Hey y’all! I’m BA Tortuga, resident redneck and lover of all things cowboy!
I’m tickled to be re-introducing Max and Morgan, the boy’s from 2006’s Oil and Water. They’ve been waiting for their re-release a long time, and I’m pleased as punch that they’re here.
They took the cable car up to Sugarloaf to see the city from above. They went to the Paço Imperial to see the history exhibits, and Max dragged Morgan to a gem show that just happened to be running. They hit the student district so Morgan could see where Max usually stayed, and yeah, it was the low-rent district compared to Morgan’s place, but Max still loved the liveliness of it. Then they went to the market to get about fifty kinds of pork and a huge mass of black beans for Max to cook them feijoada.
Once the beans were soaking, they hit the beach. It was perfect; late afternoon was just waning, and while the humidity hit them like a thick blanket, the air was starting to cool.
Morgan was stretched out in this odd, gauzy… thing, black Speedo visible through the cloth. It should have seemed girly and odd, but Morgan didn’t seem self-conscious about it, carried it off like it was perfectly reasonable.
Hell, the Speedo should’ve seemed unreasonable to him, as he wore clam diggers. Morgan looked good in it, though, so Max wasn’t gonna complain. Now that guy over there in the buttfloss with the hairy back? Oh man. Whenever Max started thinking he might embarrass himself looking at Morgan, all he had to do was look over there, and ping! Flatter than an inner tube going three rounds with a goathead.
Morgan’s hair was down. Thin fingers drawing patterns in the sand, the man looked decadent. Like there should be oiled men fanning him, feeding him grapes.
Too bad Max wasn’t about to oil himself up and fan anyone. At least not in public. If Morgan asked him to do it in private…. “So are you having a good time?”
Morgan smiled over, nodded. “I am. I love the way the heat just bakes your bones, feels good.”
“Me? I Like watching your bones bake, sugar.” He did, he did. Morgan on the half shell. Damn.
He got one of those husky, happy laughs he was learning meant Morgan was pleased and flattered and headed toward turned on. “The rings in my nipples are hot. Feels wicked.”
Whoa. Max looked over at the hairy man and deflated a bit. No way should he be thinking of peeling off the gauzy thing and licking Morgan’s nipples. At least not here. “You’re trying to get me in trouble.”
“No. I’m trying to turn you on, make you want me. There’s a difference.” Bright blue eyes dragged over him. “Trouble would be challenging you to truth or dare.”
Much love, y’all,
BA
Oil and Water Official Blurb:
Oilman Max inherits a passel of trouble when his boss passes away and leaves him a house in England, a family full of squabbles, and a heck of a lot of money. He’s thinking London is the worst place on earth… until he meets Morgan.
Colorful, carefree, and a little crazy, Morgan is just what Max needs, and the two set out on the adventure of a lifetime, chasing pleasure wherever it takes them, learning that together they can make anything fun… and sexy.
Too bad reality has to set in, and Morgan’s multimillionaire father has a lot to say about what reality looks like. Will their different worlds conspire to separate them like oil and water?
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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 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.
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