Beth Williamson’s Blog

Yep, it’s time! Book 3 of The Perfect Score Series has arrived. Marlene’s Man is now available from Loose Id!

*throws confetti and streamers*
I had a lot of fun writing my bowling series - pushing my own personal envelope and finding that I could write no matter what the genre. Thank you to Loose Id and my amazing editor L2 for their support and encouragement.
Without further ado, ladies and gentlemen… Marlene’s Man.

Marlene’s Man
ISBN: 978-1-59632-292-9
Genre: BBW Contemporary

Marlene is a big girl and has always been a big girl, but she’s a kick-ass bowler, determined to finally hit that 300 game. The Perfect Score tournament at the Starlite Bowling Alley is her chance to show the world that she’s worth something more than just a quick lay.

When she meets Buck Miller at the tournament, she falls instantly in lust. When their fabulous sex turns into a relationship, Marlene runs like a scared rabbit. Will Buck give up his goal of a perfect game to convince the woman of his dreams that he loves her? Or will Marlene’s stubbornness ruin her chances at a 300 game and a man of her own?

Excerpt:
“Are you ready, darlin’?”
She took a deep breath and nodded. “As I’ll ever be, I guess.”
Buck leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’ll be cheering for you from the front row.”
He could swear she blushed as she turned away and walked toward the stage. She positioned herself in front of the microphone, looked down at her feet for a moment, then signaled the karaoke dj. Soon the music for the Dixie Chicks’ song Take me Away came pumping through the speakers.
Marlene missed the first line, but then she started singing softly. She got louder as the song went on. That’s when Buck realized she had a nice voice. No, she had a great voice.
She sang to her cowboy to take her away, to fly high into the blue, and set her free with a husky tone that sent shivers up and down his spine. She put her whole heart into it, of that he was certain. Her facial expressions matched the lyrics of the song. Marlene wanted someone to rescue her, to take her away into the wild blue. He felt it in her voice. When she finished and the last notes faded away, the bar was silent. Marlene opened her eyes and found everyone staring at her.
Panic flashed through her eyes, then her gaze landed on him. He stood up and started clapping and whistling as loud as he could; soon there wasn’t a person in the room who wasn’t clapping and cheering for her. Buck stepped up to the stage and held out his hand. She put her clammy hand into his and stepped down. She looked around with something like amazement and did a curtsey. Folks just clapped louder.
“You sing like an angel.”
She shook her head and looked dubious. “I can carry a tune.”
“Uh-uh. You can sing, girl. Kick-ass singing.”
She didn’t believe him, but that was okay. He knew it was true and he’d get her to believe it before the week was out.
“Are you going to sing?”
The question hit Buck square in the chest. “Me?”
“You said you’d try it.”
Oh hell, he did say something like that. He was never one to go back on his word. “Okay, sure, I’ll give it a whirl.”
He walked her to the front table and sat her down. After ordering her a fresh beer, he went to talk to the karaoke dj. He picked a song that was fresh in his head.

Marlene was shaking in her boots. She’d never, ever done anything like sing in front of a crowd before and certainly never had a room full of people cheering for her. Buck sounded like he meant it when he told her she could sing. She didn’t think she sang that well, but the feeling of being up there was amazing.
She wanted to cry.
Instead, she focused on the long, tall cowboy about to sing to her up on the stage. When he started singing, she recognized the song as Dierks Bentley’s song Come a Little Closer. His voice was a bit raspy, kind of like Gary Allan. He would probably never get a recording contract, but damn that man was sexy up there singing. He nearly caressed the microphone as he looked her in the eyes and sang.
Marlene grew wetter as he sang about laying her down. Holy cow. Her nipples popped and her arousal came back tenfold. She feasted on the sight of him, crooning to her as the other women in the room gazed at him.
Mine.
She barely knew him, but she wanted to snarl and bark at them like a bitch in heat. He was hers. Damn straight. No way she was letting that delicious hunk of man out of her clutches tonight.
Oh, yeah, he was going to lay her down all right. Her body hummed with excitement. She couldn’t wait to get him alone and sample the buffet of treats.
Marlene nearly lost herself in his blue eyes as he sang. She didn’t hear anyone else or even the music. She focused on his lips, his eyes, and the words he sang to her. It was almost magical. The primal urge to grab him and hold on to him tight overwhelmed her. She wasn’t used to the intensity of the reaction she had to Buck. It was as if she had lost control of her own body.
When he finished, a round of feminine applause greeted him. He tipped his hat and stepped down from the stage, making a beeline for her. A strange sense of pride whipped through her when he reached the table and sat down.
“That was great!”
“Nah, but it was fun. I’m not much of a singer, but I can at least carry a tune.”
“I enjoyed it. Immensely.” Not to mention her panties were about sticking to her. She was surprised he didn’t smell her arousal … or perhaps he did. “It was really hot.”
Marlene pulled the collar of her t-shirt forward and blew down into her blouse. “Really hot.”
Buck’s pupils dilated as his gaze dropped to her breasts. The ripe nipples stared him in the face beneath the blue cotton.
“Are you ready to leave?” she asked as she let the t-shirt loose.
He almost knocked the table down when he stood. Marlene was pleased to see the bulge in his jeans was just a bit tighter. Her palms itched to unwrap that particular package.
“Yes, ma’am. I believe I am ready.” His deep voice reverberated through her like ripples in a pond.
***
Marlene’s Man

Everyone knows today is September 11. It’s hard to believe it’s been five years since the world changed so drastically within the space of an hour.
I think it’s one of those days that everyone remembers exactly what they were doing. I certainly do. I was sick at home alone - two days earlier on September 9 I was on a plane coming back from a business conference. On the plane with us were two men with search dogs on their way to NY for training.
When the phone rang, I was asleep and DH called to tell me something happened.
You know, this morning I was trying to explain what September 11 meant to my 10 YO as we looked at the flag flying half mast at the firehouse. I got teary and tried to control the grief that seemed insistent on escaping.
Perhaps it’s because of my own stress level lately, or perhaps it really is that remembered grief (I sure as hell cried five years ago).
Anyway, it got me thinking about how I’ve changed in the last five years. Quite a bit actually. I’m not a multi-published author, I try to live life every day, and I never miss the opportunity to make the day brighter for someone else.
So let’s celebrate life, y’all. Do something nice for someone else today - put on a fresh pot of coffee, buy a soda for them, pay for the guy’s lunch behind you on the drive-through, tell someone you love them. It doesn’t matter the deed, just as long as you create a good feeling. Carpe Diem!
Tomorrow is a release day for me, Marlene’s Man is coming from Loose Id. I thought long and hard about doing promos today. In the end, I decided to join the monthly Loose Id author chat on Romance Junkies at 9 pm EST tonight and end the day together by celebrating life.

I just got this from the amazing Scott Carpenter… my new cover for The Gift, book 5 in the Malloy family series. It’s release date is November 21 from Samhain.

Isn’t it great? I love that smile on my heroine’s face… her name is Adelaide. Just as a tease, I’m including an unedited excerpt for y’all.

The Gift

Blurb:
One part gambler, two parts charmer, Trevor Malloy has finally met his match. Book 5 of the Malloy family series.

Trevor Malloy loves women of all shapes and sizes. When he bets a small fortune on a hand of poker only to lose to a lady gambler he can’t seem to charm, he finds himself beholden to a woman for the first time.

Adelaide Burns refuses to fall under Trevor’s spell and is determined to make him pay every cent he owes her—in muscle and sweat.

Like sparks from flint and rock, Trevor and Adelaide nearly set the sheets on fire. Together they find heaven in each others arms, fight for Adelaide’s saloon, and face a future that only the luck of the cards will tell.

Excerpt:

Trevor emerged into the evening air and took a deep breath. It smelled like success. Sweet and pungent. With a chuckle, he headed into the Last Chance Saloon.
The saloon didn’t have any dancing girls, but there were definitely nicely shaped gals serving. He winked at two of them while sauntering toward the bar—they both giggled and winked back. Good sign. The bar itself wasn’t new, but it was well taken care off with brass rails top and bottom, and stools that had held more than a few asses. The bartender was a big dark-haired man with a handlebar mustache and a glare that could curdle milk.
Trevor smiled and headed for the bar, trying to keep his eyes averted from the tables toward the back where the poker action was. No music played and there was an air of relaxed camaraderie in the saloon. That was also good news. Happy people played poker with better attitudes and there was less chance of a sore loser. Especially one with a gun.
“Evenin’” Trevor said as he sat down. “Beer please.”
The bartender stared at him hard before nodding and setting a mug of beer down. “Four bits.”
Steep price for beer, but Trevor set his money down and thanked the grumpy bartender. With one last glare, the man went back to his chore of wiping glasses. Trying not to look like he was spying, Trevor slowly turned and faced the saloon.
There were six tables, two of which had poker games in play. Four or five people sat at each of the poker tables, including a dealer at each, one. One of the dealers was an incredibly curvy redhead with tits that literally made his mouth water.
Very interesting. A female dealer with hands as fast as greased lightning. She obviously was taught by someone with skills. Trevor had never seen a dealer quite like her before and his dick certainly appreciated her as well. Pouty full lips, framed by a pixie nose, freckle splashed complexion, incredible sunset red hair and eyes that looked sharper than his knife.
She glanced his way and then turned back to the table without so much as a twitch. Trevor wasn’t sure if he should be insulted or not. He wasn’t vain by any means, but most women looked at him twice. He’d been blessed with the best looks of the Malloy brothers, which was a fact he accepted at the age of ten when Mary Lou Harris kissed him behind the barn. That’s when he realized his looks could bring him untold gifts from women, and not the kind you could necessarily buy.
Trevor sipped his beer and watched the poker game as closely as he could without appearing like he was watching. He wanted to play a hand or two that evening, and there was no need to look anxious. Casual interest, casual game. That was the ticket.
Now all he needed to do was charm the lady dealer and he had it made.

* * * *

The stranger was, quite simply, stunning. Adelaide noticed him immediately and felt a hard kick of appreciation for his appearance. With wavy reddish brown hair and a smile that could melt butter, he sat at the bar and watched, pretending that he wasn’t watching.
Adelaide spotted poker players within a minute—this one should have had gambler written on his forehead in grease pencil. Other than his looks, she didn’t notice any other redeeming qualities. Gamblers had them in short supply.
When Parker and Curtis left for supper, the stranger stood, stretched, then picked up his beer and ambled over to the table. A long legged gait, easy movements showing he was comfortable in his skin. With a devastating grin, he gestured to the open chair across from her.
“May I?”
Oh, Lord have mercy. His deep timbered voice sent skitters down her skin and made her nipples tighten like bowstrings. Adelaide had a brief moment of imagining that voice whispering in her ear before she squelched it and sent it packing. She’d sworn off handsome, smooth-talking men a long time ago, so this one didn’t stand a chance in hell of getting into her bed, much less her heart.
“Chair’s open if you’re wanting to play, stranger. One dollar ante, five card draw, wild cards are dealer’s choice. You in?” She kept shuffling the deck to maintain focus on what she was doing. His looks were distracting.
“Thank you kindly, pretty lady.”
Well, that doused her unusual arousal, not completely, but a lot. She hated nonsensical shit like that. What was the point of that compliment? Did he honestly think she’d be so flattered that she’d forget how to deal cards? Just put another fool trying the “I’m so handsome, won’t you fall into my arms” routine she’d heard so many times.
“No thanks required, just the money. Five card draw, threes and sixes are wild. Ante up, fellas.”
With four players left, the cards moved more quickly. Adelaide kept her eyes trained on the flirtatious stranger and his charming self. She damn well tried not to look at his long-fingered hands, at the way he held the cards, and caressed the edges. She just knew those fingers had an enormous amount of talent for things other than playing cards.
Focus, Adelaide. Don’t let ‘em distract you. Remember, you hold the cards.
Her grandfather’s voice echoed in her ear. He’d taught her everything she knew about cards, and about life. She’d always followed his advice and it never steered her wrong.
Everyone took three cards, except Handsome. He took only one, with a wink, no less. Adelaide cocked one eyebrow and smirked. She received a chuckle in response.
“I can’t help myself. Every time I see a pretty lady, I just lose my head,” he said as he met the raise and flashed those pearly whites again.
“I might lose my supper if you’re not careful.” Adelaide finally looked at her cards when she realized the bet was to her. “See your five, raise you five.”
“What’s your name, darlin’?”
She’d give him his druthers; he didn’t give up easily, did he? “You may call me Miss Adelaide.”
“Mmmm, Red… that fits perfectly. I’m Trevor Malloy.”
“You’re holding up the game, Trevor Malloy. See the bet or fold.” Adelaide refused to give into the stranger’s charms.
With another chuckle, Trevor saw the bet and called. She wasn’t surprised to find he had three tens in his hand and took the pot. Then took the next two hands with a guileless grin and a shrug. The gambling cowboy definitely knew what he was doing. Too bad he had no idea who he was playing against.
Adelaide hated to lose, no ifs, ands or buts. Especially to someone she didn’t respect like silver-tongued cowboys. She was done playing—it was time to show sweet cheeks what a real gambler can do.

* * * *

“You in or out, Trevor?”
Red’s voice cut through his panic long enough to actually hear what she said. Trevor’s clammy palms barely held onto his cards. This couldn’t be happening to him. It just couldn’t.
Perhaps it was a nightmare instead.
He wasn’t sure what time it was—probably close to three in the morning. The four people left in the saloon all huddled around the table where Trevor sat facing the red-haired demon witch.
“How much is in that pot now?” He asked while wiping his eyes with one hand.
She sifted through the pile. “Looks like six thousand or so in cash and coin, and a gold pocket watch.”
He had no idea what possessed him to play for stakes so high. He’d been winning, dammit to hell, and winning big. He had turned his two hundred dollars into a thousand in a few hours.
Then he lost a hand, but he kept playing. He lost another, and another. Soon it all became a blur, hours went by without him noticing. Thank God he left a couple hundred dollars in his room. That was at least something.
If he lost this hand, he’d owe this woman five thousand dollars, more than he’d ever had in his lifetime. That was her raise on the pot and he had to meet it or fold. His luck had changed and he’d one a couple hands to build up a nice pile of cash.
In this one hand, one goddamn frigging hand, he put everything he had in the pot, and now he had a marker sitting in front of him. A marker he’d just written out for five thousand dollars. Something he’d never done before. Just seeing the paper out of the corner of his eye made his stomach clench.
Trevor focused on the cards, looking again at the flush he held. This was a winning hand – he was damn sure of it. A beautiful array of hearts, two, four, six, seven, eight, nine, and ten. The only way she could beat him was with a royal flush. There was no way in hell she had one. No way.
“I’m in. Call.” He placed the marker on top and immediately wanted to snatch it back. His father would whoop his ass for doing it. But if he won, Lord if he won, he’d be set for cash for at least two years.
He didn’t contemplate what would happen if he lost.
As he laid down his cards, the other two men whistled and murmured between them. Trevor met Adelaide’s gaze.
She looked at him with raised eyebrows. “I hope you’re good for that marker, cowboy.”
Trevor smiled weakly. “Of course I am. But you won’t need to worry about it. What does the dealer have?” His palms itched to grab the pot and rip the marker into tiny pieces. His heart had taken up residence in his throat.
“I’m afraid I have bad news for you, Trevor Malloy.”
Stomach churning, he watched Adelaide lay down a royal flush. Ten of clubs, jack of clubs, queen of clubs, king of clubs, and the ace of clubs.
Holy ever-loving Christ.
“You owe me five thousand dollars.” Adelaide held out her hand and Trevor stared helplessly.
What had he done?

****

Thanks to everyone that posted on my “Why I love cowboys and no, the western ISN’T dead!” post on the Writers Across Time blog. As promised, one lucky poster has won a set of my bookmarks… and the winner is…

Cindy!!!

Send me your snail mail addy to beth@bethwilliamson.com and I’ll ship out a set to you (all three!). Congrats and thanks everyone!

This weekend is going to be the start of my new Loose Id book coming in January - it’s called On His Knees - a contemporary novella. I also have Sasha’s manuscript for TROUBLE to read. *rubs hands together* Oh, boy, boy, boy!

A group of historical romance writers (I’ve mentioned them before) have formed a group called Writers Across Time. Instead of having a website, we decided to go the blog route instead. This allows all of us to have a presence without the maintenance. You can find us all here.

I’ve posted today about why I love cowboys. Go check it out!