Category Archives: Beth Williamson

Beth Williamson

Trying something different

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You know, I’ve been writing western historical romance for about 14 years. It’s my favorite genre (obviously) and the one I feel most comfortable in. You know, like one of those old cushiony chairs that fits your (my big) butt just right? That’s western historical romance for me. Many would argue that I likely lived a full life back then and had memories of that past life. That’d be really cool if it were true. 🙂

However, I do try different genres. I’ve delved into short contemporary erotic romance with M/F and F/F, as well as some scorchingly hot erotica with a splash of romance.

On July 6, I take that dabbling to a new level with the release of my first erotic romance single title, UNBRIDLED. When I was writing the proposal, I kept thinking, can I do this? A full 80K+ book? I knew I could do it with historical western, but erotic contemporary? I have to admit, I was nervous.

I’m pleased to say I wrote the book, delivered on time, and I’m really happy with the story. I connected with the heroine, Alex, and the hero, Connor, as I do with all my H/H. It’s a good story, if I do say so myself, and full of extremely hot sex with a lot of romance, and yes, there is a wonderful HEA.

The cover is absolutely kickin’ too.

I’m on pins and needles, y’all, until the release date, which seems to be looming so close! Three months to go! I’ll be doing contests and promos all over the place so stay tuned for that.

Here is the blurb and an excerpt for your reading pleasure…

Hell hath no fury like Alex Finley…

For as long as Alex could remember, life had taken everything from her. Her father had abandoned her and her dying mother, only to return upon her death to reclaim the family’s Wyoming ranch—with a new wife. Alex’s rage drove her away to Los Angeles to live with a man who could never satisfy her.

Only after ten years does she come home—and she hits the town with a vengeance, unleashing her pent-up lust on willing cowpoke Connor Matthews. But she’s in for several shocks. It turns out that the ranch is now a resort, that her late father split the estate between Alex and her young step-brother, and that Connor—the bucking bronco she wants in her bed—is running the place.

Now, Alex is torn between accepting a new family, and a lover who can give her everything she needs—or selling out to a smooth-talking neighbor and leaving the past behind her. But only when her life is on the line does she realize what she desires most of all…

Excerpt

Monday morning came and with it the sun, thank God. Connor balanced the muffin on top of the to-go cup and opened his office door. At first he could hardly believe what he was seeing; then he realized that Miss Alex Finley had set up her own workspace on his desk.

“What the hell are you doing?”

She glanced up from her laptop. “Working on the books. Just in case you forgot about giving me the job yesterday.”

He gritted his teeth at her sarcasm. “It may come as a surprise to you, but this is my office. I work here, not you.”

As he set the coffee and muffin down, she made a grab for it. Connor held firm to the cup, but she managed to snatch the muffin.

“Is this cinnamon chip? Oh, these were my favorites growing up. Bernice bakes the best muffins, doesn’t she?”

As he watched her take a big bite of his breakfast, Connor had to hang on tight to his temper with both hands. It was like trying to control a team of eight with dental floss, but he managed.

“I let you do the accounting work, but I never intended for you to do it here. There isn’t enough room.” He sat down and booted up his own laptop.

She shrugged. “There’s no other office free, so unless you want me working on the books in a public area where everyone can see exactly what I’m doing, then it’s going to be here.”

“What about your cabin?”

She picked up the next invoice and read it with her brow furrowed, concentrating on the trash collection fees. “The WiFi sucks that far away, so here I am. You’ll just have to deal with it.”

Connor gritted his teeth and counted to ten. The fact she was right rankled him more than the fact she stole his muffin. He should have made arrangements for her to have a private office, at least temporarily, until she decided Finley’s wasn’t the place for her.

“Couldn’t you have asked me?”

One slender brow rose. “Ask permission to work in this office? I am half owner in this ranch, am I not? I don’t think I need permission to contribute to the financial well-being of Finley’s.”

“I don’t like sharing my office.” Connor punched in his password with enough fervor to hurt his fingertips, which was saying a lot.

“I could tell.” She smiled sweetly. “Is there a way to order more muffins and coffee? I’m starving.”

Connor gestured to the door. “The mess hall is down on the south side of the ranch. You can’t miss it. It’s a big building with tables and chairs for people to eat.”

Alex surprised him by laughing. “You make it hard to be a bitch sometimes, Matthews.”

“Then don’t be one.”

“Ha, as if that’s going to happen.” She shook her head. “You’re not getting off that easy. You will just have to deal with me playing in your sandbox.” She popped a piece of muffin in her mouth.

“Then stop throwing sand in my face.”

Alex smiled at him and went back to the invoices. At least it appeared she really was working, and he didn’t know whether or not to be surprised. He tried to focus on the schedules but he kept glancing back at her while she worked.

She entered each invoice in the stack individually, then picked them up and reviewed them against what she entered. On the third pass, he had forgotten what he was doing and watched her reaction instead.

“What is it you’re doing?”

“I’m categorizing the expenses properly. You put all the barn supplies into one lump instead of separating them by type. They should be split out that way to better track what you’re spending.” She glanced over at him. “Did you know you’ve been paying about thirty percent more for feed than you did last year?”

He was startled by the figure. “What are you talking about? We haven’t changed feed supplier or type of feed. I find it hard to believe—”

“Whether or not you believe me is irrelevant. I went back over these invoices for the last year and discovered what was happening.” She gestured to the stack, which was when he realized they were all from Hanson’s, the feed supply house.

What threw him off was that some were on blue paper, others on pink, and the top few were white. He didn’t remember them changing the color of the invoice, but they obviously had. What else had he missed?

Connor realized she was waiting for him to ask the obvious question. “What was happening?”

Her face lit up as if she’d just discovered how to turn lead into gold. Alex obviously did enjoy accounting and all it entailed. “Hanson’s supplies more than feed to the ranch. They also sell us saddle soap, some other leather conditioners and applicators, some stall cleaner, hay bags and winter stuff like bucket deicers. Each kind of supply was on a different invoice until about six months ago.”

Despite his annoyance with Alex, he was interested in what she’d found. Hanson’s did supply various types of supplies to them. They were reliable and their feed was good quality.

“Since you are being a stubborn ass, I’ll tell you what I found. When they started billing everything together on the white invoices, someone got greedy and started charging more for the same amount of feed.” She looked at him triumphantly.

Connor was impressed but skeptical. “What if the price of feed went up?”

“I checked with other suppliers online. Hanson’s is by far the highest priced, well above what they should be charging. You’re getting taken by a clever billing person at this place. I’ll have a report ready in half an hour that details the discrepancies.” She smiled and he saw just how attractive Alex was. He knew she was pretty but obviously when she was passionate about something, even accounting, her appeal went through the roof.

As long as it didn’t go through his pants again. Jesus, this was the desk they’d had their afternoon quickie on. Now they were talking about feed invoices and pretending nothing happened.

“So, Sherlock, I suppose you want to confront them about this?”

“Hell yes! Let me get everything together and we can drive there and show them we know what they’re up to. We can show them not to mess with Finley’s.” She ate the last of the muffin; then before he could stop her, she took his coffee and helped herself.

Alex made a face and handed the cup back to him. “Ugh, sugar in your coffee? What kind of cowboy are you?”

“The kind who can’t jump in the car and shake some papers at our feed supplier.” He threw the cup in the trash, unwilling to put his mouth where hers had been. It had a sexual overtone to it and he needed to keep thinking with his big head.

“Why not? Don’t you do anything fun around here?” She sat back and stretched, pushing her breasts out like she was intentionally taunting him.

Perhaps she was and, damn it to hell, it was working. His dick stirred at the sight of her pillowy tits, at the nipples he could see just slightly hard beneath the T-shirt.

“See something you like, cowboy?” She’d caught him staring, of course.

Connor decided to play it cool, just as she’d been. “Yup, sure did. That’s a mighty fine rack you got there, Alex. You must be proud.”

Shock rippled across her face, but she tucked it safely away quickly. “Why, thank you, Connor. I am proud. My tits are my best feature, don’t you think?” She leaned over the desk, affording him a few of the cleavage peeping up through the V-neck of the shirt.

Beth Williamson

A Hero Who’s Different

I have a new e-book release coming in May from Samhain, the fourth in my Devils on Horseback series. The name of the book, and the hero, is Lee and he’s a different kind of hero–he’s only got one arm.

When I originally wrote the first book in the series, Nate, I already had all five in my mind. Lee was the wildest of the five, always putting himself in harm’s way, reckless and full of piss and vinegar (so to speak). After he lost most of his left arm, that wildness became bitterness and inside his soul, the lights turned dark.

I have to admit, I struggled with Lee’s story, not only because I had to be aware he only had one arm but because he was a moving target as a hero. What I mean is, he didn’t know himself and so writing it became a journey of discovery for both of us.

The good news is the heroine, Genevieve, was so clear in my mind, she was perfect. Tough, outspoken, strong and stubborn–exactly what the crotchety Lee needed to haul his ass out of the hell he’d been living in.

I just got the cover, which I must say features a very nice looking blond hero. Regardless of what he’s missing, Lee becomes a whole man in the story and I hope y’all like it.

Beth Williamson

Celebrating Secrets

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Happy New Year y’all! I’m pleased to see 2010 ring in with a new release, The Stranger’s Secrets. This is the third in a trilogy for Kensington Brava and brings a close to a family story that began with The Education of Madeline and continued with The Redemption of Micah.

Sarah’s story is unique in this trilogy because she’s my first disabled heroine. A traumatic injury when she was a teenager during the Civil War has forced her to use a cane for twelve years. She’s full of sass, intelligence, pain and the potential to love deeply.

That brings me to the hero in The Stranger’s Secrets, Whitman Kendrick. He’s a strong man, with his guilt over the war to deal with, who finds his soulmate in the sharp-tongued southern belle Sarah. It’s a road romance, taking place on a train trip from Virginia to Kansas, then onto Colorado. There’s fun, excitement, sex, a murder, a host of secondary characters, and of course, the love between Whit and Sarah.

An excerpt is below for your enjoyment!

Betrayed By Her Own Heart

Sarah Spalding has learned to forge her own way and never to trust anyone—least of all a Yankee. But when her companion abandons her while on a train to Colorado, Sarah begrudgingly accepts the help of Whitman Kendrick—a Yankee, yes, but one with the most bewitching green eyes. Allowing Whit to be her traveling escort is one thing, taking him as a lover is another—even though she’s tempted beyond reason…

Whit Kendrick isn’t quite sure what to make of the sharp-tongued, sassy woman sharing his train compartment. All he knows is that Sarah is refreshingly different from most women—and his urgent, primal attraction for her is unlike any he’s experienced. Breaking down Sarah’s wall of defense won’t be easy. But Whit is determined to prove to Sarah that they’re more alike than different—and loving each other is all they need…

Excerpt:

Sarah felt like squirming under Whitman’s gaze. He was staring at her as she attempted to read. The key word there was attempted—she couldn’t concentrate on the words. Having him watch her was an intense experience and she had to stop herself from yelling at him to stop. The man was obviously trying to puzzle out why she’d picked Mavis as a companion.

And perhaps why she hadn’t trusted the woman for a minute. Sarah knew the other woman wouldn’t stay true to her promise and she didn’t disappoint. Whitman might be surprised Sarah would think that far ahead, but she always did. Well, at least for the last fourteen years anyway.

Life seemed to enjoy kicking her in the teeth. She’d learned to avoid the blow by expecting the worst or hitting back first. What happened with Whitman was completely unexpected. She didn’t have time to duck.

After she’d been nearly killed by the Yankee soldier, Sarah had clawed her way back to life. Despite her mother’s pitiful care, the lack of medicine and food, she’d survived what would have been fatal for most people.

There were too many struggles since then to recount, not that she’d want to. Lean times were the standard for folks in the South following the war. For many, the war didn’t end after the surrender. They were the most dangerous of all.

The very reason Sarah opened up her home as a boarding house was for protection in numbers. Women alone were easy pickings. It was how she found Vickie ten years ago, at the mercy of some ex-soldier who found raping women more pleasurable than treating like human beings.

Sarah was tough as nails, inside and out. Except, it seemed, when it came to one Yankee named Whitman Kendrick. He made her nervous, jittery and aroused all at once. If she was smart, she’d find a way to get him out of her compartment.

Yet she hadn’t and somewhere deep inside, she knew she wouldn’t. And that bothered her more than anything.

Whitman made her remember what it was like to be out of control, something she definitely didn’t want. She was helpless to stop it.

He sat there watching her as the countryside flew past the windows. She tried to concentrate on the book, but gave up when she read the same page eight times. Then she tried to take a nap, but even with her eyes closed, she could feel his gaze on her.

She reached her breaking point after an hour.

Sarah threw her arms up and gave up the battle trying to ignore him. “What is so interesting about me that you feel the urge to stare at me?”

Whitman started as if her voice startled him out of a trance. At first he looked surprised and his mouth dropped open. He straightened his jacket and sat up straighter.

“I wasn’t staring.”

Sarah barked out a laugh. “Damn right you were staring at me. Don’t bother trying to deny it.”

His surprise widened at her words.

“No ladies you know let loose and cuss? Well too damn bad, because cussing is allowed in this compartment, like it or not.” She pointed at him, ignoring the slight tremor in her hand. “Are you going to stop staring at me?”

Whitman opened his mouth to answer, then instead of speaking, he started laughing. Gut-busting, knee-slapping laughing. Sarah couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d stripped himself naked and run from the train.

She expected him to act like a normal person, but he didn’t. Then again, she didn’t either. Perhaps that’s one of the reasons she was drawn to him.

“What’s so funny?”

When Whitman smiled at her, Sarah would swear the train jumped the tracks beneath her. She trembled at the impact. It was a beautiful, wide grin that lit up his entire face, hitting her with the fact that Whit was more than handsome, he was breathtakingly gorgeous.

“You are. I’ve never met someone who could surprise me, confound me and keep me on my toes. You, Sarah Spalding, are amazing.”

His words washed over her like a warm waterfall on a cool day. Not many compliments had been thrown her way for a long time, certainly not from a handsome man. She tried to capture the moment, hold it as if it were a precious gem to put in her pocket and take out to admire again and again. Sarah didn’t believe herself to be a ninny or a scatter-brained fool. Men told women anything they wanted, which didn’t always mean the truth.

However, the sincerity in Whitman’s eyes, and her own instincts, made her want to believe him.

Beth Williamson, New Releases

A simply stunning cover

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Just yesterday I got the cover for my first Berkley book, UNBRIDLED. This is not only my first Berkley book, but it’s also the first contemporary erotic romance single title I’ve published.

I am absolutely in love! Look at this simply stunning cover…

Here is the blurb:

Hell hath no fury like Alex Finley…

For as long as Alex could remember, life had taken everything from her. Her father had abandoned her and her dying mother, only to return upon her death to reclaim the family’s Wyoming ranch–with a new wife. Alex’s rage drove her away to Los Angeles to live with a man who could never satisfy her.

Only after ten years does she come home–and she hits the town with a vengeance, unleashing her pent-up lust on willing cowpoke Connor Matthews. But she’s in for several shocks. It turns out that the ranch is now a resort, that her late father split the estate between Alex and her young step-brother, and that Connor–the bucking bronco she wants in her bed–is running the place.

Now, Alex is torn between accepting a new family, and a lover who can give her everything she needs–or selling out to a smooth-talking neighbor and leaving the past behind her. But only when her life is on the line does she realize what she desires most of all…

***

It releases July 6, 2010 – Can’t believe I’ll be wishing for the next 7 months to go by fast. LOL. 🙂

Beth Williamson

One Year Older

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This Monday, the 9th, is my birthday. I’ll be 42, right in the prime of my life where things sort of shift from where they’ve been. It’s made me think about things, such as where I’ll be in eight years when I turn 50.

Oh, the thoughts I’ve had about that! My older DS will be 26, which means I could be a grandmother. (OMG) The younger DS will be just graduated from college, which means… we’ll have this house to ourselves.

Hmmm, what to do with a 3000 SF house and no kids? The possibilities are endless…

Then I think about where I’ll be with my writing at 50. My goal is, of course, to have quit my day job and write novels full-time. I’d like to be self-sufficient like Nora Roberts and support myself with just my writing. Wouldn’t that be just awesome?

Of course, the drawback to that plan is the economy. People just aren’t buying as many books these days, and who can blame them? Would you rather eat or buy a book?

Okay some days that question might get a different answer, but most days it would be to eat of course. LOL.

I plan on writing, and hopefully publishers keep buy my books. Writing is part of my soul, of my genetic make-up really and I refuse to stop. The voices in my head might actually take over!

Ah, birthdays. Makes us all a bit philosophical, I think. So let’s play a fun game, ok? Everyone who posts their favorite birthday memory will get a chance at a free book. Ready?

My favorite birthday memory is… in third grade my mom arranged for a surprise sleepover with my very best friend, Robin. It was a wonderful birthday!

Now your turn!

Beth Williamson

Riding in with another devil

I’m pleased as punch to announce Devils on Horseback: Zeke is now available in print! Wahoo!

Zeke is the third book in the series and he was by far the hardest devil to tackle. I think it’s because he’s the most self-controlled, the cool-eyed blond with a spine of steel who never lets himself lose control… or does he? *evil grin* Part of the fun in writing such an alpha hero is the satisfaction of making him lose control.

He’s stubborn, bossy and suffering. I had to find a tough heroine, one who had been through her own private hell, to be Zeke’s mate. Naomi is a woman who’d survived by her wit and instincts. She knows there’s something different about the new sheriff of Tanger but she won’t simply give in because he pushes her. Oh, no, she makes him work for it y’all.

I am including an excerpt below, this is the first time Zeke allows Naomi to see beneath his shell. It’s sweet, sexy and tender. Enjoy!

***

A cool man, a fiery woman, a love destined to ignite.

Book 3 of the Devils on Horseback series

Intense, reserved and known for his strategic thinking, Zeke Blackwood has struggled to find his place in the post-war world. After the violent death of the first woman to capture his heart, Zeke retreats into a whisky bottle—until he’s handed the position of town sheriff.

Zeke sobers up and tries his damnedest to be the best lawman he can be. He hadn’t counted on the tempting new saloon girl to jeopardize his cold, unhappy existence.

Naomi Tucker is a survivor, a woman who made it through the war on her own wit and strength. She hoped moving to Tanger, Texas would bring her the peace and stability she yearns to find. Instead she runs head-on into a cool-eyed sheriff who welcomes her to his bed, only to push her away.

The wildness of the West is far from tamed. It threatens the town’s efforts to rebuild, Zeke’s bond with the Devils—and his fragile relationship with Naomi. As Zeke’s hold on sobriety slips, he and Naomi must choose between settling for half a life apart, or embracing all they could be. Together.

***

<strong>Excerpt:</strong>

Zeke sat on the edge of the bed and held his face in his hands. A dull throb in his head was joined by an ache in his ribs. Those boys had lit into him good. Normally he’d be able to hold his own against two men, but with the small space in the cell, he’d had no room to maneuver. Bastards.

He was more angry than anything and fully intended on charging them with assault. A judge came into town every month, should be easy enough to request he come sooner.

He stretched, wincing as a sharp pain gripped his back. With a groan, he lay on the bed and closed his eyes. Doc Barham had given him a little bottle of laudanum, but Zeke hated to take it since it made him lose control. With his behavior of late, losing control had become a problem. It certainly got him in trouble with the two drunks.

When a small knock sounded at the door, Zeke clenched his jaw.

“What?” he snapped, unwilling to talk to Lee about what happened.

“Zeke?”

Naomi’s quiet voice made him sit up too fast. He gasped against the rush of blood through his head. She must’ve heard him because she opened the door and peeked in.

“Zeke?”

“Yeah, I’m here.” Zeke didn’t want to admit to himself how glad he was to see her. The petite woman had gotten under his skin in the last two weeks, to the point her very presence actually made him feel better. Damn, he was supposed to be avoiding saloon women, not consorting with them every chance he got.

“Can I come in?”

She shouldn’t be alone with him in his bedroom though, no matter if she worked at the saloon or not. He was the sheriff and no doubt the old cronies on the town council would fire him if they knew. Zeke was well aware of all of it, yet it didn’t stop him from inviting her in.

“Please.”

Not only had he thrown caution under her little feet, but he’d said “please” too. Zeke knew then his plan to keep his distance from Naomi had failed miserably, and he started to shake. The urge to sling back a shot of whiskey roared through him.

“I met Gideon and he told me what happened. I was, well, I was worried.” Her confession dropped into the silence of the room.

Zeke, for the first time in his life, was overwhelmed by a woman. The sincerity of her tone and the fact she’d been worried about him made his throat close. Soft comfort and words from women hadn’t been prevalent in his life. His mother had been weak and dependent on his father, then him, for everything. Naomi had taken a lifetime’s worth of experience and reduced it to dust.

She stepped into the room and closed the door, her rose scent washing over him. He clenched his teeth and swallowed, trying to dislodge the words stuck there.

“Are you okay?”

He sucked in a shaky breath and swung his legs around the side of the bed, then patted the spot next to him. His thirst, pain, embarrassment and discomfort forgotten, he could only see her. In the moonlight, she looked ethereal, like an angel come to visit him. It seemed the preacher had been right in his description of her.

Naomi sat down gently, almost as if she was afraid, and peered at him in the dim light. “Zeke, I—”

He put his hand against her lips, their softness making his fingers tremble. “You shouldn’t be here alone with me.”

She smiled beneath his hand. “I want to be.”

Zeke cupped her face and tried to read what lurked in the hazel depths of her eyes. All he saw were shadows and uncertainties, a common theme in his life the last five years. He knew he shouldn’t be with her, but for once he was going to do what his heart told him.

God help him. He was listening to his heart.

“You didn’t get hurt in the brawl, did you?” He tried to find a topic to keep his mind, and his body, from focusing on kissing her.

“No, we hid behind the bar.” She smiled. “Thank you for coming to stop it again. You seem to be quite good at being a sheriff, for a new one, I mean.”

He chuckled at her teasing. “I suppose. It ain’t hard, well I guess it is sometimes.” He pressed a hand to his aching ribs.

“Are you all right? Gideon told me you were hurt.” She covered his hand with hers.

“I’ll live.” He pulled her hand up and kissed the palm. Zeke felt a shiver snake through her at the touch of his lips.

“I’m not sure what’s happening, Zeke.” She gazed at the palm of her hand. “Why did I come here?” she sounded as confused as he was.

“Probably for the same reason I came to your bed.” Zeke’s body began to react to being closer to hers. It wasn’t just a sexual reaction, it was something else too. That something else was unidentifiable, and it scared him.

Yet he didn’t ask her to leave.

She nodded, her blonde hair sliding over the dress with a soft sound. “I’ve been fighting for survival for three years, and now it seems I have to fight for something else.”

“What’s that?”

She met his gaze. “My heart. You knocked me sideways, Sheriff, and I find myself liking it.”

Zeke knew exactly what she meant. “I don’t want to be responsible for your heart, for anyone’s heart. The last year has brought me nothing but misery, and I can’t seem to get myself out of the hole I dug for myself. I don’t want to subject you to the same hell.” His voice had descended into a hoarse whisper full of emotion.

She took his hand, her little fingers wrapping around his in comfort, bringing a lump to his throat.

“I understand. Lucy told me about Allison. I’m so sorry.”

The mention of Allison made his stomach clench. Once upon a time, she might have been his wife. Now she was just another ghost in his heart.

“She’s gone, and I’m still here. Now you’re here too.” He squeezed her hand. “I just want to be sure you understand I ain’t looking for anything from you.”

Zeke sensed she didn’t believe a word he said, yet she remained silent. He hadn’t wanted a woman getting under his skin, but it was too late for that.

“Kiss me.” Her husky command sent a shiver down his skin.

“Are you sure?” He knew she should leave, get away before their sexual relationship continued, but he couldn’t seem to let go of her hand.

“Kiss me.” This time her voice was firmer, and he obeyed.

He lowered his head and kissed her, capturing her breath into his mouth, inhaling her essence. It began slowly, but the heat between them flared to life.

Their previous encounters had been fierce matings, full of passion and animal instinct. This time it was gentle—for the first time they were making love.

Beth Williamson

Retreat or not to retreat

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I’m in Washington state, in a wonderful lake house, surrounded by my fellow writers in a retreat. I can’t even begin to describe how fun it is to wake up to the sound of book plotting.

It’s my first writer’s retreat even though I’ve been published for four years. I don’t think I knew quite what to expect before I came, but I am so glad I did. We talk about plotting, characters, book deals, editors, agents and all the stuff I can’t talk about with the rest of the people in my life.

These wonderful ladies are my peers, the people who know exactly the angst, troubles and disappointments I suffer as a writer. Then there’s our hostess who is gracious, funny as hell, and knows the writing business inside and out.

The amazing thing is being able to set aside all the daily things, the schedule, keeping track of all the little things in my life. I’ve focused on writing, discussing writing, and getting so much done. I killed myself finishing my first Emma Lang book before I came, then when I got here, it was like I went into the writing zone. I finished rewrites on Devils on Horseback: Lee and sent it off to my beta reader, and begun the galley proofs of The Stranger’s Secrets.

The best thing is, I’ve recently signed a one book deal with Berkley Heat (yay!) for a contemporary erotic romance to be released in July 2010.  Unfortunately the book is due October 16 (eep) so I have six weeks to write it. I’ve already gotten 6K written! I’m excited to be able to pound out the pages, read them aloud to my fellow peeps, and then write more.

Not only that, but the lake house is lovely. I mean, look at the view! I’ll be back in NC on Sunday and my batteries completely recharged. I miss DH terribly, but talk to him twice a day. Even better, when I return we can show each other just how much we missed each other. 😉

The view from the cabin
The view from the cabin
Beth Williamson

On My Mind

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I have a tendency to overthink things, and unfortunately I cannot seem to find the dimmer switch for it.  God forbid I wake up in the middle of the night and my mind decides to kick into gear. I will not sleep again that night.

Lately I haven’t been sleeping well, and yes, it’s because my mind is in high gear. This can be a good thing (if I’m plotting out a book or visualizing a scene) or a bad thing (if I’m stressing about everything else in my life). This latest round of not sleeping is a bad thing, mixed with a bit of good.

You see, I have a book due September 1 – my first book written as Emma Lang, my new pen name for Kensington Brava beginning June 2010. I want this book to wow readers so they’ll come hungry for more. There’s one stress, a big one. And well, you see, I am behind on actually writing the book and have three weeks to finish it (that’d be 250 pages, or about 60K).

Now you’re following along with me and my demon-like stresses, right? It gets even a bit worse, unfortunately. A friend of mine (who was younger than me by a few months) lost her battle with cancer last Saturday. Losing someone, even if it’s expected, throws you for a loop, then kicks you.

I’m distracted and having a hard time focusing. That’s the biggest bad of all.

Now for the good. When I’m writing, it’s flowing well. The characters are making me laugh and cry and get angry, just as they’re supposed to.  I need to write their story and it’s also on my mind pretty much constantly. I would pay serious money to find the damn dimmer switch on my mind. LOL.

So here’s my question to y’all, what’s your favorite method to focus? I need some ideas y’all so I can compartmentalize everything and get the book written.

Help!

Beth Williamson, New Releases

Redeeming Micah

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June 30th marked the release date for my second Brava release, The Redemption of Micah. This is the second in a three book series I’ve written and by far, the most difficult to write.

Why, you may ask? Because redeeming Micah was a messy business. It is truly an emotionally gut-wrenching story with twists and turns that even I didn’t expect. LOL. As writers, the characters can take our hands and lead us where we weren’t sure we needed to go, yet we end up there anyway.

Micah is probably my most damaged hero to date. He’s not only physically scarred, with a nasty saber wound on his face that healed up rather awkwardly, but completely emotionally wretched as well. He’s a man who has seen into the pits of hell and cannot find his way back to the light around him.

I have a knack for finding the tortured characters and bringing them together. Maybe because most of us are damaged in one way or another, and finding happiness in some way is an ultimate goal for all.

What do you all think about damaged heroes or heroines? I’m a firm believer in redemption of the personal kind and think that we all have it within to forgive ourselves.

The Redemption of Micah is now available from Brava. Read on for the blurb and an excerpt!

ONCE UPON A TIME, THEY LOVED EACH OTHER

Nothing about the room that Eppie awakens in feels like home—not the furnishings, the ill-fitting clothes, or the Colorado sunlight streaming in through the windows. And certainly not the stranger with long dark hair and silver eyes who claims to have been waiting for her for three long years.

Micah Spalding has spent each day hoping that Eppie would open her eyes and return to him. Yet the Eppie he loved was spirited and outspoken—utterly different to this reserved, aloof woman. Since her injury, Eppie has no memory of Micah or their daughter, or of a passion that was powerful enough to defy every convention. And though his scent and touch trigger something deep within her, Eppie can’t bring herself to believe in him.

Once, when war between his countrymen had almost broken him, Eppie brought Micah back to life. Now he must find a way to reach through the distance between them and remind her of everything they once shared, and prove that he has belief enough for both of them…

Excerpt:

Micah held up one hand and Eppie waited for him to catch his breath. In a few moments, he blew out a breath and met her gaze.

“I’ve spent the last few years hoping I’d see you open your eyes again, and when you did, I reminded myself be happy even if you didn’t remember me. Then when you came into my arms, God I couldn’t believe how amazing it was. I could only pray you would be there again. And you were.” His smile was so bright it made her smile in return. “I waited so long to tell you I love you, I can hardly believe it’s finally now.”

Eppie’s heart leapt with joy. “It’s now, with the help of some guardian angels looking out for us.”

He rubbed a hand down his face. “I feel like I’m dreaming, darlin’, and I hope like hell I’m not going to wake up soon.” What sounded like a sob burse from his throat. “Irony is something I never expected to come full circle. I don’t deserve this, but that doesn’t mean I won’t grab onto it with both hands.”

Eppie slid down to the floor and knelt beside him, more than concerned about Micah. “Everyone deserves loves, a chance at happiness.”

His laugh sent a chill up her spine and a coil of dread settled in her belly. “I am the last person on earth who deserves love or happiness. I’ve done so many things to put my ass straight in hell, I deserve nothing but misery and eternal damnation.”

The most frightening thing about his speech was she could see in his eyes that he meant every word of it. Micah firmly believed he was not only damned, but there was no force that could change his fate. Eppie vowed to prove him wrong, come hell or high water. She almost laughed at the image, considering it was the high water that had brought them to the cabin in the first place.

“Tell me,” she commanded softly.

“I can’t. You see if I let them out, I might not get them back in.” Ancient dark shadows lurked behind his gaze, so sharp and deadly, Eppie wanted to move away.

But she didn’t. Instead she took his cold hands in hers and settled at his side.

“Tell me.” This time she was more forceful, determined to ferret out what haunted the man she had come to love.

He blew out a long sigh. “I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

“Start where you grew up. If you told me any stories, I’ve forgotten them.” She smiled. “I’m like a sieve that way.”

Her silly joke made the corner of his mouth kick up. “I grew up in Virginia on a big tobacco plantation. My grandfather had been a bastard who knew how to make money on the backs of others, and I gladly sat up there with him, eating, drinking and whoring from the time I was fourteen.”

She wanted to say something about a fourteen year old whoring, but kept quiet, silently urging him to continue.

“I had four good friends from similar backgrounds and we spent our time doing whatever we felt like. I never worked a day in my life those wonder years, never had to even lift a finger to dress myself.” He shook his head. “Shallow, empty-headed son of a bitch. If you had known me back then, you would have hated me.”

The self-hate was evident in everything from his posture to his tone, but Eppie didn’t succumb to it. She squeezed his hand, giving him the encouragement of her love.

“When the war began, I was just twenty-one, so stupid and foolish, I assumed I’d be given a command and be home within a month, perhaps two. It gave us an excuse to go to Maryland find new whores to play with.” He clenched her hands so hard, the bones smashed up against each other. “I didn’t know, you see, how wrong I was about everything, about life and how much I deserved. I was put in an infantry unit beside gap-toothed morons who likely were born from years of careful inbreeding.”

In that moment, Eppie heard the spoiled Virginia plantation owner, the man who Micah hated, but who also apparently lurked beneath the surface of the twisted soul he’d become.

“I was muddy, cold, tired and miserable every second of every day. I complained mercilessly until the captain threatened to hang me if I didn’t shut up. He whipped me in front of the squad, in front of the regiment’s major. My friends turned their backs and pretended not to know me.” His body had heated as he spoke, and Eppie felt perspiration gathering on his skin. “From then on I was a ruthless soldier, killing without thought or remorse, anything to release the rage and frustration at where I was. My bloodletting caught the attention of a lieutenant in the regiment and he promoted me to sergeant and gave me my own squad to command.” His smile set off the warning bells in her head to run.

Eppie stayed put and swallowed the fear. This was who Micah was, and she had to love all of him, even his secrets.

“My squad became known as the Red Grays because of all the kills we claimed during raids and battles. I remember one boy who was so afraid he shit his pants right before he killed his first man. From then on, he had the same blood lust I did. That boy died a week before the war ended by his own hand.” He looked up into Eppie’s eyes and the ghosts of the war were clearly writhing in his memories. “I was left without a squad, without a friend, or even a goddamn pair of shoes. After four years of killing, I didn’t remember much else. They sent me home and when I got there”—he swallowed so hard she heard the gulp—“I wanted to go back to the war.”

***