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Guest Post by Em Petrova featuring Slick Rider (swoon)

5 Tips for Beginner Bull Riding

By Em Petrova


A big hello to my friends—old and new. I’m always talking about cowboys. Writing them, drooling over photos of them, and dreaming up new ways to use them—in my books of course!

In my latest release SLICK RIDER (http://www.amazon.com/Slick-Rider-The-Quick-ebook/dp/B00DUHRMI8/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1373475988&sr=8-1&keywords=slick+rider+em+petrova

Juss Rossie is an injured bull rider who’s stuck in a rehab center with a physical therapy assistant that makes him grind his teeth in more than pain. Read on for some beginning bull riding tips—in case you get inspired to jump on.


  1. Start on a mechanical bull. Leaping into a pen without any experience means you’ll probably meet Jesus sooner than you’d expected.
  2. Roll with the bull’s movements. This is a must. Just like when making love—you need to open your mind to your partner’s actions. *wink*
  3. Use your free hand—the one not gripping the rope—and your legs to gain your balance. Lots of muscles are necessary here. How do you think these bull riders get amazing bods?
  4. Get in the habit of keeping your free hand off the bull. If you touch it before 8 seconds is up, you’re automatically disqualified. Now try THAT in the bedroom!
  5. Like any good sport, commit to it. Practice, dedication, and passion will get you to the top. Of course, I know you’re not going to run out and take up bull riding like you do Zumba. But it’s fun reading, right? LOL

Thanks for stopping by! Read on for an excerpt from SLICK RIDER.



Physical therapy assistant Lilly’s job is to keep rodeo star Juss Rossie off his injured leg and from using his bad shoulder to rope more buckle bunnies. Trouble is she wants—just for once in her life—to be one of those rodeo gals who gets the cowboy. Pushing him to the limits of his therapy will take some creative maneuvering, and she finds he responds in the yummiest ways.

Juss hates like hell to be laid up with injuries and off the back of a bull. But being at the mercy of therapist Lilly is torture—especially when she gets in the pool, on the mat, or crawls into bed with him. Can he recover from her mind-blowing advances without losing his heart?



JUSS STARED AT Lilly out of the corner of his eye. He hated being at the mercy of anyone, let alone a woman who weighed 120 pounds. The fact that she could maneuver him with such finesse grated on his self-esteem. He felt puny enough since his surgery without needing her help to get out of beds and wheelchairs.


She wheeled him down a small slope into the water.


The chlorine of the pool stung his eyes, and he raised his good hand to rub them. Damn these injuries. He’d taken on Bushwhacker before and never been thrown. For the two-thousandth time he replayed the ride—palm strapped to the saddle, arm upraised to compensate for whip. Knees locked and heels perfectly placed in stirrups. He shook his head. There’d been nothing unusual about the ride. His friends called it a freak accident.


“Let’s start ranging this shoulder.” Lilly removed the sling, took his wrist and forearm, and began to gently manipulate his arm. The buoyancy helped lessen the pain.


“Let me just get into a better position.” She sank to her knees before him, submerging herself to the collarbones.


Oh, sweet Jesus. His shaft jumped in his wet boxers. Being injured meant no sexy girls in his bed, and he couldn’t whack off right-handed.


“I used to swim fifty laps a day. Now I can’t even do this.” He raised his arm a fraction and winced.


She cocked a brow at him. Water slicked her golden shoulders, and he stared at each soft curve, wondering how she’d feel under him. His balls ached.


“First of all, cowboy, what did I tell you about flapping that arm like a chicken? The bone running over your shoulder from your clavicle is damaged too. If you don’t listen to my instruction, you won’t heal properly.”


He rolled his eyes. “I’m made of tougher stuff than most of your patients.”


She laughed, the sound echoing in the space. The throaty tinkle tugged invisible strings on his groin, and his shaft stood at straining attention.


He ground his molars. Christ, she was inches away. If his cock bobbed forward, it would skim her swimsuit.


The erotic notion only added to the fire. Through hooded eyes, he studied her.


He didn’t know if one could call her pretty so much as interesting. She wore her whiskey-colored waves long and loose, and her brows were a shade darker, arching over hazel eyes. Her nose was upturned, and her forehead was slightly broad while her chin was small. When she smiled, a line that wasn’t quite a dimple cut into her cheek.


She wasn’t anything like the Buckle Bunnies he was used to. Those girls were powdered and primped, bleach blondes in clothing so tight they could hardly draw breath.


I’m just interested because she’s the only woman in front of me right now.


Even as he thought it, he knew he was being unfair. He didn’t really believe it. No, if he spotted Lilly in an arena, he might run over to the stands to say howdy. He couldn’t quit looking at her.


She finished ranging his arm and reached for his knee. He jerked, and his cock swelled. Letting out a hiss like a deflating tire, he prayed he didn’t embarrass himself.


Hell, when had he ever cared about such a thing? He’d been known to walk nekkid through a hotel lobby to demand more towels. He sure as hell could handle being close to a girl in a prim swimsuit.


Gently, she swished his lower leg back and forth. “Are you having any discomfort?”


“Fuck, yeah.” Not the kind she meant. If he didn’t get some relief from his raging hard-on soon, he was going to start bellowing for Buckle Bunnies.

Thanks for reading! And huge thanks to Harlie for hosting me!


Em Petrova

~hardworking heroes—in bed and out~


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