On the twelfth Day of Christmas my Kindle gave to me....
A book by Sara York!
We are happy to welcome Sara to our blog party today!
Author: Sara York
Intro: Sara York writes thrilling tales that in multiple
genres. She lives on the east coast in the United States with her family and
dogs.
Today's question is:
What would be the ultimate Christmas present?
Sara says: There are so many
things that I could say. Christmas is such a special time. I love getting
surprise gifts and giving surprise gifts. An ultimate gift would have to
be something so amazing and special that I couldn't get it on my own.
Anything I could buy would be too easy to obtain so I think my ultimate
Christmas present would have to be time with my family away from everyone
else and all technology on a private island, and not just once, but every
Christmas from here on out. That would be my ultimate Christmas present.
Sara's giveaway is any book in her backlist found
here. To be entered tell us what your ultimate Christmas present
Sara has written the awesome Texas Soul series!
Blurb
Texas Rough
Lane Daniels loves his job, working as a foreman on the south Texas ranch gives
him the type of satisfaction he’s always craved, but the owner of Crazy Hills
ranch, Gresh Hamilton Miller the third, has woven his way under Lane’s skin,
leaving Lane crazy for the man’s touch. But doing the boss is out of the
question.
Gresh wants more from Lane than his ability to handle livestock, he wants it
all. Lane won’t give him the time of day so he forces the issue, setting up a
date that Lane believes to be a business meeting. Alone together, Lane and Gresh
ignite in a flash of passion.
Just when it feels like there could be something more between Lane and Gresh,
the new doctor in town, Riley, sets his sights on Lane. Riley chases hard after
him, insinuating himself in Lane’s life, highlighting Gresh’s faults. But Gresh
won’t give up without a fight. Will Lane and Gresh be able to survive the
intrusion, or will Riley be the one walking away with Lane's heart?
Texas Hard
Spurned by his heart’s desire, Riley’s aching for a fight, and he finds one
with Connor, a sexy Texas lawman. Attraction fires between them, but Riley
walks away, ignoring the lust between he and Connor...Until weeks later he’s
caught trespassing on Connor’s new property--Naked.
Connor’s tempted to arrest the audacious naked man in his watering hole until
he realizes it’s Riley. Lust muddles Connor’s logic and soon he finds himself
on a path rife with temptations. Passion twists Connor inside out leading him
to share one of his deepest secrets. Still Riley’s hiding something and the
lack of mutual trust may end their relationship.
Then there’s the Lane factor. Riley’s ex leaves Connor feeling threatened.
Riley swears it’s over, but something doesn’t sit right and Connor needs
resolve. Coming to terms with their attraction means submitting to the fears
haunting Connor and Riley before they can grasp the love that brought them
together.
Texas Twist
Life at Crazy Hills has become crazier, and the cowboys are misbehaving. Their
worlds are turned upside down as lust leads them to places they never thought
they would go.
For Erick McTavish, meeting the handsome young cowboy, Sterling White, is the
first sign he may be able to put the pain and the flashbacks from his brutal
abduction behind him for good. Too bad Sterling doesn’t seem to return those
feelings.
Determined to remain straight, Sterling hates the walking, talking temptation
that is Erick, yet he can’t seem to stop his desire to experience his first
kiss with a man, but not just any man, only Erick will do. The tattered remains
of Sterling’s denial are stripped away when fate steps in and wickedly hot
passion ignites between the pair, leaving Sterling unable to imagine a life
without Erick.
Meanwhile, the bonds of friendship between Gresh, Connor, Lane, and Riley are
tested when dark desire leads them down a dangerous path twisting their
relationship to the max, leaving all four men wondering if any relationship is
possible after betrayal.
Excerpt
Texas Rough
Sara York
Chapter One
The old girl came at him, her eyes wide and her nostrils
flared. She aimed to escape, no matter what it took. She was a mean one, had
been for years, always looking for trouble. He’d kept his eye on her all
morning, just waiting for her to make her move. With her head low, she aimed
for his gut.
Lane Daniels jumped; he scrambled up the tall metal fence,
jerking his feet away from her aim seconds before her horn scrapped the rung
he’d been standing on. He pushed himself over the top and dropped to his feet
outside the corral. The cow bawled, jumped, bucked, and huffed, spraying spit
all over the dirt where he’d been standing only moments before. He pushed back
his cowboy hat and adjusted his gloves as he blew out a quick breath, thankful
he’d gotten away from the cow yet again.
“Whoo boy, you almost got it in the dick, or was it your
belly?” Jamie called out. He looked half like a scraggly rodeo clown with that
huge smile on his face, his bright plaid shirt, and his flaming red hair
sticking out from under his tan Stetson—the one Jamie’s daddy wore when he worked
this very same ranch. Jamie told that story over and over again, letting Lane
know just how long he’d been connected to the Crazy Hills Ranch, and how he
knew the place better than anyone.
Andy, Jake, and Sterling, three of his ranch hands, busted
out laughing, slapping their knees and pointing at Lane; then they danced
around funny, like a cow would run them over at any moment. Lane smiled and
laughed with them. They’d been at it for hours and needed some comic relief.
Being the target of their jokes didn’t bug him. They all respected him as boss,
even if they did rib him unmercifully during the workday. Hell, most cowboys
were total practical jokers; pushing buttons and clowning around to lighten the
mood and make work fun. At least his crew played nice and didn’t pull any
destructive pranks.
The cattle bawled as three more calves were cut from their
mammas. It was hard on the cows when their babies were culled from them. The
old gal would have run him through if she’d been a bit faster and he a bit slower.
She knew his actions were wrong by her. She had a little girl calf, so at least
the baby wouldn’t be aching between the legs when the veterinarian finished his
tasks.
Lane breathed out a heavy sigh as the cowboys went back to
work. In a few months they’d be here again, doing the drill for a second time
this year. Rolling Acres, the ranch next door, had asked Mister Miller to take
their cows and work them, paying a handsome percentage of the profits from
market. Lane had agreed to the plan—now he wished he hadn’t. Too many of
Rolling Acres' cows weren’t on the same calving schedule; not that they were
mismanaged, but at Crazy Hills he ran a tight ship.
Lane slapped his hands on his jeans, wiping them off. His
head hurt and he wanted more coffee, some good barbecue, and maybe a hot man to
snuggle with—possibly even take the edge off—but only the first two were a sure
thing. He’d been up since three this morning and the sun had about hit its
apex. He didn’t want to check the time, didn’t want to know how long they’d
worked. He loved being a cowboy but hated working cows through the chute to
give them medicine, especially the babies. Days like today made him long for a
good jump zone even if he were getting shot at. At least they were almost done
with the cows and then he’d have the luxury of kicking off his boots, enjoying
some of that barbecue and beer with the boys while they joked with each other.
Too bad he felt the need to keep his sexuality under wraps and couldn’t go into
town for a quick screw. He didn’t have time off to drive into Houston for a few
more weeks so getting some loving would have to wait.
The crunch of tires on gravel sounded behind him. Not today. Jamie came close again and
glanced over Lane’s shoulder, his face going blank.
“Shit.” Jamie drew out the word to two syllables then spit a
stream of tobacco juice into the dirt a few feet from Lane. “Here comes
trouble.”
The last thing Lane wanted, or could stand, made its way to
the corral. Perhaps the unexpected guest was Daddy Big Bucks and not his son,
Gresh the Third. He didn’t want to look, didn’t want to know, and didn’t want
to think about Gresh. Ignoring the sound of the car behind him, pretending he
hadn’t heard anything on the gravel road, would only last so long. The car drew
closer and slowed. Acting as if he wasn’t here would prove useless since he
couldn’t ignore the man who wrote his checks. The boss ruled and expected to be
catered to, especially out here in Texas ranch country. Hell, that was unfair;
Gresh wasn’t too bad of a guy and Hamilton was old-school, imprinted during a
different era with different expectations.
Lane’s foot started tapping and the skin nearest his spine
tingled. He gritted his teeth and forbid any errant thoughts. Who the hell
drove their rich ass out here to pay the ranch a visit in the middle of the
week on a workday? Gresh or Hamilton? Lane turned his head in time to see
Gresham Hamilton Miller the Third step out of his shiny black BMW, his Italian
loafers attracting dust like flies to honey. Lane groaned and bit his lip.
Damn, why did he have to think of honey and Gresh at the same time?
Lane didn’t curse and tried to not show any reaction to
observing the man, though his dick didn’t obey. He forced his thoughts to go
dark, thinking pain, like when his leg had snapped in two, to will his dick
down. He gritted his teeth as he pulled off his well-worn work gloves. After
wiping his hands on his jeans, he looked down and cursed. Filth from driving
cattle and working them through the chute covered him. Dried cow shit, blood,
and whatever the hell else he’d gotten into while rounding up the cattle
flecked his jeans.
Gresh looked like he’d stepped off the cover of GQ. His
white starched shirt and black slacks wouldn’t fly here, but he sure looked
delicious enough to eat. Damn, had to be
today of all days for him to show up.
Lane pushed his hat low on his head, covering his eyebrows
and hiding his peepers. He didn’t want to look Gresh in the eyes and see his
contempt. Lane found it humiliating enough to be covered in cow shit, he didn’t
need Gresh’s judgment on his choice of employment, which Lane happened to love;
well, except for today because working the cattle sucked donkey balls.
“Lane, good to see you.” Gresh held out his hand, ready to
shake.
Lane started to stick out his hand but held back. “Sorry,
I’m dirty from working today. Mister Miller, what can I do for you?”
“We’ve been through this before, it’s Gresh.” The
million-dollar smile lit up the man’s face, leaving Lane tingly all over.
Lane pursed his lips and squared his shoulders. “If you
don’t mind, you’re the boss and I like to keep it formal.” Goose pimples rose
over Lane’s arms as awareness of the man raced through him.
If he said Gresh’s name out loud he’d get hard, like rock
hard, and granite would have nothing on him. Too many nights he’d taken care of
his wood, whispering Gresh over and over again as he ran his fingers over his
pole. The name would wake up his dick and he didn’t need that. Hell, hard
enough not imagining Gresh’s full lips on his body, Gresh’s hands twisting in
his hair. Fuck, cool it, idiot.
“Well, I came by to say that Daddy is really pleased with
your numbers this year. We were going over the financials and wanted to sit
down and talk with you about next year.”
“You could have called. We’re kind of busy out here.”
Gresh looked out across the cow pens at the cowboys tossing
their hats in the air, their whoops of celebration carrying across the fields.
“I think they just doctored the last of the cows,” Gresh
said. “Y’all seem to be done. And if I remember correctly, tomorrow will be a
light work schedule, even for the foreman.”
Lane watched as baby cows and mammas were reunited at the
exit gate to the pens. Smarty-pants in the education world might not think that
cows had feelings but witnessing a mamma and baby reunited after the cowboys
worked them told him a different story.
“We want you to drive into Houston tomorrow. We’ll meet at
the office downtown, and Daddy wants to take you to dinner.”
This time Lane groaned. A half-day away from the ranch was
the last thing he needed. Fuck, he sure as hell didn’t want to spend Friday
evening with Gresham Senior. Crap, not like he’d be going on a date anyway. He
wasn’t out of the closet so to speak. But traveling into Houston to meet men
like the Millers wasn’t exactly the type of men he wanted to play with on a
late Friday night. If he took the time to drive into town he’d go straight to
Get Bent, Houston’s hottest gay bar and, well, he’d get bent. Hell, maybe he
would stop by the bar on the way home to take the edge off. A little poke would
go a long way to relieving the pressure of being near this guy.
Gresh walked closer to the pen, his ass looking super fine
in his dark slacks. The material hung just right, cupping the rounded globes of
the ass he wanted to nail. Fuck, the desire to rip off Gresh’s pants and push
him up against the fence raced over Lane, and he had to clench his fists to
stop himself form stalking forward and claiming the man. Gresh had no idea Lane
played for the other team and wanted to hump him like a dog in heat or be the
one getting humped, with Gresh hanging over him, pounding into his ass. Lane
shivered. The poor man would probably punch his lights out. Fuck, knowing what
he did about Gresh, he’d probably find a lawyer to sue him or send him a
strongly worded memo. Gresh wasn’t a pussy, but he took proper to a new level.
Raised in the world of private schools and even more private clubs, Gresh lived
differently than he did.
Lane had no idea how Gresh kept in shape. The guy probably
belonged to one of those fancy pants gyms in the city with a personal trainer.
Not that Lane cared how Gresh got his amazing body; he appreciated the muscles
all the same. Too bad he’d never get the chance to run his tongue over the
man’s sweet skin, finding all the dips and bulges, sucking love bites and
marking the man as his own.
Gresh spun around and the smile on his face almost knocked
Lane on his butt. Then again, Lane could stare at Gresh for hours and never tire
of the sight.
“So, Lane. We’ll see you tomorrow downtown Houston. About
three?”
Lane nodded once. “Sure. I’ll be there at three. I’m looking
forward to seeing Hamilton.”
“It’s a date.” Gresh stuck out his hand for a shake and Lane
almost accepted.
At the last second, Lane held up his hands and shrugged.
“Sorry, still dirty.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Gresh turned around and sauntered
back to his luxury car.
Lane tore his eyes off Gresh’s perfect ass before any of the
other cowboys noticed Lane drooling over a man. He’d picked a bad job to match
with his sexuality. Who the hell ever heard of a gay ranch foreman? He was
damned good at his job and knew animal husbandry better than almost anyone this
side of Houston. Crazy Hills turned a huge profit compared to most other
ranches that were drying up and selling off.
Lane took pride in the work he did, but he’d never be enough
to capture Gresh’s eye, much less his heart; he’d need double X chromosomes to
do that. Through the entire conversation he'd kept his gaze elsewhere, afraid
to meet Gresh’s eyes. What a coward. So what if two years ago Gresh had curled
his lip and turned his nose up in a blatant show of snobbery every time Lane
entered the room. Lane had grown wiser and ignored those types of people. But
hot damn, he wished Gresh would open his eyes and stop despising the work Lane
did and the way Lane made a living.
Check out what previous authors said about their ultimate Christmas present:
Lissa said: Discovering
I’d won the lottery or a really big grant so I could just write for a year.
Daniel said: I have already got it! MY FAMILY, Ben, Jake, and
Travis.
Havan said: Time...more time in the day, more time
in the week...just more time...lol
Kimber said: Oh man! That’s
a tough one. I don’t know. Lol there isn't anything materialistic that I
would want because no matter what it was it would lose its newness, or be used
up eventually. I think my ultimate Christmas present would have to be the
financial ability to open a nonprofit organization that would help teens in the
lgbt community that had been put out by their families for being who they
are. That would have to be the one thing
I really wish I could have. But, since I didn't win the Power ball I guess I’ll have to wait on that one. But one day… *crosses fingers*
Hank said: A cruise around the Greek Islands.
Ahhh…
DC said: Marriage equality in all 50 states. And slippers. O.o
What?? Everyone likes new slippers!
Lee said: Ultimate Christmas
present...hm. Housecleaning service for a year? A chauffeur on call? No, I
know...Tyler Florence in my kitchen, wearing a kiss-the-cook apron.
Allison said: A MacBook Pro. No kidding. That’s all I want for
Christmas this year. Okay, a best-seller would be awesome too, but really I’m
more of a whore for Apple than I am for myself.
Jackie said: I don’t know. I
like to give more than get so I guess the ultimate would be getting that “Oh
wow” gift for my hubby. He manages to do
it every year for me. I’ve been able to
do it in the past but this Christmas I’m biting the nails lol.
Pelaam said: Ooh difficult!! A best seller like 50 Shades
would be pretty awesome. But, if I could have anything, it would be a dog. We
currently live in rented accommodation and so the rule is no pets. I’m a huge
doggie person, although cats like me too. I’d love to be able to get a rescue
dog or puppy *sigh*
Dianne said: On a selfish note, I would love to have all the time I
wanted in which to write. At the moment I seem to be scrounging for every
minute I can come up with to work on my stories.
But the ultimate present? No, not Peace on Earth, but more
like, Tolerance on Earth. Wouldn't it be nice to live in a world where we
embraced and celebrated each other's differences? That would be the best
present, I think.
