Hell Raising and Other Pastimes by Jayce Carter

Book 2 in the Perfect Taboo series

General Release Date: 8th June 2021

Word Count: 71,360
Book Length: SUPER NOVEL
Pages: 276

GENRES:

CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
MÉNAGE AND MULTIPLE PARTNERS
PARANORMAL
REVERSE HAREM

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Book Description

People have told me to go to hell—I guess they finally got their wish.

I’ve finally accepted the fact that I might not be entirely human, but still life doesn’t give me a break. Instead, I’m sucked into hell at Lucifer’s demand, and realize death is even more complicated than my life was.

I have to survive hell—where everything wants to kill me—so I can confront the devil himself. My love life is even more complex, though. Troy is terrified of his werewolf side hurting me, Kase and Grant are lying to me and Hunter is keeping his own secrets. I know better than to trust anyone, especially the men who have taken over my life.

Get to Lucifer’s Court, find out the truth about the missing spirits, figure out exactly what I am and try not to die along the way. Oh, and don’t fall in love with the men who will for sure break my heart and possibly get me killed.

Easy enough, right?

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of violence, bloodshed and death. There are references to parental abandonment and tattooing a child.

Excerpt

So, hell was pretty much what I’d expected.

Troy sat across from me in a small cave we’d taken shelter in, still avoiding looking at me, turning the spit with something cooking on it over the fire.

I had decided against asking what it was they were roasting, because I doubted any answer to that would make me happy.

If it were some strange hellbeast, I’d be grossed out, and if it were a cute, fluffy critter, I’d be sad.

Some questions were better left unasked, such as “Do I look fat in these?” or “Do you think my sister is hot?” and “What animal did this come from?”

Hunter came into the cave looking far too happy, as though he’d been waiting anxiously for just this moment. Hell, he was almost skipping.

Kase, on his heels, appeared significantly less pleased with the turn of events.

“I love the smell of brimstone in the morning.” Hunter set down an oddly shaped cup in front of me.

I took a closer look at the dish, the white of it standing out against the dimness of the everything else. “Where’d you get this?”

“Don’t worry about it. Drink. You mortals get parched fast out here.”

His answer didn’t ease me at all, so I lifted the cup closer to the fire. The white took a moment to place, and once I did, I couldn’t unsee it. “Is this bone?”

Hunter groaned and sat cross-legged on the other side of the fire. “I told you not to worry about it.”

“You can’t seriously expect me to drink out of a bone cup.”

“I have skulls, if they’re more your style.”

I was ready to yell at him for the stupid joke until I realized he probably wasn’t kidding. Somehow, the idea that Hunter had a collection of fine china made from bones in hell seemed right on par for him.

Especially the way he had no shame over it.

“Drink,” Kase said, nodding toward it. “I doubt you want to die of dehydration while in hell.”

“At least it’d be a short trip if I did,” I muttered before closing my eyes—it’d be easier if I didn’t have to actually see the cup—and drank the water in big gulps. I figured if I finished it off quickly, I’d have to touch the thing for less time overall.

Which was a stupid reaction since I’d touched dead bodies plenty of times.

But I’d never use them as flatware. There were some lines a person didn’t cross.

The water was warm, stale and tinged with an odd taste that made me want to gag a bit as I downed it.

Still, once I finished it, I handed back the empty cup. “Why would Lucifer drop us here? I thought he wanted to see me?”

Hunter shrugged. “He might figure a good test would be worth it. Anyone who can’t survive a few days journey in hell isn’t someone important enough for him to meet in person. Or maybe he intended for us to get dropped in his Court, but something went wrong. Magic doesn’t work quite right on you.”

“Things aren’t supposed to just go wrong for Lucifer.”

“Then you don’t know Lucifer. Remember the whole fall from heaven thing? He’s had things going wrong right from the start.”

And, again, that made me feel no better. I liked the idea that at least Lucifer had his business figured out. The thought that he was as powerless and fumbling as the rest of us gave me a moment of thinking, If he can’t get shit right, what chance do I have?

I sighed and crossed my legs, leaning forward. Great. We were stuck in hell, had no idea why I was where I there and now even the guy who ran it all didn’t seem to have a good grip on specifics.

The only person happy about our circumstances was Hunter, who grinned as though he couldn’t have planned things any better.

Then again, it was his home.

Grant was still outside, setting wards so we could get a good night’s sleep, or at least the best one could expect in a cave in hell.

Not that there seemed to be any night. It reminded me of the pocket realm I’d met the fae in, except it didn’t get lighter or darker. It remained a constant depressing level of dim, which ranked around the super overcast and rainy level.

When Troy finished cooking the food, he tore free a piece and held it out for me. Instead of thinking too much about it—I was really hungry—I popped it into my mouth, surprised to find it rather good.

As long as I don’t consider what it might have been before being spit roasted or how many legs it might have had.

“Do you think he’ll try to kill me?” I asked.

“I doubt it,” Hunter said. “If he wanted to kill you, he could have done it without this much work. Lucifer doesn’t do anything without a reason. He calls it efficient—I call it lazy.”

“Maybe he just wants to be able to watch me die in person,” I muttered around another bite of food.

“We won’t let him hurt you,” Kase said.

I gave him a withering glare in return. I didn’t get over betrayal so easily. We might have been in an entirely different realm, but I wasn’t ready to forgive him for lying to me, for hiring Grant to figure out what I was, for manipulating me. Maybe his words would have reassured me if I didn’t already doubt his loyalty so much.

He looked as though he wanted to discuss the matter, but a glance around the cave reminded him we had an audience. Kase’s ego would never want to air dirty laundry with others in earshot.

The perfect Kase didn’t want to not look so perfect.

“You know, you all don’t have to be here.” I forced the words out even though I really didn’t want to say them. Still, it was only fair to give them an out.

“What?” Grant asked as he came into the cave.

“Well, you can make portals to and from hell, right? You might have gotten sucked in here on accident, but you don’t have to stay.”

“Actually, we do,” he said.

“Don’t give me that. There’s no reason for you all to risk your lives just because I evidently have an appointment with the devil.”

Hunter shook his head, a smirk across his lips. “No, shadow-girl, what he means is that when Lucifer yanked us here, it placed a tracer on us. All of us. None of us can portal back until Lucifer removes it. The magic just won’t work for a portal. I could cross the boundary, but I couldn’t take anyone with me.”

I blew out a breath, ashamed to admit just how relieved I was by that. Sure, I had to give them an out, but the thought of them leaving, of trying to make my way across hell by myself hadn’t been one I relished. They were stuck with me for now, and it was far more reassuring than I wanted to admit.

“How long until we reach Lucifer’s Court?” I asked, trying to change topics.

Hunter plucked a piece of meat from the creature and ate it with noisy bites. “Three days? Maybe five if we need a lot of stops. We ended up right at the boundary line, so it’s a long walk. If it were just me, I’d make it in a day, but you all couldn’t keep up.”

Troy snorted. “Maybe not them, but I’m quicker than you think.”

Hunter offered Troy a wide grin. “Yeah, but you’d keep up—maybe—if you were in your wolf form. Sadly, you’ve got some performance issues about that one, and on two legs you’re as slow as the mortal.”

Troy narrowed his eyes but didn’t respond.

Fine by me. Honestly, I’d love for them all to shut up.

It was bad enough they bothered me at my house, when they stopped by constantly and threw my life into chaos, but out here, I didn’t even have the privacy of a bathroom or the occasional moments of peace.

It was twenty-four-seven testosterone zone.

So I ate another piece of food before a yawn told me I needed rest.

The cave floor was hard and there wasn’t anything to use as a pillow around. I groaned and twisted, my shoulder sore from where it dug into the ground.

Troy had taken a spot far away, as though he wanted to avoid me as best he could—just like he’d done since I’d saved him.

The ungrateful bastard. Next time maybe I’d let that freaky shadow take him over.

After checking the wards, Grant had leaned himself against the doorway of the cave, his legs stretched out and his eyes closed. He’d picked there, at the threshold, like a guardian.

Funny, since Grant, with his twenty-year-old appearance, massive number of tattoos and rebel hair style, appeared the least dangerous.

Hunter had chosen to rest outside, like some dog in the yard. He’d taken a large hunk of the meat and claimed to like sleeping under the stars.

Not that there were any stars…

“Come here.” Kase’s voice was soft in the darkness, and close enough I jumped.

How he could move so quickly, I didn’t understand. He’d managed to shift around so he crouched just above where I lay.

I pressed my palm against the cave floor and pushed myself up. With the fire gone, I struggled to see Kase, so I glared in his direction best I could. “Sorry, but that doesn’t work.”

“What doesn’t work? You need sleep, and you won’t get any tossing and turning like that.”

“You think this is my first time dealing with men? Let me guess, I’ll sleep so much better all curled up beside you. And I’ll sleep better without any pants. In fact, a few orgasms will put me right out.” I made sure my voice sounded as insulting as I meant it to be.

Which was stupid, because no matter how much I disliked him at the moment, a few orgasms would help me sleep.

Just not from him. Not that he’d proven himself capable of delivering them anyway. His only attempt had been pathetic.

He sighed before sitting on the ground, his back to the wall. He removed his jacket and balled it up in his lap. “I’m not offering orgasms, Ava, and since my body doesn’t run warm, there isn’t a reason to curl up beside me, naked or not. However, I am, at the very least, useful as furniture.”

I wanted to argue that I was sleeping just fine, but the ache in my shoulder called me a liar. Still, the thought of touching him made me wonder how stupid one person could be.

His entire reaction to me was bad enough—I wasn’t sure I’d ever live down him spitting out my blood as if it were tainted—but the idea that he’d been lying to me was what really stuck.

He’d hired Grant to spy on me, to go behind my back and figure out what I was. He’d even said the entire thing had been for the coven, not him. How on earth could I just forget that?

Still, his lap was as good as anyone else’s, and I was tired. I slid up, wincing when it aggravated my shoulder.

He set a strong hand on my back, helping me to adjust, until I was on my side, my head pillowed on his lap, his jacket creating more cushion and a useful barrier between me and any erecting that might happen.

Not that that seemed a problem with him.

When he ran his fingers through my hair, I swatted him away. “Knock that off.”

He let out a soft sound, all annoyance. “I’m trying to help.”

“I didn’t ask for help, did I?”

“You haven’t ever asked, and yet here I’ve been, doing it anyway. I am in hell, literally, for you.”

I sighed, having nothing to say back to that. When I closed my eyes, he dragged his fingers through my hair again, and this time I let him. Just because I was mad at him didn’t mean I had to forgo the nice sensation, did it?

It wasn’t like he was getting anything out of it. Might as well enjoy it while it lasted. I doubted many nice things happened in hell.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said, voice low as if we could have a private conversation in such a small space, surrounded by others. “I hired Grant before I knew much about you.”

“But even after you got to know me, you didn’t feel the need to mention it? To call him off?”

“I knew you wouldn’t be happy about me invading your privacy like that, and as I spent more time with you, I found out you hold grudges. It seemed a pointless argument to risk, since if you never found out, you would have never been angry.”

I shifted and accidently elbowed him in the crotch.

He let out a rush of air—it seemed not everywhere on a vampire was impervious to harm—before groaning. “I have learned my lesson, Ava. I do not intend to lie to you again.”

“And so I’m supposed to be okay with it? What was this all? What was it when you tried to feed from me? Just more research for the coven? At least that explains why you couldn’t keep it up.”

“No. It wasn’t ever for the coven.”

“That was what you told Grant.”

“Because I prefer not to expose potential weaknesses.”

“So I’m a weakness now?” I went to rise, because his lap was not worth me getting any more hurt than I already was.

He set a hand on my shoulder and pressed me back down, reminding me just how strong he was. “Stop it, Ava. Stop fighting with me long enough to listen. I have thought about you since I first saw you in that shop, and that obsession hasn’t ended. When I asked around and found out what little I could, it still wasn’t enough. So, yes, when given the chance, I hired Grant to discover more about you—not for the coven and not for Colter, but for myself. You can be angry with me for as long as you’d like for that invasion of privacy, for the lies, but do not mistake it for something it wasn’t. I hired you for the job with Olin because you could do it, I wanted to feed from you because I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I want you because I have since I first saw you. Besides, you shouldn’t be so angry with me when Grant found nothing useful out.”

“Maybe that’s why he got kicked out of the guild, because he’s a terrible mage.”

A snort from the doorway said Grant was listening, but I pretended it was a random sound so I didn’t have to think about our audience.

Kase went back to the gentle stroking of his fingers through my hair, and, despite my better judgment, it relaxed me. His voice, smooth and unfailingly calm, was even worse. “He ran every test he could, did everything he knew and he could not identify what you were. No matter how much I researched, who I threatened, I discovered nothing. You are an enigma, Ava.”

“And that’s why you’re still around? Because I’m a very interesting puzzle, and you’re old and bored? Or because I could be potentially useful to you?”

“No. I don’t think I care what you are anymore. Originally, it was a mystery, but I’ve discovered you are trouble no matter what you might be.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’re here now.”

“You’re smart enough to figure that one out. I’m not sure there are many reasons a man goes to hell for a woman.”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Kase and I, we never talked. We didn’t admit anything. Where Troy liked to come out and say what he felt, and Hunter didn’t feel deeply enough for the need to have a conversation, Kase and I liked to exchange things in non-speak.

He didn’t say he cared, and I didn’t say I liked that he was there.

Even still…I couldn’t quite accept his words. I recalled Colter, remembered the coven house, and knew I had no idea where his loyalties really lay.

He might be a great piece of furniture, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t kill me if he needed to…

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About the Author

Jayce Carter

Jayce Carter lives in Southern California with her husband and two spawns. She originally wanted to take over the world but realized that would require wearing pants. This led her to choosing writing, a completely pants-free occupation. She has a fear of heights yet rock climbs for fun and enjoys making up excuses for not going out and socializing. You can learn more about her at her website.

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The Ghost Hunter and her Guy by Larissa Vine

Book 4 in the Women on Top series

General Release Date: 8th June 2021

Word Count: 39,346
Book Length: SHORT NOVEL
Pages: 161

GENRES:

COMEDY AND HUMOUR
CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
PARANORMAL

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Book Description

A love so strong, it’s supernatural.

When medium Jolene Gray is offered a lucrative contract as a psychic on a television show, she jumps at the chance. The money will pay for her spiritualist meetings that help connect people with their departed loved ones…and she’ll get to work with smoking-hot TV director Red MacFarlene. Jolene’s life is woefully lacking in romance. It’s hard to have a boyfriend with her spirit guide, Iris, always in her head.

This is Red McFarlene’s golden ticket, an opportunity to direct an episode of the phenomenally popular TV series Canada’s Most Haunted. By doing this, Red hopes to launch a new career directing movies like his sickeningly perfect brother. Bonus—the show’s ghost hunter is the gorgeous and gifted Jolene.

As filming starts on a famously haunted farm, a place steeped in tragedy with a history of vengeful ghosts, Jolene senses that the spirits want something, but her guide is blocking them from her, and she’s also sidetracked by her steamy romance with Red.

The ghost activity increases, though, and soon it’s not just the TV show that’s at stake. To face the specters and protect Red from dangerous paranormal forces, Jolene must ignore the voice in her head, and listen to her heart…before it’s too late.

Reader advisory: This book contains references to death and violence.

Excerpt

Jolene raced up the steps of the Mountain View Evangelical Baptist church and into the entrance area, dodging a few of the latecomers. She approached Eion, the head of the British Columbia Spiritualists’ Society, sitting at a trestle table with the collection box. He looked like he was on safari in a white linen suit. His gray cravat matched his steely hair.

He shot Jolene a pointed stare. “You’re nearly late.”

“I’m sorry. It’s the buses,” she panted. “How is it in there tonight?” She jerked her head toward the hall.

“We’ve got a full house as always,” Eion said. “I thought the heat would deter them, but it hasn’t.” He rattled the collection tin at an approaching couple then switched his attention back to Jolene.

“Go wait in the wings,” he said to her.

She hurried past him along the corridor into the room at the back, where she took off her purse then wound the strap around a metal hanger on the coat rail. She ducked into the tiny washroom. At once, Iris, Jolene’s spirit guide, started up in Jolene’s head. “Where’s your comb, lovie? Please tell me that you brought your comb. A pretty girl like you can’t be seen like this.”

Jolene rolled her eyes at Iris then checked her reflection in the mirror. It was true. People had often said that she was pretty with her big mouth, streaky blonde hair and slanting eyes. But Iris was right. At the moment, she did look a mess. Her hair hung in sweaty strands around her face.

She combed it with her fingers then hurried to the side of the stage and peered out from the wings. Her throat tightened. The hall was full like Eion had said. All the two hundred and fifty folding metal seats were occupied, and some people stood around the sides.

She and Eion had been running this meeting every Wednesday for the past two years. It had taken them a while to find a venue. All the nearby community centers had been booked and most of the churches that they’d approached hadn’t wanted to host her show. Some people viewed what she did as close to witchcraft. But then Eion had discovered this place and so every Wednesday, once Jolene had finished her shift at the hospital, she would change out of her scrubs and jump onto the bus. At first, the meetings had been small, but word had spread and, week by week, the numbers had grown.

A ripple of applause rang out from the crowd. Jolene realized that Eion had stepped onto the stage from the other side of the wings. He stopped in the center by a table and chair that had been set up for her. A microphone rested on a stand, set to chair height.

“Welcome, everyone,” he began.

There was a squeal of feedback, and Jolene flinched.

“My name is Eion Hughes”—Eion soldiered on—“and I run the Spiritualists’ Society of British Columbia. Now, I’m sure you don’t need me to introduce our guest. The waiting is over, ladies and gentlemen. Here’s the lady who’s brought so much comfort to many people…Jolene.”

The clapping grew louder. Jolene’s heart quickened.

Eion climbed down the steps to the front of the hall and fetched the roving mic. Drawing a breath, Jolene walked onto the stage. She stopped in the middle and stared out at the sea of faces. As she sat down on the chair, a hush fell over the audience. Jolene felt their anticipation in her chest. She knew that some people had traveled for hours to see her and that some showed up week after week, desperate for a message that never came. What if there aren’t any voices?

“It’s okay, lovie,” Iris said. “Calm yourself. The spirit world will look after you.”

Jolene licked her dry lips then spoke into the mic.

“Hello.” Her voice was shaky. “First, I need you to know that this doesn’t always work. Sometimes those in the spirit world don’t want to talk, and I can’t make them. You have to encourage them. This will only happen if you join in. And it’s done through love. You’ve got to open your hearts and let the love flow. Okay, so let’s see what I have here.”

A clamor of spirit voices sprang up in her head. Jolene smiled. Everyone spirit-side wanted to have their say. There was going to be no problem tonight. But they were all speaking at once in an unintelligible jumble. Male and female voices overlapped and undercut each other.

“Relax,” Iris piped up. “Tell them you’ll get to all of them. Focus on the quiet man.”

Jolene slowed her breath and tried to shift through the din. A man was speaking. His voice was softer than the rest and she sensed that he’d just passed.

“It’s Todd.” His voice was faint. “I’ve got a message for Judith.”

“Is there a Judith in the audience?” she called.

She looked around the hall. No one acknowledged her, and she felt a lurch of fear. People were going to start calling her a fake at any second. Then, two rows from the back, a hand went up.

“I’m Judith.” A woman in a headscarf got to her feet.

Eion walked to Judith’s row. He reached past several people and handed her the mic. She was in her forties and had a tight, pinched face.

“Wood. I’m getting something about wood,” Jolene continued. “Do you live in Woodland Road?”

“Woodland Way,” Judith said.

“That’s right.” Jolene nodded. “I’m not getting that,” she said to Todd. “Sorry, come closer to me, not to your mom. Todd wants you to know, Judith, that you mustn’t worry about the insurance money.”

A moan fell from Judith’s lips. “Then it’s all right?” she asked.

“It’ll be paid by the end of July,” Todd said.

Jolene relayed the message to Judith who sat, smiling.

“Okay.” Jolene cleared her throat. “Now I’ve got a man coming in. I think he said his name was Craig. Does anyone recognize someone called Craig? Wait a minute. It’s Shirley he’s looking for. Shirley Black.”

A woman near the front row raised her hand.

“Can you stand up, please?” Jolene said.

The woman stood up. “My name’s Shirley, but it’s not Black.”

“And do you have a son called Craig?” Jolene asked. “He’s sixteen, right?”

Shirley’s eyes filled with tears and she nodded.

“He said he saw John recently and that you were talking about him.”

Shirley gasped.

“Sorry,” Jolene said. “I can’t hear him anymore.” The jangle of other voices had become too loud.

“Tell her to wait,” Iris said. “I’ll get him back.” Jolene imagined Iris elbowing her way through the rabble, maybe jabbing people with her knitting needles, then dragging Craig to the front. Suddenly, Craig was talking again.

“How did you pass, Craig?” Jolene asked Craig aloud.

Shirley gave a shuddering sigh into the mic.

“You’ve got some of his hair in a locket, haven’t you?” Jolene said to Shirley, who nodded.

“And how did you pass, Craig?” Jolene repeated. “He said he had cancer.”

Shirley gave a tiny nod. Jolene sensed that it was taking all her self-control to not break down.

“He says you’re going on a holiday, aren’t you?” Jolene said.

“I don’t know,” Shirley replied.

“He says ‘Wherever you go, I’ll go with you’,” Jolene said.

Shirley started to cry and laugh at the same time.

The session continued with Jolene and Iris working as a team. Iris cajoled the quieter spirits and reprimanded the bossy ones, and Jolene passed on the messages to the audience.

An hour later, Jolene left the stage to a rousing storm of applause. She headed to the room at the back and collapsed onto the bench. She felt drained and her stomach hurt. When she channeled the spirits, they used up the energy from her solar plexus. Iris, who Jolene guessed was exhausted too, stayed silent.

Eion appeared with two mugs of tea, one of which he pressed into Jolene’s hands. She took a sip and made a face. It was so sweet. She could have stood a spoon up in all the sugar.

“Did you hear about April?” Eion asked, sitting.

Jolene shook her head. April was also a medium at the Spiritualists’ Society.

“Last Tuesday, she was sent to a house,” Eion said. “The owner was having incredible trouble with a spirit. So April went to calm the spirit and do you know what happened?”

“What?”

“The spirit followed her home. I mean, honestly. She should have known what to do.”

“What’s that?” Jolene asked. Her mind was still on the meeting, and she was only half interested.

Eion blew on the steam from his mug. “If you look around a spirit’s place, they sometimes feel that they have the right to visit your place too. Before she left, she should have said to the spirit, ‘Go away. Don’t follow me.’”

“And that would have been enough?”

“It works like a charm. Did you see we were past capacity tonight?”

“Wasn’t it great?”

“We were over the fire regulation limit,” Eion said. “If it gets like that again, I’ll have to close the doors early.”

“What?” Jolene stared at him in horror. “But you can’t turn people away. You just can’t. Did you see how happy that woman was when she heard from her son? We’ll have to find a bigger hall.”

“I’ve tried and there aren’t any. I spoke to the priest here, and he said that this church is also free on Monday nights. Maybe you could run two meetings a week.”

“I can’t cut another shift. I have to make the rent.”

“You should never worry about money,” Eion said briskly. “The spirit world will always provide.”

It was easy for him to say, Jolene thought, with his waterfront house in West Vancouver and his comfortable cushion of retirement savings.

They drank their tea. Sometime later, when Jolene’s strength had returned, she said goodbye to Eion and left the church. As she walked down the steps, the sun was sinking low in the rose-colored sky. It was a gorgeous summer evening and the whole of Vancouver seemed to be on heat. She passed a couple who were making out at a bus stop. The man’s hand was high up inside the woman’s top. They seemed so in love—or was it lust?—that Jolene’s heart twisted. She wished that she had someone to share her life with, but it was tricky when she had Iris.

Iris had appeared on Jolene’s eleventh birthday and had announced that she would be Jolene’s spirit guide. Even after all these years, Jolene still knew little about her, which was surprising considering that she never shut up. Jolene had learned that Iris came from a fishing village in the West Country of England and that she’d lived in the Victorian era and had passed from tuberculosis when she was eighty-two. She’d spent her time baking scones and knitting while her husband Fred had been catching cod at sea.

Jolene imagined Iris to be stout from all the baking and with well-defined jaw muscles from talking too much. She pictured her in an ankle-length dress and an apron with her gray hair pinned, primly, on top of her head.

All of Jolene’s medium friends had spirit guides too, but theirs were a lot cooler and considerably more chilled. Juanita had Romanov, a Russian dissident. Sophia had a philosopher. Although Jolene loved Iris, she wished that she wouldn’t interfere quite so much. It was hard to get anything done—let alone have a romance—with a chatterbox grandmother living inside her head.

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About the Author

Larissa Vine

British-born Larissa Vine spent way too long traveling before settling in Vancouver, Canada. Now she lives close to the ocean and the mountains with her ever-patient family and her army of cats. Larissa tries to write what she loves to read – books which are tender, cheeky, even dirty sometimes. Books which are, above all…fun!

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Leading The Blind by BA Tortuga

Book 7 in the Roughstock series

General Release Date: 8th June 2021

Word Count: 53,445
Book Length: NOVEL
Pages: 230

GENRES:

 ACTION AND ADVENTURE
CONTEMPORARY
COWBOYS AND WESTERN
EROTIC ROMANCE
GAY
GLBTQI

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Book Description

You don’t need the use of your eyes to see forever.

After his head injury leaves him blind, professional bull rider Jason Scott can only think of one thing. He desperately needs to win the title in the big leagues of bull riding so he can retire and start a new life—one he can live with his best friend and lover, Andy Baxter.

Andy—or Bax, as his friends call him—wants to keep Jason safe and alive, but he would never ask his man to be less than he is. With the help of their best friends, they start out on a path that will lead them back to the major events and to a deception that might lose them all their jobs.

There’s no way the league officials would let Jason ride if they knew he was blind, so Jason and Bax have to figure out how to get Jason back to the top of the leaderboard without any kind of advantage or cheating being called. Meanwhile, they have to figure out what their new life is going to look like and what they’ll be if they’re not bull riders any longer.

Will they get what they want? Or will the whole thing just be a case of the blind leading the blind?

Reader advisory: This book contains some bull riding-related injuries. There is a brief homophobic slur from a secondary character.

Excerpt

“Jesus fucking Christ! Open your goddamn eyes next time! That bull damn near rang your bell.” Bax shook his arm, and Jason swore that made the world swim before his useless fucking eyes again.

“Andy Baxter, you’d best back the fuck off. This ain’t the time.” He’d know Coke’s voice anywhere, the bullfighter as much a part of his family as anyone ever had been.

“Gramps, don’t.” Jason Scott leaned against the stall, breathing hard. The last thing he needed was Pa and Ma MacGillicuddy freaking out because he’d lost his cookies at a bull riding. Bull riding fans were a specific breed, and it didn’t matter one bit whether it was the big show or a tiny two-gate sheriff’s posse arena. They all talked.

“Well, someone has to,” Coke ground out. “He’s being an ass.”

“He needs to keep his eyes open.” But Bax lowered his voice, thank God.

“I know. I got dirt in ‘em. It’s not like I can wipe them, Bax.”

“For eight seconds, you can suck it up.”

“Right. ‘Cause you were always fucking perfect.”

Bax grabbed his shirtfront and shook him. “Every. Fucking. Ride.”

“Stop it,” Coke snapped, and they stopped. Gramps rarely spoke in that tone. When he did, well, they listened. “Y’all are being buttheads and I don’t need this shit, you comprende? Folks got phones.”

“Sorry,” Bax murmured, which made Jason snort.

“Don’t tease the bull, son. Tell Andy you’re sorry.”

Jason blew out a hard breath. “You know I am, butthead.”

“Good boys. Come on now. We got to get out of the public.” Coke tugged at his arm. Hell, Coke had to get back to work.

“Right. I’m going to get out of here, Gramps. I sure as shit ain’t making the short go.”

“Okay, son.” Coke clapped him on the back. “Be good.”

Bax laughed. “Right. He’ll be trying to drive off in the truck soon.”

“I’d do better than some.” His head was starting to pound like there was a damn mariachi band in there, playing away.

“You did okay last time,” Bax agreed, taking his arm and leading him out of the arena. “Until you didn’t.”

“Story of my life.” He rode like a champion, until he didn’t. He could see, until he couldn’t. He had a whole life, until it was over. Now? He was fixin’ to try and take some of it back.

“Hey, I just want you to be safe.”

“I know. I just want you to not have to babysit my ass forever.”

“I’m not your babysitter.” Bax lowered his voice. “I’m yours, and we’re in this together, Mini.”

Jason felt his fucking shoulders come down from around his ears. Okay. Yeah. ‘Together’ he could get behind. A burden? No, that he couldn’t do. “Right. Sorry. You want a beer?” An aspirin? Something to stop this pounding?

“Sure. Sounds good.” Bax led him out of the arena, the dirt changing to concrete.

He tried to make sure his face was thunderous, keeping anyone away who might want to talk. He was getting better at that part—the talking to fans—but not much. Right now he thought he might die if someone stopped them. Bax kept him moving fast, and soon enough he was in the cab of their truck, the sudden quiet shocking his senses.

“I’m taking you to the travel trailer, okay?” Bax sounded either pissed or scared. He wasn’t sure which.

“Okay.” Jason didn’t want to fight no more, so he folded his hands and sat quiet as a mouse.

They didn’t play music, they just drove, and when they got to the gravel road, Jason knew they were at the weird little campground.

The truck rocked a bit when Bax hit the brakes. The engine cut off, and they sat there.

“You okay?” Bax finally asked.

“My head hurts some,” he admitted. “I need some time to not worry about shit.”

“Well, come on. We’ll get you some pills and watch a movie.”

Listen to a movie, more like, but whatever. “Works for me.”

“You sure? I could put on one of those audiobooks.”

“I just want to be somewhere I”—can see—“know.”

“It’s cool and quiet in there.” Bax climbed out of the truck, then came around to help him out.

“Yeah.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, Bax.”

“What for, Mini?” They stepped up into the trailer, the smell oddly homey inside.

“Being blind?” Having you take care of me when all I want in all the world is to take care of you.

“Well, that’s stupid. Ain’t like you asked to be blind.”

“No.” No, not a bit. “Good thing we cleared that up.”

“You know it.” Bax snorted loud, then guided him to sit back on the bed thingy. “Let me get us a cold drink, then we can kinda float.”

“Thanks. I’ll get the next one.” He toed his boots off and stripped out of his sponsor shirt and his baggy, filthy work jeans.

“No problem.” Bax opened a couple of bottles, the bottle cap sound unmistakable.

He took the bottle when Bax offered it and drank deep, the lemon-lime bubbles suiting him to the bone.

“Mmm. It was dry as dirt out there, huh?”

“Yeah. Yeah, and I’m pretty sure my mouth was open when I hit the ground.” His molars were a little gritty.

“Ew. No cow shit, Mini.”

Jason snorted, tickled shitless. “No. Although God knows how much we’ve eaten accidentally over the years.”

“Stop.” Bax pinched his hip. “That’s nasty.”

“No pinching!” He rolled toward Bax, trying not to spill his drink. “You’re such a wuss.”

“I am not. I swim with you at your momma’s place. There’s snake poop in there.” Bax had a point there. Jason wasn’t real sure what the point was, but Bax had one.

“I don’t even want to think about what all is in that pond, Bax.”

“Nope.”

They kinda…lounged. Just sat there and breathed like great big lazy gators. He laughed a little at that. Gators did okay blind, according to Beau Lafitte.

“What’s funny, Mini?”

“Alligators.”

“That ain’t funny. That’s a lot of teeth.”

“You’re just grumpy. Most days they’re funny.”

“Kinda, yeah.” Bax took his hand. “Sorry I yelled, Mini.”

“I’m trying. I swear to God. I’m trying hard to do this.” And God knew there were more than a few days when he just wanted to give up, to go home to Momma’s and admit defeat. Shit fire and save matches, what the fuck was he thinking, riding blind? He’d got his bell rung when he could see.

“I know. I know it.” Bax sighed. “I want— Shit, Mini, I want you to be happy, and you’re not.”

“I don’t want to ride the little events forever. I don’t want to be a has-been.” He didn’t want to be a burden.

“You’re not. You’re doing amazing.”

Now, Bax wasn’t one to blow smoke up anyone’s ass, so the words perked him up a little bit.

“You think so? I feel like a fuck-up.”

“That’s because we’re all always telling you what to do.”

He traced Bax’s fingers, one after another. Lord have mercy, those calluses felt like heaven when they touched him. The fact that they’d never touched him when he couldn’t see wasn’t lost on him. Bax had saved him. Completely. Fucker.

“You’re pouring smoke, Jason. Out of your brain.” Bax chuckled. “Thinkin’ ain’t what we do best.”

“Fuck no. We do stupid shit and drink beer.” It was the cowboy way, after all.

“See? I knew it.” Bax rolled to kiss his cheek.

“Knew what?” He could meet Bax halfway.

“That we’re better not thinking.” Bax laughed, poking his ribs.

He chuckled. “No shit on that, man.”

“Mmm.” Bax settled in right against his hip. “I got you, Jason. You just scared me, is all.”

“Scared me too. I hate being this way.”

“I know.” Those fingers moved over him, Bax stroking his belly.

Goosepimples climbed up his skin, heading from hips to nipples. “Mmm. I don’t hate this, though.”

“No, sir. I love this. Holding you. Touching you.”

“Good deal.”

Bax was breathing, steady and sure, and the rhythm liked to hypnotized him. “That is a good deal,” Bax agreed.

“We are. I mean, this is. Us. Christ.”

“It is what it is.” That was right down Zen of Bax.

He nodded and let his eyes close. It was the only way he could see colors. Sometimes he thought he could see Bax. Sometimes he knew he could.

“You’re smiling.” Bax rewarded him with a kiss.

He didn’t say why, and it didn’t matter. Nothing he did would change his world. No sense getting Bax’s hopes up.

Together, they’d get through today. Tomorrow too.

The day after that would just have to take care of itself.

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About the Author

BA Tortuga

Texan to the bone and an unrepentant Daddy’s Girl, BA Tortuga spends her days with her basset hounds and her beloved wife, texting her buddies, and eating Mexican food. When she’s not doing that, she’s writing. She spends her days off watching rodeo, knitting and surfing Pinterest in the name of research. BA’s personal saviors include her wife, Julia Talbot, her best friends, and coffee. Lots of coffee. Really good coffee.

Having written everything from fist-fighting rednecks to hard-core cowboys to werewolves, BA does her damnedest to tell the stories of her heart, which was raised in Northeast Texas, but has heard the call of the  high desert and lives in the Sandias. With books ranging from hard-hitting romance, to fiery menages, to the most traditional of love stories, BA refuses to be pigeon-holed by anyone but the voices in her head.

You can check out BA’s website and blog, and follow her on Pinterest and Instagram.

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