Welcome! Please introduce yourself and tell us about your latest release.
Hey, y'all! My name is BA Tortuga, and I'm a writer of all things romance. I write m/m. ménage, and traditional romance, and I'm a fan of all things cowboy and redneck. My latest releases are Chasing Flame, a traditional cowboy romance from Resplendence, and Walking on the Sun, the final book in a m/m action-adventure series from Torquere Press.
Have you ever had an idea for a story which scared you after you began writing it?
I've had a few that made me nervous, sure. I recently co-wrote a book with Rob Knight called "Down by the River" and it creeped me right out, how awful folks could be to each other.
Have you incorporated actual events from your own life into your books?
Heck, yes! I like to mix write what you know with write what you're curious about. I draw a lot from my real life, especially in vernacular and such. Yes, we really do all have that many nicknames in Texas, y'all, My dog has thirteen.
How much research do you do? Do you research first and then write, or do you write first, then research as needed?
I do a little of both. Sometimes I travel somewhere and come home with piles of research and a new story. Sometimes I think, "I want to write an eco-terrorist" and then I have to look at weapons and whaling ships…
Is there any message you want readers to take from reading your work?
I think I want to give them a glimpse into a world they don't necessarily live in, so I try to make things as real as they can be. From cowboys to werewolves, I try to follow the rules of whatever society my boys live in so the readers can get where they're coming from.
Are you a plotter or a pantser? And have you ever had a story take on a life of its own?
I'm more of a pantser, I guess. Sometimes the plot is the last thing to fall into place. I'm really a character driven writer. I love a good old boy with something to say.
How long did it take for you to be published?
That depends on what you mean. I've been publishing short stories and poems since I was a teenager, but I was in my thirties before I got my first romance out there. It took me awhile to decide that was really what I wanted to do. I actually started out my professional life as a graphic designer.
If you could go back and tell yourself anything when you first began your writing career, what would you say?
Write the damned book chronologically. When I first started out, I let the characters convince me to skip ahead past the angst and give them some happy time now and then. Talk about a plot killer!
Laptop or pen and ink? What are your ‘must-haves’ when writing?
I'm a techno-geek. Believe me, in my cowtown, rodeo-riding, ranch family that makes me an oddity, but I write on the computer. Transcribing later is too darned much work. Mainly I need music. I have playlists for my books. Oh, and coffee. I need coffee like whoa. And the TV has to be off.
Who are your favorite authors? Who would you say influenced you the most?
I love romances from the eighties. I adore Stephen King. I love mysteries and spy novels and bad westerns. I read a lot of Louis L'Amour thanks to my daddy, and a lot of women's fiction thanks to mom. Real life has probably been more of an influence than a writer, though. My heroes have always been cowboys.
What would your readers be surprised to learn about you?
That I was a true learning geek in school, and that I do know how to put together a sentence without y'all in it. I just choose to write like my boys would talk.
Favorite Halloween memory?
When I was in college I won a costume contest at a Halloween party. I went as Little Bo Peep. The boy went as a sheep. There was a leash. It was grand.
Favorite Scary Movie?
Final Destination 3. I adore those movies, but the third one is the best. It has roller coasters and tanning booths!
Frankenstein, Dracula, or Werewolf?
Oh, werewolf! I love wolves, I have dogs. I love studying their behavior and working it into books. I love the primal yet human aspects of them. They're way hotter than anything else. Growly. Possessive, Alpha. Uhn…
Thank you for being here today! Please tell us where we can find your books.
Thanks so much for having me! It's been a blast to stop by and natter at y'all. For lists of all my books and coming soon and all, visit me at www.batortuga.com
Synopsis and excerpt for Walking on the Sun
When MJ gives himself up to the craziest man Sonny has ever met to save Sonny's life, he knows he has to get his lover back, no matter what the cost. So he gathers the whole Road Trip series team back together to hunt MJ down, even if they don't want to be found. From Paddy and Neil, who are still healing from their last brush with death, to Cowboy and Duncan, Sonny brings everyone together for one last showdown.
The problem is that they don't even know if MJ is alive, or if the man will know them, or himself, once they catch up with him. They're an awful ragged bunch to be considered heroes, but Sonny is not giving up on the most important thing in his life. He's determined to find MJ in one piece, even if it kills him. Will the whole crew manage to survive the last big battle with Greg and the Program, or will they go out in a blaze of glory? Previous
Road Trip titles include: Racing the Moon, Steam and Sunshine and Under Pressure.
"Sonny?" The voice was familiar, big green eyes staring down at him. Rick. Paddy. Shit. "Let me get those off, huh?"
"Please." His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and he kept thinking he was lucky he had one, after the way... the way those bastards had done MJ's daddy.
"Cowboy said he was worried you'd hurt yourself. I've been listening. Neil's here. Do you want water? Or coffee?" Paddy freed his hands, quick as a bunny.
"Water." He wanted grain. Pure moonshine. It was unlikely, though. Sonny sighed, his hands falling limp to the bed. Then the tingles started.
"'Kay." Paddy nodded, headed out. "Bathroom's down the hall."
"Thanks." He could at least take a leak before he blew this pop stand. Maybe he'd take Cowboy's truck, see how fast that fucker could go out in the desert before he crashed and burned.
The pain of it curled him into a ball far too small for a guy his size. MJ, giving himself up to that crispy bastard, then going up in a blaze of fucking glory. For him.
It wasn't fucking right. It wasn't fucking right at all, MJ gone.
That had never been part of the deal. Never. MJ was supposed to take Sonny down and go on. All for one and one for MJ. That was how it worked.
This? This, Sonny couldn't even take in. Couldn't comprehend it.
No fucking way.
He pushed into the bathroom, washed his face, the cold water making him want to gag, to scream. Sonny avoided the mirror, not wanting to see. The window in the bathroom didn't open, so he'd have to go out the hard way. Past the others.
"Here's your water." Paddy put the glass on the sink. "Are you hungry?"
"No." The word came out flat. Harsh. "No. I just. I gotta go."
"Fuck off!" Sonny slammed his hand against the wall, feeling something crack. "I don't give a fuck. MJ's dead!"
"No, he's not."
Buy Link: http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=2785
Synopsis and excerpt from Chasing Flame:
Practical, no-frills Lacey knows most people would think that being in love with your childhood best friend is the perfect situation. Too bad her best friend isn’t in love with her, and he just happens to be a rodeo bronc rider who left home to make a name for himself and never came back to stay. Nate is a good man, but small-town life has never suited him, and Lacey has learned to keep her feelings to herself.
Lacey knows all about taking care of things: Nate's momma, her family ranch, her brothers' kids. But when Nate's momma's house catches fire, Lacey does something she's never done before; she calls Nate and asks him to come home. Nate turns his boots back toward the east Texas dirt and the only true constant in his life, his own personal Annie Oakley. There he finds that most things in his sleepy hometown haven’t changed, some have, and some are threatening to change him all the way to his heart.
Something was ringing. At first, Nate thought maybe it was Hank barking. They were camped out at a KOA campground, and his little tent wasn't quite big enough for the both of them to sleep in. Hell, Nate wasn't sure if there was enough room for him and his boots. He'd had to leave his hat in the pickup. Hank was tied to the bumper of the truck, where he could see and be with Nate, but not crowd the tent.
Gradually, though, it dawned on him that it was his new little phone. The tiny silver flip thingy had been forced on him by his cousin Henry in Tulsa, who’d told him that way his momma would be able to get a hold of him. He didn’t have voice mail, just so it would keep ringing on nights like tonight.
Nate flipped it open once he found it, trying to talk like a human being and not a hibernating bear. “‘Lo?”
“H...H...Hopalong?” Someone was crying on the other end, or trying damn hard not to, sniffling hard, that East Texas drawl just as familiar as breathing.
“Lacey?” Oh, shit. All of a sudden, he was wide-awake. “What is it, honey?”
“Yeah. I. Yeah. There. Oh, fuck, Hoppy. Your momma left a towel draped over a lamp to dry it and it caught all afire and... She’s okay. They just want to keep her in the hospital a couple days, but the house...” He could hear bustling and fussing all mixed in with Lacey’s sobs. Damn it.
His heart set up to pounding something fierce. “Momma. Oh God, Lace. What? I mean. She’s okay, you said. What. The house?”
Lacey Garrison was his best friend from high school, lived on down the road from Nate’s momma, helped her out while he was on the road. His own personal Annie Oakley since he was knee-high to a grasshopper, Lace was solid as a rock, and to hear her cry was scarier than damn near anything.
“It’s still standing, but it looked bad. I...” He heard Lacey take a deep breath, slow herself down. “I rode in with your momma, and I haven’t seen Ben or Mikey yet to tell me how bad it is.” There was a little cough, a rattle. “God damn it, Freddie. I said I was fine. Leave me be.”
“You get checked out too, you hear?” If she’d been in that house, pulling his momma out, he was gonna beat her within an inch of her life. And maybe hug her tight. “I can be home in... seven hours if I get on my pony and ride.”
“You’ll kill yourself, sure as shit. Just come on in the morning. Doc Fry says June’s gotta stay two days, at least. I’ll stay with her.”
“Okay. Okay, you. I. Are you okay?” God, he just couldn’t...his house. His mother. “I’ll come on. I’ll be there.”
“I’ll be fine as frog hair.” He heard somebody’s voice, then Lacey snapped, “Goddamn it, Freddie Jackson. Leave it alone. Go fuck with somebody that needs it.”
Well, if she could holler that hard she must be okay. Nate chuckled, reaching out to scratch Hank’s ugly old ears as the dog whined and nuzzled up to him. “You hang in there, Lacey. I’ll be home. We’ll get it all taken care of. Call me on this line if you need me faster.”
“Okay, Nate. You be real careful. I can’t nurse you both.”
“I know, Lace. See you soon.” He started up to his knees, moving to get his sleeping bag rolling. “I... give Momma a kiss for me. Thank you, Lace. For taking care.”
Of Momma. Of the house. Of every damn thing he'd left behind. God bless her, she had his back, and he knew it.
“It’s what friends do, Hoppy. You just come on to the hospital. If I’m not here, I’m out dealing with the critters.”
That was Lacey for you. Always running and dealing with something, just like her momma, God rest her soul.
“Okay. Bye, Lace.”
He waited for her to say goodbye. Nate hadn’t once, and she’d read him the riot act the next time they’d talked.
He got a chuckle. “Well, I’ll be damned. The cowboy can learn. Bye, Hopalong. Take care of you.”
Buy Link : http://www.resplendencepublishing.com/m8_view_item.html?m8:item=208-200-101-465-1