Lynda Coker's Page

If you like a contemporary cowboy who’s hardboiled on the outside but as sweet as Cotton Candy on the inside, Corey Donovan is your man.

BLURB: Corey Donovan has just spent twelve years in a Texas prison for a crime he didn’t commit. Now he’s a man bent on getting a little payback. And who better to start with than the recently widowed Mrs. Tiffany Covington?

Tiffany is both thrilled and afraid when she discovers Corey has returned to the small West Texas town of Wayback. She’s ready to repay old debts…question is…will Corey accept her currency of exchange?

Excerpt # 1
He pushed through the curtains leading to the rear of the plywood platform, loosely called a stage, and picked up his guitar. Telli was giving him an intro. It wasn’t much of one, just “Here’s Corey.” He sauntered forward with the confidence that familiar places gave a man, rested his booted foot on a low stool, and adjusted his guitar. He always took a moment before his first set to look over the audience, see what kind of crowd he was playing to.

Adrenaline revved his heartbeat to maximum, and the tightness in his throat threatened to choke him. Tiffany Covington sat at the center table with a young boy and two other couples. By her horrified expression, he was sure she recognized him.

She had changed some. Her blonde hair was shorter and a little darker, more honey colored. He used to tease her about having hair the perfect shade of sun-glare. From what he could see, she had filled out a little in all the right places, though one thing had stayed the same. From across a room, her baby-blues could still twist a man’s gut. And as he knew all too well, at close quarters they could claim his soul.

He did the only thing he could. Standing on the stage, holding a bright red guitar, he sang straight into her eyes. His heart, the small part he still owned, ached with recognition. As he sang the lyrics of love gone bad, a truth he’d buried for over a decade rose upward like a bull rider heaved into the air. At eighteen, he’d foolishly given away his heart, and the woman at his feet still owned it.

“I’m nothing without you, come make me whole again.” The last words of the song coursed through his blood like 101 Proof Wild Turkey. As he played the final chords, he cursed the girl, his own weakness, and Wayback, Texas—where it all began.