Hey! I am Rhys Ford and I’ll be taking over this blog today … sort of. There’s really no cool way of introducing yourself on someone else’s blog and honestly, if you’re following this series of shorts, you’re going to be sick of reading this. So… feel free to jump down to the meaty bits of the short if you like. Go on. I won’t mind.
Now, if you’ve been following the Sinners Series, I am happy to say the third book is either on the brink of coming out or out by the time this post hits. It is called Tequila Mockingbird and features Connor Morgan as he discovers he’s in love with a drummer—a guy drummer. Murder, mayhem, sexing, etc. All of those follow. You know the drill. But wooot! I am very happy to announce Connor’s story.
To celebrate, I’ve written a short serialized string of vignettes titled Hair of the Dog. Please enjoy the story as it goes along. The order of the posts is included at the bottom of the short. Hope you enjoy it.
Oh…and Giveaway! Would you like to win…. Drum roll…..
A $20 (USD) Gift Certificate to the e-tailer of your choice!
If so, please leave a comment below and one name will be selected randomly or randomly selected or one random name will be selected. Sheesh. Language. Good Luck…and thank you. Really. Dudes, you all rock and thank you so much
Hair of the Dog • Part One
“Hello, Defender of the Concrete Squirrel.”
It was a silly name but the bulldog took it on with a great seriousness. Apparently the people he called his considered the squirrel an important part of their lives so he in turn honoured them by defending it. It was better than the human-name give to him. Roscoe. A noise at best and a harsh one. It probably meant something in human language but I didn’t know what. They rarely discussed their language with us and mostly it centered around food or toys.
And beatings. Some humans liked to chase away the Pack’s members as if they had dominion over the ground they squatted on.
It is one thing to be territorial but quite another to be cruel.
Much like the name Roscoe.
“Hello, Chinatown Gypsy Walker.” Defender snuffled a greeting through the chain link fence surrounding his property. Another silly human thing, running a line of tall metal around an area as if they can keep it safe from anything outside coming in. It would be an easy enough fence to scale. Or if I were something other than Pack, fly or crawl under but that would be disrespectful to the bulldog so I stayed on my side of the silly webbing. “Where are you going today?”
“I am heading down to the end path there. I have found a human I like. I’ll be staying there for my life.” His shock flavoured the air and I sniffed at it, wondering what was such a surprise. I cocked my head at him, pulling my ears forward. “Why the strangeness? Did you think I will give up my roaming? The one I’ve found needs a roamer. He stays inside too much. He’ll need me to bring the outside in.”
“Does he like you?” The bulldog furrowed its brow and I wondered if he’d spent too much time with his humans as he looks more like one of them when he speaks. But then, thinking back on all the bulldogs I have know, most of the breed were like that. A mass of wrinkles, worry and defending odd things.
“He feeds me. And when he does walk outside, he goes to the food place on the corner and buys me a sandwich. Just for me.” I catch the scent of a cat on the wind. It is nearby but not one I know. If I hadn’t been on my way to home, I would seek it out but there are things to do. I had to find my newly claimed human and mark him as mine—an easy task since I’d avoided at least three rains since I’d last seen him so I reeked of my scent. “So, you will see me with him. I thought I should tell you I would be in the area and hope to be good Pack to you.”
“Wait, I know that one. He looks like he owns a cat.”
“He is a cat.” I assert. “But I can work with that. Wish me luck. It will be a hard thing with him but I am determined.”
“Then why are you doing it?” Defender asks as I turn away.
“Because he is sad inside.” I reply, elated the bulldog did not draw a line of aggression between us. It would be difficult to live near him if he had. “And because, Defender, he deserves to live better than the death he’s chosen for himself.”
Sequel to Whiskey and Wry (and The Devil’s Brew)
Sinners Series: Book Three
Lieutenant Connor Morgan of SFPD’s SWAT division wasn’t looking for love. Especially not in a man. His life plan didn’t include one Forest Ackerman, a brown-eyed, blond drummer who’s as sexy as he is trouble. His family depends on him to be like his father, a solid pillar of strength who’ll one day lead the Morgan clan.
No, Connor has everything worked out—a career in law enforcement, a nice house, and a family. Instead, he finds a murdered man while on a drug raid and loses his heart comforting the man’s adopted son. It wasn’t like he’d never thought about men — it’s just loving one doesn’t fit into his plans.
Forest Ackerman certainly doesn’t need to be lusting after a straight cop, even if Connor Morgan is everywhere he looks, especially after Frank’s death. He’s just talked himself out of lusting for the brawny cop when his coffee shop becomes a war zone and Connor Morgan steps in to save him.
Whoever killed his father seems intent on Forest joining him in the afterlife. As the killer moves closer to achieving his goal, Forest tangles with Connor Morgan and is left wondering what he’ll lose first—his life or his heart.
Read Bethany & MtSnow’s review here: Tequila Mockingbird
Purchase Tequila Mockingbird at: Dreamspinner
Also available on Amazon, Are and other online book stores.
Follow all of Hair of the Dog Story at these blog spots
Part 1: Rainbow Gold Reviews
Part 2: Live your Life, Buy The Book
Part 3: The Novel Approach
Part 4: The Blogger Girls
Part 5: Joyfully Jay
Part 6: 3 Chicks After Dark
Part 7: Gay List Book Reviews
Part 8: Boy meets Boy
Part 9: Prism Alliance
Part 10: Under The Covers
Part 11: Love Bytes Reviews
Additional Posts and Giveaways
Rhys Ford was born and raised in Hawai’i then wandered off to see the world. After chewing through a pile of books, a lot of odd food, and a stray boyfriend or two, Rhys eventually landed in San Diego, which is a very nice place but seriously needs more rain.
Rhys admits to sharing the house with three cats of varying degrees of black fur and a ginger cairn terrorist. Rhys is also enslaved to the upkeep a 1979 Pontiac Firebird, a Toshiba laptop, and an overworked red coffee maker.