Riding the Circuit
Riding Cowboy Flats: Book Three
Rodeo cowboy Frost Barton spends most of his time on tour, and that’s the way he likes it. But when his dad dies suddenly, Frost returns to southern New Mexico to attend the funeral and help his mom decide what to do with their small family ranch. Frost is already considering retiring from bull riding and planting his itchy feet in the ground. Meeting horse trainer Matt Morales just adds another pull in that direction, though Frost still isn’t sure he’s ready to give up the circuit—even if Matt makes settling down look mighty tempting.
Matt is old enough to know better, but he falls for Frost anyway. They only have so much time to spend together before Frost goes back on tour, but Matt believes they might have something special. He keeps the home fires burning while Frost earns his living, but Matt hopes he can convince Frost to come home—to stay.
Buy links: Dreamspinner | Amazon
Cat gives this one 4 Meows with a 4 Purr heat index...
I like rodeo stories and this is one had good bones.
Frost has come home for his daddy's funeral. It is the end of the season and he is close to winning some money so he does need to go back, if nothing but for the rest of the season, then come home to help his mom with the ranch. He meets Herschel and Rusty, Tate and Dave and wonders if he could ever find a man to settle down if he got out of the riding.
Matt is a horse trainer that helps Frosts mom on the ranch and helped when his dad was sick. Matt and Frost hit it off quickly. What starts out as a one off turns into more fast.
I think that was my problem with the story. There is a lot going on, but it goes so fast. I think this story would have been so much better if it were a little longer. Having said that... it is a great romance if you like insta-love and of course if you like rodeo cowboys you have nothing to lose! It is hot, funny and sexy.
Excerpt...
“FUCKING RODEO cowboys. I hate those assholes. I don’t care how much goddamned money they make.” The old man spat on the ground, then turned a rheumy blue eye on Frost, who hunched his shoulders up around his ears.
He knew old Gus Lucero was talking about him. He was the only one at this funeral who rode the circuit full-time, and he was sure enough the only one who made any frickin’ money in this crowd.
“You figure he’ll go again after the funeral?” Gus’s companion asked. Junior Carran was a long, tall drink of water who still stood pretty upright for someone who had to be in his eighties.
“Yeah.” Gus warmed to his subject. “He’s rodeo trash. He don’t know no better. It’s an addiction.”
He wanted to snap “He’s right here,” but he didn’t bother. No one was changing Gus at this point in his life, and Frost knew better than to argue with that.
Frost Barton looked at the coffin on the stand next to the fresh grave. His father had been the same way. No telling that old man nothin’. Now no one was telling Frost’s pop anything anymore, and their last words had been angry.
He blinked, blocking out whatever the old men had to say. Nothing they could do could hurt him worse than knowing he would never have the chance to make up with his pop.
The preacher stopped droning on and on, finally inviting them all to come up and pay their final respects. His momma stepped up first, placing a small bottle of tequila on the casket. That made Frost smile because his pop had sure embraced his new native land when him and Momma had moved to New Mexico the year before Frost was born.
He stepped up next because he deserved the honor, even if no one but Momma believed it. Frost carried a tiny chile ristra, because Pop loved his ranchero sauce.
The nieces and nephews came next, all in from San Angelo. Pop’s sister Estelle had come to the funeral at the church but had skipped the graveside to go cook. She wanted to make a sheet cake, she said, and chicken spaghetti. Frost reckoned the locals would be horrified. They wouldn’t get it at all. Maybe she would make chili or King Ranch casserole too.
Maybe Frost would stop at Rudy’s and pick up some brisket. He heard they’d opened one now.
He stepped aside, craving a cigarette, knowing he couldn’t let himself have one. Thirty was old in the bull riding game, and he had a collapsed lung two years ago. Smoking was no longer an option.
Someone stepped up beside him, the smell of Old Spice making him glance up, thinking his pop was back from the dead.
“You look like you need a beer, buddy.”
The cowboy standing beside him was Tate, who was kinda halfway between him and his pop, age-wise. Maybe forty, he had a towhead and blue eyes and had been around as long as Frost could remember. He had a bitty ranch out in Jackass Flats, where Frost’s family’s place was out in Doña Ana.
“I could use one, for sure. You coming to the feed?”
“I am. I got—well, my friend Dave. Can he come?”
Something about Tate’s tone made him raise a brow. It reminded him of when Tucker Jones and Barnaby Rollins said they was just riding partners and good friends, not nothin’ gay.
“You got yourself a feller, Tate?” He’d been away more than he’d been home, but he thought he remembered his momma saying something about Tate getting a roommate years ago now. How had Frost never met the man?
“Yep.” Tate’s cheeks went pink, but he grinned. “I cain’t believe you’d never met him. We been shacked up since the year you went out on the circuit. You just ain’t been home.”
“You gonna start on that rodeo trash shit too?” He raised his other eyebrow so both was up near his hairline.
“Nope.” Tate glanced back at Gus and Junior, a scowl crossing his face. “Busy old beavers.”
“Do we have beavers in New Mexico?”
“Hell if I know.”
Stories that leave a mark. Julia Talbot loves romance across all the genders and genres, and loves to write about people working to see past the skin they're in to love what lies beneath. Julia Talbot lives in the great mountain and high desert Southwest, where there is hot and cold running rodeo, cowboys, and everything from meat and potatoes to the best Tex-Mex. A full time author, Julia has been published by Dreamspinner, All Romance Ebooks, and Changeling Press. She believes that everyone deserves a happy ending, so she writes about love without limits, where boys love boys, girls love girls, and boys and girls get together to get wild, especially when her crazy paranormal characters are involved. She also writes BDSM and erotic romance as Minerva Howe. Find Julia at @juliatalbot on Twitter, or at www.juliatalbot.com "The mountains are calling, and I must go"
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I enjoy Julia's stories. Looking forward to reading this one.
ReplyDeletedebby236 at gmail dot com
I want to read this story,..it sounds great
ReplyDeletejmarinich33 at aol dot com
Thanks for the review & excerpt!
ReplyDeletelegacylandlisa(at)gmail(dot)com