Road Trip Vol II by B.A. Tortuga Guest Post & Excerpt!

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Hi guys! We have the cowboy lovin’ B.A. Tortuga stopping by today with her upcoming release Road Trip Vol II, we have a brilliant guest post from B.A. and a great excerpt, so check out the post and enjoy! <3 ~Pixie~

Road Trip Vol II


B.A. Tortuga

Road Trip Collection

The course of love is a rough ride, but for ecoterrorist MJ, ridge runner Sonny, physicist Paddy, psychic Neil, genetically enhanced English professor Duncan, and the assassin known as Cowboy, the road to romance is a heart-stopping trip—one full of kidnappings, explosions, secret programs, and supersoldiers. They’re an awful ragged bunch to be considered heroes.

Under Pressure

Sonny and MJ’s retirement may be in jeopardy, but at least they’re together on a new boat—with no annoying hostages. Then Cowboy, MJ’s old friend, gets in touch, bringing with him a host of complications, including Professor Duncan, who has ties to the Program. A call for help from Paddy sets them all on a collision course with a deadly specter from the past. As MJ makes his plans, Sonny is shaken by the possibility of losing everything.

Walking on the Sun

Sonny is determined to raise hell to hunt for MJ—problem is, will MJ know anyone, or himself, once they catch up to him? Neil and Paddy are healing but reluctantly join the effort, as Cowboy and Duncan help Sonny prepare for a showdown. Sonny might be ragged, but he’s MJ’s hero, and he is not about to give up on the most important thing in his life, even if it kills him. Will everyone survive the last epic battle, or will they go out in a blaze of glory?

First Edition of Under Pressure published by TOP SHELF: An imprint of Torquere Press Publishers, March 2009.

First Edition of Walking on the Sun published by TOP SHELF: An imprint of Torquere Press Publishers, September 2010.

Release date: 16th February 2018
Pre-order: Dreamspinner Press | Amazon US | Amazon UK

B.A. Tortuga!

Hey y’all, it’s BA Tortuga, resident redneck and lover of the characters that are cracked.


So those of y’all that came with me through Racing the Moon and Steam and Sunshine – Road Trip Volume 1 – welcome to Under Pressure and Walking on the Sun, aka Road Trip Volume 2.

I don’t know whether to crow or apologize.

MJ and Sonny are on their quest to either rescue the world or destroy it (I’ve never been completely sure), Paddy and Neil are just trying to get some peace (ha), and y’all haven’t met Cowboy and Duncan yet.

*evil grin*

All I can say about them is, what if an assassin met the Hulk? Do you know?

Do you wanna?

Once those two show up, all bets are off.

Oh, have I mentioned that Cowboy is MJ’s best friend? Have I mentioned that both Duncan and Sonny have a bit of a jealous bone? No?

Lord have mercy.

So, you have six men, three couples, one psychic, one ecoterrorist, one thermal nuclear physicist, one genetically modified English professor, one assassin, and a ridge runner.

If the first books were a ride and a half, then these last two are a rocket on steroids – guns and sex, drugs and explosions, fast boats and faster cars. I can’t wait, y’all.

Much love, y’all.


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“THAT WAS a hell of a light show, huh, Precious?” Sonny steered the new boat out of the bay, watching the waves that would eventually come up to slap the bow, trying to keep the damned boat between the buoys. His adrenaline levels were pretty damned high, so it wasn’t easy. Hell, his hands were still shaking. Fuck, he’d just seen someone’s motherfucking head roll across the bar floor.

It hadn’t been a head he knew or nothing, but still. Man. Human heads weren’t supposed to do that.

MJ, though, he looked cool as a cucumber in a deep freeze.

“Not bad. Not bad at all.” Those binoculars never moved, MJ watching, even though Sonny didn’t think the son of a bitch could see a fucking thing, as much C-4 as the bastard’d used. That fucking flashbang probably echoed off some goddamn satellite in space. Probably interrupted the transmission of a ball game or something. That thought sort of made him grin.

MJ rolled those inked shoulders, muscles rippling. “Keep going, Sunshine. No slowing down.”

“Shit. When have I ever slowed down?” He steered off the center line a bit, trying to get less chop. It would kinda suck to break up their pretty new schooner. “You think we got him?”

“He was on the boat. He was on the deck, though.” MJ’s lips twisted, just once. The man had liked that boat.

“Good.” If they hadn’t killed the bastard, they’d at least put the hurt on him. “So, where to, Precious?”

“How do you feel about the Galapagos?”

“We’ll have to get gas….” Lord. Galapagos. Turtles. That was all he could think of.

“We can do that in Jamaica. Panama. It’ll take a while.” MJ shrugged. “There’s Trinidad.”

So, it didn’t matter. MJ in the grip of apathy was a dangerous thing. “Maybe we should just find a cove someplace, anchor. Have some R and R.”

Fuck like bunnies.

“As long as it’s not obvious, yeah. Yeah.” The too-long blond hair just moved in the wind, the full set of Samsonite under MJ’s eyes starting to show. The son of a bitch had been going for five days, nonstop. Five days of planning and setting charges and making sure that bastard found them. Five days. Shit.

“You should go lie down, man.” Look at him, all mother hen. Of course, he couldn’t use his usual MJ sleep aid. Either one of them—the fucking or the drugging. He had to drive.

“I’m fine.” MJ’s belly looked like he could bounce quarters off it. “I need to check on my folks, make sure they’re wrapped up tight. Once I do that, I’ll be fine.”

“Sure you are. Fine as frog hair. You’re fixing to have a psychotic episode. Now, you know I love that, but where are you gonna go, huh? We’re on a boat.” They got out of the chop, and Sonny gave it some speed, needing to get… somewhere.

“I haven’t had a psychotic episode in weeks. You’re confusing me with the Brit.”

“No, he was just sick as a dog….” The Brit and the little redhead were gone. Thank God. They were pretty, but man, those two cramped their style. There was something about hanging with a mind reader that made him itchy. “You think they’re boinking, like right now?”

“Ew. No.” MJ shuddered, nose wrinkling. “Rick is… not sexual. God. Ew. I’d just gotten the image of those two out of my brain.”

“Yeah, but the blond was pretty.” He knew that would get him some heat, but damn it, he needed MJ to do more than stare back toward the wake and be all zombie. Arrr.

He almost got worried, but then that eyebrow went up.

And up.

And up.

Oh, hell yes. Score.

“I didn’t think you were into nutcase tea-drinkers, Sunshine.”

“Well, maybe not tea. But you know I like crazy blonds.” The crazy remark might even get MJ to come hit him.

“I wonder if the boat will move faster if I lose a couple pounds of deadweight….”

Sighing, Sonny turned to a new heading, searching the horizon for landmarks. “That was lame, Precious.”

“Lame.” He thought he could hear the lenses in the binoculars trying to crack.

“Uh-huh.” Turning on his most offensive drawl, he went on, “You aren’t even trying. I mean, if you’re gonna make a death threat after all this time, it needs to have some oomph.”

He heard the sounds of MJ’s feet hitting the deck about half a second before MJ tackled him. God damn.

His chin cracked against the wheel casing, his hands scrabbling as MJ’s weight sent him crashing down. Sonny grunted, tasting blood, and sent one elbow back in a vicious blow. He could feel the muscles bending, then bouncing back, pushing him away. “Motherfucker.”

Teeth sank into his shoulder, MJ’s hands pushing hard at the base of his skull. Fuck. It hurt so bad that it brought tears springing up. It hurt so good that his cock went zero to sixty in record time. Sonny moaned, trying to fight back but wanting to hump instead. Too damned long….

MJ spun him so fast his back cracked against the deck, that hot mouth landing on his lips. MJ’s eyes were huge, staring, fucking awake.

“Shit. MJ….” His hands came right up, clutching at MJ’s shoulders. Damn. His head was just spinning.

“Uh-huh.” He got himself another kiss, this one hot enough to melt iron. That was it. Just fucking like that.

The boat rocked, starting to turn in a lazy circle, and Sonny broke off, gasping for air. “We need to turn the engine off.”

“Then turn it off.” MJ slid down his body, tearing at his clothes, nails scoring his skin.

Surging up to his knees, Sonny flipped the key and the engine died, screaming a little because he hadn’t throttled down. Then he grabbed MJ and tore the man’s shirt right in half. Goddamn.

“They didn’t get us.” MJ bit his hip, hard.

“No. No, we’re right here.” Poor Precious. The man had some issues, what with that weirdassed government-type group hunting him. Sonny couldn’t blame him. Hell, he admired the man. Tangling his fingers in that too-long hair, he yanked MJ’s head up, meeting those bright eyes. “Mine.”

“Prove it.”

Like he couldn’t? Sonny growled, ripping at MJ’s thin linen pants, sending them flying overboard with a twist of his wrist. He pulled MJ’s mouth to his again, taking a kiss that set off fireworks of pain and beautiful fucking need. MJ’s fingers were digging into his scalp, holding him tight, that kiss going on and on until lights flashed behind his eyes.

They broke apart, gulping in great gasps of air before plunging right back in. They rolled, MJ landing hard on his back, Sonny pressing MJ’s hands to the slick wood. MJ stared at him, not asleep anymore, not even a little bit cold. Fuck, no. That was pure heat.

“I got you, Precious. Okay? Got you.” Rocking his hips, he let MJ touch him, let his cock rub and press and feel like it might explode.

“Sonny.” MJ groaned, legs coming up to wrap around him. Jesus, look at that belly roll.

“Yeah.” They didn’t have anything like lube, so he used spit, holding MJ’s wrists with one hand, wetting the fingers of his other. His fingers tasted salty, rough, but he got them wet and pushed them against MJ’s hole, just not able to stop. MJ didn’t seem to be spending a lot of energy on complaints either. No, those hips jerked, pushing right onto his fingers as MJ’s wrists pulled against his hands.

The wind whipped sea air at them, but he could still smell MJ, the musk and earth scent making him groan. He got his fingers deep inside, got MJ open for him, ready to go.

“Fuck me. Come on.” Fuck, nobody needed like his Precious. Nobody ever had.

“Now,” he agreed, moving his fingers out of the way and pushing his cock into place. He slipped right in, and MJ pulled him in deep, those legs clamping around him. Sonny moaned, bent to kiss those lips, needing more contact. MJ’s tongue pushed into his mouth and fucked his lips just like the man was starving. Fucking A. Sonny slammed into MJ’s body, hips driving hard and fast, feeling the scrape and burn of that hot, tight ass all along his shaft. Jesus fuck. He could hear MJ’s moans—harsh, raw noises just pushed into his lips. Their bodies slapped together, their balls swung, his chest hair rasped against MJ’s skin. “Precious…. Yeah.”

“Come on. Come on, Sunshine.” MJ’s hands squeezed hold of his buttcheeks, grabbing hard and tugging him in deeper.

“Need more….” Damn it, he needed to feel MJ move. Needed to hit just there. Right. There.

“Uh….” Fuck, feel that ass squeeze him, work his prick like a goddamn hand.

“Precious. Yeah. Like that.” Goddamn. His whole body felt like it was gonna shake apart. Like a fucking earthquake.

MJ nodded, nipped his bottom lip hard, muscles rippling something fierce. He reached up, finding MJ’s nipples and twisting them before sliding his hand down to stroke that pretty, pretty cock. Jesus, MJ was hard for him. Needing. Those blue eyes went wide as saucers, MJ looking damn near shocked for a second before heat just poured over his hand.

Sonny’s teeth snapped together, the damned edges closing close enough to the inside of his lip that he tasted blood. His cock swelled impossibly, and Sonny shot so hard he couldn’t breathe, filled MJ deep.

MJ rode it out with him, holding on tight like he’d jump ship or something.

Wrapping around MJ, Sonny rolled them to their sides and held right back. “I got you, Precious. Just me. No one else.”

“Just you.” MJ melted for him, cuddled in, eyes closed.

Thank fuck, the man was relaxing. MJ in work mode was a little unnerving after the second or third day. He liked happily dangerous better.

“You’ll keep watch?” It said something, that MJ’d let him watch over.

“I will. Crash a bit, huh?” They’d go, find someplace far enough away to anchor and swim and relax. Maybe ride a nice little buzz for a couple of days.

“Yeah.” MJ kissed his jaw, nodded. “You poke me if you need me.”

“I will. With something you enjoy.” Kissing MJ’s chin, Sonny hoisted himself up, hauled MJ to the little bench seat. “You hang out here.”

“Mmrph.” He figured that was a yes. ’Course, MJ was already sound asleep.

Sonny smiled, kissing that sweaty forehead before going back to start the boat and get them going again. They needed a place to hole up and remember how to be them, no hostages, no work, no evil ex-bosses.

Just them. They were always best that way.

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About B.A.!

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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