Cowboys make beautiful lovers!
As an author, I know it. As a reader, you probably do, too, especially if you are here reading this!
Being an East Coast gal who has been transported to deep in the heart of Texas, I tell you I never knew a cowboy till I got here. Never even hoped to meet one. True. True. My idea of a sexy guy was a Suit with the Suave of 007.
Now, 15 years after moving to southwest Texas and cowboy country, I have a craving for genuine western men. Cowboys. Rodeo contenders. Ranchers. Sheriffs. Texas Rangers. They are different from their coastal counterparts. Living with longhorns and cattle, fighting dust and draught, scorpions and cacti, hard winters and summers without water make a man tough. Sturdy. Inventive. And funny.
Definitely, they appeal to us for their legendary individuality. But their roughness—and their need to be rough means they have the grit, true grit, to love a woman hard and fast.
More than that, I think these men are much stronger characters in erotica--and more true to life! The rough, tough type of man we think of as a cowboy, is best personified by a man with a load of testosterone. Hence, a hot and heavy erotica fits best.
I like writing these men with a great sense of understanding and I got that way because living in cowboy country, I know these boys! I have worked with them, played with them (at the local Chamber of Commerce and other local events.)
They are truly independent. With a capital I.
They do not mess with details. This, of course, can get them in trouble. But they tend not to care. They let others work on that pesky little stuff for them.
They have other traits I love. For example, they know how to use a lasso. They do rope animals. Corral them. Kill them. And stuff them. Then mount them on the walls of their living rooms, if their wives will let them—or if not, on the walls of their den. If that fails, the front of their trucks can bear a brace of 15 foot longhorns. Yes, indeedy.
They do take care of their appearance. They are fit. Very. And need no gym membership to hone those delicious muscles. And as for attire, beard, etc? They are not particular but pull on those worn, comfortable jeans and plaid shirt to be out there on a horse. Chaps (yum, yum) if necessary. But at home with their women, at a dance hall to do a graceful (do not use that word, though, puleeez) Two Step, they dress. Knife-pressed, starched jeans. White, starched shirt. Damnedest big silver buckle on their belt. Bigger than...well, any one else's, donchaknow. Boots. Knee high. Polished. Leather or Ostrich. Hand tooled. Cut to a fare thee well. Spurs. (Tingly, yet?)
They also know how to cook. Well. Really, they know how to barbeque. Hottest, damn coals are best, thank you, ma'am.
What do they cook? Ribs. Beef, pork, baby backs. Fajitas, especially down here in south Texas, this is our specialty. They also do Mean Beans. MEAN. (Bring your constitution, please.) Brisket, they will smoke till it falls apart in your fingers. You get all gooey and you must lick yourself clean.
Hmmm. Method? Madness?
What else can they do?
They know how to wield a bull whip.
A carving knife.
A lasso.
Biggest trucks I have ever seen.
They are not good with eloquence of the East Coast variety. But they do know how to speak their minds...and their hearts.
Gimme a cowboy every time.
Here’s a nibble of my newest, I CAUGHT THE SHERIFF, over at EC (
www.jasminejade.com/ps-9022-50-i-caught-the-sheriff.aspx ) Here the hero is a rancher and the sheriff is a redhead with a whole lot of attitude! (Copyright 2011, Cerise DeLand)
She had as much chance of landing Lex Coltrane in her bed as there was rain in the forecast. Both were zero. But if getting next to him was as good as she got, she would chalk up her discretion as a job requirement. She needed to make friends here in this county where only last month she’d been appointed to replace the deceased sheriff. So hooking up with Lex Coltrane was an urge she should keep under wraps. In her panties. Her very damn wet panties.
But few men ever challenged her. They were too stunned by the combination of her looks and her job. Yet since this man had walked into her office the other day and shown her his own hot determination and fiery good looks, he had obsessed her. His swagger in tight jeans and his broad-as-a-barn shoulders made her as horny as hell. The coal-dark hair and deep purple eyes made her purr just to look at him. The big hands weren’t bad, either. Oh, lord. Could he put those hands on her? Please?
Hold on there, Sheriff! Lana patted her horse’s mane and fell in step with the most luscious man in the county. He was a widower, too, and unattached to any one female, she’d learned from her deputy.
“What’s your pleasure?” Lex interrupted her reverie as he led her toward the food stands. “Sausage? Tacos? Corn dogs?”
“One of each.”
He whistled. “Sheriff, ma’am, you better plan to work all that off fast.”
She so liked his easy manner, all smooth-talking Texas charm and tough rawhide.
“Advice from a man who knows women?”
“I had a wife who watched every morsel she put in her mouth. Loved her to bits, but she drove me nuts counting calories.”
Lana chuckled. Word was around town that Suzanna Coltrane had won every kind of local beauty queen crown that existed. “And I heard you were proud of her.”
“Very.” He seemed to suppress a wince as he scanned the lines in front of the booths.
“What’s first?”
Lana dug a ten dollar bill out of her back pocket. “Sausage on a stick.”
He stared for an overly long second into her eyes. “Broiled or boiled?”
“Broiled and big.”
He cleared his throat and turned away. “Who would you like to meet first?”
“Anyone who comes our way.”
“That’ll be a stampede of all the single men, you realize.” His mouth hatched up at one corner in humor.
“Maybe so. I’m not really interested in them, though.” And that was the gods’ honest truth. It’s only you who rile me up with your gruff looks and casual demeanor. “I’m not usually interested in men.”
“No? Women then?”
“Oh, no. No.” She scuffed the toe of one boot into the dirt. Why couldn’t she keep her big mouth shut instead of leading him down the garden path to sex?
He clamped a hand over hers and she flinched at the electric charge of his hold. “Really? Well, then we’ll just take it nice and easy. Whatever the day brings.”
As the zing from his touch pulsed through her body, she wondered why in tarnation she had to take this slowly. Her panties were soaked. Her pussy was throbbing. Her breasts were puckered up so high and hard, they were screaming to get out of her bra. Demanding he put his mouth on her there to lick her and bite her.
“Oh, god!” She ran a hand over her hip. “Can we just meet a few people and get this over with?”
“You want to skip the introductions?” He frowned, confused.
“I’d rather talk to you.”
“Works for me,” he told her in that voice that made her heart leap like a doe in rutting season.
She put palm to his chest. Yep. She’d been right. His heart was racing like a wild pony. She had to know if it was for her so she bit her lower lip and went for broke. “I want to celebrate Independence Day in a whole new way.”
“Is that right?” His hand clamped down on hers while his expression went from part surprise to raw need. “I like bright ideas. What did you have in mind?”
Courage, Sheriff. “Want to bring that sausage over to my house?”
His brows inched upward. Amusement competed with desire as he licked his lower lip with a lazy tongue. “Theirs? Or mine?”
“Just yours.”
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