Spotlight & Giveaway: Heart of the Texas Warrior by Eve Gaddy

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author Eve Gaddy to HJ!

Hi Eve and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, Heart of the Texas Warrior!

To start off, can you please tell us a little bit about this book?:

Heart of the Texas Warrior is about Asher Chapman, a wounded warrior from Whiskey River, Texas and Jessie McBride, a cowgirl, from Last Stand, Texas. Meeting at the physical therapist’s office, the two share an instant connection. Jessie rescues wild mustangs and Asher has started a foundation uniting veterans with shelter animals.

Though it seems they are well suited and should have no problems getting together, Asher has a secret he can’t share–even with the woman he’s falling in love with. Can Jessie convince Asher to trust her to love him despite what he believes are insurmountable problems?
 

What inspired this book?

Working title was Jessie and Asher. Asher Chapman is the brother of Levi Chapman–the hero of my recent Whiskey River book, No Ordinary Texas Billionaire. I knew from the moment he walked onto the page that I’d write Asher’s book one day. But the former Green Beret wounded veteran needed a very special woman to love, and Jessie McBride, cowgirl, wild mustang rescuer, is just that woman.
Research was both intriguing and at times, heartbreaking. Learning about what has happened and is happening to the wild mustangs of America was eye-opening, especially the roundups and the three strike rule. As an animal lover I am also interested in shelter animals, service dogs and K9 warriors. (I think I’m on every donation list there is for dogs, veterans, wounded warriors, service animals, ASPCA, wild horses, burros, well, you get the picture.) And of course, I researched broken femurs, prosthetics, PTSD, Green Berets and other things I’m sure I’m forgetting. Yes, I’m a bit of a research geek. Research, learning more about things that interest me, is one of my favorite things about writing.

How did you ‘get to know’ your main characters? Did they ever surprise you?

By the end of No Ordinary Texas Billionaire, I believed Asher had worked through most of his problems related to the war and his wounds. Boy, was I wrong. But he seemed so together, it wasn’t until I delved deeper into his psyche that just because he was fine on the surface, didn’t mean he was fine inside.
As for Jessie, she is one tough cowgirl. Growing up in a family of three brothers, she learned young to hold her own. But when she breaks her leg and has to learn to depend on others to help her, it’s an eye-opening experience for her.

What was your favorite scene to write?

I love this scene because encapsulates their personalities perfectly.
Setting: Last Stand, Texas
Prosthetist’s office, which also doubles as the physical therapy clinic’s waiting room.

Ms. Independent sat scowling at nothing in particular. Most men would have left her alone, but not Asher. He walked over to her and asked politely, “Is this seat taken?”
“Does it look taken?”
Her eyes were a dark, chocolate brown, set in a classically pretty face with delicate features and a firm chin he suspected was as stubborn as they come. “Still grumpy I see.” He took the seat beside her. “It sucks when you can’t do the things you’re used to doing. At least, not without a lot of work.”
“Yes, it does. But forgive me, you look pretty hale and hearty. How would you know?”
Asher simply pulled up his pants leg to expose his prosthetic leg.
The woman stared for a moment and then looked at him ruefully. “Well, shit. I’m sorry. Open mouth insert—” She broke off and muttered, “Shit, shit, shit. I did it again. Just ignore me. I’m an idiot.”
Unoffended, Asher laughed and offered his hand. “Asher Chapman.”
She shook it and said, “Jessie McBride.” Then she smiled.
He blinked and sucked in a breath. Damn. Who knew a smile could totally transform a woman’s face?

What do you want people to take away from reading this book?

I’d like people to have a greater appreciation for the sacrifices made by our military. I’d also like them to consider helping a veterans’ service organization or animal rescue, military or police dogs, ASPCA or some other service or rescue operation involving veterans and/or animals.

What are you currently working on? What other releases do you have planned?

I’m working on a new series set in Whiskey River, Texas. The Texas True series. The first book is called Texas Forged and is about Gabe Walker, the well-known metal artist and Chantel Chandler, co owner of Fallen Angels lingerie shop. Gabe has been in love with Chantel since they were in high school together, although Chantel never knew it. They both moved on and the book starts when Chantel tries to matchmake for Gabe and another woman but winds up fascinated with him herself. The next book in the series is Truly, Madly Texas, an enemies to lovers book with Chase Walker (one of Gabe’s brothers) and Emma Slade. The third is Her True Texas Hero, about Cole Walker–prodigal son of the Walker family and Alexis March, daughter of one of Whiskey River’s well-known and wealthy families.

Thanks for blogging at HJ!

Giveaway: An ebook copy of Heart of the Texas Warrior and Tule swag (US only)

To enter Giveaway: Please complete the Rafflecopter form and Post a comment to this Q: Do you have a favorite type of romance, such as wounded hero/heroine, second chance at love, enemies to lovers, military romance, cowboy/cowgirl or something else?

 
a Rafflecopter giveaway

 
 

Excerpt from Heart of the Texas Warrior:

Blind dates suck.
Jessie McBride knew that better than anyone. But even knowing this, when Amanda Wheatridge, an old college friend, wanted to set Jessie up with a friend of hers, she’d said yes. Amanda knew her, right? She wouldn’t deliberately set her up with a bum, right?
So on a cold, dreary day in early January, Jessie had driven over to Austin to meet her date at a steak house. She’d insisted on going to Austin rather than meeting her date in Last Stand because she felt more in control that way. Besides, there was a new saddle and tack store she’d been wanting to go to and hadn’t yet had the chance. So this had seemed like the perfect opportunity. She wanted a new saddle, though she didn’t need one. But hey, since when did need have anything to do with it?
Jessie gave Amanda credit. He wasn’t a bum. Or a jerk. Dexter Jackson was a nice guy. He was cute. He was pleasant. And they’d had absolutely nothing in common. He was city; she was country. He was a partner in a high-powered law firm. Jessie raised horses and rescued mustangs. Jessie’s idea of a good time was throwing back a couple of cold ones at the Saloon in Last Stand and talking horses or sports with whoever happened to be around. Dex’s idea of fun was going to a fancy restaurant—he apologized because the steak house was casual and nothing special—or God forbid, the opera. Jessie liked loud, kicking, country music. Or barring that, soulful and sad country. She could also do country rock. Maybe even a little bluegrass. But opera? No way.
As for the steak house, the food was good, which in Jessie’s opinion trumped any amount of fancy.
Jessie wasn’t sure if she or Dex had been more bored. At least the date hadn’t been a total loss. Regardless of Dex’s reservations about the restaurant, she’d had a really good steak dinner. After driving over early, she’d enjoyed exploring the new store, although she hadn’t bought a saddle. And since Dex was no more interested in her than she was in him, she’d left shortly after dinner. No trauma, no drama.
When she started home it had been misting but now the weather had turned to a drizzle with intermittent showers of driving rain, very common in January in the Hill Country. The near-freezing drizzle made the roads treacherous but luckily not a lot of people were traveling tonight. One of Jessie’s favorite country songs came on the radio. She cranked up the volume and sang along with it, happy to be going home to her horses and her warm, comfy bed. She had the place to herself since her parents were on an open-ended anniversary trip to Australia and New Zealand.
There was a three-way intersection sign indicating that just up ahead a side road dead-ended into the two-lane highway Jessie was traveling on. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of lights and a small moving truck going fast, heading straight for the highway. There’s no way he can stop, not at that speed on these roads. She slowed, put steady pressure on her brakes, but she knew she couldn’t stop without skidding or spinning. She had to hope the truck could stop or at least slow down before it hit her. When it was clear that wasn’t going to happen, she stomped on her brakes, skidded and—
The truck slammed into her. The noise was horrendous, a screeching and crumpling of metal. Her truck spun out, her air bag deployed, and a split second later she felt a pain so intense she blacked out.
Jessie opened her eyes and tried to think where she was. Oh, God, what happened? I hurt all over.
Still groggy, she tried to move but couldn’t. Her leg was stuck between her seat and the crumpled door of her truck, and her airbag was in the way. Glass shards from the broken side window were everywhere. She tried to wipe them off her face but it hurt too much so she quit.
She looked out the window and saw a van with its front end smashed, sitting in the middle of the highway. A wreck. She’d been in a wreck. The pain was agonizing. She heard someone yelling but couldn’t understand it, so she blocked it out, concentrating on getting herself out of the truck. She tried to turn her upper body but it hurt so much she couldn’t. She was stuck like glue. She put her hands on her leg, thinking she might pull free, but her hands slipped. Wet. Sticky. Blood, she thought, looking at her hand by the light of her dashboard. Fabulous, I could be bleeding to death.
“Help.” No one answered. Get me out of here! The world tilted and faded to black.

Asher Chapman was no more than a minute or so away when he saw—and heard—the wreck. A small do-it-yourself moving van broadsided a pickup. The pickup spun and landed in a ditch but it didn’t roll. It sat upright, if severely mangled. The van was in the middle of the highway, its front end smashed. He pulled up as close to the wreck as he could without disturbing the scene and parked. “Stay, Maggie,” he told the golden retriever in the seat beside him. His dog didn’t need to be poking around with all that glass and metal scattered everywhere. He went to see what he could do.
The moving van’s door was open. There was a man talking on his phone, gesticulating wildly.
“Are you all right?” he shouted, heading for the pickup. From what Asher could see he looked okay but you never knew.
“Yes, yes, I’m not hurt.” He turned away, back to the phone and continuing to yammer.
“Have you checked the other driver?”
“Yes, she’s unconscious. Hell, she might be dead for all I know. I’m on the phone with 911.”
Ignoring him for the moment, Asher went to the mangled pickup and reached through the broken window to put his fingers on the driver’s neck. She had a pulse, thank God. Fast and thready, but she was definitely alive. He turned his head and shouted at the other driver, “She’s alive but we need EMS here ASAP.”
“I don’t know where we are! Some damn highway out in the middle of nowhere!”
Great. The bozo didn’t even know where he was. “Give me the phone.” He had to repeat himself three times but the man finally brought him the phone. He quickly told the dispatcher their location. “Two people involved in the accident. One seems okay, he’s walking around but the other is unconscious and possibly trapped in her truck.”
After ending the call, he tossed the phone to the man, who seemed to be in shock if being rooted to the spot was any indication. But he was at least walking around. This poor woman was still unconscious. He tried to open the driver’s door but couldn’t budge it. He went around and opened the other door and crawled inside.
Asher shoved the airbag closest to him out of the way to get to the driver. He pulled a pocketknife out of his jeans. He felt for her pulse again, relieved to find she was still alive. “That’s one good thing,” he muttered. If the state of the truck was any indication, she could be seriously hurt. Not to mention she was still unconscious. He could see her in the indirect light from his headlights, though not well, partly due to the blood covering her face. “Ma’am, can you hear me?”
She didn’t answer so he cut through the airbag closest to him and yanked it all the way out of the way. What he saw wasn’t good. Her leg was wedged between her seat and the door. She was bleeding from a variety of places, including her leg. He’d bet anything it was broken. He took off his jacket and yanked his sweatshirt over his head to try to staunch the blood flow from her leg.
She cried out when he put pressure on it, which he took as a good sign. After having served in Iraq and Afghanistan he knew a bit about first aid.
Her eyes fluttered open and she stared at him in confusion. “What—where—what’s wrong?”
“You’ve been in a car accident. Don’t try to move. EMS will be here shortly.” He hoped. “They’ll take care of you.”
“My leg. I can’t move it.”
“Don’t try,” he repeated. “You’re going to need help getting out.” He was still holding pressure on her leg.
“I—God, it hurts.”
“I think it might be broken. Don’t try to move,” he repeated. He thought about seeing if he could get her out, but he didn’t want to make things worse by moving her. Best to let EMS take care of it. Besides, he was fairly sure they would need tools to pry her out of the wreck. And possibly a tourniquet on her leg.
She put her hand on her leg and moaned. “Oh, shit…I’m bleeding. What are you doing?”
“Holding pressure on your leg. It’s wedged in between your seat and the truck door, so you’re not going anywhere until EMS gets here.”
“I can do that,” she said haltingly, putting her hands on his blood-soaked sweatshirt.
“No you can’t. Be still. Help is coming. They’ll get you out of there and take care of you.”
She was quiet a moment. “Did you—A truck hit me. Was it you?”
“No. I was a few hundred feet away when it happened. The other driver’s okay.” Not hurt. No, only the driver of the truck he ran into was hurt. The man obviously didn’t have a freaking clue how to drive the van. Or where the hell he was, for that matter, Asher thought grimly.
“He’s not…hurt?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Typical,” she mumbled.
True. But at least the guy hadn’t run. Although, his truck might be messed up enough that he couldn’t have if he’d wanted to.
“They’re close,” he said, hearing sirens.
She didn’t respond. She’d passed out again.

Asher Chapman grimaced as he walked into Jameson Hospital and turned down the hallway that led to his prosthetist’s office and the physical therapy clinic next to it. I’m going to be really glad to get that new leg. I shouldn’t have waited so long. I’m surprised this one hasn’t fallen apart.
Close enough.
Standing in front of the door to the prosthetist’s office, which also doubled as the physical therapy clinic’s waiting room, was a woman wearing sweats with crutches and a long braid of dark brown hair hanging down her back. He figured she was going to physical therapy and wondered how she managed to make sweatpants look good. He also wondered if the crutches were a new thing since she seemed to be struggling to open the door and get herself and her crutches through it.
He stepped up and attempted to hold the door for her but she snapped at him, “I’m perfectly capable of opening my own damn door.”
Oookay. He caught a glimpse of flashing brown eyes, narrowed in irritation. He let go and stepped back to watch her struggle. She was a Texan. He knew that from her drawl. Usually, women who didn’t like a man opening doors or pulling out chairs for them, and other niceties that were drummed into a good Southern boy’s head, weren’t from the south. Southern women were used to it.
Finally, still cussing inventively under her breath, she managed to get the door open and herself inside. Asher followed her. She stopped at the receptionist’s window to sign in then took a seat.
“Hi, Delores,” Asher said to the receptionist. “How’s it going?” He’d wanted to see the woman’s name on the sign-in sheet of stickers but Delores Daughtry was far too efficient and had already taken off the sticker.
“Can’t complain. Where is Maggie?” she asked, referring to Asher’s dog. Maggie wasn’t technically a service dog, but he took her everywhere he was allowed to. Although she wasn’t a licensed service dog she was a therapy dog and invaluable to Asher in a number of ways. Not the least of which was helping him through bad spells.
“You know females. She’s getting her hair done,” he said with a grin.
“Make sure you bring her next time. You know we love seeing her.”
“Don’t worry. I will.” He didn’t like being without Maggie but he could handle it during the day if he had to. Nights were a different matter.
“Jerry’s still with another patient. I can call you when he’s ready for you,” Delores said.
“Thanks.” His physical therapist wasn’t always on time but he always made up for it by adding the amount of time he’d missed to the end of his hour. Asher liked him. As much as you could like someone who tortured you whenever you saw him, anyway. Today would be different, though, since they’d be adjusting his new leg. Still not a picnic but not too bad.
Ms. Independent sat scowling at nothing in particular. Most men would have left her alone, but not Asher. He walked over to her and asked politely, “Is this seat taken?”
“Does it look taken?”
Her eyes were a dark, chocolate brown, set in a classically pretty face with delicate features and a firm chin he suspected was as stubborn as they come. “Still grumpy I see.” He took the seat beside her. “It sucks when you can’t do the things you’re used to doing. At least, not without a lot of work.”
“Yes, it does. But forgive me, you look pretty hale and hearty. How would you know?”
Asher simply pulled up his pants leg to expose his prosthetic leg.
The woman stared for a moment and then looked at him ruefully. “Well, shit. I’m sorry. Open mouth insert—” She broke off and muttered, “Shit, shit, shit. I did it again. Just ignore me. I’m an idiot.”
Unoffended, Asher laughed and offered his hand. “Asher Chapman.”
She shook it and said, “Jessie McBride.” Then she smiled.
He blinked and sucked in a breath. Damn. Who knew a smile could totally transform a woman’s face? “McBride? Any relation to Spencer McBride?”
She nodded. “One of my brothers. Obviously you know each other.”
“Spencer volunteers sometimes to help me out. He’s a good man.” Was that why she looked familiar? A family resemblance to her brother? He wouldn’t have said they looked much alike.
“He is,” she agreed. “Do you live in Last Stand?”
“No. I live in Whiskey River,” he said, naming a town about twenty minutes east of Last Stand. “My prosthetist is here. I’m picking up my new leg.”
“Is something wrong with your old one?”
“No. Other than it’s worn out. They have to be replaced periodically and some of us are harder on them than others.”
“What in the world do you do to wear out a prosthetic leg?”
He grinned. “Anything we want.” Which wasn’t a lie. He could run, hike, bike, and any number of other things. A number of people in the service even redeployed after losing a limb, though Asher hadn’t.
She studied him for a moment. “Have we met? You look familiar.”
“Not technically.” But he knew who she was now and why she was familiar. She’d been lying on a gurney the last time he’d seen her, basically covered in blood and surrounded by EMTs. “Were you in a wreck a few weeks ago? Out on Highway 290 and Ransom Road?”
“Yes, some idiot broadsided me. How did you—” She broke off and her eyes widened. “You’re him. The man who stopped and helped.”
“I didn’t do much. There wasn’t much I could do.”
“Yes you did. You held pressure on my leg wound. Which I was told was important and helped make sure I didn’t bleed out before the EMTs got there.”
“I don’t think you’d have bled out but it seemed like the best thing to do.”
“I owe you a sweatshirt, by the way. They threw it away.”
“Don’t worry about it. I consider it a sacrifice to a good cause.”
“The paramedics said if you hadn’t told the dispatcher where we were they’d never have found us. The other driver called it in but he had no clue where we were.”
“He didn’t. And I could see he was seconds away from losing it completely. So I took the phone.” Asher added, “I’m glad we ran into each other. It was a nasty accident. I tried to find out what happened to you but no one would tell me. I didn’t know your name so I couldn’t even claim to be kin.”
“I’m glad we ran into each other too. I’ve wanted to thank you. And I’m sorry I was so—” she raised an eyebrow “—I think you called it grumpy—when you tried to hold the door for me.”
Asher grinned. “That’s all right. I’ve been known to be a little grumpy myself when I’m frustrated.”
“I’d have been nicer if I’d realized who you were.”
He waved that comment away. “I’m guessing you have a broken femur.” What he recalled from the accident made it very likely.
“Yes. Broken in three places but the rod and pins the surgeon put in are supposed to help it heal completely. Someday,” she added unhappily. “The only good thing is because of the operation at least I’m not in a cast.”
“Even without a cast that’s rough.”
“Yeah, it hasn’t been fun. But it’s better now.”
“Really?” He could see her struggling whether to give her standard answer or admit the truth.
She shrugged, apparently opting for truth. “Compared to when it first happened, it is. I was non-weight-bearing for the first two weeks and even now can’t put much weight on it, which is a pain in the butt. And it still hurts like a bitch most of the time.”
“That’s not surprising. It’s still pretty fresh.”
She shrugged again and changed the subject. Sort of. “How did you lose your leg?”
“IED. Iraq.” A simple explanation for something that hadn’t been simple at all.
“I thought you might be military. Thank you for your service.”
He never knew what to say when people thanked him. Joining the military had been his choice—mostly, anyway. But it had been the perfect life for him. Until it wasn’t. “How did you know?” he asked. He’d been told that before but he’d never asked what it was that gave him away.
“It’s partly your military bearing. You hold yourself differently. You’re relaxed but you still look like you’re ready for anything. But it’s mostly your eyes. You look like you’ve seen a lot. And you’re not a man to mess with.”
Surprisingly shrewd observation. And accurate. Jessie McBride was not only pretty but also smart. Very interesting.
“Asher, Jerry is ready for you now,” the receptionist said.
“Typical. The one time I wish he’d keep me waiting and he doesn’t.”
Jessie laughed. “It was nice meeting you. Maybe we’ll see each other around.”
Don’t worry, Jessie McBride. We definitely will.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
 
 

Book Info:

A match made in heaven…

When strong, independent cowgirl Jessie McBride meets former Green Beret Asher Chapman while doing PT for her broken leg, the two share an instant bond. Jessie rescues and raises mustangs, while Asher established and runs a foundation that matches veterans with shelter animals. The immediate, fiery physical connection between them is even stronger.

A conflict born in hell

Unlike the girlfriend who left him after discovering the full extent of his injuries, Asher knows Jessie can handle his physical wounds. But he doesn’t believe any woman could handle the secret he can’t even face himself. Much as he wants her…and is becoming convinced he loves her, he can’t risk disclosing what haunts him.

Jessie can’t understand why Asher emotionally pulls her close only to push her away again. Can this wounded warrior learn to trust Jessie to love all of him before he drives her away for good?

Book Links: Amazon | B&N | iTunes | Kobo | Google |
 
 

Meet the Author:

Eve Gaddy is the national bestselling, award winning author of more than twenty-five novels. A member of Romance Writers of America’s Honor Roll for Bestselling authors, her books have won and been nominated for awards from Romantic Times, Golden Quill, Bookseller’s Best, Holt Medallion, Daphne Du Maurier and more. She was nominated for a Romantic Times Career Achievement Award for Innovative Series romance and won the 2008 Romantic Times Career Achievement award for Series Storyteller of the year. Eve’s books have sold over a million copies worldwide and been published in many foreign countries. Eve lives in East Texas with her husband of many years.
Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | GoodReads |