Bully for You
By Catt Ford
4/5
()
About this ebook
What could be hunkier than a cowboy? Not much, according to Martin Du Bois. He convinces two friends that a visit to the rodeo is every gay man’s wet dream, and so the three of them gaily (and I do mean gaily) set off to watch cowboy asses in action.
A visit to a bar after the event gets Martin closer to the action than he ever thought possible, and he meets Jesse Cumberland, the man who caught his eye in the ring and made his rhinestones sparkle. Instant attraction leads to a one-night stand that gets under Martin’s insouciant skin and causes him to rethink his determination not to get involved emotionally. When Jesse invites Martin to his ranch, the visit is almost derailed by Martin’s realization that they lead very different lives. As a flaming city queer, he sees no way to fit with the solid, athletic Jesse. It’s up to Jesse to see if he can change Martin’s mind.
Catt Ford
Catt Ford lives behind the orange curtain in southern California with a partner and two familiars in the form of cats whose fur is as black as their evil little hearts. She is a graphic artist by day and a storyteller by inclination. Catt enjoys the research required for writing a believable story. She is a rabid card-carrying fan of bull riding and also enjoys swing dancing. She gets drunk on words and sometimes overimbibes, but loves to write about love and happy endings. Blog: catt-ford.livejournal.com
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Reviews for Bully for You
5 ratings2 reviews
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/53.5 rounded up to 4. Loved the characters and plot, but I was left wanting a better resolution. (not that it's bad, I just wanted these guys to have their HEA!)
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Sophisticated, flamboyant city-boy meets hunky country-cowboy - and the sparks fly. Two men who couldn't be more different, except for the fact they are both gay, meet and fall for each other in a tumble of passionate encounters. And then their feelings get serious, and I held my heart because finding a middle way for these two would be as challenging as "rewriting the bible" (as one of the main character's friends put it). The fact that the story is told with a lot of humor and made me laugh numerous times helped me keep my hopes up.
Martin, the city guy who goes by Marti, is about as flamboyant as they come. After being bullied one too many times in school, he decided to come out and own the fact he's gay, and he's never looked back. A lot of his attitude is pure bravado, but it gets him where he needs to be - most of the time. His comments and thoughts are hilarious, but there is also a serious undertone, especially when he thinks about his ex who treated him badly. Marti's feelings for Jesse are unexpected, and he knows making a relationship work won't be easy, but he wishes it could work.
Jesse is a bull rider who also owns a farm. He's not a country hick by any means, but that is what most "city people" see when they look at him. He loves Marti's flamboyance and admires his courage, and pretty soon he realizes he wants more. The only problem is he'll have to convince Marti to give it a try.
If you like stories where opposites definitely attract, if you enjoy reading about flamboyant men and sexy cowboys,and if you're looking for a story that will make you laugh as much as hope for a happy ending, then you will probably like this novella.
NOTE: This book was provided by Dreamspinner Press for the purpose of a review.
Book preview
Bully for You - Catt Ford
Bully for You
"O.M.GEE! Puleeze tell me you’re not wearing that!"
I totally am, girl.
Martin looked down at his shirt with satisfaction and pirouetted in front of the floor-length mirror in his living room. "And I look fabulous!"
Curt closed his eyes in anguish. Everyone will be staring and pointing. Darling, you know I love you but you look like the Rhinestone Cowboy.
"Darling! These are Swarovski rhinestones, my perky gay ass, Martin scoffed.
Besides, black on black! This is as tasteful and elegant as a little black dress. I look fierce!" He glanced in the mirror to admire the sparkle gleaming from the shoulders of his shirt. A single line of dark blue crystals picked out the vertical seams of the slim-cut shirt with a subtle gleam.
I guess I should be grateful you’re not wearing your glittery fairy wings too,
Curt grumbled but he couldn’t keep a smile off his face. You know I only have your best interests at heart.
"Fairy wings are only to be deployed for Gay Pride or art gallery openings. Now on the other hand, no one would ever guess you were going to the rodeo. You look like a depressed emo goth hipster on her way to a faux funeral to mourn the breakup of My Chemical Romance."
They broke up?
Curt put a hand over his heart with a mock-stunned expression.
Don’t get your mascara wet, it was just an analogy.
Martin rolled his eyes and opened the door to answer the knock. He leaned forward for air kisses when he saw his friend Dale and invited him in. Hello, sister girl.
He turned to Curt. "Wreak your fashion judgment on her. Miss Thing deserves it. Fringe!"
"Dale, you have accomplished the impossible—making Marti look almost normal. Where did you get that… thing?"
It’s vintage.
Dale gave a little shimmy, making the fringe ringing the embroidered yoke of his cowboy shirt dance. I found it in that thrift store over on 14th Street. It’s fab, isn’t it?
Anyone would think this was your first rodeo.
Curt crossed his arms and glared at both his friends from behind his square black-rimmed glasses.
It is, and I’m showing up in style,
Martin said. He leaned closer to the mirror to check his eyeliner.
I hate to tell you, sweetie, but spiked hair is totally out,
Dale said, complacently fluffing his artfully tousled surfer locks with his fingertips.
"When did you last have your eyes checked? This is a pompadour. Totally ironic and stylish."
Tell me again why we’re doing this,
Curt begged. This is like walking into the lion’s mouth. Rednecks and Bible-thumpers go to the rodeo. We’ll be lucky if we get away with just a black eye.
Because we’re flamers?
Dale put in helpfully.
"Speak for yourself. No one would automatically assume I’m queer," Curt said.
Dale and Martin glanced at each other and giggled at that statement.
Darling, real he-men don’t wear glasses like that, nor do they crop their hair when they realize they’re going bald,
Martin said. They never learned to face reality, poor dears.
Yeah,
Dale said, they’d rather comb their armpit hair up onto their head and think they’re fooling everyone. Like you, if you think you’re passing.
I’m passing about as well as you’re looking stylish. But seriously, armpit hair? Darling, it’s like you have no idea at all about grooming. Everyone knows if you want to do a comb-over you use the Friar Tuck monk-fringe. The armpit is just trés awkward and spoils the line of your jacket.
Now that we’ve dissed everyone in the room and practically all rodeo fans, our job here is done. Let’s roll. I don’t want to miss a thing,
Martin announced.
He locked the door behind his friends and followed them down the stairs to the lobby. When he pushed the outer door open, he huddled into his peacoat against the chill.
You never did say why we’re doing this insane thing,
Curt said. And since when does the rodeo come to Washington, DC?
"Asses, darling. Fine, round, muscular asses packed into tight jeans," Martin said, cupping his hands lovingly.
And just how did you find out about these asses?
Dale asked.
Fell asleep on the couch one day watching football—
"Those are some asses in tight pants." Dale sighed romantically.
Ignoring the interjection, Martin went on. "And when I woke up, there it was. The best ass I’d ever seen. And then the next boy came out and his ass was better! And the next—"
We get the picture. So we’re going to an ass museum,
Curt said.
You can’t take the art home from a museum,
Martin said.
Curt stopped walking. "You are not—not—planning to try to seduce a straight, redneck, hillbilly cowboy, are you? Because if you’d told me this was going to be a suicide mission, I wouldn’t have signed up for it."
Uneasily, Dale agreed. Really, sweetie. Look but don’t touch is the safest policy at sporting events.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained,
Martin said. He kept walking and the other two hurried to catch up. No guarantees, but I’m gonna try to bag me a hot cowboy, yes sirree, Bob.
Who’s Bob?
Curt said, Don’t encourage him, Dale. And your cowboy accent needs work, Marti, if you hope to deceive one of them into thinking you’re a good old boy.
The law of percentages says there’s got to be one or two cowboys who’re gay,
Martin said.
For a guy who works in finance, you are an incurable optimist,
Curt said. Have you no sense of self-preservation?
That’s why he has us,
Dale said. Safety in numbers. If you want to go to the rodeo, we’re here to see you get home safe. Just forget about the door prizes, sweetie.
WE COULD have watched this on TV and sat closer,
Curt grumbled as they waded down the crowded row to their seats in the Verizon Center.
We could, Eeyore, but then we would have missed all this pomp and circumstance.
Martin waved his hand at the columns of flame shooting into the air and the frenetic pulse of the laser beams. It’s exciting!
And the flies. Why are there flies in the Center?
Dale batted at a single fly that happened to come by.
Bullshit,
Curt said.
What?
You bring in horses and bulls. They poop. Flies come,
Curt explained patiently. Haven’t you ever visited a petting zoo?
Oh, that’s what that god-awful smell is.
Dale held his nose. A petting zoo stinks too, which is why I tend not to frequent them.
You’re imagining it. There’s a reason I got us seats in the nosebleed section,
Martin said. "You can’t smell it all the way up