Walker Bride by Bernadette Marie
In 2007 – after marriage, filling her chronic entrepreneurial needs, and having five children – Bernadette began to write seriously with the goal of being published. That year she wrote 12 books. In 2009 she was contracted for her first trilogy and the published author was born. In 2011 she (being the entrepreneur that she is) opened her own publishing house, 5 Prince Publishing, and has released contemporary titles and has begun the process of taking on other authors in other genres.
Bernadette spends most of her free time driving her kids to their many events. She is also an accomplished martial artist, working her way to her second degree black belt in Tang Soo Do. An avid reader she loves to meet readers who enjoy reading contemporary romances and she always promises Happily Ever After.
The waitress set her beer on the counter, and she picked it up with shaking hands. The afternoon was going to be a waste now. Tyson Morgan was going to finish his drink and get out of there
as fast as he could. Why wouldn’t he? Crazy Walker women were not a prize anyone wanted to win.
She could feel the first two beers swimming in her head as she walked to the table. The glass sloshed over the side a bit as she set it down.
“Fine,” she said as she picked up the glass.
“How are you getting home?”
“I have a car.”
Tyson’s lips pursed. “Yep, but I’m not thinking you should drive it.”
“I wasn’t going to. I’ll go back to my store and stay there for awhile. I’m not stupid. I won’t drink and then drive. I won’t even text.”
He actually laughed at that. “I didn’t mean to get you all worked up over your dad.”
She set her glass down and leaned in over the table. “Are you attracted to me?”
His eyes widened, and his face went pale. “Of course. You’re a very beautiful woman.”
“Why don’t you have one?”
He finished his beer and let out a long breath. “Don’t need one.”
Stupidly enough, she’d thought maybe she could convince Tyson to come in. Maybe they could spend some time together. The very thought had her tensing up. What had driven her to be so lonely that she was hitting on her cousin’s family—Lydia’s brother? She’d never made a move on the man—never. But today? What was so stellar about today?
Pearl walked to the living room and plopped herself down on the couch. She kicked her bare feet up on the coffee table and rested her head back. Weddings never used to bother her. She saw happy brides walk in and out of her store all the time. But ever since Susan and Eric got engaged and Bethany and Kent followed right behind, she’d felt the pang of longing for someone.
Always the bridesmaid, never the bride, she thought to herself as she sipped from the bottle of water. But what did it matter? She was thirty-three years old, had her own place, her own business, and her own paid off car. She didn’t need a man for anything—well except for companionship.
She squeezed the bottle, and it overflowed onto her lap. With a jump, she came off the couch and cursed. “This is stupid. Tyson Morgan isn’t worth getting all worked up over,” she said aloud as if that would make all the difference.