Writing with a sensual, playful side
Stories for the romantic at heart. Alpha men who face women who test their patience and win them over … no matter how hard they try to resist.
I love writing stories about cowboys. Especially stories where the cowboy fits all of my hero’s needs: is a hunk in denim and boots, has a wounded soul, has a big heart, and is doomed to deal with a woman he can’t seem to resist. Tucker Dalton was definitely my man.
A glimpse of Tucker
The breath froze in Tucker’s chest, yet his heart raced. One look at the young doctor who appeared, and his knees buckled. Shane caught him around the shoulders just in time and dragged him to the nearest chair, forcing him to sit.
The doctor’s concerned gaze locked on Tucker because he’d arrived at the hospital with the ambulance. “I’m sorry.”
The simple words made him recoil in horror. “She-she died?” How could he live with himself? He’d meant to save her, but he’d killed her instead. He slumped against the chair back, his body wracked with grief.
Darcy wailed in agony. “No! Not Brooke. Oh, God, not Brooke.”
In a daze, Tucker watched Frisco pull his sister close. His eyes were glistening with tears, too. Brooke had become special to them all during her short time on their ranch with Kyle.
Shane dropped heavily into the chair next to Tucker, cursing his anguish. His hands fisted until his knuckles were white.
The doctor cleared his throat to grab their attention. “No, you misunderstood. Miss McGuire is still alive,” he corrected. “She has a couple of broken bones and lots of bruises.” He hesitated, appearing to determine how to go on. “She’s unconscious. We believe she’s slipping into a coma. But she’s alive.”
Tucker closed his eyes and tried to absorb what he’d heard. She was alive. He barely heard the word “coma.” He was too busy thanking the good Lord, fate, and anything else he could think of for saving her.