By Design

by BA Tortuga

By Design - BA Tortuga
Part of the Southern Cats series:
Editions:Kindle - Second Edition: $ 4.99 USD
Pages: 127

When Robin heads to North Carolina with his boss to help design and build a new conference center, he has a bunch of surprises in store for him. The building site is in the middle of nowhere, his boss is being weirder than usual, and he meets not one, but two of the hottest men he's ever seen in his life. If he can just get his boss Terry to leave him alone with them, Robin knows Casey and Travis could rock his world.

Casey and Travis might play, but they've never thought of mating with a third man. Their immediate need for Robin is something they don't question, though. What they do want to know is how Robin can possibly be unaware he's a cat shifter. Can they help Robin find the other half of himself and convince him he's what's missing in their relationship at the same time?

Publisher's Note: The novel By Design by BA Tortuga was available briefly from another house.

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"Terry? Really? This looks a little..." Robin looked at the building out in the middle of the sticks, its neon light blinking Cat House over and over and over in a sickening, faded pink. It looked like Deliverance meets Porky's, and he was fairly sure his Polo shirt and khakis were not standing dress code here.

"Hey, everyone local says this is the bar to go to -- cold beer, great burgers, decent live music on the weekends." His boss grinned at him, obviously totally unaware that this was a guarantee to get both of their incredibly gay asses handed to them on a shovel.

"Sure. Locals who aren't big gay daddies like you or weird little gay dudes like me."

Terry rolled his eyes. "We have to be here working for how long, oh keeper of the schedule?"

"Six to eight weeks. This whole resort thing isn't a little job."


"Exactly." They glanced at each other, then cracked up, both of them knowing how the other felt about pouring cash into a resort out here in east Bumble Fuck.

"Come on. If I get my ass kicked, you're totally footing my plastic surgery bill."

"I can do that." Terry clapped him on the back, the touch totally non-sexual. Damn it.

Not that he was totally into Terry, but sometimes he wanted someone to notice him, damnit. Terry was a great guy, hot as hell, and queer. So what was he? Chopped liver?

And why did chopped liver get the bad rap? P‚tÈ was expensive and fancy -- foul as fuck, but expensive and fancy.

"Focus, Robin. Ready to get a burger?"

He nodded. "Sure. Let's do it."

Guacamole and bacon. Please let there be guacamole and bacon. Even in nowhere Carolina they did that these days.

"Hey, boys." A hot young man in a pair of faded jeans and a black T-shirt that read "Catting Around" met them at the host stand. "Two?"

"Please." Terry looked at the guy like he was lunch.

Robin rolled his eyes, following along.

Robin settled on the bench across from Terry. The menu looked promising, as did the craft beers. Who knew? Maybe he needed to be more open-minded. Maybe he just needed a beer. And score, there was a bacon and guac burger. Woo.

"They have some decent beers. I approve."

Terry nodded and rolled his eyes. "Didn't I tell you?"

"Yeah, yeah." He glanced around. "The outside keeps the inside's secret."

"That's it. This place has its charm."

It did. Oddly. He glanced around, noting not many customers were in yet. "Uh-huh."

"Don't be a snob, Robin. Did you see that hot little bottom boy who seated us? Uhn."

"Listen to you!" Christ.

"Sorry. Inspiring." Terry chuckled. "I get it. Down boy."

"That's right." Was it bad form to call your boss a perv?

"Black and bleu burger for me," Terry told the same little boy who'd seated them. "And a raspberry wheat."

"Guac and bacon and... do you have a good bockbier?"

"Yep. Shiner, Anchor or our own, which is called Hops Scotch."

"I'll try yours."

The little hottie did a sexy dance. "Would you like a sample? If you hate it..."

"Then I can have Shiner, right?"



Mr. Hottie McHotpants wiggled off and Terry chuckled softly. "You think he's cute too."

"He's flirting. How can I not think he's adorbs?" Did he just say adorbs? To Terry? "I need to hit the head, I think. Too much time in the car."

"Uh-huh. Sure. Right. Too much time in the car..."

"What?" His cheeks heated. "We didn't get to stop at the hotel."

"Go on, man. You're cute as hell."

"Shut up." He honestly just had that conversation with his boss. He really did just want to go to the bathroom, so Robin headed off. And if he had to splash some cold water on his face, so be it.

Really, he was feeling more tired than anything. He'd spent the last two months trying to buy a house and, since he hadn't found one before this job showed up, but his lease was up, he'd moved everything into one of those pod things and he was fucking exhausted. Now he was living out of a suitcase for two months...

He peed and washed and splashed, and he walked out of the bathroom just in time to see the two guys entering the bar through the front door.

Lord, now those two were the polar opposite of Mr. McHotpants. They looked like two rednecks looking for an ass to kick -- broad-shouldered and rough-edged. One was all golden hair and green eyes, his beard more hipster than hillbilly, but still very masculine. The other had hair just a shade darker, a little overlong, and bright golden eyes. Had to be contacts. Had to.

His heart kicked into high gear because the testosterone was flowing like cheap beer on game night. Damn.

He totally needed to get laid.


About the Author

Texan to the bone and an unrepentant Daddy’s Girl, BA Tortuga spends her days with her basset hounds and her beloved wife, 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.

Having written everything from fist-fighting rednecks to hard-core cowboys to werewolves, BA does her damnedest to tell the stories of her heart, which was raised in Northeast Texas, but has heard the call of the  high desert and lives in the Sandias. With books ranging from hard-hitting GLBT romance, to fiery menages, to the most traditional of love stories, BA refuses to be pigeon-holed by anyone but the voices in her head.

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