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  Ray shook above her and Lily wrapped her arms around him as far as they’d go. She hung on, giving him everything in her heart as his body joined with hers. She clenched around his hardness and he groaned in a gust.

  “Jesus, Lily, I…I’m holding on by a thread.”

  She stroked the skin on his shoulders and wiggled beneath him. “Why are you holding on? Let go and ride, my love, let’s ride.”

  He shuddered and opened his eyes. Inches apart, he looked into hers and showed her his soul.

  “You healed me, sunshine.”

  Her heart hitched and a tear rolled down her cheek. She kissed him, licking and nibbling until he finally opened his mouth. Their tongues began to dance along with their bodies, sliding heat and passion. He rolled over and suddenly Lily found herself astride him.

  Her fingers caressed his chest, lightly scraping his nipples. He groaned and pushed up into her. Lily, no longer afraid of reaching for anything, started riding her husband. Up and down, slowly then quickly, she pleasured herself and him. He grasped one breast and held on tight, forcing her to only move an inch at a time. Sweet torture.

  “Don’t come yet,” he whispered against her skin.

  “Ray, I can’t… Help me.” She was ready to explode, to reach for the heavens that beckoned so close.

  He cupped her neck and fused his mouth with hers as he thrust into her deeply. The pleasure exploded over them, raining a torrent of ecstasy that soaked them. Lily’s tears blended with Ray’s as her body shook with the force of their love.

  It seemed like an eternity until she caught her breath and collapsed on top of him. He ran his hand down her skin, sliding in the slickness of their passion.

  “That was…” He flipped her over and propped himself on his elbows to look into her eyes. “Incredible.”

  Lily couldn’t stop the wide smile from spreading across her face. After their first kiss on the floor of the kitchen, he’d called it incredible. This…this was even more.

  This was forever.

  Beth Williamson

  You can’t say cowboys without thinking of Beth Williamson. She likes ‘em hard, tall and packing. Read her work and discover for yourself how hot and dangerous a cowboy can be.

  Beth lives just outside of Raleigh, North Carolina, with her husband and two sons. Born and raised in New York, she holds a B.F.A. in writing from New York University. She spends her days as a technical writer, and her nights immersed in writing hot romances for her readers.

  To learn more about Beth Williamson, please visit www.bethwilliamson.com. Send an email to Beth at [email protected], join her Yahoo! Group, http://groups.yahoo.com/group/cowboylovers, or sign up for Beth’s monthly newsletter, Sexy Spurs, http://www.crocodesigns.com/cgi-bin/dada/mail.cgi/list/spurs/.

  The Malloy Family series continues when honey-tongued devil Trevor Malloy meets his match in saloon owner Adelaide Burns

  Enjoy this excerpt from

  The Gift

  (c) 2006 Beth Williamson

  Adelaide Burns has owned the Last Chance Saloon since her father died and left it to her two years earlier. A tougher, more street-wise redhead couldn’t be found west of the Mississippi.

  Trevor Malloy loves women, in all shapes and sizes. He’s spent most of his adult life chasing anything in a skirt. He thinks he can charm Adelaide just as easily as every other woman.

  Boy, is he dead wrong.

  Available November 21, 2006 at Samhain Publishing.

  Trevor stopped his horse on the outskirts of the main street in Cheyenne. Busy, but not bustling busy, exactly where he wanted to start his new career. Two saloons sat on either side of him. One was the Silver Spittoon, the other the Last Chance. He surveyed the horseflesh tied up outside and determined the Last Chance had better clientele.

  A small hotel sat next door, convenient for his purposes. He tied up the gelding then headed to the hotel to check in. Trevor wasn’t stupid enough to walk into a saloon with every cent he owned in his pocket. God only knew what kind of cheaters he’d find within its walls. Sometimes even the dealers cheated.

  With his saddlebags slung over one shoulder, he stepped into the hotel to make arrangements for a room. The clerk insisted on being paid up front. Trevor planned on only staying a week—long enough to make money to fund the rest of his trip to Texas. He counted out fourteen dollars and handed it to the bespectacled clerk.

  “I expect a hot bath every day and at least one hot meal included for that price.”

  “Yes, sir, that’s included. The water might still be warm upstairs if’n you want a bath now.” He pointed toward the stairs and handed Trevor a key.

  Trevor thanked the clerk and headed upstairs to his room. A bath sounded pretty good, but he really wanted to get acquainted with the saloons and the poker action. He made sure there were no bugs in his bed before dropping his gear off. Nothing like scratching the night away in someone else’s mess. He was pleasantly surprised to find the hotel was clean—they must be going after all the travelers coming in on the railroad now that service was picking up.

  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 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. “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. Six people sat at each of the poker tables, including two dealers, one of which 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 pl
ayers 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 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, Addie. 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 smiled 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, Addie…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. 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 could do.

  Revisit the love story that launched the Malloy Family series.

  Now available in paperback!

  Enjoy this excerpt from

  The Bounty

  (c) 2006 Beth Williamson

  Nicky Malloy is on the run—from guilt, fear and a murder charge. After three years, the notorious bounty hunter Tyler Calhoun catches up with the elusive lady outlaw. The intensity of their dislike for each other is only matched by the growing passion they cannot seem to control.

  A loner by nature, a cold hard hunter by choice, Tyler fights his feelings for his prisoner the only way he knows how—by denying them. He’s not prepared for how deeply his feelings will run, or how hard it will be to hold her life in his hands.

  Now available in digital and paperback formats at Samhain Publishing.

  Three months later, Tyler grudgingly accepted the fact that hunting a woman was not as easy as he first thought. Not quite on his knees, he was hanging by his bloodied wrists, strapped to two solid wooden poles, in the middle of nowhere. The relentless heat of the summer sun beat down on his back, criss-crossed with shallow knife marks. The blood had long since caked and baked on his skin. The pain had turned to numbness for the moment. He couldn’t feel his arms, shoulders, hands, or fingers. Hell, he didn’t think he could even stand up anymore.

  “So, gringo,” came the rough voice from behind him. “You are ready to tell me, no?”

  Using a well of strength he didn’t know he had, Tyler lurched to his feet, rising to his full height. Ignoring the screaming agony of his shoulders as the weight was lifted off them, he looked out at the horizon.

  “Told you no before, amigo, but I guess since you’re so stupid, I need to repeat myself,” Tyler rasped, hoarse from three days without water. Turning his head, he looked at the man behind him. “No. You want me to say it in Spanish? No.”

  The bandito, known as Hermano to everyone, smiled at Tyler. “You dig your own grave, señor. I just want to know why you’re asking questions about a woman, and who sent you. Not hard questions to answer, I think. You are not a bandito, or an outlaw, so me, I think you hunt for bounty, no?”

  Pulling his knife from its scabbard, he caressed it as if it were a pet. The dirty chaps he wore over his pants bore a multitude of old bloodstains, and other things that Tyler didn’t want to think about. The bandito’s gray shirt was open at the throat, which was tied with a bandanna of an unidentified color that resembled dirt. Tyler’s fingers itched to grab hold of that filthy bandanna and teach Hermano a lesson in hospitality.

  Pushing back his sombrero, a hank of black hair fell over his forehead as he surveyed Tyler. “You will not last past tomorrow.”

  “Too bad, isn’t it?” Tyler wasn’t about to give this piece of shit the satisfaction of seeing him break.

  Shrugging his broad shoulders, the bandito sheathed his knife and walked around Tyler. “Your choice, gringo. Tell me what I want to know and you can go free.” He spread his arms wide with another smile that never reached his black eyes. Tyler knew he’d never go free, no matter what he confessed to. To an outlaw, a bounty hunter was as much an enemy as a lawman. To a bandito, he wasn’t worth the space he took up on this earth. Better off dead and buried beneath it.

  Tyler remained silent. Hermano’s lips curled back to bare his teeth as his fist smashed into his prisoner’s stomach, stealing the breath from Tyler’s body. With a muttered curse, the bandito strode away toward the cluster of crude dwellings that the outlaws lived in as they passed through the valley.

  His brief well of strength depleted, Tyler saw stars as he desperately tried to suck air into his lungs, then all was black.

  ———

  It was dark when Tyler woke. Someone was crouched beside him, silently watching. Without moving, he opened his eyes to narrow slits to see the stranger. It could have been a child, a woman, or a man for all he saw. A cloud had spread its wings over the moon.

  “I know you’re awake. I’ve done my share of playing possum, mister, so don’t keep it up on my account.” The soft whisper floated across the night air.

  It sounded like a young boy, an American boy in a bandito hideout in Texas.

  “What do you want, kid?” he ground out through parched lips.

  “I’ll set you free, mister, but you’ve gotta tell me something first.”

  Tyler was instantly, completely awake. He struggled to his feet and willed away the spots that danced in front of his eyes and the agonizing shafts of pain blossoming in his arms and shoulders. “What?”

  “I need to know if you’re looking for somebody in particul
ar.” The boy stood and lifted a skin of water to Tyler’s mouth.

  After lapping greedily at the cool liquid, Tyler felt like a baby denied his mother’s breast when the stranger took it away almost immediately. It was near agony.

  “All right, who?” he snarled, desperate for the water.

  “Are you looking for a woman?”

  At the boy’s question, Tyler forgot his thirst completely. Who was this boy? And why would he ask a question like that?

  “I don’t need to get laid, kid, so peddle your sister’s skirts somewhere else.”

  With an impatient huff, the dark form stood. His head reached past Tyler’s shoulder, so he wasn’t short, but he didn’t look like there was much to him from what Tyler could see.

  “Don’t play games with me, mister,” he hissed. “You know what I meant. Are you looking for Nicky Malloy?”

  Nicky was good, but Tyler Calhoun was better. He’d tracked her to Hermano’s hideout and then had stupidly gotten himself strung up like a Christmas goose.

  “What’s it to you? Is this Hermano’s latest trick?”

  The dark figure shook its head. “Hermano doesn’t know I’m here. Let’s just say that Nicky and I look out for each other. I need to know if Owen Hoffman is still sending bounty hunters after her. You sure look like a bounty hunter to me, and Hermano is convinced that’s who you are. So, I’m asking you again, are you looking for Nicky?”

  Tyler weighed his options. If he said yes, would the kid let him go? Or would he let the banditos finish him off in the morning?

  “Yeah, kid, I’m looking for Nicole Malloy. For nearly three months now.”

  The boy let out a sigh that sounded desperately sad. “That’s what I thought.”

  “You gonna let me go?”

  “You’ve got to tell Hoffman that you couldn’t find her. Promise me that you’ll do that and I’ll cut you free,” came the boy’s ragged whisper.

  Was he kidding? Did this boy actually believe that a bounty hunter would follow through with a promise made in the middle of the night to a faceless, nameless stranger? And how in the hell did he know who had hired him?