I’m BA Tortuga, and I’m here to wish Amber Kell a happy birthday. I love that I get to do this with her, and I hope you’ll stick around to read a little birthday extra in the Wrecked universe, which I co-write with Jodi Payne. I’ll have all the information after what I know you’re here for! The birthday story!
Parker fucking hated birthdays.
They meant that he wasn’t a kid anymore. They meant that the bulls were better and meaner and smarter, and the other cowboys called him things like “Pop”.
Like he was the same age as Sky or something. Shee-it.
He wasn’t fucking old. He was a spring chicken. He was a stud.
He was thirty. Fuck.
Sky and Beck were at their house in Vermont, recovering from Christmas. Momma was in Mexico doing some damn missionary work. Parker was sleeping in his fifth wheel on the road in ‘Jesus Christ there ain’t nothing here but coyotes and the biggest fucking ravens on earth’ New Mexico.
January was a shit month to have a birthday.
Cold. Dreary. Nobody wanted to be festive no more. Riding didn’t start ‘til damn near February.
He sighed dramatically, and flopped down on his little bed, snorting as the trailer rocked.
“Fuck birthdays. Fuck them hard, with a chainsaw.”
A knock came to the door of the trailer, scaring the living fuck out of him. He sat up with a frown, shaking his head. “Seriously? I’m having a pity party, and I didn’t invite no scary serial killers.”
Still, Parker answered the door, because he was curious as all get out. “’lo?”
A gorgeous son of a bitch stood there in the snow at the bottom of the steps, smiling at him, black eyes like holes burned in a blanket. He held up a little bitty cake, a six-pack of beer, and a wee container of ice cream. The paper on top said, “Happy birthday, buddy. Sky and family”.
There was a rainbow bracelet on his wrist.
Well, he’d be goddamned.
“I got a delivery for you – white bull rider named Parker?”
Mr. Pretty blushed dark and the pointed chin ducked. “I know. I’m a fan.”
Huh. Interesting. “Want to come have a beer? I apparently got cake.”
“I do. Ed Begay. I’m Ed Begay. You signed my hat in Vegas.”
He opened the door wider and took the beer. “Well, I’m glad to meet you. Come on in.”
He so owed Sky a thank you.
Happy birthday to him.
I hope y’all love Parker’s happy birthday. I had a ball writing it for you. Wrecked is Sky and Beck’s story, which is here https://amzn.to/3pVkCKX, and they had a second book out today, Special Delivery which is here https://amzn.to/35WbygP!
And baby makes three?
It’s fall in Vermont. The holidays are coming, the leaves are turning brilliant colors, and Skyler and Beckett are expecting a baby! They’re picking out furniture and paint colors for the nursery. They’re looking at ultrasounds and choosing names.
But nothing is ever simple for these two, and something they’re not expecting throws a wrench–or a great big crowbar–into Beck’s carefully planned paternity leave and Sky’s nursery decorations. But is it a disaster, a blessing, or both?
As with all deliveries, they’re at the mercy of fate and mother nature. They’ll be adding to their family for Christmas—but they’ll be doing it in the most chaotic way possible.
Thanks so much for letting me be here, and a super happy birthday to Amber. I hope if you liked Parker, you’ll check me out at my website, www.batortuga.com or at my Facebook group https://www.facebook.com/groups/batortugascowboys