Tara’s Cowboys Are 30% Off at #Dreamspinner Press #cowboyromance

Hi —

Big sale at Dreamspinner Press on all cowboy romances! 30% off on all these fun books including translations. I’m delighted to have two of my titles in the sale plus three translations! Here they are —

Cowboys Don’t Come Out — This cowboy romance is available in English, French, German and Italian

https://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/books/cowboys-dont-come-out-by-tara-lain-7841-b

 

 

Rand McIntyre settles for good enough. He loves his small California ranch, raising horses, and teaching riding to the kids he adores—but having kids of his own and someone to love means coming out, and that would jeopardize everything he’s built. Then, despite his terror of flying, he goes on a holiday to Hana, Hawaii, with his parents and meets the dark and mysterious Kai Kealoha, a genuine Hawaiian cowboy. Rand takes to Kai’s kid brother and sister as much as he drools over Kai, but the guy sports more prickles than a horned toad and more secrets than the exotic land he comes from.

Kai’s earned his privacy and lives to protect his “kids.” He ought to stay away from the big, handsome cowboy for everyone’s sake—but since the guy’s just a haole on a short vacation, how much damage can he do? When all of Kai’s worst fears and Rand’s darkest nightmares come true at once, there’s not much chance for two cowboys who can’t—or won’t—come out.

Cowboys Don’t Ride Unicorns —

https://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/books/cowboys-dont-ride-unicorns-by-tara-lain-8301-b

Cowboy Danny Boone—a name he made up one drunken night and has regretted ever since—harbors a big past and yearns for a small future. A short, bright career as a champion bull rider almost ended in his death when his homophobic father discovered Danny was gay. Now Danny longs for a plot of land he can build a ranch on, enough money to make up for some of the education he missed… and, secretly, a beautiful femme who likes to top—a combo rarer than a unicorn. 

Then onto the guest ranch where Danny works drives San Francisco decorator Laurie Belmont, a young man so gorgeous he makes the horses gasp, and so ballsy he almost kills Danny’s attacker. Laurie’s trying to find his way out from under the thumb of a domineering mother, helpless father, and rich, privileged boyfriend. But no matter the attraction, their lives are worlds apart, and cowboys don’t ride unicorns.

Cowboys, Holidays and Hawaii all in One Book!

cowboysdontcomeout400x600Hi! It’s just a few days now until COWBOYS DON”T COME OUT releases, a story in which i include Cowboys, Holidays and Hawaii all in One Book! Yep, this is not a traditional cowboy story (although books later in the series will be). In this book, my hero, Rand McIntyre, goes on vacation for the holidays with his parents. They go to Hana, Hawaii, which is a center for the Hawaiian paniolo (cowboy) tradition. Hawaii actually had cowboys between 15 and 50 years before the mainland (depending on which history you read). Just like California, Hawaiian cowboys came from Mexico and, to this day, paniolos still maintain more of the vaquero tradition than that of the mainland cowboy.

In Cowboys Don’t Come Out, my hero Rand meets a Hawaiian paniolo, Kai Kealoha, and strikes up a vacation romance. But Kai has a boatload of secrets and those ultimately interfere with the casual nature of the romance. There are tons of horses, riding and two-stepping in the book, as well as some pretty hot sex in bamboo forests and such.

We even get a touch of holiday cheer as Rand gets sucked into the charm and love of Kai’s younger brother and sister.

I hope you enjoy Cowboys Don’t Come Out. It releases on December 7th. Here’s the blurb. To read an excerpt and see the buy links, click HERE.

Rand McIntyre settles for good enough. He loves his small California ranch, raising horses, and teaching riding to the kids he adores—but having kids of his own and someone to love means coming out, and that would jeopardize everything he’s built. Then, despite his terror of flying, he goes on a holiday to Hana, Hawaii, with his parents and meets the dark and mysterious Kai Kealoha, a genuine Hawaiian cowboy. Rand takes to Kai’s kid brother and sister as much as he drools over Kai, but the guy sports more prickles than a horned toad and more secrets than the exotic land he comes from.

Kai’s earned his privacy and lives to protect his “kids.” He ought to stay away from the big, handsome cowboy for everyone’s sake—but since the guy’s just a haole on a short vacation, how much damage can he do? When all of Kai’s worst fears and Rand’s darkest nightmares come true at once, there’s not much chance for two cowboys who can’t—or won’t—come out.

See you soon! : )

New Books Coming from Tara Lain! Cowboys, Dancers and BALLS!

deathdancer_9781786515179_800Hi  and Welcome!

I want to announce New Books Coming from Tara Lain! That’s me. LOL. People often ask about upcoming new releases so i wanted to catch you up. Here are some on the list —

Nov 29th — Death Dancer general release. This book, my first murder mystery romance, is currently available for early download at Pride Publishing. So if you want to read the book now, you can get it there. It will be available everywhere in 9 days!

End of Nov — Beauty, Inc. in audiobook

December — Lord of a Thousand Steps in audiobook

Dec 7th — Cowboys Don’t Come Out releases. It’s currently available for pre-order cowboysdontcomeout400x600everywhere. This is my first cowboy romance. It takes place largely in Hawaii and explores the Hawaiian cowboy tradition as well as the California cowboy.

Jan 11 — Volley Balls re-releases in a new EXPANDED and REWRITTEN version that’s nearly twice as long as the original. Come back to Laguna Beach and meet my alpha males.

Feb 8th — Fire Balls re-releases with all the feisty, snarky charm of Rodney Mansfield and the reserved gorgeousness of Hunter Fallon.

March — Brush with Catastrophe, the second book in the Aloysius Tales, re-releases. This is the story of Sammy, a crappy witch, who turns out to be far more than he seems.

April — Cowboys Don’t Ride Unicorns, the second of the Cowboys Don’t series, comes out in time for RT. You’ll meet gorgeous Danny in the first book and follow him on bull riding adventure in this story.

May — Volley Balls and Fire Balls release in a print anthology

May — Re-release of Beach Balls, the story that takes love underwater

June — Return of the Chauffeur’s Son is a charming little category romance that pays homage to a well known film.

The rest of the year is also scheduled, but i’ll share it later. This will keep you current for quite a while. Thanks so much to all who have asked. I hope you enjoy them all! : )

QUICK! 30% OFF on Cowboys and Witches by Tara Lain!

cowboysdontcomeout400x600spellcat400x600Hi and welcome — I very quickly want to tell you that if you are interested in my new release. SPELL CAT, or my upcoming release, COWBOYS DON’T COME OUT, you can buy them both along with all my other books at Dreamspinner Press for 30% OFF! But the sale ends at midnight EST on November 13th, so act FAST!!

Cowboys Don’t Come Out is available HERE.

Spell Cat you can buy HERE

Both books are only $4.89.

Of course, all the other books in the whole store are also on sale! Here’s a link to all my books at Dreamspinner HERE.

Act fast to take advantage of this great sale. : )

Ten Fun Things About Tara’s WIP!

bullriderHi — Before i tell you Ten Fun things About Tara’s WIP, i want to remindBeauty,Inc-400x600 you of two fantastic events where you can win prizes. My Beauty, Inc. Blog tour is going on and you can enter  to win a $20 Amazon GC HERE. You can also enter to WIN a Kindle fire loaded with audiobooks if you enter HERE on the Audio Book Lovin’ event!

So from time to time, i like to share a few facts about my works in progress. I just started writing my second book in the Cowboys Don’t series. The first book is called Cowboys Don’t Come Out and it will release in December of this year. The book i just started will follow this story as book 2 in the series and here are a few facts about it:

1. Much of it takes place in and around Chico, California

2. My hero  works for a small horse ranch that also functions as a dude ranch

3. I’m busily researching things like how much a bottle of bourbon costs.

4. The majority of my research is on bull riding because my hero is also involved in rodeo

5. I’m about to learn a lot about rodeo clowns and bull fighting

6. Of course, my hero is gay, but he gets by in this super macho world by being a pretty macho guy.

7. My other hero is not macho at all — and therein lies the crux of the conflict.

8. I decided to write a cowboy series when i went to the Dreamspinner author workshop this past March. I was writing a whole different book, but got so excited about writing cowboys, i shelved the other book and dove into my first ever cowboy novel — which happens to take place largely in Hawaii!

9. One of the heroes of the first book in the series and an ongoing character in book 2 is a Hawaiian paniolo — cowboy — who is part of a cowboy tradition that precedes that of the mainland US.

10. This second book in the series will, i hope, be out in time for RT 2017.

Thank you for stopping by! Be sure to enter my contests. :  )

 

ZAM is HERE! MY COWBOY HOMECOMING & $25 GC!

_CoverArtHi everyone — I’m so delighted to welcome Z A Maxfield back to the blog, not only because she’s my friend, but also because i ADORED the first two books in this series and can’t wait to read MY COWBOY HOMECOMING! These books are bestsellers and have earned that status, in my opinion. Be sure to enter to WIN a $25 GC on the Rafflecopter!!

Here’s ZAM —

Cowboys. I just love them! I’m celebrating the release of the third book in my “Cowboy Hearts” series, My Cowboy Homecoming with a blog tour!

Stay tuned for daily drawings for copies of ebooks from my backlist as well as a Rafflecopter for a $25.00 gift certificate at the end, on Christmas. We can all use a little something extra on Christmas, can’t we?

So without further ado, here’s My Cowboy Homecoming!

Blurb:

Love can heal the deepest wounds…

A sense of duty brings a soldier home…but a passionate cowboy makes him want to stay.

After his brother’s tragic death, Tripp has to leave the army and return to New Mexico to take care of his mother while his father is in prison for arson. Seeking work at the J-Bar Ranch, Tripp is immediately drawn to injured cowboy Lucho Reyes, whose foot was accidentally crushed by a rescue horse. But will the sins of the father interfere with the desires of the son? Tripp’s father may be responsible for the death of Lucho’s grandfather.

Now Tripp must balance caring for his mother, repairing his father’s damages, and trying to win the heart of a man who has every reason to hate him and his family…

Buy Links:

Amazon: http://amzn.com/B00H87S3G6

Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00H87S3G6

Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/my-cowboy-homecoming-za-maxfield/1119617890?ean=9780698175020

Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/my-cowboy-homecoming/id778766723?mt=11

All Romance eBooks: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-mycowboyhomecoming-1685890-237.html

Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Z_A_Maxfield_My_Cowboy_Homecoming?id=HV2YAwAAQBAJ

 

Excerpt:

Chapter One

The road home was less auspicious than I thought it would be. Traffic slowed to a bare crawl outside Las Cruces, and the overheated bus had started to smell.

Just like on every bus, everywhere in the world, people were packed in tight. They stared ahead expressionlessly, as if that cramped, anonymous ride was the best they could expect because it probably was.

All four westbound lanes had been forced into one until at last we reached what seemed like a flare-lit city of fire trucks, police cars, and ambulances. Uniforms covered the highway like ants at a picnic.

When I saw the wreck, my heart gave a lurch. An old yellow school bus with “Iglesias Angelica Bautista” written on the side had been hit head-on by a double tractor-trailer truck. The impact had scattered debris all over both sides of the highway.

A single battered high-top sneaker lay in the middle of the street, blood-spattered and abandoned. I couldn’t take my eyes off it as we drove past.

The front of the wrecked school bus was crushed like an accordion. No way the driver survived the crash. There were others lying still and lifeless beneath sad yellow tarps. EMTs raced between people lying side by side in a makeshift triage area.

I tried to make myself do the deep breathing the army shrinks taught me. I thought about trying the other bullshit stopgap measures I was supposed to deploy before going to the little pills they gave me for anxiety, which I’d thrown away anyway. I tried repeating nonsense rhymes and visualizing my happy place, but the fact is, if you’ve been in a sniper’s crosshairs long enough, it’s hard to convince yourself there’s nobody trying to kill you anymore.

I was home, goddamnit. I wasn’t in danger. Except . . . we’re all in danger all the time. We just don’t know it.

As we inched past the wreck, even I—with the knowledge of how random and tragic fate could be—shook with shock. I couldn’t take my eyes off that shoe lying by itself in the street because my brother used to wear those same Converse high-tops when he was about five. Chucks. I got annoyed every time I heard his little feet padding after me as I tried to run away and play with my “big kid” friends.

Wish I had that now.

Wish I had time to play with him and a chance to know him, now that we were both out from under our father’s thumb, but while I’d been deployed to the valley CNN once called the most dangerous place on earth, my brother got killed on the I-10, exactly like the poor bastard who was driving that bus.

Random.

The stifling heat made the Greyhound nearly unbearable. A woman on the seat behind me cried out to Jesus, starting a prayer that three or four of the other passengers echoed. Instinct, still honed to razor-sharp readiness, lifted me to my feet, even though the bus was moving.

“Sit down,” said the old man next to me, whose skin was gray with age and probably cigarettes. Tattoos littered his forearms, including one I recognized, the Devil Dog. Marines. “What do you think you’re going to do out there they aren’t already doing?”

I shrugged and sat.

He studied me. “Just get back?”

“Yeah.”

That got a laugh. “I thought so. You look it.”

“How so?”

He just stared at me then, and something passed between us. Anxiety and fatigue and that indefinable pinch of pain, as if our lives were too small now, and it hurt to walk around in them.

“Yeah.” I glanced away.

I sat still, even though every cell in my body was telling me I should do something. It was both my nature and, up until recently, my job to keep order. Yet now my TOS was up, and I was going home.

In spite of everything, I stayed still.

It seemed like it took forever to pass the accident.

“Lordy, Lordy.” The woman behind me cried softly. “Sweet Jesus, help your children in their hour of need.”

I let my old, cold friend discipline flow through my heart and I looked away.

Maybe I’d built up this illusion that home was a place made of safety and order, but that goddamn shoe told me different.

Anyhow, that’s why I was late getting into Deming.

***

I scanned every face on the street, looking for my mother, when I got off the bus. I don’t know why I thought she might come. She was afraid to drive the single mile to church. Venturing as far as Deming was probably more than she could take.

After Dad landed himself in prison, I hoped she’d start going out again, just to the grocery store if she needed to. I guessed she didn’t, because she wasn’t waiting for me.

The dirty, gray bus station emptied out quickly. It was little more than a stop off the I-10 in a hot, dry collection of buildings generosity made me call a city. Deming had little going for it besides its proximity to the highway.

I’d hiked my duffel over my shoulder and was working out how I’d find my own way home, when somebody called my name.

“Calvin Tripplehorn?”

I followed the sound and found a cowboy standing behind me. He looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t say why. “Who’s asking?”

“Jimmy Rafferty.” He held out his hand, but I let it hang there while I tried to process his face. His eyes narrowed. “From the J-Bar? Your mama called the ranch. I’m here to give you a ride.”

I hesitated before I gave him my hand to shake. “Pleased to meet you, sir.”

“This way, son. I need to pick up one of the hands from the ER in Silver City. He’s going to think I left him to find his way back by breadcrumbs or some such.”

I fell into step beside him, consciously matching my stride to his leggy, rolling gait. He was all cowboy, lean and rangy. He looked about forty or so. He wore some hard road on his face, but he was good-looking in his way.

“You know my mother?”

He stopped to look at me. Screwed up his face. “I can’t say I do.”

He was proving to be a bit of a character. “Then why are you here?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, how did you know to pick me up?”

He raised his brows. “Do you need a code word or something? I’m not here to kidnap you and sell you into white slavery or nothing. Nobody told me—”

“I mean”—heat suffused my face—“why are you here if you don’t know my mother?”

“Oh.” He grinned. “Boss asked me ’cause your mama and Emma Jenkins are friends. I guess she didn’t know about Emma not living at the J-Bar no more.”

“Ah.” The Jenkinses. Neighbors for as long as I could remember. Emma used to invite my family to the J-Bar on the Fourth of July. They always made a party of it, throwing a big barbecue and chili cook-off. I think a summer picnic at the J-Bar was where I first realized cowboys flipped my switch as opposed to . . . er . . . cowgirls.

I loved the J-Bar. I’d wanted to work there.

“How is everyone?”

“Crandall passed.” Jimmy informed me solemnly.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Crandall Jenkins was the kind of man whose loss would be felt keenly by everyone he ever came into contact with. “Emma didn’t sell up, did she?”

“Nah. She wanted to spend time with her girls and the grandkids. Speed Malloy and his partner Crispin are running the place now.”

I missed a step. Speed Malloy made my pants tight back in the day. I could barely be around him without sporting wood. “His partner?”

“His life partner.” Jimmy stopped and faced me, hands on his worn leather belt. “You got a problem with that? Get it out of your system.”

“No sir, not me.” I didn’t out myself there on the street, but I wasn’t going to let him think I was a homophobe. They probably got that shit a lot.

“Malloy told me to pick you up, on account of he talked to your mama. I’m just doing what I’m told.” He stopped beside a battered old crew-cab pickup truck. “Drop your bag in the back and we’ll be on our way.”

“Thank you.” I did as he asked and climbed into the cab beside him. After the hot, close quarters on the bus, it felt as nice as a limousine. Not that I knew what limousines were really like.

“You back for good?” he asked.

I nodded. “My mother needs me more than Uncle Sam does at this point.”

He peered at me like he was trying to see inside. “I guess things ain’t been too easy for her lately.”

“You know about my dad?” I asked.

Jimmy’s mouth tightened right up. “Some.”

My heart sank. “I’m nothing like him.”

He glanced away first. “Ain’t going to be easy to gain people’s trust after what him and his pals did.”

“I don’t need people’s trust.”

He keyed the ignition and the truck started up. “You will if you want to build a life here.”

Christ, what an awful thought. Building a life there. “I don’t know what I want, yet.”

He shot me a cryptic smile. “You’ll figure it out. You’re still young enough, Calvin.”

“‘Tripp,’” I corrected automatically. “People call me ‘Tripp.’”

“Okay, Tripp. Call me ‘Jimmy.’” He nodded before pulling out into the street.

The ride from Deming to Silver City takes a little under an hour. Because of the change in elevation, the desert, with its infrequent clusters of agave and cactus, gives way to a forest of junipers and piñon trees. No matter how many times I’d driven up that road I was always surprised by the change in landscape. It was stark and beautiful one minute, and lush green the next.

The area hadn’t changed much since the day I’d turned eighteen and left for good.

Eight years.

The afternoon shadows lengthened until I no longer needed my Oakleys. I pushed them onto the top of my head as we pulled up in front of the Regional Medical Center. A lone man rested on crutches out front—another cowboy, taller, broader, and darker than Jimmy, wearing a straw hat that shaded his face. He bent his leg at the knee, keeping his foot—which was encased in a sturdy black soft cast—from bearing his weight.

“Aw, shit. I was afraid that foot was busted.” Jimmy said, stopping the truck at the curb. “That’s Lucho. Go help him into the truck, will you?”

“Sure.” I jumped down from the passenger seat, leaving the door open so I could help the man in. “Front seat okay? Or would you be more comfortable in the back?”

“Back, please.” Polite.

Good-looking too. A sharp sizzle of awareness passed between us and I smiled as I opened the back door.

His eyebrow lifted.

Okay. So I checked him out. I was guilty as charged. He eyed me appreciatively in return. He had dark hair, tan skin. Coca-Cola eyes that watched my every move from beneath lashes thick as a doll’s. That dark gaze lingered on my package before traveling slowly upwards. His brief quirk of a smile sent the unmistakable message that he liked what he saw.

Message received and noted.

I held my hand out, so he handed over his crutches without taking his eyes off mine. I put my arm around his waist to steady him and pretty much lifted him into the truck so he didn’t have to put his weight on his foot.

Was it my imagination? Or did he lean into me a little more than necessary? I caught him closing his eyes.

“Pain?”

“No.” He shook his head. “You smell good.”

Breathless, I let him go, but it was like I was in some kind of trance. My reluctance to end contact came from pure biological imperative. He felt so good. He smelled like sage and horse and the sick sweat of pain, but his muscles were solid and his body lean and strong. His was the first man’s body I’d held close in so long.

I did not want to let go and he didn’t want me to. We stayed there, looking into each other’s eyes until I heard Jimmy clear his throat.

Startled, I stepped back. Lucho gave me a playful push and another long, slow perusal that felt exactly like a juicy lick up my dick. I shook myself out of my stupor and gave up a huff of embarrassed laughter before I stepped away.

God.

I’d never come on to anyone that hard in my life.

It must have been the timing. Everything was out of whack with me coming back home like that. With the accident and the apprehension of what I’d find when I saw my ma again.

With strangers picking me up when it should have been family.

I put my hand out to shake. “Folks call me ‘Tripp.’”

Instantly, he lost all warmth. “You’re Calvin Tripplehorn’s son?” His voice was dangerously soft.

“Not so’s you’d know it.” I’d meant the words as a joke. He didn’t take it that way. The fire in his eyes simply died and he let my hand hang there, untouched until I drew it back.

“Everything okay?”

He nodded and removed his hat. Without it I could see his lean, fierce face was etched with shadows and pain. I stood there too long, staring. Cataloguing tan skin, high cheekbones, a chin with more than a day’s growth of beard.

He had a long, straight nose that made him masculine and beautiful at the same time. Stark and lovely, like New Mexico itself.

His expression and gone from interest to disdain in the space of a second, and I guessed I knew why. The Tripplehorn name probably came with a warning label around these parts. “Okay to close the door?”

“It’s fine.” His eyes had narrowed with suspicion, but he had lips like a kid’s, soft as Cinnamon Bears, and I was heartsick that I’d probably never get to taste them. That was the kind of immediate effect Lucho had on me. Desire and despair, all at once.

As he ran the fingers of one hand over the soul patch on his chin I asked, “Need anything else?”

He shook his head sharply and then looked away. “Not from you, Tripplehorn.”

My dad’s name, his goddamn shadow, loomed over me, though I hadn’t even gotten home yet.

“Be nice, Lucho.” Jimmy’s bark was a warning, like we were kids in the backseat and he was going to say, Don’t make me stop this car.

“Give me a break, Rafferty,” Lucho growled. “I don’t gotta be nice to Calvin Tripplehorn’s kid.”

Closing the door between us, I hesitated before getting back into the truck. How had I forgotten the gut-churning taste of shame?

Old memories came back to me with a violent shove. I was “crazy Cal’s” kid.

Pretty soon I’d forget what it was like to be decorated army sergeant Tripplehorn—to earn respect by following orders and keeping a professional attitude and working my ass off. Nobody around these parts was going to give me that chance.

“C’mon kid,” Jimmy coaxed.

A ride was a ride. As soon as I’d climbed up into the passenger seat, Jimmy cranked up the radio and took off again.

Nobody talked until my family’s place came into view, and even then, I simply stared. It was hard to sort out what I was seeing. The manufactured house was still there, but the screen door hung askew. Out front, weeds choked what was once a pretty garden. The chicken coop had fallen down. There was no sign of life anywhere.

“Man.” Jimmy frowned at a dust devil blowing across the packed dirt of what used to be an exercise ring for horses. “Your brother really let the place go.”

“Ya think?” I said sourly.

Concern for me shadowed his eyes as he framed his next, careful question. “You planning on fixing the place up?”

I felt exhausted already. “If my mother doesn’t want to leave, I guess I’ll have to.”

I’d thought Lucho was asleep, but he snorted derisively from the back seat. “Maybe you ought to just burn it down. You Tripplehorn motherfuckers got a lot of experience with arson, after all.”

_AuthorPhotoAbout the Author

Z. A. Maxfield started writing in 2007 on a dare from her children and never looked back. Pathologically disorganized, and perennially optimistic, she writes as much as she can, reads as much as she dares, and enjoys her time with family and friends. Three things reverberate throughout all her stories: Unconditional love, redemption, and the belief that miracles happen when we least expect them.

If anyone asks her how a wife and mother of four can find time for a writing career, she’ll answer, “It’s amazing what you can accomplish if you give up housework.”

Readers can visit ZAM at her website, Facebook, Twitter, or Tumblr.

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Thank you for coming by. CANNING THE CENTER releases on Wednesday! : )

Silvia Violet Brings SHIFTING HEARTS & $15 GC 4 U

Wild R 6 400x600Hi all — Everyone looks forward to a new book from Silvia Violet, so i have great news. Silvia’s new book, SHIFTING HEARTS, is here! Read about it below, and be sure to enter for a great $15 GC prize from Silvia as well. Enjoy!

Book Name: Shifting Hearts (Wild R Farm 6)

Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/23253785-shifting-hearts

Author Name: Silvia Violet

Author Bio:

Silvia Violet writes erotic romance in a variety of genres including paranormal, contemporary, sci fi, and historical. She can be found haunting coffee shops looking for the darkest, strongest cup of coffee she can find. Once equipped with the needed fuel, she can happily sit for hours pounding away at her laptop. Silvia typically leaves home disguised as a suburban stay-at-home-mom, and other coffee shop patrons tend to ask her hilarious questions like “Do you write children’s books?” She loves watching the looks on their faces when they learn what she’s actually up to. When not writing, Silvia enjoys baking sinfully delicious treats, exploring new styles of cooking, and reading to her incorrigible offspring.

 Author Contact:

Email: silviaviolet@gmail.com

Website: http://silviaviolet.com

Facebook: http://facebook.com/silvia.violet

Twitter: http://twitter.com/Silvia_Violet

For a list of Silvia’s available titles: http://silviaviolet.com/books

 

Publisher: Silvia Violet Books

Cover Artist: Meredith Russell

Blurb:

After experiencing what happens when someone you love walks away and never looks back, Brandon decided love was for fools. Then he spent a summer with Zach. He struggled against feelings that grew every time he and Zach were together, telling himself they were just having a fling. When Zach confessed his love one hot summer night, Brandon panicked. He scoffed at Zach and made sure he walked away first.

Three years later, their paths cross again when Zach becomes the vet at Wild R Farm where Brandon works. Brandon realizes his feelings haven’t changed, but Zach treats Brandon with scorn despite Brandon’s every attempt to show Zach he’s no longer the self-centered man he used to be. When a night out ends with Brandon driving Zach home, confessions are made on both sides, and hope begins to build in Brandon’s heart.

Categories: Contemporary, M/M Romance, Paranormal, Romance, Western/Cowboy

SH600x600Banner

 

Excerpt:

Brandon settled his and Zach’s tabs and managed to get Zach to his truck without incident. “Did you drive here?”

“Nope, Martin picked me up.”

Brandon snorted again. Fucking Martin. The two of them together was so not going to happen.

Zach giggled. “I’ve always loved it when you go all ferocious stallion.”

Oh fuck. “Just get in the truck, Zach.” Brandon helped him step up and maneuver himself into the passenger seat.

“It’s fucking wrong.“ Zach said as he laid his head back on the seat.

“What is?”

“That you’re so fucking hot.”

No. No, no, no. This was not happening. “Just close your eyes and stop talking. You’ll be better off that way.” Maybe he’d pass out and then Brandon’s dick could stop reacting to his soft words and beautiful eyes and everything that made him the only man Brandon really wanted.

“No, I’ll forget it all. Best thing about being drunk. I might as well say what I want because who will care later.”

“I will.”

“Nah, you never did. That’s what makes it so unfair.”

Brandon rubbed his forehead, trying to ward off a massive headache. “You’re wrong about that. I—”

“What? You didn’t mean to look at me like I was a bug you wanted to squash when I said I loved you?”

“You’re drunk. Really fucking drunk, and I’d be an idiot to say anything now. More of an idiot than I already have been and—”

“Fuck, you’re babbling.” Zach looked extremely amused.

Brandon scowled at him. “Nope, it’s your imagination”

“It’s not.”

“Yeah, it is”

Zach grinned. “You could kiss me to shut me up.”


Tour Dates/Stops:

October 27: Rainbow Gold Reviews, Angel Martinez, Michael Mandrake, My Fiction Nook

October 28: Cate Ashwood, Cathy Brockman Romances, Amanda C. Stone, Love Bytes

October 29: Multitasking Mommas, Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words, Fallen Angel Reviews, Kimi-Chan, BFD Book Blog

October 30: Prism Book Alliance, Tara Lain, Inked Rainbow Reads

October 31: MM Good Book Reviews, Parker Williams, Jade Crystal

 

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ZAM Brings MY HEARTACHE COWBOY with Goodies for You!

Book Cover - My Heartache Cowboy (The Cowboys #2)Hey you guys, if you visit my blog from time to time, you must know that one of my best pals and favorite people is the fantabulous Z.A. Maxfield. One of the authors who originally inspired me to write way before  i ever met her, she is today a close friend. So when this lady has a new book — i pay attention! I hope you will too because a book by ZAM is a treat. Her new book is My Heartache Cowboy and there’s a Rafflecopter down there, so be sure to enter. I’m turning this over to her, so heads up! Here’s ZAM —

Every author needs friends who listen patiently while they outline their plot for the seven millionth time, who help them out of plot-holes they’ve dug themselves into, and who will really tell them if a certain scene makes the book look fat.

True friends are the ones an author can call on for release day hand-holding and the ones who help her down from the crazy tree when she’s been up there so long she’s got a nosebleed she hasn’t even noticed yet.

They’re people like Tara Lain, Lex Valentine, and KC Burn from the Orange County Chapter of Romance Writers of America, who meet me for breakfast before meetings. These women are great authors and ladies I love like sisters!

Tara, I want you to know, if the zombie apocalypse occurs, I will let the zombies eat me first. Of course, even as they’re taking bites, I’ll probably still be asking your advice on everything from branding to what color goes best with my bloated, rotting corpse.

“Are you SURE this is okay? You don’t think it needs a different ending? You don’t think it needs more, or less…” Gurgle, gurgle, gurgle…

Thanks for everything you do, sweetie. I’ve got your back.

My Heartache Cowboy
(Cowboy Series, Bk #2)
By Z.A. Maxfield
Blurb:

Can love conquer all?

Jimmy Rafferty and Eddie Molina go way back at the J-Bar ranch. They’ve worked together, bunked together, camped out, and drank together. So how has Jimmy failed to notice that Eddie is gay? Eddie has not failed to notice that his friend has a serious drinking problem, and he’s determined to help Jimmy kick the booze cold turkey.

Taking him up to a snowbound cabin to detox, Eddie is confronted with Jimmy’s fierce denial. But the pains of withdrawal are nothing for Jimmy compared with the heartache of denying his true feelings and his deep longing…for the one man who cares for him more than anyone else on earth.

Available for purchase at

 

Excerpt

When I woke, I was alone and the truck wasn’t moving.

Who the hell did Eddie think he was, leaving me asleep by myself in a truck outside in the freezing cold? My pa and my older brother, Jonas, used to do that. We’d be on the road, and when I fell asleep, they’d leave me in the parking lot of some dive bar or motel—just leave me asleep outside in the dark. I’d wake up with no clue where I was, no idea if they were coming back or if I should go in and try to find them.

My first useful thought was to look for the keys, because I hadn’t forgotten what Eddie said. I hadn’t forgotten the plans him and boss Malloy made for me behind my back. It would serve them right if I up and hightailed it back to the J-Bar with Eddie’s truck and no Eddie.

No keys.

Not like that was going to stop me. Where the hell did Eddie get the idea I’d go quietly? I slid over and tore the wiring out from under the dash. Found what I needed without hardly even looking.

I hated waking up alone like that. Unwanted. Abandoned.

One twist. Two. Touch the wires together and the engine should . . .

Fuck.

Nothing.

What the hell? I checked I got the proper color-coated strands and tried again. I was frowning down at the mess of tangled wire when someone tapped on the window behind me.

I glanced up and saw Eddie frowning down, no doubt pissed at what I’d done to his truck. Serves you right for leaving me like that, you prick.

“You need a working engine for that,” he told me as he opened the door. “One that has a battery.”

“Fuck you.” I spilled out of the car ready for a fistfight.

“What?” Eddie jumped back.

“Why did you have to leave me like that? What did I ever do to you?”

Eddie shook his head at me. “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. You were sound asleep and I thought maybe you needed it.”

I took a swing at him. “I hate waking up alone in a car like that.”

Ed plucked my fist from the air and peered at me like he was trying to see through my skin. “I didn’t know.”

“I hate that. Left behind in the car like a damn dog. Like a fucking duffel bag. You can’t be bothered to even wake me up and take me in out of the fucking snow.”

Now Eddie frowned like he was thinking about it. Now, after the fact. “I’m sorry, Jimmy. I didn’t think how you’d feel waking up alone like that. I won’t do it again.”

“Would have served you right if I took your truck and left you up here to walk back to civilization, wherever the hell that is. Would have served you right if I’d died out here.”

“All right, all right. Simmer down now.”

I glared at him. “Fuck you.”

“It’s pretty civilized inside. How about you come in with me.”

“How about you suck my fucking—”

“That’s enough.” He turned and headed toward the cabin’s welcoming front door. “I almost didn’t bother to disable the damn thing, but I thought on the off chance you knew what you were doing and could—”

“Which I did,” I pointed out.

“Come inside.” He jerked his chin toward the cabin like I was a dog and I was supposed to just follow along and yip around at his heels.

I debated making a run at him, but frankly, Eddie was a tough buzzard. He wasn’t too much older than me, just forty-two compared to my thirty-eight. But I was a lover, not a fighter, or at least that’s how I thought of myself. Back there on the road, Eddie had proved he wasn’t above using violence to get his way in this, so I went along.

You’re going to have to sleep sometime.

Eddie led me into a rustic-looking cabin that seemed awful nice for the middle of nowhere. There was a place for us to hang our hats just inside the door, over a table with a passel of pictures on it. There were old time black-and-whites of families and framed pictures of a good-looking man, a pretty woman, and some kids. There were some of the kids alone, and holy cow, there were probably a dozen pictures of Ed. He looked so young in a couple of them, they must have been from before we met.

One of Ed and the unknown man caught my eye. Something about the difference in height, the casual way they leaned together, the way they looked at each other, made me think this was Ed’s friend from the road, Don. Even though they’d both aged some since it was taken, I was almost sure of it.

No knobby hands, no weathered angel, this Don was good looking, without a doubt. He was lanky and chiseled. He had an intelligent face and a smile that drew the eye. He seemed sure of himself and charming. Whatever I’d seen in the darkness outside the car had to be a trick of the light.

Ed looked so young and earnest next to him it took my breath away. Brawny and tan, he wore a yoked Western shirt with the sleeves rolled up past well-muscled forearms and he eyed Don like he would follow him anywhere.

And that Don, he looked like he could appreciate a guy like Ed, as well.

Hadn’t I seen firsthand how much he did appreciate him?

About the Author

Z. A. Maxfield started writing in 2007 on a dare from her children and never looked back. Pathologically disorganized, and perennially optimistic, she writes as much as she can, reads as much as she dares, and enjoys her time with family and friends. Three things reverberate throughout all her stories: Unconditional love, redemption, and the belief that miracles happen when we least expect them.If anyone asks her how a wife and mother of four can find time for a writing career, she’ll answer, “It’s amazing what you can accomplish if you give up housework.”

You can find ZA Maxfield at
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