From Idea to Arena: How The Bull Rider’s Baby Surprise Was Born

What sparks a book premise is as varied as the books available in bookstores or online. I always love it when authors discuss their craft or their habits or the moment an idea burst from their brain like Athena in full battle regalia. Sometimes I get an idea from an overheard snippet of conversation or a story a friend shares. Scrolling online, reading a news article, or even a song lyric has inspired me. Chatting with authors is often a book premise idea swap, and what I find fascinating is that twelve authors could take the same premise and create a dozen wildly different stories.

My next release—The Bull Rider’s Baby Surprise already had some elements baked in. Setting: Marietta, Montana. Family: The Telfords of Montana (previously established), Hook: Cowboy as I was adding two new books to create a series with two previously written ‘orphaned’ books (Cowboy Come Home and Rogue Cowboy’s Secret Bride that were both part of different multi-author Copper Mountain Rodeo series).

So there were rules.

I’m always fired up to write western stories, especially cowboys. It just gets my swagger
on in a way I never manifest in my real life. With Cash Hunter (born Benz Telford
Stevens) I knew and he knew he had family in Marietta, but he’d never met them and
didn’t intend to. So of course, kicking off the book that was where he was going.

But why?

And that’s when I pictured the opening scene of the book. Cash has won again. He’s on
top heading into the finals, and it was the last ‘show’ (how he thinks of it) before a
month-long break. He’s sauntering out into the arena in his flamboyant chaps with
fringe, flashy shirt, open, no vest or helmet, just the iconic Restoril—black of course—to
take his place in the winner’s circle. He’s going through the motions, being charming,
mentally counting his winnings and thinking about the break he’s taking alone in the
mountains. The American Extreme Bull Rider tour staff flanks him as do the sponsors,
local dignitaries and of course, the media.

He’s hot. In command. And internally smug even as he faux humbles his way through
the interview and thank you speech. And that’s when everything in his life skids
sideways. A distraught, furious woman comes tearing across the arena cursing him out
before shoving a baby in his arms and disappearing into the crowd.

What does he do next?

I love creating awkward situations for my heroes who think they are all that. I love to
watch them squirm and fumble and attempt to seize back their life narrative, and it’ sweeter to watch their good guy persona reassert the vibe in the midst of chaos. And it’s
even better when I can provide a twist to one of my favorite tropes.

I hope you get a chance to read The Bull Rider’s Baby Surprise, book three in the Telford’s of Montana series. I have included a short excerpt below! If you want to learn more, you can sign up for my newsletter.

The Zoom was hella awkward. Cash felt like he was crawling out of his skin. He needed to get up and pace, make his case, defend himself, but he’d been shushed by Jessie. AEBR marketing exec Suzette glared at him and slashed a line near her mouth as if he were a kid who should zip it. Cash had seen other bull riders shut down, bossed around, but never had he been treated like he was a disease to be avoided—at least not since he’d lit out on his own at nearly seventeen with his GED and a burning desire to be independent and never have to take crap from anyone again.

He’d fought hard for his freedom and reputation and financial security, and no woman with a too-crazy-to-believe story and a likely money grift was going to snatch what he’d earned the hard way.

It was unbelievable that everyone seemed intent on believing the stranger not him. “A woman abandons her baby, in front of thousands, and I’m the bad guy?” He shook his head. “She ditched a baby with a stranger, and no one here thinks we should be calling the cops?” he shot back, when Suzette made the shushing noise again.

He tried to stand—much easier to make his case with his physical presence—but the AEBR intern Maddy Ramone, perched on the arm of his chair, blocking him in, the long line of her slim back straight and arrogant.

Dismissed.

He was shushed again, like a curious child while the grown-ups spoke, and it reminded him of the time he’d been ten, living with an aunt or a cousin or a family friend of his mother, and there’d been a family gathering to decide what was “best for the boy,” only it had seemed like everyone had only been interested in what was best for them.

Then his future had been bandied about, and he’d been lied to and surrendered to the state where a family who could take care of him would adopt him and give a home and a horse and a chance to be a cowboy.

Liars.

It still stung. No one wanted an angry, frustrated, dyslexic, rejected boy a couple of years shy of puberty.

For a moment the memory made him see red. His chest felt like a bull had kicked him through his Kevlar vest, and his fists clenched ready to fight for his life again. But no. He’d risen above all that. He’d taught himself to read the fine print of contracts, to charm sponsors, to use language not fists to get what he wanted.

He dragged in a ragged breath and another, forcing his body to relax so he didn’t squeeze the baby.

A baby.

Not mine.

He couldn’t even bring himself to look at it, though he’d been holding it for the last ten minutes.

“I’m right here,” he snapped, infuriated by the conversation that concerned his life, not theirs, and they all huddled around a computer with the boss, backs turned to him.

He was the star. The bull rider on the AEBR program cover. The highest earner the past three years—one of the top riders in the world. His merch was the top seller every flippin’ year. His meet-and-greets habitually sold out. He was one of the featured bull riders in a documentary. He’d had a small but recurring role on a western streaming hit last year.

Cash stood up, jostling Madelyn, but instead of her rolling off the arm of the chair and standing, she fell back into his lap.

“Erahhhugh.” She popped to her feet, elbowing his gut in the process. “Knock it offffff,” she said under her breath. Her onyx eyes shot sparks at him that he swore singed his skin. “Have some self-preservation.” She pushed him back into the chair. “Your future’s being decided.”

“Not without me, it’s not.” Despite his frustration, he kept his voice low, though not as calm as hers. He’d noticed that about her early on—no matter what was happening behind the scenes, she was never flustered.

He stood back up, automatically shifting the baby that had stopped crying but was mouthing his shirt, probably sliming it, but that was what dry cleaners were for. At least it was quiet and didn’t seem to have any teeth yet. How old was it? He still couldn’t wrap his head around the surreal moment in the arena. On Zoom, CEO Bruce shouted. Made demands. Everyone seemed in full appeasement mode.

“This has got to be some sort of a sick joke.” Cash rounded on Maddy who’d also risen. He liked how she stood up to him. Didn’t seem intimidated even though he rarely liked what she said.

“More like cosmic Karma.”

“Huh?”

“Why is it so hard for you to take responsibility for once?”

“Huh?” He felt like his eyes were going to pop out of his head and dent the walls of the small office. “This is somebody else’s baby.”

“You don’t know that,” she snapped. “Christ on a cracker with Cheez Whiz. You boink your
way across the USA annually. I’m surprised you haven’t had a dozen babies shoved in your arms at photo shoots. I actually had a plan for it,” she said as casually as if she was asking for everyone’s takeout order—something she often had to do.

He staggered back a step, shocked by her bottom-of-the-barrel opinion of him. He knew she didn’t like him, but he thought she’d respected his abilities.

The room descended into silence as if someone pulled a plug.

“Who’s that?” the CEO barked from the screen, and as one, all four AEBR tour execs turned
to look at Madelyn.

Cash heard Maddy gulp a swallow and a tinge of satisfaction wiggled through him. He was
not the only one in the hot seat now.

About the Author

Sinclair Sawhney has been the senior developmental editor for romance for Tule Publishing for over thirteen years. Writing as Sinclair Jayne, she’s published over thirty-five contemporary romances with Tule Publishing. An avid romance reader since sixth grade, she’s savoring her dream writing career. Married with two adult children, she and her husband own Roshni Vineyard in Oregon’s Willamette Valley where she hosts weekend wine tastings while attempting to write one more sentence or squeeze in another scene between pours of Pinot Noir.