Blog Tour & Giveaway: Tequila Mockingbird by Rhys Ford

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 custom Persianchain mail bracelet from Times Combined 

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.  

From BMBR: Please leave a comment on this blog post and include some means of contacting you (e.g., email address, Twitter handle, Goodreads profile, etc.). The contest is open until 10PM (Pacific time) on Friday, July 11th, and the randomly-chosen winner will be contacted shortly thereafter. If you win, please respond within 48 hours or we'll have to choose another winner.

Good Luck!

Hair of the Dog • Part Eight

I’d been on the fence —a good phrase borrowed from the cats—about Kane’s dam. She was excitable, much like a Jack Russell I knew and like that particular terrier, her bite was far worse than her bark. And by all that is smelly and ripe, they both could bark. 

Any fence sitting I was on was over. She’d somehow taken offense to my morning frolic and trapped me into yet another cold, bright room that stunk of flowers, cleansers and fresh linens. These weren’t the linens on a soft fluffy bed. No, these were thirsty raspy things that while fragrant, signaled only one thing to a dog.

A human was going to scrub off every damned calling card, scent and trace of a dog’s existence from his fur and skin.

So no, I wasn’t too thrilled about Kane’s dam.

Especially since she’d lured me in with bacon then shut the door behind me.

A dog is used to betrayal. It happens every day. People leave—sometimes forever. People die before we’re ready for them to go. And sometimes they do mean things like pretend to throw a toy to be fetched only to hold onto it and laugh while we go looking for it.

Kane’s younger brother—one of them—did that when I’d first gone out to the yard and Miki tore into him like one of the snooty cats roosting in the living room like some regal chicken. My Miki does not like to be fooled and he suffers none of them gladly. Ergo—good word that as well, sea lion origin—Miki will not let anyone fool me.

So he’d probably be on my side if he knew Kane’s mother tempted me with fried pig and then after feeding me the slice, plopped me into a tub to hose my wanderings off of me.

To borrow a curse from the humans—bitch.

Still, I suffered it gladly. Well grumpily but I said nothing. Bit no one and she’d just gotten enough lather on me for people to wonder if I was some damned poodle when the door opened quickly and yet another Donal-Monster-Son came in.

I was losing track of who was whom. They all looked alike and for the most part, sounded the same but they smelled differently. I gave Brigid a dirty look from under my veil of suds—that is if I could smell him through the damned soap she’d covered me in.

“Con, close the door. The dog’ll get out and there’ll be hell to pay for it then.” She practically sang a ditty as she lathered me up.

“Ma, why are ye bathing Miki’s dog? That’s a bit of liberty don’t ye think?” Con—that was Con. I recognized him when he came closer and I could peer at him through the lather. I tried giving him a tried-and-true sad puppy mourning face but either the soap was dimming its power or he was immune. I was going to blame the soap. “Christ, he about tore Ian a new arse for fucking with the dog’s mind yesterday. Now yer going to piss him off by washing the Dude?”

“It’s just Dude. Not The Dude,” Brigid corrected him. She was right but she didn’t have the inflection down right. Miki seemed to be the only one fluent enough in Miki-ese to put the right purr on it but I suffered the slaughtering of my noise about as well as the bath—silently and plotting a peeing in a shoe or two when I could. “And I had to wash him. He’d gone through the flower beds and rolled in the fish guts yer da put out there for something or other. I can’t have him smelling like a plate of hákarl when one of them gets up. They’ll think we can’t be trusted to watch the dog and then where will we be?”

“Not watching a dog?” Con sounded as confused as I felt and I tried to roll my eyes in sympathy but sadly, my guts rolled instead and I felt a slither of gas escape me.

Revenge is a sweet sweet thing—or rather a rotten thing best served after stewing in my guts and when Brigid, Mother of Rolling Tongued Horde and Betraying Cajoler, was bent over my ass to scrub my back legs.

Needless to say, she fled. Fled like the bacon-tricker she was, choking on my rank fur and even ranker, cabbage-laden belly. I cast a longing look at the now open door and then back up to Connor who was standing over me with a bemused smirk on his face.

“Aye, I know you did that on purpose, you mad bastard,” he laughed, sounding more like his father than before as he bent over me. “And no, you’ll not be getting out  a scrubbing. Come on, let’s finish you up. And none of your tricks. I grew up with a pack of brothers. There’s no stench you can come up with that even comes close to the boys after a weekend of mum gone and frozen bean burritos.”

§

Tequila Mockingbird
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.

Purchase Tequila Mockingbird at Dreamspinner Press

Also available on Amazon, Are and other online book stores.

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Follow all of Hair of the Dog Story at these blog spots

June 24

            Part 1: Rainbow Gold Reviews               

June 25

            Part 2: Live your Life, Buy The Book      

June 26

            Part 3: TheNovel Approach                   

            Part 4: TheBlogger Girls                        

June 27

            Part 5: Joyfully Jay                              

June 28

            Part 6: 3Chicks After Dark                     

            Part 7: GayList Book Reviews               

June 29

            Part 8: Boymeets Boy                          

June 30

            Part 9: Prism Alliance                           

            Part 10: Under The Covers                     

July 2 

            Part 11: LoveBytes Reviews                   

Additional Posts and Giveaways

June 27

            Pants OffReviews                                

            MercyCeleste’s Blog

          Smoocher’s Voice                                  

          Sinfully Sexy

June 28

            Kathy’splace                                        

June 29

            DreamspinnerFBChat  (8-11 am)            

            Moon OverAtlanta                                

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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.