Cowboys Don’t Samba (Cowboys Don’t Book 3) by Tara Lain | Cat’s Release Day Review, Excerpt & #giveaway @Dreamspinners @taralain @TTCBooksandmore

Maury Garcia’s one of the greatest bull riders in the world—and one of the biggest liars. Can he turn forbidden love with a rodeo rookie into a lasting romance? Ever since his brother was killed because he was gay, Maury’s worked to take his brother’s place as the bull rider, the provider, and the ideal of his family’s macho expectations. The only thing Maury’s ever done for himself is buy a secret ranch so he can get away from the responsibilities he’s chained himself to. Then he meets Tristão Silva, the younger brother of the one man who could rob Maury of his bull riding championship. Tristão may be a world-class bull rider in his own right, but his kind, gentle nature and sexy samba hips make Maury long for something beyond his selfless, sexless life. The two men’s lives are worlds apart, even if they’re both buckling under family expectations. Will their future last beyond an eight-second ride?

Buy links: Dreamspinner Amazon

Cat gives this one 5 Meows with a 2 Purr heat index...

This is one of my favorite western/rodeo series. The cover is beautiful! I loved Cowboys Don’t Come Out and Cowboys Don’t Ride Unicorns. I have been waiting for more in the series and this one didn’t disappoint.

Maury is on top of the charts and destined to be World Champion. He is reaching his peak in years though and with his best friend Danny coming out and marrying his lover, working with Rand and Kai another loving gay couple, he longs for more. He feels he can never have it since he is sure his older brother’s death was no accident and his uncles had something to do with it.  When he finds out his youngest brother is gay, he fears for Antonio. His rival with Silva gets worse on tour and when he meets the youngest Silva, Tristao, staying in the closet may e harder than he thought.

I loved all these characters especially Tristao. I liked getting to meet Danny, Laury and Rand and Kai again too.

The storyline is good too. I didn’t want to put the book down once I started.  I have to say I would have loved to see that Samba scene!

You could read this as a standalone, but with as much as Danny, Laury, Rand, and Kai are in it, you may want to read the first two, so you understand those characters and get a better grasp of the story.

If you like Cowboys, Rodeos, interesting characters, age gap, family rivalries, and a hot romance this is for you!

Excerpt…

Chapter One

JESUCRISTO ON a cracker! My ass bones are permanently connected to my back teeth. Happy effing birthday to me.

Maury Garcia hit the saddle again with a bone-jarring jolt. The sound of the horn signaling eight seconds prompted a flash of his teeth, and then he waved his hat an extra second for good measure, loosened his rope, and slid to the side of the fifteen hundred pounds of semimean he’d drawn for this round. Hope it’s good enough. The bull was big, shiny black, and scary-looking, but he wouldn’t get the highest score for this ride. Not enough spin.

Maury’s boots hit the dirt of the arena, and he moved fast toward the fence while trying to look like he wasn’t rushing at all. It’s all in the attitude, ladies and gentlemen.

The announcer yelled, “A classic ride from champion Maury Garcia. Give him a hand big enough to show how much you appreciate that talent, ladies and gentlemen.”

At the fence, Maury turned, gave a sweeping bow, then stepped behind and hopped up on top to receive his score.

His right-hand guy, Earl Westerman, came up to the fence. “Good one.”

“Thanks. Bull was pretty good.”

“You were great.” Earl punched Maury lightly on the arm with one of his big fists.

Maury smiled. Earl was somebody you went to for moral support, not objectivity.

Applause started as the announcer said, “The judges have awarded that classic Garcia ride with 92.5.”

Earl grinned, an expression that lit up his plain, everyman face. “See. I told you.”

Maury shrugged. “Good enough for now.” But it was a gift for sure. Maybe the judges knew it was his birthday. Right. That news he didn’t share with anybody.

A heavily accented voice over his shoulder said, “So the judges gave you another package in a big bow, right, Wetback? You’d think they’d be professional enough to not be impressed by your reputation.”

Maury didn’t even have to turn to face the tall, handsome, meaner-than-any-pissant-bull Brazilian, but he did. “You think you can do better, Cheeses?” The guy’s name was Xesús, but in that language it sounded like “Cheeses” to Maury. So what if he exaggerated the pronunciation?

Maury showed lots of enamel, and Silva gave it back. He and Xesús Silva pretended they were just kidding with their snark. In real life, it was dead-on serious. The dude thought he was Jesus in the flesh. The fact that he was one of the few guys who could screw Maury’s chances at being world champion that year didn’t help.

“On the bull, I drew, man, I can ride circles around you. Hell, my kid brother could beat you.”

“I’ll be watching with interest, Cheddar.” Maury gripped his lucky gold medallion between two fingers and slid it on its chain. Back and forth. It was one of the few reminders he had of his brother Ramon, and it soothed him.

Silva fought the grip of his black eyebrows and managed to conjure a smile that didn’t light up anything.

Earl said, “Hey, Silva, half your guys can’t even speak English. How come you do?”

“I’m smarter. And richer.” He cocked his Resistol over his eyes and walked away with a roll of his hips Maury couldn’t help but notice.

“Think he can do it?” Earl stared after Silva, who sadly was at least half as good as he thought he was, which made him very good indeed.

“Might.”

“You’re two points ahead right now.”

“Yeah, but he outscored me on the last round. On Ash Hat he could do better this round.”

Earl kept staring toward the pack of Brazilian riders grouped together near the bull paddock. “I hear Silva’s brother’s gonna compete as a rookie this season.”

Maury glanced over. “His brother’s no rookie. You’ve met him. Jose. Older than Cheez Whiz. Not as mean.”

“No, this is a younger brother. Hear he did real well on the Brazilian PBRA circuit, so he came north just this week. Since he’s starting late, he’ll get in fewer rides, but he’ll get experience.”

“Yeah, well, those Brazilians stick together.”

“I think it’s because they all live on that ranch during the season, while our boys go home.”

Maury shook his head. “They’ve gotta have some serious patriotism to put up with Xesús. I admire most of those guys. You can’t tell me they like him.”

“Nah. I hear a lot of them can’t stand him, but he’s pretty free with his fists, so most of them keep their mouths shut around him.”

“Lovely.”

Maury turned back to the arena. Another ride had gone by. The cowboy qualified but didn’t come close to Maury’s score.

The announcer called, “Next up on Ash Hat, from Salvador, Brazil, Xesús Silva.” The announcer pronounced it “Jaysus,” which made Maury snort, but he sobered as he stared at the latch man about to open the gate for Silva’s ride. Maury took a breath. He didn’t want to ask God for any special favors just because it was his birthday, but of course not wanting to and not doing it were two different things.

The gate flew open, and Ash Hat plunged straight out. That probably threw Silva off because this bull was a spinner. But to prove he was no predictable pussy, Ash Hat bucked forward, throwing out his hind legs like a sumbitch, one of the hardest moves to stay on. In midbuck, the damned bull seemed to levitate, then shift into a tight spin. Damned Xesús stayed on like he was glued to the bull’s back. Maury could practically hear the points adding up.

Earl shifted uncomfortably next to him. Yeah, he knew how the ride was scored same as the next man, and he saw Maury going down in flames.

Just to make Earl feel better, Maury said, “No worries. We’ll get him next time.” Maury clasped his lucky medallion, dragging it back and forth. It was early in the season. Plenty of time to grind that Brazilian to dust. Plenty of time to win—even if he was fucking thirty years old. I could have gone all night without remembering that.

Ash Hat spun and bucked and Silva waved his black hat like the champion he wanted to be.

Wish I could walk away. He slid the medallion against his cheek.

Suddenly a sparkle of light flashed across the arena. Silva seemed to look, blink; his free hand sailed in an arc and slap! He touched the side of the bull.

A collective gasp went up from the crowd as the horn sounded eight seconds.

Maury stared around. Wait, what?

Some people cheered, but the crowd was buzzing.

“Silva slapped.” Earl practically bounced. “Did you see that? He touched. He’s disqualified.”

“How?”

As Silva slid off the bull and the bullfighters went to work, the judge tapped the back of his hand.

Holy shit, it’s a disqualification. Happy birthday to me.

Tara Lain believes in happy ever afters—and magic. Same thing. In fact, she says, she doesn’t believe, she knows. Tara shares this passion in her stories, which star her unique, charismatic heroes and adventurous heroines. Quarterbacks and cops, werewolves and witches, blue collar or billionaires, Tara’s characters, readers say, love deeply, resolve seemingly insurmountable differences, and ultimately live their lives authentically. After many years living in southern California, Tara, her soulmate honey, and her soulmate dog decided they wanted fewer cars and more trees, prompting a move to Ashland, Oregon, where Tara’s creating new stories and loving living in a small town with big culture. Likely a Gryffindor but possessed of Parseltongue, Tara loves animals of all kinds, diversity, open minds, coconut crunch ice cream from Zooeys, and her readers. She also loves to hear from you.

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