bull riding, Cowboys

View from the Chutes~my weekend at the NBR Finals

What did I do last weekend? Well, on a spur of the moment impulse I packed the car full of roadtrip food and headed South to Raleigh, North Carolina for the NBR Finals to see the rider I sponsor, Brian Conzett, compete and to hang out with Makin’ 8 as they broadcasted the event live from the arena. I expected it would be a good time. What I didn’t expect was how amazingly incredible it would be, from night one when I got to meet everyone I’d only talked to before, to night two when I got to spend the event literally next to the bucking chutes, to meeting new fans in person, and visiting old friends from home. Here is a retrospective in photos.

Brian Conzett at the NBR Finals
Brian Conzett, one of the bull riders I sponsor, before his ride Saturday night

 

The bulls were bucking this close to us and the Makin' 8 broadcasting equipment
I got to enjoy all sorts of dressing and undressing activity directly behind me. This is a bull fighter who'd stripped off his protective gear during the break.

 

This was my view for the night. I realized exactly how close I was to the action when the gate opening clanged loudly just inches from me and shook the platform we were standing on.

 

The bulls were penned directly behind me and apparently this was the 'bad' pen because every bull put in there during the night misbehaved. This guy kept eyeballing anyone who walked by and did not take kindly to the gear being stored on his rails.
On the other hand, this particular bull spent all night waiting for someone to scratch his back. I clucked at him and he came running over to me to get scratched. I disappointed him because I was afraid the stock guys would kick me out from where I wasn't really supposed to be.

So that was my great adventure. If you want to watch the action, the videos are archived.

NBR FINALS ROUND 1

NBR FINALS ROUND 2

Romance eBooks

Fun with Piggin’ Strings

What the hell is a piggin’ string? I’ll get to that in a minute. Promise. First, you have to sit through my long-winded writerly diatribe.

There is a trend in the erotic romance eBook world–BDSM. They sell like crazy, and I’m probably crazy for not writing a book in that genre. No disrespect to the authors who do write in that genre, but I don’t think I have it in me. Not personally, and not professionally. First of all, I know nothing about the lifestyle, and make no mistake, to people hardcore into it, it IS a lifestyle, and there are rules. Lots and lots of rules, and any author who tries to write a BDSM without knowing those rules is going to get beaten up in reviews and by readers. So that means I’d have to research A LOT.

To spend that much time researching a subject, I have to love it, or at least have an interest in it. Sure I watched about 8 hours straight of bull riding/bull fighting and bronc riding during the recent IFR stock sale, but I love cowboys and animals and find the rodeo interesting. I can’t say that about many subjects, BDSM included. I know I’m speaking from ignorance, but I know in my heart I’m not Sub material–following rules makes me twitch. And I’m not Dom material either–if I wanted to spend all that time spanking someone or telling them what to do I would have had kids, or become a parochial school teacher.

So as I said, I have much respect for all the authors who write that genre, and write it well. I have great respect for all the people who choose to live the lifestyle, but again, to each his own, it’s just not for me and wouldn’t this world be boring if we were all alike anyway?

That said–on to piggin’ strings. What are they and what do they have to do with my BDSM soliloquy up there? A piggin’ string is a thin nylon string, probably about 6′ long, that ropers use to tie calf’s feet together after roping them in rodeo competitions. Doesn’t sound real sexy, does it? Well let’s consider this. Ropers are some of the sexiest men you’ll ever see. They control their horse with leg commands. Sexy. They leap from the stirrups at a full gallop. Sexy. They effortlessly pick up and throw down calves weighing up to 250 pounds. Sexy. AND they carry this looped string in their mouths the entire time they’re doing all this. Very sexy.

So that got me to thinking, I bet that piggin’ string could be used in other creative ways for indoor sports. The idea intrigued me and since I have neither a rodeo cowboy nor a piggin’ string here in NY, I let my characters in Texas Two-Step explore the possibilities. Was this “BDSM light”? I don’t know. Perhaps it’s just fun with ropes. Either way, it was fun to explore and I think the subject of everyday people, taking everyday things and using them in creative ways is worth looking into again in a future book. Ropes can be sexy!

Don’t believe me? Check out PRCA champion roper Shane Hanchey and his piggin’ string. Tell me those fast hands and that talented rope work doesn’t get you all tingly.

 

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6DnZcrEHalg]

 

Want to read more about tie-down ropers and the women who love them? Take a look at Texas Two-Step

Romance eBooks

Excerpt from Texas Two-Step–Let’s Dance!

Texas Two-Step

Contemporary, Westerns/Cowboys

Download at ARe ONLY.

Not available from Amazon, BN, Borders or any other eRetailer.

It takes two to tango, but three to do the two-step with these Texas cowboys…

Londoner Maryann Morrissy finds the companionship she’s missing by making friends on the Internet with fellow rodeo fans in the States. Her fiancĂ© Robert doesn’t understand her new obsession. His mocking is just one more thing in a long list that convinces Maryann he’s not the man for her. Perfect timing, because Maryann is flying to Texas where two rodeo cowboys are waiting to show her the ropes.

Annoyed he has to pick up his sister’s British online buddy from the airport, tie-down roper Wes Griffin drags his best friend Shooter with him. Misery loves company until Wes sees Maryann get off the plane. When her sexy accent makes his heart do the two-step, Wes begins to wish he’d kept Maryann all to himself because Shooter is just as intrigued.

After the nasty end to Maryann’s engagement, she’s ready to take both cowboys on, but is Wes willing to share?

EXCERPT (rated G)

“What do you think she looks like?” Shooter surveyed the new arrivals in the terminal, the torn piece of cardboard Wes had made into a sign resting in one hand and propped against his chest.

Wes still couldn’t believe all it had taken to convince his friend to hold that stupid sign was the promise of an extra beer out of the twelve-pack they’d be sharing. The one that Ellen hopefully had already put in the fridge to chill for him while they waited for Brit Chick to arrive.

Shooter’s question was one Wes had already asked himself the moment he’d been assigned this task so he had an image of Maryann Morrissy already firmly planted in his head. “I’m picturing one of those British nannies like you see on TV. You know the ones I mean?”

“No, not really. What kinda television you watching any way? Ain’t no British nannies on the hunting channel, that’s for sure.” Shooter frowned.

“Come on. You’ve seen them. The ones with their hair pulled back into a really tight bun. They wear glasses and they’ve got thick ankles and wear big, ugly shoes. They could be old, could be young, but you can’t tell. They could be skinny, or could be fat, but you can’t really judge that either because they wear dresses that look like they were made outta a burlap sack.”

“Hope you’re wrong, man. I think this British chick is going to be really hot, like the ones you see wearing those corset things in movies about Henry the Eighth. You know those low-cut tops where all the goods are pushed up and out.” Shooter used his free hand to mime pushing up his imaginary boobs.

Wes shook his head. “You’re crazy. Even if corsets were still in style, I seriously doubt she’d be wearing one on the flight.”

His friend shrugged. “A man can dream, can’t he?”

“Yeah, keep dreaming there, buddy, because I’m pretty sure this is her flight and I don’t see any of Henry the Eighth’s wenches in corsets coming through that door.” What Wes did see was a slew of businessmen in suits looking like they were late for something somewhere, a mother with too many kids to handle alone, and a middle-aged women who smiled in his general direction to reveal crooked, yellowed teeth. Was this Brit Chick Maryann? “No corset there, thank God.”

“No corset, but she’s hot enough, she don’t really need one.”

Wes frowned at Shooter. “Hot? Her? What the hell are you talking about?”

Then he followed his friend’s gaze and saw what Shooter had seen. Coming through the other door, also smiling in their direction was a woman about their own age and looking like nothing he’d imagined Brit Chick would look like.

“Hello. I’m Maryann.” The lilt in her sweet voice shot straight through Wes, right down to his groin. Down below, Little Wes woke up to take notice and was apparently enjoying Maryann’s British accent from inside Wes’s jeans.

Shooter’s face lit up with a wide, goofy grin. “Hey, Maryann. I’m Shooter. Welcome to America.”

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