Tropical Depression

Tropical Depression

by BA Tortuga


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Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781635334340
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Publication date: 02/20/2017
Series: Stormy Weather , #2
Pages: 200
Product dimensions: 6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.42(d)

About the Author

BA Tortuga, Texan to the bone and an unrepentant Daddy's Girl, spends her days with her basset hounds, getting tattooed, texting her sisters, and eating Mexican food. When she's not doing that, she's writing. She spends her days off watching rodeo, knitting, and surfing Pinterest in the name of research. BA's personal saviors include her wife, Julia Talbot, her best friend, Sean Michael, and coffee. Lots of coffee. Really good coffee.

Read an Excerpt

Shane poured himself a double, topped off with some lime juice, and knocked it back before toodling out onto the back deck. Man, Sunday afternoons? His absolute favorite. He heard the guitar of the Changos' new song as he hit the door. "Len? Turn the music up? I fucking love that song."

The sun was beating down and his favorite kiddie pool was filled and on the deck, a floaty in the bottom to cushion his ass. The scent of some hunk of meat on the grill was spicy and rich. Mmm ... spicy. Galen's come tasted wicked sharp after spicy...

Shane stopped. Blinked.



He'd only had two.



"Uh. Galen?"

The alligator hadn't been in the pool when he'd filled it this morning...

"Yeah, darlin'?" Len sounded relaxed, happy. Perfectly normal.

"Can you bring me the hose?" He squinted. Man, those claws were so bad for his floaty.

"What? You can't be out of water in that thing." But he heard Len coming, dragging the hose. "You make me burn the grilled veggies and ... shit."

"Uh-huh." Okay, cool. So. Real alligator. Not a hallucination. Good to know. "Gimme the hose."

Galen handed it over without a word and went to turn it on, coming back to look over his shoulder. "That's pretty good-sized."

"Uh-huh." He took a stance and aimed at the gator's nose, squeezing the little yellow gun-end-doolie.

The first shot of water hit the gator right on the snout, and all it got him was an open mouth full of teeth and a fucking ominous hiss. That big tail swished, Shane's pool creaking.

"Damn, Shane. Piss him off, why don't you?"

"Well, he's in my pool, Len." He sprayed again, this time in theass. "What if it shits in it? The floaty's already a loss."

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