m/m or a m/m/f story have a shot.

I'm currently working on a book titled Fighting Addiction -- and when I say working, I mean I'm dreaming about them, they have a playlist, I am in love with them like I haven't been in love since... Coke and Dillon? Maybe Beau and Sammy? 

Law #2 of writing -- when it's this hot, run with it. 

At any rate, I'm working on a little story with Markus and Sebastian in it, just a quickie of them meeting, right?

Right.

Just a quickie. 

My assistant is going to beat me if I don't get this to her. Today. 

O.o

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Pansy Fetches (Coke/Dillon, m/m, pg, snippet)

Pansy came out to the backyard, just about the time Coke was pondering whether to go in or go get another set of floodlights. The new pizza oven was looking less like a mess and more like something on purpose, but he wasn’t nowhere near done and…

“Yarp.”

He loved how his Pansy sounded like she was really telling him something. “What, baby girl?”

She looked back toward the house, the warm light coming out of the kitchen where he could see Dillon making something, then back at him. “Yarp!”

His lips twisted. “My cowboy tell you to come fetch my ass?”

She stomped her big basset rhino butt toward the porch, stopping again to wag, bark, then push through the doggie door.

Coke reckoned, if whatever Dillon needed was important enough to send one of the dogs, he probably ought to check it out.

Just about then, Dillon appeared at the backdoor wearing nothing but an apron and holding a bacon sandwich and a beer. Huh.

Night air wouldn’t hurt them rocks, none…

 

 

Copyright BA Tortuga 2012

Monday, July 16, 2012

Coke and Dillon Short Now Available!!! :D

clear cut

About The New Guy

by BA Tortuga
17 pages / 4000 words

Buy link: http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=79_93&products_id=3614

Roughstock bullfighter Coke is training new alternate Sterling, and he thinks the kid is good at his job. Dillon thinks Sterling is far too interested in Coke, and not in a boss and employee sort of way. Can Coke convince Dillon that a clown is all he needs.

Sample

Coke looked at the baby bullfighter who was jogging the arena. Had he ever been that young? He didn't think so.

Sterling Matthews was hungry, young, eager, and, unlike that Mike guy, willing to take directions. Which was why Sterling was in the ring as the second alternate and not that smart-assed little fuck.

"Mr. Pharris?" Sterling called. "What time do you want us back here? I need to grab some grub."

"Event starts at seven. You be back by five thirty."

"Four-thirty if I bring barbecue?"

Coke chuckled. "Bring lots. The smell will travel."

"Yessir." The kid grinned like to split his face and headed out.

His back-up bullfighter Nattie looked over at him, chuckled. "Hoss, was we ever that young?"

"No, sir. Not you and me. Coop, neither. Fred? Fuck, yeah." He stretched, thinking how the Aussie bullfighter Fred was still that young. "You want to go play some cards in the back?"

Dillon was doing some charity, hand-shaking, butt-shaking thing and had his truck.

"Hell, yeah. 'Specially since the kid is bringing food."

"Cool." They headed to the dressing room. Jerome was sleeping in Nattie's go-bag, Pansy was gnawing on a chew, her tail wagging.

"That's unnatural, Hoss. What does he have against my unders?" Nattie asked, eyeing Jerome's long basset hound body.

"He loves you. Blame Dillon. He named the pup."

"Uh-huh." Nate folded his lanky frame down on a camp chair and cracked open a bottle of water. "What do you think of the new kid? Aside from he's young."
Coke dug out a deck of cards. "He's hungry for it. I like that."

"I just hope it don't make him take on too much. He's got to let the other guys on the team take some of them. We'll see."

He tugged over a chair to deal on. "That's how it is, at the beginning, at least until his first bad wreck."

They all handled that different.

"Then you see how they come back out and work the next one."

"You know it." Coke grinned at Nate. "What are we playing, Nattie?"

"Gin? We ain't got enough folks for poker."

"Deal me in if it's poker." Dillon came bebpopping in, reaching down to scratch basset ears.

"Poker it is." He grinned at his cowboy. "How'd your... thing go?"

Dillon struck a pose. "You mean my meet and greet with my adoring fans? Good. There was only one chicken incident.

 

New Neat Stuff Coming! :D

I'm so tickled -- my blog has a new look and will have new content as the week goes on, including a Coke and Dillon short in the flash fiction section. :D 

Thanks to Magic Time Media for all the hard work! I'm so tickled.

I was out last week, playing in southern California with Tory Temple, seeing Tim McGraw and Kenny Chesney, going to Disneyland and shopping. We ate and walked and cackled madly -- it was the perfect vacation, barring the ending part. 

How are y'all this week? Looking forward to anything fun?

Monday, July 9, 2012

Where I've Been Over the Last Week

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Yep. 

That's right.

I was very busy being Auntie Pooh with the most wonderful 11 year old on Earth. 

:D :D :D