With Chay, Hero of Tie Down My Heart by Linda Carroll-Bradd
Chayton Red Fox, of the Foot-Trails People and born for the Deer Spring clan. I’ve reached the end of the third decade of my life. For better or worse.
Where were you raised?
Navajo Nation in New Mexico.
A grandmother, older sister and nephew
Did you attend college?
More like the school of hard knocks. I trailed my father around rodeos whenever he’d left me, watching and learning, and they finally let me compete when I turned sixteen.
What’s your favorite participation sport?
(Quirks an eyebrow) Really? Isn’t the answer obvious?
Did you always want to be a rodeo competitor?
Always loved horses—it’s in the blood, you know. I wanted to do anything that got me off the rez and into the wide world.
Where did you go for your most recent vacation?
That’s a concept of the white world. Natives take a walk on Mother Earth or sir beside a clear running stream and feel re-energized.
What attracts you first to a woman?
A woman who doesn’t back down to my cynical mouth.
Are you talking about a particular woman?
That’d be saying too much.
Tie Down My Heart
A contemporary Western Novella
From the Tease Line at Decadent Publishing
Journalist Didi Pierpont needs a man…to interview for her rodeo article. When calf-roper Chayton Red Fox exits the ring in an ambulance, she follows close behind determined to get a story. Can Didi keep her journalistic distance, or will the gorgeous but cocky cowboy tie her in knots?
First hurdle crossed. Didi stepped through the doorway and walked along the row of curtained spaces. Just like the fitting rooms in her favorite specialty shops. Except for the brownish grit underfoot. A shudder ran through her. She’d be leaving her boots outside on the hotel room balcony tonight.
Hmmm. As she walked, she noticed the majority of the curtains were open, displaying small, empty cubicles. Somehow, she’d thought she’d find a central room with competitors hanging around and she could have her choice of subjects. Not the case. At the very end, she spotted a partially closed curtain and her heart sped up.
Under the curtain was a pair of scuffed tan boots topped with worn jeans. Stopping short of the cubicle, she angled her position until she could look into the mirror and catch a glimpse of a well-muscled chest. Closer inspection revealed a small patch of black hair between his tanned pecs, bisected by a long scar. The white line started on the man’s breastbone and disappeared under the bandage he was busy wrapping around his ribs.
Ooh, that injury must have hurt. Her hand moved to the skin above her camisole and rubbed, as if to erase the mark from the man’s bronze skin. Wonder what caused that type of cut?
“Like what you’re gawking at?”
His raspy voice made her gasp and stiffen her stance. Her gaze shot to the mirror and met narrowed, dark eyes under twin black slashes of frowning eyebrows. “Pardon my rudeness. I haven’t seen a scar quite like that.”
“Must not have been around many bull riders.”
“I used to live with a couple, but they were unscathed.” Her gaze went back to his chest, and her stomach tumbled at the thought of either JJ or Garland suffering through a similar injury.
An eyebrow quirked, and he pulled open the curtain. “Lived with a couple? Angel, this is getting interesting.”
“Oh, not what you’re thinking.” Her cheeks flamed. “They’re my older brothers—dull as dishwater.” She sucked in a breath and extended her hand. “Didi Pierpont from the Dallas County Gazette. I’m working on a piece about individuals who compete at rodeos and would love to interview you.”
“Nice to meet you, ma’am.” His fingers touched the brim of his hat before his calloused hand enclosed hers and shook. “I’ll pass on the interview.”
For an instant, her shoulders sagged until she pulled on the natural persistence that her daddy claimed was strengthened by years of beauty-pageant competition. “Now, don’t be hasty. A bit of press is always good for a rodeo-rider’s career. I saw those posters on my way in. The association spent a chunk of change to promote those riders.” She studied his face and thought she recognized him as a bronc rider. “A good story could boost ticket sales for the next event.”
“Those posters aren’t new. Do you even know who I am?” He settled his hat more firmly on his head, then squared his stance and crossed both arms over his muscled chest.
Which only pumped his biceps into rounded bulges that she fought to ignore. The man’s body was honed and chiseled with no sign of fat anywhere. “If I know, do I get the interview?”
“On what?” Her gaze narrowed on the smirk that threatened his lips.
“Dunno.” A shoulder lifted in a shrug. “I leave my options open.”
About the Author:
After years spent in the administrative support field, Linda decided to exercise another part of her brain and write a novel. She loved reading romance and figured that’s what she’d write. Easier said than done. After years of workshops and RWA chapter meetings, she finally saw her manuscripts place in contests. Twelve years after her first writing class, she sold a confession story. From that point on, she couldn’t be stopped and is always pleased when her sweet contemporary and historical stories find homes.
With interests as widespread as baking, crocheting, watching dog agility matches, and reading thrillers by Swedish authors, Linda is the mother to 4 adult children and grandmother to 2 granddaughters. She currently lives in the southern California Mountains with her husband of 34 years and their two spoiled dogs.
Giveaway: 1st Prize Winner of a $20 Amazon GC, 2nd Prize Winner of a Silver Charm of Cowboy Boots