Let's start with you telling us a little bit about yourself, Bailey.
I’m a native Texan who loves writing, as well as road trips and rock hounding in my spare time. I’ve been happily married for over twenty years, and have kids, grandkids, and a whole herd of fur babies, dogs and cats.
What would people be most surprised to learn about you?
Well, let’s not divulge too many secrets ;-) Probably that I have social anxiety, because it manifests itself in babbling when people meet me in person. The verbal spewage makes it seem like I’m very outgoing, when inside, I’m trying not to panic and wondering why I can’t shut up—because I’ll just keep going, and going, and going…
When did you start writing, is it something you've always been interested in, or did it develop later in life?
I wrote a lot as a kid, and have a binder of poems I wrote from the time I was a teenager up into my early twenties (Boy, was I emo…before that was a term). I didn’t sit down and try to write for publication until I was forty. I really haven’t stopped writing in the six years since. I was going to slow down some this year, but it’s not looking like I’m capable of doing that; I can’t handle being bored and anyway, writing is relaxing for me most of the time.
Has it been everything you thought it would be or not?
I didn’t give it much thought beforehand, just decided I wanted to do it and so I did. It’s been fantastic. I’ve met the most amazing people! I’m not nearly as cynical as I was six years ago, even though, yes, I’ve seen some bad stuff play out online. Haven’t we all? But the good people, the kind and fun and caring ones? They definitely outnumber the bad.
How did it feel when you realized that your very first book was going to be published?
Shocked, proud, scared, hopeful. I was a mess. Wait. That’s my usual state ;-) Honestly, I didn’t know what to expect. I hadn’t researched the non-writing part of having a book published beyond how to format a manuscript for the publishers I submitted the book to. Some people describe me as impulsive, but I prefer the word spontaneous. :D
What's your favorite part of writing a book?
Whatever part I’m involved in at the time. I love it all, even edits. Edits used to scare me, but I really appreciate the work other people put into making my stories better. Even if I cry sometimes. Just kidding, no crying! If I had to pick just one part, period, it’d be that moment when the characters really connect, when they understand they care for each other and it isn’t just about sex anymore.
Do you get time to read for pleasure? If so, which books do you enjoy?
Not nearly as often as I’d like. I do read gay erotic romance when I have the chance to kick back and relax, and I read a few web comics, although my favorite one, The Less Thank Epic Adventures of TJ and Amal by EK Weaver, ended last year. If you haven’t read that one, I highly recommend it.
Are there any other genres you'd be interested in writing?
Maybe, but that’d be something to think on when I had more time. I’ve got a pretty full writing schedule, which is the way I like it. I also write stories on my blog. I want to write all the time, and there are more ideas for stories than there is time to get those stories onto a Word doc.
Please tell us a little about your most recent release.
Belt Buckles and Cowboy Boots is a contemporary story set around the part of South Texas where I live. It’s changed a lot since the Eagle Ford Shale discovery, and I wanted to visit that in a book. Colby’s had to learn to be tough and stand on his own two feet after being rejected by his family and the one other person he thought loved him. He doesn’t take any crap off of anyone, and he keeps a distance between himself and everyone else because he’s learned not to trust others with his heart.
Hunter comes into the gas station where Colby’s working and finds himself fascinated with Colby. Maybe even fascinated enough to take a chance he never thought he’d take.
What can we look forward to in the future from you?
Lots of books! More Mossy Glenn, Southwestern Shifters, Spotless, Love in Xxchange (and maybe another spinoff from that), Valen’s Pack, Coyote Call…and anything else I can sit down and write.
Anything you want to say to your readers?
Thank you. Y’all rock, and I love y’all!
Bailey Bradford's recent releases
Belt Buckles and Cowboy Boots
Lessons learned from past betrayals can protect Colby Vincent’s heart or cost him a chance at happiness he never thought to have.
Colby thought he’d never let anyone close again after being betrayed by everyone he loved, but one closeted, stubborn oilfield worker with a penchant for dressing like a cowboy seems determined to out himself and win Colby’s heart. It’s as if Hunter Talamentez walked right out of Colby’s fantasies and into the convenience store where Colby works.
But Hunter is closeted, and he’s never considered changing that. He’s got his homophobic cousin with him, a family that he knows won’t support him if they know the truth about who he is and a job where being out could get him hurt. He resigned himself to spending his life alone until he gets to know Colby. Then he embarks on a journey with Colby that will change their lives if only they both find the strength to take a few chances.
Nothing comes easily, and learning to give from the heart when that heart has been shattered twice before might be more than Colby is capable of. He isn’t sure about having more than a fling with Hunter, yet he can’t seem to stay away from the man, either. What was meant to be one night together turns into more, and Colby loses his ability to keep Hunter at the safe distance he’d wanted.
Off Course (Coyote’s Call 1)
Gideon’s worst night ever starts out with a bang that will change his whole life.
Gideon Wells has been cast out of his bear shifter clan for being a curse, and he’s inclined to believe they’re right. After all, everything from fertility rates to shifting abilities has gone down the tube since he was born. Then when his car catches fire and mutant scorpions—he thinks they’re mutants, anyway—almost get him, he’s more certain than ever that he’s bad news.
Not that he’s just going to roll over and die.
Ignoring a prophecy might not be wise, but coyote shifter Miller Hudson has seen and heard too many false prophecies to put any faith in the one proclaiming him to be the alpha and—along with a mystery bear mate—the saviour of the now defunct coyote den he grew up in. Besides, there’s no need for the den to be brought back together. None of them can shift, so what’s the point?
The buzzards circling overhead on the far edge of his property lead him to the very last thing he ever expected to find.
Run With the Moon (Valen's Pack 1)
Two species that have always kept themselves separated are about to collide and create a new world.
Humanity almost managed to do itself in. Ravaged by wars and plagues, the human population on earth has been bordering on extinction, although pockets of people have been forging on over the past few hundred years. It’s a hard life, and one Aaron Olsen fears he doesn’t fit into. As a son of a village leader, there are pressures on him he can’t manage, and things he keeps hidden, desires he doesn’t know how to express that keep him up many nights as he worries over them.
Valen is an alpha, born with the crescent moon mark on his chest. It means he’ll have to leave the pack he was born and raised in. It is the way of the wolf, and the only way to prevent it is to fight his father. Valen has no intention of doing such a dishonorable thing. He leaves as he’s supposed to, only to find himself the victim of thievery. When he hunts down the party responsible for stealing his belongings, Valen finds himself attracted to the human Aaron Olsen.
Now, if they can only survive their own pride and insecurities, and an attack that threatens everything they love, they just might have a chance at happiness in Valen’s Pack.
Reader Advisory: This book contains scenes of light BDSM.
Excerpt from Belt Buckles and Cowboy Boots:
By reading any further, you are stating that you are 18 years of age, or over. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.
Copyright © Bailey Bradford 2015. All Rights Reserved, Total-E-Ntwined Limited, T/A Totally Bound Publishing.
Colby Vincent whistled as he stocked the shelf at the Valero store where he worked. He liked the late shift, working from midnight until six in the morning. He’d always been a night owl through and through, which had made school difficult more often than not. Maybe if he’d slept better, he’d have had the grades to get into college, but thinking along those lines didn’t do him any good now.
It was generally slow in regards to having customers, which was fine with him. Plastering on a smile and acting cheery was getting harder to do every day. Some people had a problem with him, and it was getting old. He supposed it came with being the only out gay man in town. Even so, he didn’t deserve to experience some of the things he did.
At least at his second job as a cook at Rio’s Mexican Café he didn’t have to worry about greeting customers. Plus, Rio and his nephew Berto were cool. Rio always gave Colby the old copies of American Cowboy and True Cowboy when the newer ones came in the mail. Maybe he should have been tired of cowboys, considering he lived in a town that had a bunch of them.
But they tended to be old, and not to be the sexy or unbigoted kind. The ones in the magazines were unknowns and he could fantasize about them if he wanted to without feeling disgusted for doing so. He’d be damned if he’d ever get off while thinking about any of the hateful people who’d crossed his path, cowboys or not. Colby did have his pride, after all.
He put the small packages of Oreo cookies in their place after having removed the outdated ones. Colby’s stomach rumbled. He pressed a fist to his belly until the dull ache backed off. When it was time for him to take a break, he’d see what his options were.
A few minutes later, a buzzer sounded and the door opened. Colby glanced over his shoulder, making sure it wasn’t some psycho wielding a weapon. Working at a convenience store, he always worried about becoming a victim of violent crime.
His co-worker, Christy, was working the counter—well, playing on her phone—and didn’t even give the customer a first glance, much less a second one. Colby stood up, having been hunched over to get the Oreos on the shelf just right. He turned and eyed the man who was now walking toward the fountain drinks.
“This coffee fresh?” the man asked loudly.
Christy popped her gum.
Colby rushed out of the aisle and over to the coffee container. “Yes, sir. I just made it about fifteen minutes ago.”
The customer, an older man with darkly tanned skin, smelled of oil and sweat. He had on a familiar one-piece blue coverall uniform that was filthy. The name Olivares was stitched on the right chest pocket. A quick check showed that he’d also tracked mud in all over Colby’s freshly cleaned floors. Colby just barely kept from cursing.
“Better not taste like shit,” the customer muttered. He raked Colby with a look, and Colby knew the instant he suspected Colby wasn’t as straight as he was. A sneer tugged his thin lips into an ugly expression. “You made it?”
Colby plastered on one of those bright smiles that felt so unnatural on his face. “I’m sorry, sir. I meant Christy made it. I’ve been stocking the aisles.”
He’d learned that people would believe what they wanted to believe, and if the jerk wanted his coffee bad enough, then said jerk would accept the obvious lie about who made the coffee—especially since he didn’t seem to want to drink any made by a queer boy.
“As long as you didn’t,” Olivares finally said in a hateful tone. “Wouldn’t wanna catch nothing.”
Colby waited until he turned around to roll his eyes. There was no point in correcting the idiot’s grammar, and besides, Colby liked thinking that maybe karma would take over. Let the obnoxious jerk catch something harder to treat than crabs.
While the customer fixed his coffee, Colby slipped over to Christy and managed to get her attention. “He thinks you made the coffee. Don’t tell him different or he’s liable to lose his shit.”
Christy had the same reaction he’d had, rolling her eyes. “One of those fuckheads, huh?” She snapped her gum. “Well, his coffee is gonna cost him.”
Colby didn’t ask. He suspected that Christy overcharged people, and at times kept their change—or some of it at least. There’d been a couple of customers who’d caught on that they hadn’t gotten the right amount of cash back, and Christy had always apologized and put on like she was an airhead who couldn’t count out the money right. Since she was a good actor, pretty and had a great smile, no one had challenged her on that. Colby really didn’t want to know if she was stealing, though. She was one of the few friends he had, and it’d be hard not to judge her if he knew for sure she was doing something illegal like that.
Blinders were good things to have on when it came to friends, at least he thought so. It wasn’t like he was perfect, either. He’d been known to chow down on a burrito that should have been tossed on more than one occasion.
Well, only once with the burrito. The after effects of that particular culinary adventure had not been good. But the fried chicken wasn’t bad when it was time to replace it, and neither were the potato wedges. The burgers were okay, too, unless they’d reached hockey puck levels of hardness.
He didn’t steal money from people, though, just the food that was being tossed anyway. If he hadn’t been so hungry, Colby wouldn’t have done that, either. At first his conscience had pricked at him. Now it didn’t, so who knew? Maybe he’d be fine with Christy robbing people blind.
Colby kept himself busy stocking the rest of his shift, and no more asshole customers came in, so that was good. He also managed to wolf down a piece of chicken and some cold potato wedges before leaving for his second job.
Rio’s was another six hour shift, and he got a hot meal at the end of it. Colby’s back ached like a mother when he was finally able to sit down to eat his beef chimichanga. He’d made it himself, filling the tortilla with beef, cheese and beans, then rolling the tortilla over the ingredients before deep-frying the whole thing. Topped with sour cream, lettuce, guacamole and the best hot sauce in the world, the chimichanga was an artery-clogging feast that he didn’t allow himself to have often.
Colby was in heaven as he slowly ate. He licked his fingers clean, uncaring of anyone who might be watching him. Hunger was something Colby hated but lived with far too often, so he savored every good meal he had.
The sweet tea cooled his burning tongue and throat. Colby felt someone watching him but ignored the sensation. People looked, gossiped—whatever—and he did his best to ignore them. They didn’t know him, and he wouldn’t ever let them.