Barbara Dunlop - Thunderbolt over Texas

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A marriage of convenience is the perfect plan for New York museum curator Sydney Wainsbrook and Texas rancher Cole Erickson. It's a business transaction that will save her career and safeguard his family's traditions.
After all, how hard can it be for Sydney to pretend to be in love with a sexy and charismatic cowboy? And Cole sure won't mind sharing his time-and maybe his bed?-with a fiery redhead from the city. So what if they're complete strangers? So what if she's only interested in borrowing his family's heirloom jewel, the Thunderbolt of Texas? So what if they discover a secret that could blow the whole scheme apart?
And what would happen if they actually managed to inconveniently fall for one another?

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Someone tapped his shoulder and he turned.

“Hey, Grandma.” He pulled Sydney back into his arms as Kyle danced off with Katie. “Don’t you just love a good wedding?”

“You know I do,” said Grandma. “And I have something for Sydney.”

Sydney tipped her head questioningly. “For me?”

“This way,” said Grandma with a mysterious wink. “Both of you.”

They followed her through the crowd, past the band, toward the back of the barn where the light was dim and the air was a few degrees cooler.

Cole held Sydney’s hand as they walked, unable to resist sending goofy smiles her way. He couldn’t wait to get her alone.

Or maybe he could. It was fun to show her off. His wife. His wife. And tonight was the first of thousands together.

Yeah, he could wait.

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed each of her knuckles. He was going to relish every single hour with this woman.

Grandma came to a stop at a back table, rattling something out of a paper bag.

She turned to face Sydney with a very serious expression on her face. “Sydney Erickson.”

Cole squeezed Sydney’s hand. He loved her new name.

“It is my honor,” said Grandma, “to present you with the providence and chronicles of the Thunderbolt of the North.” She handed Sydney a large, leather-bound book.

Sydney’s forearms sagged with the weight of the dark, heavy volume. Cole started to take it from her, then checked the impulse. Her eyes were wide with wonder as she stared down.

Cole blinked in amazement as well. He hadn’t even known such a thing existed.

“It was translated in the mid-1700s,” said Grandma, patting her hand gently on the cover. “I’ve never been sure if it was taken from a written account, or if Sigrid wrote down the oral history. In any event, it’s all here. The life and times of the Thunderbolt.”

Sydney ran her fingers over the embossed cover. “This is absolutely amazing,” she whispered, glancing up at Cole. “It’s priceless.”

Grandma smiled with obvious satisfaction. “And it’s your turn to continue the saga.”

Sydney’s jaw dropped open.

“And I suggest you start with the Thunderbolt’s latest adventure.”

“Are you sure?” asked Sydney. “The entire adventure?”

Grandma patted the book again. “Yes. The whole adventure. The diary deserves no less than the truth.”

Cole wrapped an arm around his grandmother’s thin shoulders and gave her an affectionate squeeze. “Thank you, Grandma.”

Her eyes shimmered bright as she smiled up at him.

“For everything,” he said.

“I was right about Sydney, wasn’t I?”

“You were absolutely right about Sydney.”

“Good. Well, I’ll leave you two alone now,” she said with a quick smile.

“I can’t believe it,” said Sydney, her voice hoarse with awe.

“It couldn’t be in better hands,” said Cole, loving her more by the second.

She shook her head, and her eyes shimmered jewel-bright under the lights. Then she pressed the big book more tightly against her chest. “I never thought it could happen,” she whispered. “But you did it, Cole.”

“I did what?” He searched her eyes. “I fell in love with you?”

She shook her head. “That, too.” Then she reached up and stroked her soft palm against his cheek. “What I meant was, you found my silver locket.”

Ah. His gaze went to the brooch, nestled against the beaded fabric of her wedding dress. “The Thunderbolt.”

She shook her head again. “No. It was never the jewelry.” She smiled. “It was never the things.”

“Then…”

“It was the heritage, the home. I finally realized.” She swayed toward him, and his arms automatically wrapped around her.

“I was searching for the family I never had. And you gave it to me.”

His chest expanded almost painfully.

She was his. She was here forever.

“Welcome home, Sydney,” he whispered against her hair. “We’ve been waiting for you all along.”

BARBARA DUNLOP

writes romantic stories while curled up in a log cabin in Canadas far north - фото 2

writes romantic stories while curled up in a log cabin in Canada’s far north, where bears outnumber people and it snows six months of the year. Fortunately, she has a brawny husband and two teenage children to haul firewood and clear the driveway while she sips cocoa and muses about her upcoming chapters. Barbara loves to hear from readers. You can contact her through her Web site at www.barbaradunlop.com.

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