Hey guys, we have the brilliant B.A. Tortuga stopping by today with her upcoming Dreamspun Desire release Finding Mr Wright. We have a fantastic guest post from B.A. and a great excerpt, so check out the post and enjoy! <3 ~Pixie~
Finding Mr Wright
Everything’s bigger in Texas, including weddings. And misunderstandings.
Colorado wedding planner Mason O’Reilly lands a major contract: a two-hundred-guest wedding at the Leanin’ N Ranch, where his friends Ford and Stoney are working to provide a safe space for GLBT events. The Wright/Preston ceremony is a destination wedding, and as the grooms are from Texas, everything is done over the phone and email. There’s no way that could lead to trouble, right?
Oil tycoon Noah Wright isn’t happy about the impending disaster, but he admires Mason’s quick thinking and grace under pressure. And that’s not all he likes about the out-and-proud wedding planner. Even though Mason’s interested in Noah, his Mr. Right can’t possibly be a rancher from Dallas.
Release date: 15th September 2017
Pre-order: Dreamspinner Press ebook | Dreamspinner Press paperback | Amazon US | Amazon UK
Hey y’all! I’m BA Tortuga, resident redneck and lover of all things tropey.
I love tropes. Amnesia? Bring it on. The Big Misunderstanding? Oh hell yes. My favorite? Former lovers reunited. That one does it for me, bone deep.
Let me tell y’all, if I can have more than one in a book? OMG.
Amnesiac billionaire rancher with an alien abducted former lover that is now an enemy?
Surprise baby that means there’s an arranged marriage to keep the Greek tycoon’s trillion dollar floating yacht island?
Lost heir rodeo cowboy kidnapped and seduced by a former Navy SEAL Sheik?
Sign my happy ass up.
Finding Mr. Wright actually didn’t start as one of my crazy trope finding expeditions, believe it or not. It was a conversation between A. Corza (one of my favorite cover artists of all time) and yours truly. We got to talking about redneck wedding planners and laughing like idiots. The idea went from silly to hysterical to ridiculous quickly, but something about the idea stuck with me.
Rustic gay weddings.
Rustic gay weddings at the Leanin’ N.
Then that magical moment, the What If happened and I had this billionaire Texas oilman and an Aspen-based wedding planner and a huge misunderstanding and boom.
All of the sudden there was a Mason and a Noah and a story and one of the dearest love affairs I’ve ever written. I can’t wait for y’all to meet them.
Much love, y’all.
“MASON, ARE you coming into the office today?”
Mason rolled his eyes hard enough he felt his optic nerves stretch. “Absolutely. No problem. You do have it on your calendar that I’m in fucking Denver, right, Trev?”
“OMG. This is your goddaughter’s birthday party. I had that as next week!”
Did people really say OMG? Like out loud? “Why haven’t I fired you yet, Trev?”
“Because no one else can put up with the hillbillies you party plan for and keep most of the deets in line.” Trevor’s voice dripped sarcasm.
“Right. The key word here being most.” He grabbed a bunch of grapes, along with a watermelon for Jaycee’s watermelon shark basket thing.
He’d never planned a shark-themed party before, but for that little girl? Anything.
“Hey, you keep changing your personal schedule. That is not my prob.”
“What did you need, man?” He texted Rick as he talked and shopped: Do you guys have a melon baller?
“I need you to approve the email I sent about the Preston/Wright wedding. I had to adjust the budget to include cornholing.”
God, he loved that these rich, fancy-assed people were having to add cornholing to their line items. “Sure. I’ll look at it in the next twenty minutes or so. Is that Maydell lady still giving you troubles?”
“Not today. I do need to send her that quote, though. Where does one get cornhole boards made?”
“Talk to Leanin’ N. They might have some, but their hand, Tanner, is a great woodworker.”
The text beeped in with Duh.
He shot back: I was assuming you queens weren’t a cliché. Do you need anything not party-related while I’m out?
“Okay. They want a bunch personalized, plus one just for them.”
“What? A bunch of boards?”
“Yes.” Trev sighed. “Are you paying attention?”
“No. I am shopping for a shark party. In Denver. This is a challenge. See what Tanner would charge.”
“Will do. You’ll be back Monday?”
“I’m driving home Sunday afternoon, yeah.”
Jefferson needs Virgil Root Beer
Lord, Jefferson was a spoiled brat and the dearest man alive.
On it. Diet or regular?
“Okay. Well, have fun at the shark party. Tell everyone I said hi.”
“Will do. They’ll be up in August, for sure.”
“Oh, good.” Trev chuckled. “I swear to God, boss, if this lady calls me one more time….”
“I know. I know. Just remember this wedding is paying your salary for a year.” The Wright Corporation was ginormous, this wedding a huge feather in his little event-planning cap.
“You know better. I’ll be sweetness and light. By-eee.”
He shook his head, grabbed some strawberries and, ooh, cherries. He’d pit them and put them in the shark for a little blood action.
His goddaughter was a little bloodthirsty and the light of his life.
The phone rang again, Ford Nixel’s name showing up, so Mason swiped. “Hey, there. What’s up?”
“Hey, man. Are you busy? I need to talk to you about the site visit this next week.”
“I have time.” Multitasking was his life.
“Cool. We have a big party in while the site inspection is going on. A one-day yoga retreat.”
“That shouldn’t be an issue at all. In fact, I may need a little savasana.”
“Yes, well, I just wanted to warn you. These guys are… naked a lot.”
Mason stumbled and damn near ran into an endcap of Cheez-Its. “Th-thanks for the warning.”
Jesus Christ on a crutch.
“I’m sorry, Mason. I couldn’t turn these guys down. Repeat clients. I can totally have someone to help you avoid pitfalls.”
“Ford, I’m a healthy gay man with an appreciation for the male form. I won’t run screaming. I promise.” Spring wood? Maybe. It had been a while.
“Not you. Your client. I mean, who are they sending to do the walk-through? If it’s the Maydell lady, we could be in deep trouble.”
“I’m going to do a virtual walk-through, and then I’ll schedule things with you while I’m there.”
“Ah, so no one is coming up from the wedding party?”
“Apparently they’re leaving everything to me. The entire wedding party will arrive the week of the ceremony.”
“Wow. That’s…. I hope you have a real grasp of what they want.”
“You and me both, man.” He didn’t really have a choice, did he? No. These guys wanted a rustic, fun, high-class redneck wedding, and Mason intended to give it to them.
“Well, then I won’t worry about the walk-through. I was just wanting to tell you in case the client was coming.”
“I appreciate it. I’m going to come Tuesday, yeah? That’s on your calendar?” He grabbed mixed nuts to spice, some tortilla chips, and…. Pace. There. Excellent.
“Yep. Stoney has it circled in red. Geoff will have a tasting for you.” Ford sounded pretty relieved.
“Oh, you know Geoff is one of my favorite people on the planet.” Hrm. Did he want to do super kitschy and make pizza rolls? Jaycee loved them, and her dads never let her have them.
“Any requests? You kinda left the menu up to him, save the deviled eggs.”
“I want hard-core, upscale redneck. I mean, I want over-the-top.” He threw the pizza rolls in the cart.
“Geoff loves a challenge.” Ford chuckled now, clearly more relaxed.
“Tell him to go wild. We can brainstorm Tuesday.”
“Sounds great. Thanks, man. Later.” Ford clicked out, and Mason pondered pudding cups.
His job as the godfather was to spoil her in every way possible, and he took it very seriously. She loved butterscotch pudding.
So did Jefferson. Into the cart.
Swiss cake rolls for Rick and they were cooking with gas. Then he put in some M&M’s. Those were for him.
He was loaded for bear. Now he just had to go carve a sharktomelon for the prettiest five-year-old on earth.
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.
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