Nod Your Head, Cowboy

The cool thing about being A. a contestant and B. at a small, local rodeo, you can get right down in the middle of the action. While watching, try to tune out the rodeo announcer and concentrate on the pickup men and gate man.

Notice the guy on the white horse. He's sitting as close as possible to the chute because the proximity of his horse helps keep the one in the chute calm. As soon as the cowboy is ready to nod for the gate he backs off to give the bucking horse room to fire.

This would be Cole Jacobs from my Texas Rodeo books. "I'll help you any way I can but don't be messing around on my horses. Get in, get down and nod your face."

And in Tougher in Texas you'll meet the fictional version of that white horse, who I named Salty. He's one of the best characters in the book.

**Addendum: you can also see that the ground was a little iffy due to a rainstorm a couple of days earlier. The committee did a great job getting the arena in shape overall but there were still a few slick spots and this horse seemed to have a gift for finding them.




For more info and where to buy Tougher in Texas visit my website at KariLynnDell.com

Win an Advance Copy of Tougher in Texas!

It's Almost Rodeo Time!

55 days until the release of the next book in my Texas Rodeo series, Tougher in Texas! It sounds like a long time but if your summer plans are anything like mine, it'll be the first of August before we know it.

Like the first two books Tougher centers around a fictional family of rodeo stock contractors, Jacobs Livestock. Well, sort of fictional. I grew up going to Montana rodeos produced by the very real Jacobs Rodeo company, and the name in the book is an intentional salute to a lot of great memories. Last weekend we went to what has been one of the first rodeos of the summer season for at least half of the years of my life, and I was able to catch a behind the scenes video that is an almost perfect replay of the opening of Tougher.

Almost perfect because the real crew does it flawlessly--but flawless doesn't make for a good story, so...

Here's the video, and the opening scene. Meet Cole Jacobs. And if you click on the link in the right tool bar and subscribe to my newsletter by Sunday, June 11th at midnight PDT, I'll toss your name in the hat for one of two signed Advanced Reader Copies of Tougher in Texas.

CHAPTER ONE

All of Cole’s problems would be solved if he just found a wife.

The thought popped into his head at the exact instant that a ton of bovine suddenly bellowed and kicked, slamming into the steel gate Cole was holding and knocking him flat on his ass. If Cole hadn’t stood six foot six, he probably would’ve lost some teeth. The gate caught him in the chest instead, and sent him sprawling in the dirt. His red heeler, Katie, barked once and launched herself at the bull to protect him, but Carrot Top just trotted off down the alley, more interested in checking the empty pens for leftover hay.

Cole scrambled to his feet and snarled as his gaze zeroed in on the bright-yellow cattle prod in the hand of one of the men who rushed to his aid. “What the fuck are you doing with that thing?”

The cowboy took a hasty step back, then another when Cole stalked toward him. “Just hurryin’ things along.”

“My stock moves just fine without a hotshot.” Cole made sure of it, training them from birth to handle easily.

The rodeo season was a cross-country marathon of long miles and strange places. Less stress equaled better performance, and even though the low-current buzz of the cattle prod was more startling than painful, Cole wanted his stock as relaxed as possible until the moment they exploded from the bucking chute. Carrot Top was an old pro. He’d earned the right to inspect the loading chute before setting hoof on the steep ramp.

And to come unglued when some asshole zapped him.

The cowboy ran out of room and backed up against the fence. Cole snatched the hotshot, busted it over his knee, and then tossed it back, the ends dangling by the wires that ran down the long shaft. "Pack that and the rest of your shit and get out of here.”

The cowboy clutched the broken prod to his chest, jaw dropping. “But I’m your pickup man.”

“Not anymore.”

Cole turned his back and strode down the alley to retrieve Carrot Top. As far as he was concerned, the conversation was over.

Half an hour later, his cell phone buzzed. He was tempted to ignore it, but she would only keep calling until he answered. There was a strong undercurrent of stubborn in the Jacobs gene pool. He heaved a deep sigh and put some distance between himself and the rest of the crew before he accepted the call, holding the phone three inches from his ear in anticipation of his cousin’s displeasure.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Violet yelled.

“He used a hotshot on Carrot Top.”

“So ban him from the stock pens. Hell, ban him from the whole rodeo grounds except when he’s working the performances, but did you have to fire him?”

“He used a hotshot on Carrot Top,” Cole repeated, slower this time.

“I understand. It was stupid. But what do you suggest we do next weekend when you’re the only pickup man in the arena?”

Cole hadn’t thought about that at the time. He’d been thinking about it since, but hiring contract personnel was Violet’s job. If she was here like normal, he wouldn’t have had to put up with a stranger. He wouldn’t have to put up with any of this crap. He could go back to just taking care of his stock and leaving all the people bullshit to Violet. He couldn’t say that, though, and as usual, his brain collapsed under pressure and offered up only the one sentence in his defense. “He used a hotshot on Carrot Top.”

Violet huffed out a breath so exasperated he swore he felt the breeze on his end of the line. “You do realize the doctor sentenced me to bed rest because my blood pressure is through the roof, right?”

Cole ducked his head, crushing a dirt clod with the toe of his boot. He wasn’t trying to aggravate anyone, especially Violet. She was command central for Jacobs Livestock. The hell she’d been going through had thrown all of them for a loop, Violet most of all. She hadn’t been sick a day in her first pregnancy, though Beni had decided to make an appearance six weeks early. She’d been prepared to be cautious and watchful. She had not expected to be sick as a dog practically from the moment she and Joe had seen the telltale line on the home pregnancy test.

Besides, Cole was almost as excited about the baby as its parents. He loved being Uncle Cole, and now a little girl? He grinned at the thought of a future full of ponies and pink cowboy boots—assuming his family didn’t string him up for driving Violet into another premature labor.

Cole huffed out a breath, leaning a shoulder against the back of the infield bleachers. Around him, the empty rodeo grounds looked like a hangover—garbage cans overflowed with empty bottles, corners of banners drooped along the fences, spilled popcorn and a smashed glob of cotton candy littered the ground. Katie nosed around under the bleachers and came out packing a half-eaten hot dog. It all looked ill-used and abandoned—sort of like Cole felt.

Yes, he had put them in a tight spot, but there were some things he wouldn’t tolerate when it came to his stock. Okay, many things. Obsessive-compulsive prick was another way of putting it, though only Joe dared say that to his face. He was family. Plus, he was a lot faster than Cole.

“Don’t try to say I didn’t warn you,” Violet said, her voice laced with grim amusement.

Cole froze. She couldn’t mean… “I thought you were kidding.”

“No, I was not, any more than I was kidding when I told you to make this one work, or else.”

Panic churned Cole’s gut. “Violet, you can’t. There must be somebody else—”

“I refuse to even ask. This makes three perfectly good pickup men you’ve chased off. If you can’t force yourself to get along, I’ll send someone you can’t fire.”

“Don’t. Please.” He didn’t hesitate to beg. If she followed through on her threat, he’d either be insane or under arrest by season’s end in September. “Just one more. I promise—”

“Nope. I’m done. If you can find a replacement before tomorrow morning, I’ll hire him. Otherwise…” He could hear her smirking, dammit. “Your new partner will meet you at Cuero.”

~~~

For more about Tougher in Texas AND handy dandy links to pre-order a copy of your very own, visit my website at: KariLynnDell.com/tougher

As long as the football season is over...

Because, yes, the Broncos have broken our hearts again, but at least this year I sort of expected it, unlike last year when I was already making smoochy faces at the Superbowl trophy. And now I'm going to be one of THOSE people who jump on the winning bandwagon and become a Seattle Seahawks fan.

Hey, I lived in the Pacific Northwest for ten years, during which they were the only team on my television and mostly sucked. I've earned my stripes. Or wings. Or whatever. 

Or we could all just go settle in on the couch with a good book. I've been doing a lot of that lately and I've been on a real winning streak of my own when it comes to picking up some great stories. 

The first one was a sure thing. One of my favorite all time series has been updated and re-released as a boxed set of ebooks. Christmas with the McRae's, Book 1,2 &3 by Teresa Hill. A real tear-jerker, but some fun moments, too. 

And as close to a sure thing as you can get: I've been plowing through everything Joanna Bourne has ever written. This is a tricky series because, as she freely admits, the order in which the books were released isn't actually the best order to read them in, as they didn't come to her in chronological order. So you'll want to start with The Forbidden Rose, then The Spymaster's Lady, then Rogue Spy, then My Lord and Spymaster, then The Black Hawk. And no, I don't care if you don't usually read historicals. Neither do I, and I am totally hooked on this series. They are intense and hilarious and so incredibly well written they make me feel like I should toss my laptop in the nearest snowbank, (aka, onto my deck because we're still debating who has to shovel this time). If at all possible, get the audio books. Kirstin Potter is AMAZING as the narrator. 

The happy surprise of my vacation reading (well, listening, as I'm an audiobook junkie) was a book called Bad Romeo by Leisa Rayven. This one is what we're now calling New Adult, what used to be Chick Lit, so it won't appeal to everyone, but again, the writing is razor sharp, the characters are so real you want to go meet them for drinks. 

And here's one you'll all want to snap up IMMEDIATELY, though you won't be able to read it until February 3. Now available for pre-order on Amazon:

Picture me doing a happy Snoopy dance around my living room. All of you with Kindles or tablets or phones with the free Kindle app can now rush out and reserve your copy before they run out!

Oh, fine. I know they won't run out of ebooks. I swear, the digital age has ruined the entire 'hurry and buy now' marketing scheme. But pre-orders do make my publisher think happy thoughts about me because they all hit the bank on release day, plus they make Amazon think I'm cool and consider bumping me up the list when someone searches for things like 'western romance' or 'cowboys', so a pre-order is a great way to give a brand new writer a boost.

Also, when I get home from vacation next week I'm going to give everyone who sends me a copy of their pre-order confirmation a chance to win something. What, you say? Well, as usual I'm a little unorganized and haven't figured that out yet, so I guess we'll all find out next week.

For more info about the book, visit my spiffy new website: KariLynnDell.com

Room and Board

William was a cowboy, a horse trainer, a farrier when necessary to make ends meet. Mostly, though, he was a hustler. He hustled games of pool and always managed to be at the bar when a generous soul ordered up a round of drinks for the house. He hustled a free cup of coffee from the waitress at the sale barn café. A free meal from the old lady down the road who didn't mind trading a plate of beef stew and a slice of apple pie for the company of a good looking, charming young man.

William even hustled a free bed when his buddy John was out of town.

John was out of town a lot. A big bruiser of a man, he could wrestle a steer with the best of them. He'd hit the professional rodeo circuit hard beginning in January, and spent most of the year traveling the country from show to show. Folks figured he was sure to capture the world championship before he was done. John's wife stayed home to care for their small herd of cattle and horses. Back in those days, even the top hands barely won enough to keep the car full of gas and their belly full of beans. Her job at the court house kept the bills paid more often than not.

William kept John's side of the bed warm.

It got to be a regular routine. John's horse trailer would barely disappear over the hill before William's dusty old Ford would rattle down the driveway. People in town couldn't help but notice, but nobody wanted to be the one to tell big John what was going on. Still, it was only a matter of time before word got out.

One day, early in the fall, it finally happened. William was sitting in the sale barn café, reading the newspaper he'd borrowed from old man Johnson and sipping the coffee he'd persuaded the waitress to 'warm up' one more time. The door swung open and there stood John, hands on hips. Everyone held their breath and prepared to get the heck out of the way as he headed straight to William's table.

"We need to talk," John declared.

William scooted his chair back and stood, debating his chances of getting to the exit in one piece. "Uh, sure John. Whatcha want to talk about?"

"This." John slapped one big hand flat on William's chest with enough force to knock him back a step. The piece of paper John had held fluttered to the floor.

William squinted down at it. "What's that?"

"A bill. I figure if you're gonna spend more time at my house than I do, you should at least chip in a third of the rent."

And with that, John turned around and strode out of the café.


Dear readers: this story is what we call a 'fictionalized account' of something that did actually happen, except maybe not exactly like this and maybe a name or two was changed 'cuz there are a few people like my dad who might recognize this story and these people. Plus it's easier to just make things up.