Emily March returns to Eternity Springs and The McBrides of Texas in Tucker.
Tucker
Series: Eternity Springs: The McBrides of Texas
Contemporary Romance
From New York Times and USA Today
bestselling author Emily March comes the second book in the Eternity Springs: The McBrides of Texas
trilogy, TUCKER (St. Martin’s
Paperbacks, February 25, 2020, $7.99).
Two business owners come head-to-head in a feud with tulle and grit in this
passionate story. This tale shows that even when life changes from the stress
of a military career to working next to a wedding planner, love always finds a
way to begin, even if it was never thought possible.
Meet Gillian Thacker. Her business:
Bliss Bridal Salon. Her passion: Weddings. Her own wedding: It’s complicated.
Life isn’t turning out like she’d planned. The last thing she wants is for a
real-life hero to ride to her rescue, but an unexpected event puts her entire
future in Redemption, Texas, at risk. So what’s a broken-hearted bridal expert
to do? Maybe a new set of survival skills is exactly what she needs…
Tucker McBride has been proud to call himself a U.S. Army
Ranger. But now that his days of service are over, he’s decided to put his
expertise to use by founding a wilderness skills training school. He sets up
shop in Redemption, next to Bliss Bridal, and so begins life: Part Two.
Marriage has been pretty low on his agenda, but as soon as he meets Gillian,
Tucker can’t help but contemplate the ultimate challenge: Convincing the
reluctant bride to take his hand and leap into the adventure of a lifetime . .
. until death do them part.
BUY
LINKS
Macmillan: https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250314932
Books-A-Million: https://www.booksamillion.com/product/9781250314932?AID=42121&PID=7992675&cjevent=0a0b322d393511ea828c00f10a24060e
Chapter Two
Tucker was a sixth-generation
Texan, small-town born and bred. Certain behaviors were stamped into his DNA. A
real man tipped his hat to the ladies, opened doors for females of any age, and
never, ever failed to stop and assist a woman in distress.
So, of course, he had to turn
around.
That this particular woman in
distress was a total smoke show dressed in fire-engine red only made playing
the role of Texas gentleman that much sweeter. He wondered how she’d managed to
find herself out here in the middle of nowhere, no car in sight, not a house
anywhere around, and the closest town a good ten miles away. Unfortunately, hot
looks and a bright mind didn’t always go together.
He pulled to a stop beside her and
flipped up the visor of his helmet. His assessing stare met a wary gaze shining
from big, periwinkle-blue eyes that were swollen and red-rimmed with tears. She
had an abrasion on her cheek just above her chin. Had someone hit her? When his
quick visual sweep of her body revealed additional redness on both of her arms,
he reconsidered. Airbag deployment, most likely. “Do you need some help,
ma’am?”
He watched her intently and saw
her quietly repeat the word ma’am. After a moment’s hesitation, she licked her
lips, swallowed hard, and said, “Well, um, I, um. May I borrow your phone?”
Her voice was smooth as Tennessee
whiskey with just enough Texas in her drawl to sound like home to ears too far
away for too long. “Yes, ma’am.”
She took a small step backward as
he set his kick- stand and climbed off his bike. She’s scared of me.
It was a perfectly natural reaction
and showed some sense, but Tucker didn’t like scaring women, so when he pulled
off his helmet, he was scowling. Her eyes widened, she took another step back,
and he realized he’d made the situation worse. Well, hell.
He reached deep inside him for the
charm that had grown rusty with disuse, made a stab at a reassuring smile, and
addressed the elephant in the cotton field. “Don’t be scared. I won’t hurt you.
I came back to see if I could help. That’s all. I give you my word, and a
McBride’s word is his bond.”
“That’s so old-fashioned,” she
said.
“Yes, well, that’s how we roll.
Now, I’m going to reach into my pocket and pull out my phone.”
Her gaze dropped to his hand, and
she gave a nervous little laugh. “No gun?”
“No gun.” That was in a different
pocket.
Tucker unzipped his jacket and
reached into an inner pouch for his phone while trying his best to look
unthreatening. Their fingers brushed as he handed it over. Her fingernail color
matched her dress.
“Thank you,” she said.
“You’re welcome. My name is
Tucker.”
“I’m Gillian.” Her teeth tugged on
her bottom lip as she stared at the phone. “Do you have Google maps? I need to
send a pin of my location to my—”
She broke off abruptly, and her
head came up. Those glittering blue eyes—puffy and swollen from tears and
framed by long, thick lashes—went round and big. Distracted, he fell into them.
“Tucker Mc- Bride? Your name is Tucker McBride?”
He blinked and pulled slightly away.
Now it was his turn to be wary. “Yes.”
She gave him a once-over, and some
of the stiff- ness melted from her spine. “I know Jackson. Boone too. You’re
the third cousin, aren’t you?”
Well, this was unexpected. “Yes,
Boone and Jack- son are cousins of mine. Have we met?” He didn’t think so. He’d
damned sure remember her.
“No.”
“I’m surprised you’d connect me to
them. We’re a long way from Redemption.”
“Are we?” She gave a short,
strained laugh. “I wouldn’t know. I’m lost. But you look just like them, and
Tucker McBride is an unusual name. Plus, I re- member when the three of you
arrived in Redemption the first time. You all rode motorcycles. My friend Maisy
laughed that you had your own little McBride gang, so you were perfect for
Ruin.”
Tucker grinned. “If you only knew.”
He extended his hand toward her for a handshake. “Nice to meet you, Gillian . .
. ?”
“Thacker. Gillian Thacker.” Her
grip was firm, her smile filled with relief. “I’m a friend of Caroline
Carruthers. Are you on your way to visit Redemption?”
Caroline was the woman Jackson was
seeing, Tucker knew. He nodded. “Yes, I am. So now that you know I’m not a
serial killer, want to tell me what you’re doing standing in a cotton field in
a sundress and stilettos? Not exactly apparel for farming.”
She glanced down at her feet.
“Technically, I’m not in the field but on the shoulder of a road. A narrow,
two-lane, never-ending road. And no, cotton is not my thing. I’m all about
satin and lace.”
Satin and lace? A vision of Gillian
in lingerie the same shade of red as her dress flashed in Tucker’s mind as she
continued, “I sell wedding gowns at a bridal shop in Redemption. Bliss Bridal
Salon on Main Street.”
He tore his thoughts from the
fantasy and listened when she began babbling about a pig and a pecan and a
purse without a phone charger. When she finally wound down, she left Tucker
shaking his head at her foolishness. He held up his hand. “Let me get this
straight. You weren’t joking about being lost? You literally don’t know where
you are?”
“No. Not exactly.” She lifted her
chin, and her voice sharpened defensively. “I know I’m still in Central Texas.
I’m somewhere between I-35 and I-45. I’m north of Austin. I think.”
He slowly shook his head. “Where is
your car?
How far have you walked?”
“That way.” She hooked her thumb
over her shoul- der. “Maybe two or three miles. I’ve been walking a while.”
“In those shoes?”
She gave a rueful smile.
Copyright © 2020 by Geralyn Dawson Williams.
AUTHOR BIO
Emily March is the New York Times,
Publishers Weekly, and USA Today
bestselling author of over thirty novels, including the critically acclaimed
Eternity Springs series. Publishers
Weekly calls March a "master of delightful banter," and her
heartwarming, emotionally charged stories have been named to Best of the Year
lists by Publishers Weekly, Library
Journal, and Romance Writers of
America.
A graduate of Texas A&M
University, Emily is an avid fan of Aggie sports and her recipe for jalapeño
relish has made her a tailgating legend.
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