How does Dillon take care of Coke when Coke’s destroying himself?
Bullfighter Coke is having a rough time in the Roughstock universe. When his dear friend Sam Bell is injured at the finals of the bull riding season, he takes that and his injuries pretty hard. His very own clown, Dillon, is determined to take care of Coke, which is tough when Coke is usually the one to care for everyone. Coke has a huge secret from his past, though, and, when Dillon digs to discover what it is, the skeletons in Coke’s closet threaten to destroy both men.
Publisher’s Note: This book has been previously released elsewhere. It have been revised, re-edited and significantly expanded for re-release with Pride Publishing.
You can purchase Coke’s Clown here: https://www.pride-publishing.com/book/cokes-clown
Read our review of Coke’s Clown here: http://divinemagazine.net/cokes-clown-by-ba-tortuga/
Coffee, My Best Friend and Eternal Confidant
Coffee coffee coffee. Everyone shut up. Coffee.
Have y’all seen that meme on Facebook? It’s called a morning poem and I will admit, it’s the story of my life. Seriously. This is my song morning, noon and night. Trust me, y’all, you don’t want to see me without my daily dose.
Hot coffee with a splash of almond milk in the winter. Iced espressos in spring, summer and fall. Sugar and almond milk creamer. Every Sunday my wife, Julia, and I go down to this charming little place in a strip mall. It’s called Café Bella, one of those tiny, roast-your-own, fair trade, fancy-assed coffee shops. Julia gets a white chocolate cinnamon latte with almond milk and half flavoring, I get dark chocolate and red chili with a hint of caramel, no whip. Then we sit and meet about the week’s goals and try not to panic about the stuff we didn’t get done the week before. It’s our own personal worship, in a manner of speaking.
I think a lot of times what I write influences my choice of coffee. Recently I wrote about New Mexico in a couple of novels, and I drank a lot of pinyon coffee and Mexican chocolate flavors. Normally my brew is Kona. When I write Coke Pharris, simple man and bull fighter extraordinaire? Black and strong. Dillon Walsh, rodeo entertainer? He’s a caramel latte boy.
Chicory for the Cajuns. Strong black tea for the Aussies. Andy Baxter only drinks drip coffee, and Jason Scott loves a gingerbread latte, but he’ll only order if it no one can hear him.
I get it. Honestly.
Sometimes I head down to this little whole foods Indian place for a caramel latte that is served in a cup as big as my head. Then there’s the local chain, Satellite Coffee, who do a fiery Mexican cinnamon latte served over ice that is ridiculous on your tongue. At the Albuquerque Sunport, there’s Black Mesa Coffee who makes this thing called a Rocky Mountain Mocha with almond milk that makes you willing to get to the airport fifteen minute early. Best drip coffee in town (and the best name?) Bad Ass Coffee. Starbucks? Gimme a venti iced coffee with natural sugar. Woo. I save that for when I’m traveling, because I try hard to buy local, but still.
Before you accuse me of being addicted – let me tell you that my daddy has two commercial coffee makers in his house and three in the shop. I’ve never been in a cowboy’s house where the coffeepot wasn’t a central part of the kitchen. You’ll find coffee in a thermos in the truck seat, plugged up in a barn. Served by the gallon at every tiny little diner in Texas from 5 am to 1 pm.
Let’s face it. I need fuel, and coffee works for me and my characters. I had a sad-clown six months or so where I only got one cup a day (hell. It was pure hell), and I was depressed. Now I’m back to having what I want, which is about 3-5 (6 maybe, on a rough day) cups a day, and I’m pretty darned happy.
I love my coffee more than I love my luggage, and if it keeps me upright and writing that’s a good thing, so I’ll take it. You really want to know the way to my heart? Buy me a coffee next time we see each other and we’ll sing together:
Coffee coffee coffee. Everyone shut up. Coffee.
Much love, y’all,
About BA Tortuga
Texan to the bone and an unrepentant Daddy’s Girl, BA Tortuga spends her days with her basset hounds and her beloved wife, texting her sisters, and eating Mexican food. When she’s not doing that, she’s writing. She spends her days off watching rodeo, knitting and surfing Pinterest in the name of research. BA’s personal saviors include her wife, Julia Talbot, her best friend, Sean Michael, and coffee. Lots of coffee. Really good coffee. Having written everything from fist-fighting rednecks to hard-core cowboys to werewolves, BA does her damnedest to tell the stories of her heart, which was raised in Northeast Texas, but has heard the call of the high desert and lives in the Sandias. With books ranging from hard-hitting GLBT romance, to fiery menages, to the most traditional of love stories, BA refuses to be pigeon-holed by anyone but the voices in her head. Find her on the web at www.batortuga.com
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