- Edition: 2nd
- Available in: Kindle
If bulls#*t could kill….
Professional rodeo rider Kerry Abrams is fed up with bulls#*t. Literally. If the bullshifter herd thinks a lowly mustang ain’t good enough for one of theirs? Good riddance. And good riddance to the too-hot-for-his-own-good, arrogant son of a cow who broke his heart and left him with one less thing to look forward to during rodeo season. He doesn’t miss Armando Castillo at all! Ever! Okay, maybe some. Or every minute of every day.
Why does Armando’s herd have to meddle in his love life? He had the man he wanted, and if that man happens to spend part of his time with hooves and a mane, munching apples beneath a full moon while Armando wears horns, Armando will happily plant Kerry a whole orchard.
Kerry and Armando may be rodeo stars—both in human and animal forms—but the ex-lovers’ rivalry is even more legendary than their riding skills. Armando plans to win his man back. What’s the use of all those silver belt buckles if he doesn’t intend to use ‘em?
Excerpt from Hooves and Horns:
Kerry Abrams roared, “Bullshit!” a few steps from the chute. A bull gave him a curious stare through the slats of the corral.
“It is not!” retorted the squat official, double-timing his steps to keep up with Kerry’s longer strides.
Kerry rolled his eyes. “No, not ‘bullshit’. Bull shit.” Damn it, he’d been paid to wear these thousand dollar ostrich hide boots, and he’d gone and stepped in a fresh cow patty. He scrubbed his foot sideways in the grass to de-muck. While hanging around rodeos guaranteed dirty footwear at some point, the first time with a new pair still stung.
Did the damn bull just snigger? Kerry whipped around but the bull stared straight ahead, methodically chewing his cud. Hunched shoulders, intelligent eyes. Was that a white spot on the critter’s head? Nah, couldn’t be.
“So, I’m not riding Angry Bird, huh?” He finished his disgusting task.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” The official finally caught up, red-faced. “Big boss wanted to mix things up a bit, and got a chance to add a bull at the last minute.”
Last minute adds usually didn’t bode well for bull riders. No time to study the videos and pick out a foe’s weaknesses. “I can’t ride a bull I know nothing about.”
“You know this one.”
“What bull?” The sinking feeling in the pit of Kerry’s stomach didn’t need a verbal answer. Only one bull on any major rodeo circuit commanded enough respect and had enough drawing power to get himself added in last minute—the bastard.
“Diablo,” Kerry and the man said in unison. Fuck, what was that son of a cow doing here? “Now, that’s bullshit.”
“Look, I don’t make the schedule, and you’ve got ten seconds to get into that chute, climb on top of that beast, and ride the hell out of him or you’ll be disqualified.”
Oh, man. The guy didn’t just order Kerry to ride the hell out of Diablo. The bull winked. Was that a smile? Oh fuck no.
The official spun on his heel and sidestepped in time to avoid the cow pie bearing Kerry’s footprint. Kerry caught a whiff of the guy in passing. Pure human, and therefore ignorant of Kerry’s predicament.
“Damn. You’re gonna pay for this, you sorry son of a bitch.” Kerry turned his death glare on the bull, who’d given up the battle to look innocent. “I don’t know whose ass you’ve had your horns up to here in, but it’s on, buddy. You and me, and I ain’t giving up without a fight.”