Welcome to Tuesday Tales, powered by a small group of authors, where word prompts inspire passages in the books we’re writing. I’m working on a cozy mystery, Pumpkin Patch Murder. Our word of the day is beat. When you finish the passage, make sure to visit all the talented authors of Tuesday Tales.
Robin had always tickled me the way she carried a torch for dance floor cowboys. Back in her teen years, boys in FFA, on working farms, or who were raised with horses up on the ridge held no interest for her. Give her a guy with the right hat, a pair of square-toed boots, and some good moves, and her knees would go weak every time. If he knew how to swirl and dip, well, what else could a girl ask for? “It’s the music,” she had explained to me more than once. “When your blood gets racing, and you have to cut loose and dance country, nobody but a cowboy will do.”
Warren looked the part, with a confident grin and all the right attire, as he ushered her around the floor. “Just one dance,” he had urged, after his initial request had been declined. When a stomping tune blared out over the stream and her shoulders began moving with the beat, I knew the tussle was over. She stood and put her hand in his. “Just one,” she echoed, and off they went.
No one came and asked me, thank God, because there were no other cowboys like Warren in Rocky’s Roadhouse. Most were working men, and older, although there were a few couples up on the floor with Robin and Warren. If there had been another like Warren, I wouldn’t have known what to do with him anyway. Dancing was not my forte, and I didn’t want to engage in any flirting or inane banter. Skip hadn’t showed yet, and I wanted a clear view of the front door, as well as his favorite barstool near our table. I sipped sweet red wine and held my phone, pretending to be engaged with it.
Warren ended the round appropriately, and Robin was laughing as he escorted her back to our table. He pointed a finger at us. “Karaoke tomorrow night, and the DJ will be here Friday and Saturday.” He tipped his hat and resumed his bartending duties.
I leaned over and whispered, “Never mind the bartending. They should hire him just to dance with the ladies.”
She nodded in agreement. “Oh, he does plenty of that. What people don’t realize is that he’s not just a good-looking, laid-back Friday night special. He has a master certification in mixology and a business degree, if you can believe it. He might even own part of Rocky’s business by now, although I thought he had aspirations toward a higher end club, instead of Glisten’s favorite watering hole.”
This one? (A)
Or this one? (B)
Thanks for stopping by. I hope you enjoyed the piece inspired by the word beat. If you haven’t done so already, check out the other excerpts at Tuesday Tales.
Cheers & Happy Reading!
Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic with Spirited Stories
All rights reserved, copyright @ 2025 Flossie Benton Rogers
The second one is really cute. Sad to say, I’m not a fan of country music per se, although I love Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton. Go figure. Great post.
Thank you! Kenny’s voice is so unique.
It is.
The second one is really cute, but the first one screams murder. Hard to choose. I love dancing and country music. I need to perfect my line dancing!! Great excerpt and I could almost feel the music as you described her response to it and to Warren. I’d like to meet Warren myself, though I’m a touch old for him. Love this story!
Good point about the covers. A dead body would be too gruesome for a cozy. Maybe add a murder weapon? I do like the house though. I love that you line dance!
Ah, dancing to country music! The bane of my two left feet! I love how Peri is quietly staking out the place with her phone and wine while Robin is dancing. And I like A. Great job!
Thank you, Tricia! I think Peri feels she has two left feet as well.