Archive for the ‘PTSD’ Category

BOXCAR CHRISTMAS by Lindsay McKenna blog and contest!

January 5, 2018

BOXCAR CHRISTMAS by Lindsay McKenna
a deep, incisive blog on why I wrote this book. And there’s a giveaway contest as well!

http://harlequinjunkie.com/spotlight-giveaway-boxcar-christmas-by-lindsay-mckenna/

http://www.lindsaymckenna.com

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EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT #3 OF CHAPTER 1 BOXCAR CHRISTMAS by Lindsay McKenna

December 18, 2017

EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT #3 OF CHAPTER 1 BOXCAR CHRISTMAS by Lindsay McKenna

Exclusive excerpt #3

12.18.17

Travis Ramsey was behind the counter of Ramsey Fishing Guides when the bell above the door tinkled, telling him he had an early morning visitor. His fishing guide business was mostly dormant during this time of the year and he had little to do over the coming winter months. Next April when the snows left the Bitterroot Valley where Hamilton sat, fishermen from around the world would stream in to take advantage of the world-class trout in the creeks and river. Looking up, he saw a young woman, her short black hair emphasizing the paleness of her features. Straightening, he saw her look around the large, two story building. As her blue gaze met his, he frowned. She was wearing an Army jacket. A real one, with patches that he quickly recognized. Had she bought it at an Army-Navy store or was she the real deal? She was tall, her shoulders thrown back, wearing a heavy Army rucksack on her back. His gaze dropped to her long legs wrapped in denim to her boots. Those were Army boots. There was something about her, a sense that she was probably ex-military. So was he.

“Can I help you?” he called, walking toward the end of the maple counter that had been in his family since the late 1800’s. He saw her blue eyes narrow upon him, silently evaluating him. There was a glittering intelligence in them, something he rarely saw outside the military. Her fingers tightened around the strap of her rucksack curved across her shoulder. He’d been a Delta Force operator and missed nothing. If she was ex-Army, she didn’t act like office personnel at all. No, she was carefully assessing him on every potential level as he was her. There had been women in Delta Force for over a decade. She certainly behaved like an operator and his respect for her was already amping up. He halted at the end of the counter. “I’m Travis Ramsey. How may I help you?”

The woman looked disheveled, but clean, her clothes showing wear and tear. Something pinged his intuition as she headed toward him, her lips set in a line that suggested she was afraid of his response to whatever she wanted or needed from him. Travis couldn’t prove it, but he never dismissed an intuitive hit. It had saved his life way too many times.

“I’m Jesse Myers. I was walking in the woods along the Bitterroot River when I saw a red caboose in the nearby meadow. I went to the county Recorder’s office here in Hamilton to find the owner and they said it belonged to you.” She hesitated and then said, “I’m looking for a place to rent. I have a part time job at Katie’s Koffee Bean down the street. I can’t afford much, but I would take good care of that boxcar if you’re open to renting it to me.”

Stunned by her request, he nodded, watching fear and hope alternate in her eyes. “You did your homework.”

Jesse managed a weak smile. “It’s my nature. I fell in love with the caboose and thought it would be a great place to stay. I’m not making enough money to rent something in town, yet. I could clean it up, maybe paint it and repair some of the things inside and make it livable once more. I’m pretty good with mechanical and electrical stuff.”

Travis liked her low, husky voice. She might be fearful that he’d say no, but she stood her ground and kept good eye contact with him. “You have family around here?” Hamilton was a town of four-thousand plus people and he knew all of them because his family was one of the first to settle in this town.

Shaking her head, she said, “No, sir, I don’t. I was born and raised in Billings, Montana, and that’s where my folks live.”

Things didn’t add up. “And you’ve come to Hamilton to get a job?” Travis knew there were no jobs after tourist season, which ended in late September and didn’t begin again until the first of April. Everyone who worked here was seasonal. What was her story?

“Yes, sir, I have. Growing up, my parents favorite place to go for a weekend or a vacation was Hamilton. I’ve always loved this small town, the people, and how it’s surrounded by nature.” She gave a slight shrug. “I’m not a city person even though I was born in Billings. I need the outdoors, the woods, the water and the quiet.”

She appealed to him on so many levels that Travis felt momentarily rocked by that unexpected awareness. Jesse’s short hair was mannish in cut and that triggered something in him that he hoped to explore with her. “Listen, I’ve got an espresso machine at the rear of the store. Why don’t we go back there, have a cup of coffee and we can talk?” He gestured toward the front door. “There isn’t going to be anyone coming in today. I just bought a half-dozen fresh pastries from the Las Palomas Bakery next door. Let’s talk further in my office?” He wasn’t looking for a woman, but damned if Jesse Myers didn’t call strongly to him, man-to-woman. She was clearly mature for her age, had morals and values because she went to the county office to find out who owned that caboose and then asked to rent it. He’d seen some vets who passed through the area in the summer who squatted and used the caboose, never asking if they could stay there or not. He liked her honesty.

“Well…”

He gestured toward the other end of the store. “Come on. It’s early and I don’t know about you, but hot coffee is something we can all use this time of morning.” Military people were coffee hounds of the first order. He saw her eyes widen momentarily, those thick dark lashes emphasizing them. Pleased, he saw the offer appealed to her.

“Sounds good, Mr. Ramsey.”

“Call me Travis and you can put the ‘sir’ away, too. I’m ex-Army. Are you?” he asked, walking down the length of the counter. He met her at the other end and opened the door to the tourist area of the shop. The waiting room was large, lots of wooden chairs with cushions spaced neatly around the perimeter. At one end was a long table filled with paper coffee cups, boxes of assorted teas, sugar, cream, and spoons, and a very expensive espresso machine. “Put your rucksack on a chair and have a seat,” he invited. Partly shutting the door, he went and turned the machine on. “Coffee? Espresso? What’s your poison?” He grinned a little, wanting the tension she carried to dissolve. He saw her gently set the fifty-pound pack on the floor next to the chair where she sat down.

“Just plain coffee is fine. Black. Thank you.”

Her manners were all military and Travis nodded, getting busy making her that coffee. “Reach over and grab yourself a donut or two,” he said, pointing to a box near where she was seated. “Help yourself. Alex Delgado, the daughter of Hector and Maria, now runs the bakery and she’s known as the queen of pastries around Hamilton. They all taste great.” Jesse was a tall, big boned woman and he noticed how the wrinkled Army jacket hung on her frame. He saw her look wistfully at the pastries and lick her full lower lip. Her hands were taut against the thighs of her jeans. She was hungry. The realization hit him hard. In black ops, it was the little things, jigsaw puzzle pieces that alone, didn’t tell much. But as an operator in Afghanistan for far too long, it was all these tidbits that came together to paint a fuller picture of a situation. Or in the case of Jesse, that she was definitely an Army vet. There was no question in his mind about that.

Further, she had hesitated momentarily at the door to the coffee room to thoroughly evaluate it. This told him she was clearly an operator, not some office assistant. Maybe she was an Intelligence officer or maybe an operator out in the field like himself? When she came into the room after sweeping it thoroughly in a moment with her gaze, she deliberately sat down in one corner, at the end of the table, her back up against a wall, facing the only exit door. An operator always did that. As he put the coffee into the machine, placing a white paper cup beneath the spout, he began to cobble more of her story together in his head. If she’d been in combat, more than likely she had PTSD. The fact that she wasn’t at home after leaving the Army told him that. He had many friends, ex-Delta operators, who had their marriages go bust after coming off a deployment because of the years of accumulated PTSD and being unable to adjust to civilian life again. They couldn’t go home to their parents, either, because they wouldn’t understand the flashbacks, the nightmares, and the ongoing anxiety they carried in them 24/7/365, either.

His mouth flexed in sympathy as he watched her from the corner of his eye. She rose in one fluid motion and picked up a paper napkin, her long, elegant looking fingers hovering over the mouth-watering array of pastries. When she leaned over, her jacket opened and he saw she was wearing a desert tan shirt he was very familiar with. It was an operator’s shirt, with camouflage print on both long sleeves and a tan torso core of one color. Yeah, she was black ops, no question.

“Where were you stationed in Afghanistan?” he asked, turning and placing the steaming brew on the table next to where she’d sat down.

Jesse froze for a second, transfixed by the man’s large, slightly narrowed gray eyes as he buttonholed her with that question. His dark brown hair was cut military short, his beard clipped close, showing off his square face and giving him an air of dangerousness. Trying to slough off her shock that he knew what she was in the Army, she replied, “Nangarhar Province.” Tensing, she saw several emotions flit across his face. How the hell would he know that about her? She hadn’t answered his question earlier about being in the Army. The chocolate éclair teased her wide-open senses. Her mouth watered. The scent of the sugar, vanilla pudding and chocolate was too much to resist and she bit slowly into it, savoring it as if her life depended upon it. Closing her eyes, she made a humming sound in the back of her throat. The world stopped in that moment as she tasted the luscious, thick chocolate coating. He finally swallowed, feeling it hit her hungry stomach, the urgent amount of strength that it created within her as the glucose shot into her system.

Slowly, her senses moved outward once more and she heard Travis tinkering with the espresso machine, the fragrance of chocolate surrounding her as the machine hissed and steamed. Opening her eyes, she saw he was making a large mocha latte. He was a tall man, at least six-foot-tall and broad shouldered. The blue plaid flannel cowboy shirt he wore stretched against his powerful chest, with a black leather vest worn over the shirt. He was someone who was in top shape, probably in his late twenties, she would guess. There were a lot of crinkles at the corners of his gray eyes, telling her he was outside a lot. She liked his short dark brown hair that sported reddish strands among them.

She decided to take a closer inspection of him because no one was a mind reader. His hands were large, square and calloused. When he made a gesture, she saw that he sported a thick callous on the inside of his right index finger, his trigger finger. Black ops all had that telltale sign. She had it on hers, as well. And he might have spotted it on her hand after she’d removed her gloves. When she’d come into the store, she’d seen him suddenly shift almost invisibly, into a heightened space of alertness aimed at her. It was nothing obvious, but her senses were far too honed not to pick it up and now, she was beginning to put together that this man standing in a cowboy shirt, jeans and scarred, well-worn leather boots, was black ops himself, not regular Army–otherwise he wouldn’t have recognized who she was. Questions came, but she sat on them. Right now, she needed a place to rent. Besides, he’d probably find her personal questions rude.

END OF INSTALLMENT #3!

Stay tuned for next Monday’s installment #4 BOXCAR CHRISTMAS on 12.25.17!!

Have you missed the 1st Exclusive Excerpt?
Go here: https://wp.me/pBmdA-Dpt

Have you missed the 2nd Exclusive Exerpt?
https://wp.me/pBmdA-DpC

If you missed Lindsay’s Blog on the “Story behind the story” of BOXCAR CHRISTMAS?
Go here: https://wp.me/pBmdA-Dpp

Happy Holidays!

http://www.lindsaymckenna.com

PRE-ORDER: BOXCAR CHRISTMAS on all platforms except for Google
paperback and ebook and audio!

EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT #2 BOXCAR CHRISTMAS by Lindsay McKenna

December 11, 2017

CHAPTER 1—continued
BOXCAR CHRISTMAS
Exclusive excerpt 2
12.11.17

Jesse opened the door, feeling guilty about trespassing. It creaked as she pushed it open. Stepping inside, she shut the door and turned, peering around the gloomy interior of the caboose because the sun still hadn’t risen above the carpet of evergreens on the slope above where it sat. She spotted a propane gas stove, a table with two simple, carved wooden chairs nearby, and a bed at the other end of it. In the middle of the car was a kitchen sink and opposite the sink was a long leather couch. To her delight, there was also a rocking chair and an overstuffed leather chair that probably housed a lot of field mice, the stuffing looking like popcorn along the thin, separating seams of leather. The couch was long enough to sleep on and was a possibility because the mattress on that bed looked very old and needed to be replaced. But she considered it a far better upgrade to her tent.

It was dusty and dirty, mouse pellets scattered here and there along the dulled oak floor. Some parts of the oriental carpet had been eaten into, probably by mice who took those fibers to make a warm nest somewhere else in the car. Walking to the other end of the caboose, she saw that the bedroom was roomy with a full-sized bed in it. A few blankets that were probably once folded at the bottom were now open and spread haphazardly across bed. Some of the drawers were partially opened, and appeared to be empty and in dire need of some deep cleaning.

This caboose could become a good place to protect her from the coming winter, and she could buy a tank of propane to keep the boxcar warm instead of freezing to death from hypothermia in her tent. Not wanting to think about her downfall during the last year she had been in the Army when all her hopes and dreams were smashed and shattered, Jesse walked toward the center of the caboose and studied the ivory colored Formica counter that surrounded the double aluminum sink. This was a place that could be cared for once again. Brought back to life. Seeing herself in the same condition as this boxcar made her want to stay here and use it as a place to begin to heal from her recent past. The last year of her enlistment in the Army had turned into a nightmare, because she’d been out of control, unable to fit in and be ‘normal’ in order to perform her duties.

She mentally calculated her weekly salary and compared it to what a tank of propane gas would cost, plus having to buy food, and needing a source of water in order to survive. The numbers churned in her head. Maybe some blankets and a pillow would be a nice addition as well. She’d seen a Goodwill store in Hamilton that would be the perfect place to pick up used bedding. Her parents had wanted to give her money to survive on until she could get a good job and manage her life once more, but she’d refused it. They had worked hard for their savings and Jesse didn’t want to steal from their nest egg meant for retirement. Maybe she could call them in a couple of weeks if she could keep this new job and ask for a loan. And then she would pay it back or else. Jesse had never taken a handout in her life. She’d always worked hard for everything she’d earned, just like her parents had.

The morning light filtered in through the windows of the caboose, illuminating the interior. She could see the electric lights along both walls, sconces that still had a hurricane lamp in each of them–dirty but still looking usable. There were no electric lines out here and she looked around for a generator outside somewhere, but saw nothing. At another time, there must have been one because the sconces would only work if there had been a generator present. Besides, even if there had been one, she couldn’t afford to pay for the gasoline needed to run it. And she didn’t have any wheels. She had to walk everywhere, no matter what the weather did around her. Still, she felt a trickle of hope because the oak tongue-and-groove ceiling looked solid–there were no leaks along it to indicate water had gotten inside, and that was good news.

Stepping carefully to the meadow-facing side of the car, she grazed one of the windows with her fingertips. They were in dire need of a good cleaning and the insulation around the frames needed to be replaced so heat wouldn’t leak out and make the car drafty. The tatty old red and yellow Oriental rug beneath her boots was smudged with dirt and hadn’t been swept for a long, long time. She looked around and spotted a long, vertical door near the kitchen table. Going over to it, she opened one side panel of the door. To her delight, there was not only an ancient looking broom, but dust clothes hanging off hooks, a mop, two small aluminum buckets and several usable sponges. Everything she’d need to clean up this place.

She treaded lightly, her Army boots heavy and clunky, the floor creaking here and there. Jesse closed the closet door, turned and simply absorbed this small, comfy looking place. It could truly become a temporary home for her. Her eyes adjusted to the low dawn light, and she realized this was more than a fishing and hunting cabin. The small kitchen table against the wall was still covered with a dusty red and white checkered tablecloth. A pair of cut glass salt and pepper shakers stood in the middle of it. On a shelf above the kitchen sink, she saw dust-laden, brightly colored Fiesta dishes. To her right, were more shelves that held a set of bowls, a couple of aluminum pans and some cookbooks. Jesse liked the feeling in this caboose. It truly had been someone’s home once. The person probably lived here full time, her intuition told her. Maybe years earlier it had been a warm, cozy house, but now, it had been abandoned for some unknown reason, no longer loved and cared for. She wondered who had made this caboose his or her home. She liked the small bathroom next to the bedroom. There was a shower stall in there as well as a Formica counter with an aluminum bowl in it.

The caboose was forty feet long and ten feet wide: four-hundred square feet of living space. It felt like a warm nest to Jesse and she couldn’t explain why this beaten down train car suddenly meant so much to her. She managed a strangled laugh because symbolically and physically, she was beaten down, too. The inside of her looked like the inside of this car. But even in disrepair, the caboose showed the potential of what it could become if a little care and love was bestowed upon it. Was the same true of her? Could that be her outcome as well?

The right thing to do was to walk back into Hamilton, locate the county Recorder’s office and find out who owned the caboose on this property. She needed to know because she wasn’t going to just move in without permission. Even though this train car was in disrepair, it was owned by someone. Maybe, if she could find the owner, she could ask them to allow her to live in it, hoping that the rent wouldn’t be very much and that she could afford it. Jesse adamantly refused to become a squatter. In her world of morals and values, one didn’t just take over a house of any kind without permission and without paying some sort of rent. She already felt guilty enough that she’d entered the place without permission. The door wasn’t locked, but that wasn’t an excuse to trespass. That wasn’t like her, but she was invisibly driven to explore the inside of it.

She turned and she left the caboose, shut the door and carefully made her way down to the concrete slab where it sat. She picked up her heavy pack and unstrapped her tent—there was a lot to do today. This was her off day from work and it would take thirty minutes to walk through the woods to the south end of Hamilton. Hope threaded through her, feeling grateful that she’d miraculously stumbled upon this place. She placed her rolled up tent on the metal and wood platform of the caboose. If she couldn’t find the owner, she would pitch her tent just inside the evergreen tree line for protection from the elements and stay in it, instead. Jesse took out her phone, a gift from her parents, she located the GPS for the caboose. That information would be instrumental in locating the owner. Hitching the heavy knapsack that carried everything she owned in it, Jesse gave the red caboose a wistful farewell look and then turned away, heading into the woods to walk back into Hamilton. Glancing at her watch, she realized that she would have to locate the county seat office and wait until they opened up at nine a.m. END OF INSTALLMENT #2!

Stay tuned for next Monday’s installment #3 BOXCAR CHRISTMAS on 12.18.17!!

Have you missed the 1st Exclusive Excerpt?
Go here: https://wp.me/pBmdA-Dpt

If you missed Lindsay’s Blog on the “Story behind the story” of BOXCAR CHRISTMAS?
Go here: https://wp.me/pBmdA-Dpp

Happy Holidays!

http://www.lindsaymckenna.com

PRE-ORDER: BOXCAR CHRISTMAS on all platforms except for Google
paperback and ebook and audio!

EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT from BOXCAR CHRISTMAS by Lindsay McKenna!

December 4, 2017

Hi Readers
A special series of “gifts” are coming your way between Dec. 4, 2017 and January 1, 2018 when BOXCAR CHRISTMAS is released!

I’m planning a special EXCERPT from this heartwarming Christmas story once a week. Every MONDAY, look for a new except from this book!

EXCERPT #1:
Exclusive Excerpt from Boxcar Christmas by Lindsay McKenna #1

CHAPTER 1

November 1
Hamilton, Montana

“It wasn’t much to look at. The wooden slats that made up the ancient red caboose were weathered, the boxcar sitting on the edge of a flat yellow grass meadow, backed by thousands of evergreens in western Montana. Early November wind whistled and cut at Jesse Myer’s exposed face. She felt the icy morning coldness seep through her rain dampened olive green Army jacket as she emerged cautiously out of the woods. She had discovered the boxcar while hunting rosehips scattered along the banks of the Bitterroot River. It was a source of protein for her tightened, gnawing stomach in want of food.

The large, oval-shaped meadow bordered the water and the rose hips were a substantial source of food when in the back country. She chewed slowly on another one, knowing it was packed with nutrition. Shivering, she felt hope spike through her as she walked out of the woods that lay west of Hamilton, a small hunting and fishing tourist town. She had followed the river in search of a place to pitch her tent outside the city limits.

Standing on the edge of the meadow, she fully surveyed it. It rained at dusk last night and then snowflakes had fallen thick and fast throughout the nighttime hours, and toward dawn the ground was covered with about six inches of the white stuff. As a gray dawn sluggishly crawled upon the eastern horizon, the flakes had turned into a soft, constant rain once more. Most of the snow had melted as the temperature rose, but patches of white still existed here and there–it was an Indian summer event. Jesse sincerely hoped that it meant warmer weather would come into the area and warm it up for a couple of weeks while she hunted for a place to live.
She’d discovered the ancient Union Pacific caboose at the edge of the meadow by accident. There was no telling how old it was, the slats of tongue-and-grove wood that composed its sides were worn , the paint chipped off but still solidly in place despite the harsh winter weather that it had obviously endured over the years. There were no railroad tracks around from what she could see. The under carriage of the caboose had been removed and it had been set upon a rectangular concrete slab, reminding her of the tiny house craze sweeping through her Millennial generation.

Her gaze absorbed the forty-foot long boxcar and she could see that at one time, it had been well cared for. But now, it looked utterly abandoned, the paint dull and peeling off the sturdy oak staves beneath it. Someone had brought this caboose out here. Was it someone who lived in Hamilton? Maybe the owner of this plot of land used it as a cabin to hunt and fish on weekends? Jesse had no idea, but there it was. Maybe it could be a possible home for her instead of the tent she had strapped to the huge knapsack she carried on her back. She wanted to make sure no one was living in it presently and thought about trespassing to find out–even though it went against her grain. Jesse couldn’t explain the allure to do just that.

She called out several times, her voice echoing around the meadow. There was no response or movement from inside the boxcar. The four windows along the meadow side were dirty, and she longed to clean them. Deciding either no one was home or living in it, she curved her hand around the rusted metal railing at the rear platform of the boxcar and took the first tentative step upward. The ends of each wooden step curved upward from age and now rested precariously on the metal frame beneath each one, the nails pulled out by rain and snow over the years. The step groaned. Not that she weighed that much. In the Army, she had been a hundred and sixty pounds; but three months ago, when she received an honorable medical discharge at the end of eight years of service, she had slowly lost at least twenty-five pounds due lack of appetite and no money to buy food. Her Army jacket, the only reminder of her life since age eighteen, hung loosely on her frame.

Her gloves were threadbare, her fingertips numb. She hauled herself up the rest of the creaking wooden steps and leaned forward, cupping her hands around her eyes and peering through the dirty glass of the door to see what was inside the caboose. It was a possible place to live but she had no money for a room rental. She’d just gotten a job at Katie’s Koffee Bean in Hamilton as a dish washer. But it was part time and Jesse had no money yet to rent a room in town, much less an apartment. She had lived in her tent since leaving the Army and was prepared to do it now, but maybe her luck was about to change.”

Stay tuned for more exclusive excerpts from Boxcar Christmas!

Release Date: 1.1.2018
pre-order: now
Visit: http://delos.lindsaymckenna.com/book/boxcar-christmas/ and click on “BEHIND THE STORY” of why I wrote this Holiday novel! Enjoy!

CONTEST with Lindsay McKenna!!

May 8, 2017

Today, I have a fun surprise that I’d like to share with you.

I’ve teamed up with 60 fantastic romantic suspense authors to give away a huge collection of novels to 2 lucky winners, PLUS a Kindle Fire to the Grand Prize winner! 

You can win my novel DREAM OF ME, plus books from authors like Lorielie James and Sharon Hamilton.

Enter the giveaway by clicking here: bit.ly/rom-suspense-may17

Good luck, and enjoy!
Lindsay McKenna
http://www.lindsaymckenna.com 

EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT Wind River Cowboy by Lindsay McKenna!!

March 27, 2017

Hi Readers!!!
I’m so excited! Those who love my contemporary cowboy stories, Book 3, Wind River Cowboy, is finally going to arrive!
Release day: 3.28.17!!

Kira Duval, US Army Special Forces, never expected to fall in love with any man while she worked with an A-team in Afghanistan. But she did. And she never let anyone, not even Weapons Sergeant, Garret Fleming know what lay in her heart for him.

She didn’t know if it was reciprocal because every man on the A-team treated her like their favorite sister. They treated her as an equal and they trusted her without question. Kira knew that if there was any hint of intimacy with Garret, it would fracture the team. And there was no way she was going to do that.

But Fate has a way of intervening and their worlds explode on them during a Taliban attack. Kira saves Garret after he is wounded. In the end, they lose track of one another for three years. Broken by PTSD, Kira is out of the Army and trying to find a job at a Wyoming ranch. And again, her life turns upside down.

EXCERPT from Chapter 1, Wind River Cowboy by Lindsay McKenna:

“Ambush!”

Sergeant Kira Duval’s earpiece rang with the warning
from Army Captain Aaron Michelson, the Special Forces
A team leader. The night was black and an RPG exploded
right in between the two Humvees they were riding in. The
twelve-person team halted and all hell broke loose.
Kira exited the vehicle, hearing the hollow thunk of
another RPG being fired in their direction. She heard more
orders in her earpiece as she threw herself on the muddy
Afghan ground, hands over her head, mouth open.

The night erupted into red, yellow and orange flames as
the second RPG hit the first Humvee, which Aaron was
in. She wanted to scream, but the blast lifted her off the
ground, hurling her several feet, and she started rolling to
minimize the impact. Keeping her mouth open to equalize
the pressure between her lungs and the outside air so they
wouldn’t melt into jelly, Kira had the M4 strapped in a harness
across her chest. She fell hard on her side, the weapon
jamming into her rib cage, making her cry out.

Another explosion erupted. Her eardrums were pounded.
The pain in them caused her to grunt. The shouts, screams
and orders roared into her head. She saw dark shadows
exiting her Humvee, the other four men trying to escape
and run for cover.

Someone jerked her up by the shoulder of her uniform
harness, dragging her along, heading for a group of shadowy
rocks. Gasping, Kira struggled and then lunged to her
feet with the help of Sergeant Garret Fleming, who was at
her side. He was screaming into his mic for the four operators,
ordering them to get to the safety of the rock fortress
just ahead of them.

Another RPG was fired. AK-47 fire was like a fusillade
slamming into the escaping Special Forces survivors. Kira
didn’t have time to cry. The first Humvee was twisted
metal, flames roaring into the dark sky, sending long, dancing
shadows across the muddy soil. She slipped, but Garret
kept a tight gloved hand on her uniform, keeping her on her
feet as they raced three hundred yards to safety. They had
to get cover or they were all dead.

Her mind spun. There had been six men in that first
Humvee. Had any of them made it out? She heard Garret
yelling into the mic for Captain Michelson, but there was
no answer from their leader. Oh, God! She’d lived with this
team for three years. Each of these men were like beloved
brothers to her. They couldn’t be dead. The just couldn’t!

Sobbing, tears burning in her eyes, Garret suddenly
went down. She heard him curse. He released her shoulder,
sending her spinning and falling to the left of him. Bullets
were digging up mud all around them, geyser spouts flung
into the air. They were not only ambushed but surrounded
on half of the area where they were scrambling to find
cover. Landing hard on her knees, she twisted around, the
mud making everything slippery. Kira saw the shadows
of two other A team members running in their direction.
Bullets mowed them down. Screaming, Kira lunged for
Garret, who was grabbing his left leg, blood spurting from
his calf.

Just as she reached Garret on her hands and knees, a
second bullet struck him in the head. He suddenly collapsed,
lifeless, on the ground.

No! I love him! You can’t kill him! You can’t!

Kira grabbed Garret’s shoulder. The man was six foot
two inches tall, two hundred and twenty pounds without
counting the seventy pounds of gear he wore on his body.
Jerking at him, she managed to get to her feet. Adrenaline
gave her the strength of two men and she hauled Garret
behind the rocks that stood five to ten feet tall in a semicircle
around them. She called for their 18 Delta medics.
No answer from either of them. There were two on each
team. Were they both dead?

No!

Amazon
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bn.com
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/wind-river-cowboy-lindsay-mckenna/1124063903?ean=9781420141788

iBooks/Apple
https://linkmaker.itunes.apple.com/en-us/details/1130817588?country=us&mediaType=books&term=Wind+River+Cowboy

Recorded Books, April 1, 2017

Recorded Books, April 1, 2017

RELEASE DAY! Snowflake’s Gift by Lindsay McKenna

February 7, 2017

Hi READERS!
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ABOUT Snowflake’s Gift:

Former Army sergeant Nick Conway returned to his Montana hometown with his retired WMD dog, Snowflake, in tow, hoping to get his life back in order. Snowflake is his touchstone, and keeps him from succumbing to the darkness that haunts him. When he meets Holly McGuire and agrees to help her deliver meals to the elderly, her inner light calls to him, but his demons hold him back from giving in to his attraction. But Snowflake takes an immediate shine to the kindhearted Holly—and he has never led Nick down the wrong path.

HOW I CAME TO WRITE THIS STORY:

Welcome to the Delos Series! SNOWFLAKE’S GIFT is a stand-alone novella. Sometimes, a character comes to me and says, “Hey! Tell my story!” I love all animals. Horses, dogs and cats are my pet favorites (sorry for the pun!)

But it’s about military vets coming home from war, too. And being a Navy veteran myself, active during the Vietnam War (but I stayed in the USA, providing rear support as a meteorologist).

And, I love uplifting Christmas stories about love and happily ever after. These are the reasons I wrote this heartwarming novella. We can all use a lift any time of the year!

Nick Conway, U.S. Army WMD dog handler, has spent years in Afghanistan saving the lives of troops. First with Dude, his yellow Labrador and then with Snowflake, an Australian shepherd. He’s released by the Army due to PTSD. Coming home is a relief and yet, he feels guilty about it. Only home for three weeks, and helping his mother out at her diner in Hamilton, Montana, his life changes for the better.

Holly McGuire is a Delos charity owner in Hamilton. She takes care of many of the elderly shut-in’s who can no longer feed themselves and need other types of services and help. At 25, she has seen a lot of tragedy, so her work to make those less fortunate a little happier, feeds her soul.

When Holly meets Nick at the dishwashing area of the diner on that fateful November day, it is Snowflake who brings them together. Broken and depressed, Nick discovers hope in Holly’s sunshine smile and dancing blue eyes. Santa Clause has a surprising gift in store for both of them. Thanks to Snowflake’s gift!

I’d love to hear from you on what you think about my Christmas novella! Don’t be shy about contacting me via my website, http://delos.lindsaymckenna.com/book/snowflakes-gift/

Please sign up for my newsletter, http://www.lindsaymckenna, (on front page) to stay up with my busy writing schedule!

Let me hear from you about the Culver Family and the Delos series. Happy reading!

CONTEST: http://lindsaymckenna.com/contest/
2.1-2.7.17. Winner to be announced on my FB page 2.8.17!
https://www.facebook.com/AuthorLindsayMcKenna/
contest-swag-you-can-win-lindsay-mckenna

AUDIO: https://tantor.com/author/lindsay-mckenna.html

LINKS:
LINKS
BN.com
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/snowflakes-gift-lindsay-mckenna/1125267515?ean=2940156794072

Amazon.com

Kobo.com
https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/snowflake-s-gift

iBooks/Apple
https://linkmaker.itunes.apple.com/en-us/details/1179641291?country=us&mediaType=books&term=Snowflake%27s+Gift+by+Lindsay+McKenna

Wind River Rancher by Lindsay McKenna EXCERPT #4

January 1, 2017

Happy NEW Year to all my wonderful readers! There’s a lot to look forward to in 2017 with my books, so stay tuned 🙂
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I wanted to give you a New Year’s Day gift– a 4th excerpt from my Wind River Valley Series book. I hope you enjoy it!
Wind River Rancher by Lindsay McKenna
Book 2 of the Wind River Valley Series
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“His anxiety ran him. He had no control over it and he’d
found out quickly, after his discharge, that a stressful job
only tripled the monstrous anxiety that was always there,
always waiting to leap upon him and scatter his thoughts,
his actions.

As he bit into the burger, he closed his eyes, made a low
sound of pleasure in the back of his throat, slumping against
the metal chair, in Nirvana. Reese knew if he gulped it down,
he’d more than likely throw it up, so he tamped down on the
animal desire to gulp. He chewed it slowly, savoring every
last bite of the lettuce, tomatoes, onion, cheddar cheese,
and bacon on it. It took him thirty minutes to clean up
everything. The apple pie was melt-in-your mouth, reminding
him of his mother’s own home-cooked pies.

An old ache centered in his heart. His parents wanted
him home, but God, that had been a disaster. Reese wasn’t
going to make them pay for his PTSD, and they didn’t understand
why he had to leave. He wasn’t the best at talking
about his shame over the symptoms that he couldn’t control.

His father had been in the military, retired, and was
now a hardworking mechanic. He had saved all his life for
retirement, and Reese wasn’t about to take his money that
he’d offered to him. He had to stand on his own two feet,
pull himself up by his bootstraps, and not accept handouts.

As he rose and placed the chair against the wall, he saw
the door open. A young woman with light brown hair,
slightly curly around her oval face, walked in. All his acute
senses focused on her. She was wearing a black baseball
cap, a blue chambray shirt like the one he wore, a heavy
Levi’s jacket, and a pair of loose-fitting jeans that indicated
she had a lush figure hidden beneath them. His heart
jolted as their eyes met briefly. She had sky-blue eyes, just
this side of turquoise, wide set and intelligent. She was
attractive, wore no makeup, but her high cheekbones were
flushed, as if she’d been running or working out hard.

His stomach clenched, and suddenly, Reese worried that
if she was the owner of the Bar C, he might not get the job.
That she’d be afraid of him like so many other women were,
once they saw him. In the Corps, wearing his uniform or
utilities, women had always given him a pleasing look,
scoping him out, their gazes telling him they’d like to know
him a lot better. He almost laughed as he struggled to get
his anxiety corralled. Since he’d fallen from grace, his
scruffy, bearded, homeless look scared the hell out of females.

Reese knew he wasn’t a bad-looking man, but
somehow, no woman could see the real him in his present
state of dishevelment. He would never hurt a woman or
child. But the look in their eyes spoke of exactly that: fear
that he was capable of violence against them. It was a bitter
pill to swallow to be judged by what he wore on the outside
instead of who he really was inside.”

COMING SOON! Wind River Cowboy, Book 3 on 3.28.17!!

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LINKS:
Amazon
https://www.amazon.com/Wind-River-Rancher-Lindsay-McKenna/dp/1420141767/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1478800984&sr=8-1&keywords=Wind+River+Rancher

Kobo.com
https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/wind-river-rancher

BN.com
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/wind-river-rancher-lindsay-mckenna/1123624029?ean=9781420141764

Apple/iBooks
https://linkmaker.itunes.apple.com/en-us/details/1099652774?country=us&mediaType=books&term=Wind+River+Rancher+by+Lindsay+McKenna

EXCERPT 3 from Wind River Rancher by Lindsay McKenna

December 27, 2016

Hi Readers!

RELEASE DAY has finally come for Wind River Rancher!!!

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Now you get to read Reese Lockhart’s story.

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EXCERPT 3
Wind River Rancher by Lindsay McKenna

Wincing, Shay Crawford heard the pain in Reese Lockhart’s tone. “I know . .. I hope that you find the Bar C a place where you can heal,
Mr. Lockhart. You’ll work hard, but you’re with a military
family of sorts. That will help a lot. I know it has the other
three men. They’ve blossomed since coming to the ranch.”
She felt the full warmth of his look and it gently enclosed
her heart, surprising her.

“Thanks to you. To your vision. Or maybe, I should say,
your passion? You can’t do something like this if your heart
isn’t invested in it.”

His understanding and praise enveloped Shay and she
secretly relished it. There was something different about
this vet, and she couldn’t put her finger on it. Maybe Reese
was just very savvy about human nature; it was a part of
who he was. If that was so, then Shay could only imagine
how his PTSD symptoms were tearing him up inwardly. It
was hell on everyone, but a man of his intelligence and
training, a consummate Marine Corps officer, it would be
a hundred times worse. To fall from grace? To lose his
entire career? She was sure he would have been a twenty or
thirty-year Marine, making military service his life.

“My heart is invested in this,” she said, her voice determined.
“For as long as I breathe, the Bar C is going to be a
haven of healing for our men and women who have served.
They deserve no less.”

“Can you tell me about the other vets?”

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SHATTERED BUT STILL FIGHTING TO BE WHOLE ONCE MORE…this is the story of a homeless vet fighting to turn his life around. Shay Crawford, owner of the Bar C, a safe haven for down-on-their-luck vets who can get a wrangling job and retrieve their pride and self-confidence once more.

LINKS:
Amazon
https://www.amazon.com/Wind-River-Rancher-Lindsay-McKenna/dp/1420141767/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1478800984&sr=8-1&keywords=Wind+River+Rancher

Kobo.com
https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/wind-river-rancher

BN.com
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/wind-river-rancher-lindsay-mckenna/1123624029?ean=9781420141764

Apple/iBooks
https://linkmaker.itunes.apple.com/en-us/details/1099652774?country=us&mediaType=books&term=Wind+River+Rancher+by+Lindsay+McKenna

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Excerpt: Wind River Rancher for the HEA/USA Today blog!

December 26, 2016

Hi Readers!
I hope you’ve had a warm, fuzzy Christmas!

I’ve given HEA/USA Today blog an in-depth look at why I wrote Wind River Rancher. The hero, Reese Lockhart, was shattered by PTSD, but still fighting to be whole once more. It is the story of a homeless vet fighting to turn his life around. Shay Crawford, owner of the Bar C, a safe haven for down-on-their-luck vets who can get a wrangling job and retrieve their pride and self-confidence once more.

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Don’t miss this eye-opening and deeply personal blog that I’ve written. It will explain so much as to why I write about our military people and also those with PTSD.

Exclusive excerpt: ‘Wind River Rancher’ by Lindsay McKenna

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LINKS:
Amazon
https://www.amazon.com/Wind-River-Rancher-Lindsay-McKenna/dp/1420141767/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1478800984&sr=8-1&keywords=Wind+River+Rancher
Kobo.com
https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/wind-river-rancher
BN.com
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/wind-river-rancher-lindsay-mckenna/1123624029?ean=9781420141764
Apple/iBooks
https://linkmaker.itunes.apple.com/en-us/details/1099652774?country=us&mediaType=books&term=Wind+River+Rancher+by+Lindsay+McKenna

DON’T MISS ANY BOOKS IN THIS SERIES!
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WHERE YOU CAN FIND ME:
Website: http://lindsaymckenna.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorLindsayMcKenna/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/lindsaymckenna
Newsletter: https://www.mynewsletterbuilder.com/tools/subscription?username=lindsay.mckenna (contest every month!)
Goodreads:
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/55481.Lindsay_McKenna