HTP Summer Reads (Historical Fiction Edition) Promo Post: Radar Girls by Sara Ackerman

WWII historical fiction inspired by the real women of the Women’s Air Raid Defense, RADAR GIRLS follows one unlikely recruit as she trains and serves in secrecy as a radar plotter on Hawaii. A tale of resilience and sisterhood, it sees the battles of the Pacific through the eyes of these pioneering women, and will appeal to fans of Kate Quinn and Pam Jenoff.

An extraordinary story inspired by the real Women’s Air Raid Defense, where an unlikely recruit and her sisters-in-arms forge their place in WWII history.

Daisy Wilder prefers the company of horses to people, bare feet and saltwater to high heels and society parties. Then, in the dizzying aftermath of the attack on Pearl Harbor, Daisy enlists in a top-secret program, replacing male soldiers in a war zone for the first time. Under fear of imminent invasion, the WARDs guide pilots into blacked-out air strips and track unidentified planes across Pacific skies.

But not everyone thinks the women are up to the job, and the new recruits must rise above their differences and work side-by-side despite the resistance and heartache they meet along the way. With America’s future on the line, Daisy is determined to prove herself worthy. And with the man she’s falling in love with out on the front lines, she cannot fail. From radar towers on remote mountaintops to flooded bomb shelters, she’ll need her new team when the stakes are highest. Because the most important battles are fought—and won—together.

This inspiring and uplifting tale of pioneering, unsung heroines vividly transports the reader to wartime Hawaii, where one woman’s call to duty leads her to find courage, strength and sisterhood.

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2

The Bust

Their shack, as Daisy referred to the house, was nestled in a cluster of bent ironwood trees, all by its lonesome. Set back far from the beach to protect it from a direct blast of onshore winds, it still took a constant battering and the salty air and elements had done a fine job reclaiming it. Windowpanes had been blasted opaque, you could see through the back wall, and flowers had taken up residence in the gutters. The siding had gone from forest green to pale green to peeling gray, the roof turned to rust.

When he had first started working up at the ranch, Daisy’s father had somehow persuaded Mr. Montgomery to sell him the small parcel of beachfront property for the price of a bag of sand. Most likely because it was in no-man’s-land between Waialua and the ranch. And because her father had been the best horse trainer in Hawai’i and everyone knew it.

She flung open the front door and ran inside. “Mom?” she called.

All quiet. She tiptoed across the lauhala mat in the living room, avoiding the creaking floorboards. Her mother spent much of her life in one of two states—sleeping or staring out to sea. The bedroom door was cracked and a lump lay under the blankets, pillow over her head. There was no point in trying to wake her, so Daisy ran back outside, hopped on her bike and rode for the stables.

The air was ripe with burnt sugarcane and a scratchy feeling of dread. She bumped along a dirt road as fast as her old bike would carry her. That plume of black smoke above Schofield caused her heart to sink. So many Japanese planes could mean only one thing. An attack or invasion of some kind was happening. But the sky remained empty and she saw no signs of ships on the horizon.

By the time she reached the stables, she had worked out what to tell Mr. Silva—the only person at the ranch who was even close to being a friend—and beg that he help her find Moon. Whether or not he would risk his job was another story. Jobs were not easy to come by, especially on this side of the island. Daisy counted herself lucky to have one. When she rounded the corner by the entrance, she about fell over on her bike. Mr. Silva’s rusted truck was gone and in its place sat Mr. Montgomery’s shiny new Ford, motor running and door open.

As far as old Hal Montgomery was concerned, Daisy was mostly invisible. She had worked for him going on seven years now—since she was sixteen—but she was a girl and girls were fluffy, pretty things who wore fancy dresses and attended parties. Not short-haired, trouser-wearing, outdoorsy misfits. And certainly not horse trainers and skin divers. Nope, those jobs belonged to men. There was also the matter of her father’s death, but she preferred not to think about that.

Should she turn around and hightail it out of there before he caught sight of her? He’d find out eventually, and he would be livid. Daisy pulled her bike behind the toolshed and slipped around the back side of the stables, peering in through a cloudy window. The tension in the air from earlier had dissipated and the horses were all quiet. A tall form stood in front of the old horse—Ka‘ena—she was supposed to ride. It was hard to tell through the foggy pane, but the man looked too tall and too thin to be Hal Montgomery.

Horsefeathers! It was Walker, Montgomery’s son. A line of perspiration formed on the back of her neck and she had the strong urge to flee. Not that Daisy had had much interaction with Walker in recent years. He was aloof and intimidating and the kind of person who made her forget how to speak, but he loved Moon fiercely. Of that she was sure. Just then, he turned and started jogging toward the door. His face was in shadow but it felt like he was looking right at her. She froze. If she ducked away now, he would surely catch the movement. She did it anyway.

She had just made it to her bike when Walker tore out of the tack room with a wild look in his eye. He had a rifle hanging across his chest, and he was carrying two others. He stopped when he saw her. “Hey!” he said.

“Oh, hello, Mr. Montgomery.”

He wore his flight suit, which was only halfway buttoned, like he’d been interrupted either trying to get in it or trying to get out of it. His face was flushed and lined with sweat. “Don’t you know we’ve been attacked? You ought to head for cover, somewhere inland.”

He was visibly shaken.

“I saw the planes. What do you know?” she said.

“Wheeler and Schofield are all shot up, and they did a number on Pearl. Battleships down, bay on fire. God knows how many dead.” His gaze dropped to her body for a moment and she felt her skin burn. There had been no time to change or even think about changing, and she was still in her half-wet swimsuit, hair probably sticking out in eleven directions. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I was worried about the horses,” she said.

“That makes two of us. And goddamn Moon is not in his stall. You know anything about that?”

Taking Moon had been about the dumbest thing she could have done. But at the time, it seemed a perfectly sane idea. The kind of thinking that got her into plenty of trouble over the years. Why hadn’t she learned? She looked at the coconut tree just past him as she spoke. “I have no idea. Perhaps Mr. Silva has him?”

“Mr. Silva went to town last night to see his sister,” he said.

She forced herself to look at him, feeling like she had the word guilty inked onto her forehead. “Looks like you have somewhere to be. You go on, I’ll find Moon. I promise.”

Her next order of business would be scouring the coast and finding that horse before Walker returned. There would be no sleeping until Moon was safely back at the stables.

“I sure hope so. That horse is mighty important to me,” he said.

Tell him!

She was about to come clean, when he moved around her, hopped in the car and slammed the door. He leaned out the window and said, “Something tells me you know more than you’re letting on, Wilder.”

With that, he sped off, leaving her standing in a cloud of red dirt and sand.

In the stables, the horses knew the sound of her footsteps, or maybe they smelled the salt on her hair. A concert of nickers and snorts erupted in the stalls. Daisy went to the coatrack first, and slid on an oversize button-up that she kept there for chilly days. It smelled of hay.

“How is everyone?” she said, stopping at each one to rub their necks or kiss their noses. “Quite a morning, hasn’t it been?”

Peanut was pacing with nostrils flared, and she spent a few minutes stroking his long neck before moving on. Horses were her lifeblood. Feeding, grooming, riding, loving. She only wished that Mr. Montgomery would let her train them—officially, that was. Without being asked as a last resort by Mr. Silva when everyone else had tried. Lord knew she was better than the rest of the guys. When she got to Moon’s stall, all the blood rushed from her head. The door had been left open and two Japanese slippers hung from the knob. She had hidden them in the corner under some straw—apparently not well enough.

Damn.

Just then she heard another car pull up. The ranch truck. A couple of the ranch hands poured out, making a beeline to the stables. Mr. Montgomery followed on their heels with a machete in his hand and a gun on his hip. Daisy felt the skin tighten on the back of her neck. His ever-present limp seemed even more pronounced.

When he saw her, he said, “Where’s Silva?”

No mention that they were under attack.

“In town,” she answered.

“What about Walker?”

“Walker just left in a big hurry,” she answered.

One of the guys had his hunting dog with him. It was a big mutt that enjoyed staring down the horses and making them nervous, as if they needed to be any more nervous right now. Daisy wanted to tell him to get the dog out of there, but knew it would be pointless.

“The hosses in the pasture need to be secured,” Mr. M said.

“Do you need my help?” she offered.

“Nah, you should get out of here. Get home. Fuckers blew up all our planes and now paratroopers are coming down in the pineapple fields. Ain’t no place for a woman right now.”

Daisy wanted to stay and help, but also wanted to get the hell away before he noticed that Moon was not here. “Yes, sir.”

He stopped and sized her up for a moment, his thick brows pinched. “You still got that shotgun of your old man’s?”

“I do.”

“Make sure it’s loaded.”

On her way home, Daisy passed through Japanese camp, hoping to get more information from Mr. Sasaki, who always knew the latest happenings. A long row of cottages lined the road, every rock and leaf in its place. The houses were painted barn red with crisp, white trim. On any given Sunday, there would have been gangs of kids roaming the area, but now the place was eerily empty.

“Hello?” she called, letting her bike fall into the naupaka hedge.

When she knocked and no one answered, she started pounding. A curtain pulled aside and a small face peered out at her and waved her away. Mrs. Sasaki. She was torn, but chose to leave them be. With the whispers of paranoia lately, all the local Japanese folks were bound to be nervous. She didn’t blame them.

This time when Daisy ran up to the shack, her mother was sitting on the porch drinking coffee from her chipped mug.

She was still in her nightgown, staring out beyond the ocean. When she was in this state, a person could have walked into their house and made off with all of their belongings and her mother would not even bat an eye.

Daisy sat down next to her. “Mom, the Japanese Army attacked Pearl Harbor and Wheeler and who knows where else.”

Her mother clenched her jaw slightly, took a sip of her coffee, then set it down on the mango stump next to her chair. “They said it would happen,” she said flatly.

“This is serious, mom. People are dead. Civilians, too. I don’t know how many, but the islands are in danger of being invaded and there are Japanese ships and planes all around. They’re telling us to stay inside.”

A look of worry came over her mom’s face. “You should go find a safer place to stay, away from the coast.”

“And leave you here?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

Her mom shrugged.

She knew Louise couldn’t help it, but a tiny part of Daisy was waiting for that day her mother would wake up and be the old Louise Wilder. The mother of red lipstick and coconut macaroons, of beach bonfires and salty hugs. The one who rode bikes with her daughter to school every day, singing with the birds along the way. The highs and lows had been there before, but now there were only lows and deeper lows.

After some time, her mother finally spoke. “Men, they do the dumbest things.”

“That may be true, but we’re at war. Does that mean anything to you?” Daisy said, her voice rising in frustration.

“Course it does, but what can we do?”

She had a point. Aside from hiding in the house or running away, what other options were there? Used to doing things, Daisy was desperate to help, but how? Their home was under attack and she felt as useful as a sack of dirt.

Louise leaned back. On days like these, she retreated so far into herself that she was unreachable. You could tell by looking in her eyes. Blank and bottomless. Mr. Silva always said that you could see the spirit in the eyes. Dull eyes, dull spirit. That Louise looked this way always made Daisy feel deeply alone. The onshore winds kicked up a notch and ruffled the surface of the ocean. She knew she should stay with her mom, but more than anything, she wanted to go in search of the horse. Moon meant more to her than just the job. She loved him something fierce.

Only one thing was clear: their lives would never be the same.

 

Excerpted from Radar Girls by Sara Ackerman, Copyright © 2021 by Sara Ackerman. Published by MIRA Books.

 About the Author:

Photo Credit: Tracy Wright-Corvo

USA Today bestselling author Sara Ackerman was born and raised in Hawaii. She studied journalism and earned graduate degrees in psychology and Chinese medicine. She blames Hawaii for her addiction to writing, and sees no end to its untapped stories. When she's not writing or teaching, you'll find her in the mountains or in the ocean. She currently lives on the Big Island with her boyfriend and a houseful of bossy animals. Find out more about Sara and her books at www.ackermanbooks.com and follow her on Instagram @saraackermanbooks and on FB @ackermanbooks.

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INVESTIGATOR Harlequin Series Summer Blog Tour Promo Post: Guarding Colton's Child by Lara Lacombe

To keep her family safe...

He’ll risk everything, even his heart…

After losing his family, Dr. Stavros Makris could never imagine trusting again. So when Desiree Colton rushes her toddler, Danny, to the ER, Stavros must keep things professional with mother and son. But then a kidnapper targets Danny, and Stavros lets down his guard, forging an unbreakable bond with Desiree. As sparks fly between them, they work against the clock to protect the little boy from a criminal closing in…

Buy Guarding Colton's Child by Lara Lacombe!

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Stavros tapped his knuckles lightly on the door in announcement and entered the room. He was greeted by the sight of a woman sitting on the gurney, rock­ing back and forth as she held a boy in her arms. She looked up as he entered the room, and when their eyes met, Stavros felt a little shock jolt through his body.

He knew this woman. But how?

Feeling flustered, he frowned slightly as he studied her face, wishing he’d taken a look at the chart first. “Hi, I’m Dr. Makris. What’s going on tonight?” Even though the nurse had given him a report of the perti­nent information, he always liked to have his patients, or their parents, tell their story again, so he could hear the tone of their voice and see their expressions. Some­times, the way someone moved or what they didn’t say was just as important as their symptoms.

“Danny woke up about an hour ago with a high fever,” the mother said. “I tried to get him to drink water, but he refused. The night nurse at his doctor’s office said to bring him straight here.”

Stavros heard the fear in the woman’s voice; it was clear she was scared for her baby. Empathy swelled in his chest. He remembered all too well what it had felt like to hold a feverish child, to fret and worry over every little cough or sniffle. He’d thought his medical training would give him some much-needed perspec­tive when it came to his daughter’s health, but if anything, the opposite had happened. He’d been so aware of the worst-case scenario, of all the things that could go wrong. He’d been the one to call the pediatrician for every little thing, his wife standing in the background trying to calm him down.

“Tell me about Danny,” Stavros said. He kept his voice level and calm, and walked Danny’s mother through the questions that would help him make his diagnosis.

She didn’t hesitate to answer him, and based on her detailed responses, Stavros could tell she was an at­tentive mother.

“All right,” he said. “Let’s see if your little guy will let me examine him.” Stavros already had a presumptive diagnosis in mind, but he always performed a physical exam to confirm his suspicions.

The toddler’s mother gently turned her son, and Stavros got his first good look at the boy’s face. “I know you!” The words flew from his mouth before he real­ized he was speaking.

Her expression turned guarded. “Oh?”

Stavros realized he’d put his foot in it, but there was nothing to be done for that now. He nodded. “I…uh…I helped look for your son a few months ago, after he was taken from the hotel.”

“You did?” Stavros heard the relief in her voice, no­ticed the way her body relaxed now that he’d explained his reaction.

“Yeah. I joined a search party after my shift that night.”

“Oh, wow,” she replied. “That was very kind of you.

I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you. I didn’t get a chance to thank all the people who helped look for Danny.”

Stavros waved away her gratitude. He didn’t want to tell her that he’d had to do it—he’d been driven by the memories of his own daughter’s kidnapping. As soon as he’d heard another child was in the same kind of jeopardy, he hadn’t hesitated. He’d jumped in his car at the end of his shift and headed to the hotel, needing to help in some way. Logically, he knew he’d been trying to save this boy the way he hadn’t been able to save his daughter. But at the time, he’d been ruled by emotions and the desperate desire to make a difference. Finding Danny wouldn’t bring Sammy back—he’d known that. But he wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if he hadn’t at least tried.

About the Author

Lara Lacombe is a recovering research scientist turned college professor who now spends her days writing and wrangling a toddler.  She lives in Texas with her family and two entitled cats, and loves chocolate and her Crock Pot.  She uses Facebook to procrastinate--stop by Lara Lacombe Books if you'd like to chat!

 

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ARC Book Review: It Happened One Summer by Tessa Bailey

Tessa Bailey is back with a Schitt’s Creek-inspired rom-com about a Hollywood “It Girl” who is cut off from her wealthy family and exiled to a small Pacific Northwest beach town... where she butts heads with a surly, sexy local who thinks she doesn’t belong.

Piper Bellinger is fashionable, influential, and her reputation as a wild child means the paparazzi are constantly on her heels. When too much champagne and an out-of-control rooftop party lands Piper in the slammer, her stepfather decides enough is enough. So he cuts her off and sends Piper and her sister to learn some responsibility running their late father’s dive bar... in Washington.

Piper hasn’t even been in Westport for five minutes when she meets big, bearded sea captain Brendan, who thinks she won’t last a week outside of Beverly Hills. So what if Piper can’t do the math, and the idea of sleeping in a shabby apartment with bunk beds gives her hives. How bad could it really be? She’s determined to show her stepfather—and the hot, grumpy local—that she’s more than a pretty face.

Except it’s a small town and everywhere she turns, she bumps into Brendan. The fun-loving socialite and the gruff fisherman are polar opposites, but there’s an undeniable attraction simmering between them. Piper doesn’t want any distractions, especially feelings for a man who sails off into the sunset for weeks at a time. Yet as she reconnects with her past and begins to feel at home in Westport, Piper starts to wonder if the cold, glamorous life she knew is what she truly wants. LA is calling her name, but Brendan—and this town full of memories—may have already caught her heart.

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DISCLAIMER: I received a review copy in exchange for an honest review. This review contains my own thoughts, opinions, and interpretations.

I'm a hardcore fan of Tessa Bailey. I was so glad that I was able to receive a review copy of her newest book series. I have to admit Piper tried my patience a time or two. During the first few chapters, I disliked Piper's character immensely. My first impression of Piper was that she was a flighty and inconsiderate party girl that reminded me of the early days of Paris Hilton vis-à-vis The Simple Life. I was so glad for the character development that happened over the rest of the book. Piper's party girl and It Girl façade come crashing down after she lands in jail. Tired of her shenanigans and lack of direction in her life, Piper's stepfather sends her and her sister Hannah back to Westport, a small fishing town in Washington. When Piper and Hannah were young, their family lived in Westport until her father's untimely death. In their grief, their little family packed up their belongings and moved to California. Years later, Piper and Hannah are temporarily exiled to Westport and land in their late father's dive bar. Upon their arrival, they meet the residents of Westport and one of them was the oh-so-grumpy Brendan. Piper and Brendan immediately dislike each other for their perceived first impressions. With the intention of revitalizing their father's bar, Piper and Hannah are finding themselves and memories of their father in Westport. In a small town, Piper and Brendan reevaluate their first impressions of each other. Their attraction is palatable and obvious to everyone around them. After some sexy times and developments in their relationship, Piper and Brendan are finding their feet as a couple. However, spectors from their past pop up to interrupt their progress, which was very annoying, but necessary for the plot. Overall, it was an enjoyable start to a new series. Kudos, Tessa!

4.5 stars!

About the Author

Tessa Bailey is originally from Carlsbad, California. The day after high school graduation, she packed her yearbook, ripped jeans, and laptop, and drove cross-country to New York City in under four days. Her most valuable life experiences were learned thereafter while waitressing at K-Dees, a Manhattan pub owned by her uncle. Inside those four walls, she met her husband, best friend, and discovered the magic of classic rock, managing to put herself through Kingsborough Community College and the English program at Pace University at the same time. Several stunted attempts to enter the workforce as a journalist followed, but romance writing continued to demand her attention. She now lives in Long Island, New York with her husband and daughter. Although she is severely sleep-deprived, she is incredibly happy to be living her dream of writing about people falling in love.

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BELIEVER Harlequin Series Summer Blog Tour Promo Post: Building a Surprise Family by Anna J. Stewart

An instant family…is life-changing!

Pregnant construction supervisor Jo Bertoletti doesn’t need anyone’s help…or another heartbreak. So she’s putting handsome, kindhearted firefighter Ozzy Lakeman firmly into the friend zone. After all, she’s just passing through Butterfly Harbor, and her life is too complicated for a summer romance. But Ozzy feels an immediate connection. Can he convince the woman of his dreams to take a chance on building a forever family with him?

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The truck’s engine suddenly went silent. Ozzy walked over to greet the driver. “That is a thing of beauty,” he said as the door opened and the driver dropped to the ground in front of him.

Every thought he had disappeared straight out of his head.

Tall, curvy, and with sun-streaked blond hair knotted into a messy pile on top of her head, Butterfly Harbor’s latest arrival faced Ozzy with a wide, welcoming smile on her round face. Beneath the barely-there sunlight of the May morning, her skin seemed to glis­ten in the chilly air. She had light brown eyes, almost amber with flecks of gold that spar­kled when she smiled. She wore snug jeans that accentuated everything a man like him enjoyed, sneakers that looked as if they’d been worn into the ground, and a snug short-sleeved turquoise T-shirt that displayed a sur­prisingly round stomach.

The new foreman was a woman?

A pregnant forewoman?

“Didn’t realize there’d be a welcoming committee.” The woman closed the truck door and stepped up to him. “I know I wasn’t expected until next week, but I wanted to get a jump on settling in. I’m Jo Bertoletti. You are not Mayor Hamilton.” She gestured to Ozzy’s T-shirt with the BHFD logo on the front peeking out of his jacket.

“Ah, no, ma’am.” Ozzy shook her offered hand. Her skin felt rough and calloused, prov­ing she was someone who was used to getting her hands dirty. Beneath that observation, a dull buzz shifted through his system. “I’m Ozzy Lakeman. I was in the diner when you drove down Monarch Lane. Just thought I’d come up and be the first to see what was happening here.” His own smile widened as something oddly definitive dinged. “I guess that makes me the welcoming committee.”

“I appreciate that, Ozzy Lakeman of the BHFD.” She beamed at him before her ex­pression shifted into a knowing one. “Judg­ing by the look on your face, I’m betting you weren’t expecting someone…like me.”

“I…uh.” There had to be a way to answer that without sounding like a complete sexist or jerk. “Like you?”

Jo snickered. “Don’t worry, Ozzy. Not the first time I’ve seen that reaction when I ar­rive on a site. And it’s not because of the lit­tle bun I’m baking in here. Bun in the oven. That’s such a weird phrase. Although come to think about it, I have spent my fair share of time waiting for my sourdough starter to develop.”

Ozzy could only nod. His ears were buzzing and his heart did an odd little skip and jolted in a manner he’d never felt anytime he’d swiped right.

 

About the Author

USA Today and national bestselling author Anna J. Stewart can't remember a time she didn't have a book in her hands or a story in her head. Early obsessions with Star Wars, Star Trek, and Wonder Woman set her on the path to creating sweet to sexy pulse-pounding romances for her independent heroines. Anna lives in Northern California where she deals with a serious Supernatural addiction and an overly affectionate cat named Snickers.

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BELIEVER Harlequin Series Summer Blog Tour Promo Post: The Marine’s Mission by Deb Kastner

This marine doesn't want anyone's help

…until an unlikely match changes his life.

Wounded ex-marine Aaron Jamison always follows orders—and the assignment to take on a service dog is just that. Still, trainer Ruby Winslow is definitely barking up the wrong tree when she insists a beauty-parlor poodle is his perfect match. But Ruby and her clever canine are determined to melt the heart of this battle-hardened marine. And they'll teach him an unforgettable new trick—love.

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“You should probably know I don’t want to be here.”

Those were the first words United States Marine Corps Sergeant Aaron Jamison blurted out to the ginger-haired woman who’d just approached him, welcoming him with a pretty smile and an enormous, dorky-looking black standard poodle standing at her side, both with curious gazes. As far as Aaron was concerned, her choice in froufrou dogs obviously said a lot about her, kind of like the movie stars who carried tiny pups around in their purses to show off to everyone.

This was the breed of dog she’d chosen to own, and she was supposed to be an expert? She was going to be his service-dog trainer, put him through the program, and his first impression was she was probably as fluff brained as her dog, not someone he wanted to be in charge of him. He’d been told to meet up with Ruby Winslow, his new contact at A New Leash on Love, and since she was standing out here in front of the building, waiting for him, he assumed this was she.

In general, he didn’t say much, and yet this time the moment he had stepped out of his truck, he’d put his foot in his mouth.

Two feet, even.

He’d blabbed exactly what had crossed his mind, and it wasn’t the greatest beginning for either of them.

Neither did it bode well for him when she immediately stopped in her tracks fast enough to make the dust cloud around her cowboy boots, sparks snapping in her light blue eyes as her gaze narrowed on him and her smile wavered. The black poodle stopped with her and stared up at her, curious as to her sudden halt.

He’d rented a truck from Denver International Airport to drive into the Rocky Mountains up to the small town of Whispering Pines, where Winslow’s Woodlands and the military service-dog program were located. The whole time he’d been thinking about how much he was going to hate the next four weeks and how he would rather be anywhere but here.

Every second was bound to be painful, both physically and mentally.

But in hindsight, he probably shouldn’t have said as much aloud, at least not until after they’d been formally introduced.

Ruby looked as if she were about to reply to his rude comment, but then she pinched her lips together, took a deep breath and apparently thought better of it.

“I just thought you should know,” Aaron continued, attempting to wind his way out of the knot he’d just firmly tied around his neck, “that although I have been given orders to show up and complete this program, I’m not exactly a willing participant here.”

He was a straight shooter, both literally as a sniper in Afghanistan and figuratively in the way he lived his life in and out of the marine corps. He didn’t say much, but when he did, he meant whatever words crossed his lips.

That said, he didn’t want to start a war with Ruby this early on in his new mission, even if what he spoke was the truth. He wasn’t here because he wanted to be. He didn’t even really want a service dog, although he wasn’t completely opposed to a tough-looking canine companion—a German shepherd, maybe, or a Belgian Malinois.

Not that what he wanted had ever once played into the situation. It didn’t. Not from the beginning. But that didn’t stop him from feeling angry and frustrated just thinking about having to endure the Veterans Administration’s direct orders. Of all the veterans they could have selected for the program… 

About the Author

~Love Courageously~

Award-winning author Deb Kastner writes stories of faith, family, and community in a small-town western setting.  Deb’s books contain sigh-worthy heroes and strong heroines facing obstacles that draw them closer to each other and the Lord. She lives in Colorado with her husband. She is blessed with three grown daughters and two grandchildren. She enjoys spoiling her grandkids, movies, music, reading, musical theater, and exploring Colorado on horseback.

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Blog Tour Promo Post & Giveaway: No More Words by Kerry Lonsdale

Forced to choose between abortion or adoption, Olivia Carson’s younger sister, Lily, runs away from home. Sixteen and pregnant, she never returns. But she writes. Once a year, Lily mails a picture of her son, Josh, to Olivia until his thirteenth year. Then it’s Josh himself who arrives at Olivia’s house, alone, terrified, and in possession of a notarized declaration from Lily. It begins, “In the event, I go missing…”

Josh has difficulty talking. He can’t read or write, but he’s a prolific artist, exhibiting skill beyond his age. His drawings are as detailed as they are horrific. Olivia soon realizes Josh’s artwork tells a story. There’s more to his arrival and to Lily’s untimely disappearance than it seems. Using the drawings as a road map, Olivia traces Josh’s path back to his mom. Each drawing sheds light on Lily’s past and reveals a darkness that forces Olivia to question everything she thought she knew about her family.

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She glances back at Josh. He’s halfway down the hall looking at the framed photos on the wall. He makes a noise. 

“What is it?” she asks, miffed. She thought he was right behind her. 

He points at a photo and tries to speak, but the words stick to his tongue like wet sand on a damp bathing suit. He punches the air and roughly points at the photo, begging her to understand. Olivia motions with her hands for him to be quiet, glances back at her parents’ bedroom door, and makes her way over to him and studies the family portrait that has his attention. The photo was taken Olivia’s senior year in high school during Dwight’s third and last campaign. She was seventeen, Lucas fifteen, and Lily twelve-and-a-half. Big brown eyes fill Lily’s face. Braces hug her teeth. A flat chest doesn’t deter from her budding beauty. 

Josh squeezes his eyes shut and bangs his head with his fists. He’s literally trying to beat the words out. 

Familiar with his signs of distress, Olivia gently touches his shoulder. “Look at me. Josh, hey,” she says, urging him to come with her outside before Charlotte hears them. The fresh air and openness will calm him down. They can return later. 

His eyes snap open and he makes a grab for the photo. “Shh. Don’t do that,” Olivia loudly whispers. She slaps a hand to the frame so the photo remains mounted. “Take a breath, Josh. Relax and talk your way through this. What’s wrong with this picture? Are you looking for your mom? She’s right here, see?” She prompts him like she’d read about for people with aphasia. Spell out the words. Give them the chance to speak. 

His face reddens and a word pops from his mouth like a truck backfiring. “Bad.” 

“The photo or the people in it?” Olivia’s gaze rakes over the family portrait. Charlotte had wanted a magazine spread when SLO Life featured her as a top real estate broker in the county. California Living used the same photo when the publication featured a sneak peek inside their custom-built home during Dwight’s campaign. Taken in the backyard, Dwight and Lucas wore tuxedos. They looked dashing in black with their silk ties. Charlotte, along with Olivia and Lily, wore champagne gowns with all the sparkle and glitz found at an Oscars after-party. Their dresses shimmered in the golden hour sunlight. Wind cut across the yard at the perfect moment, ruffling Lucas’s hair and lifting her cinnamon locks and Lily’s long auburn tresses off their shoulders the moment the photographer snapped the shot. A glamorous pose that rivaled that of any family of status. The photographer won a coveted award for the photo. Dwight posted the image on the About Us page of his corporate website. The photo, along with the accompanying articles, cemented the Carsons as a family to watch, much to Charlotte’s delight. How I wish my daddy could see me now, Olivia recalls her mom remarking on more than one occasion about the grandfather Olivia had never met. 

If people could see them now. 

What a mess the Carsons have become. 

“Bad.” Josh jabs at the glass. The photo swings on its hook. 

“Careful.” Olivia fixes the frame. There’s a larger version of this photo above the living room fireplace, but Charlotte will still have a conniption if anything happens to this one. It’s her favorite of all the portraits in the hallway. 

“Bad.” Josh knocks her shoulder, pushing her back. 

“Hey.” She stumbles against the wall. 

“Bad. Bad.” He yanks the photo off the wall, ripping out the nail along with. Drywall dust sprinkles to the floor like snow. 

Charlotte comes out of her room, tucking a pale-blue blouse into cream slacks, her makeup partially applied. Only one cheek has been rouged. Her lips are unadorned, making the color above her eyes stand out. She looks waifish, like a model in a designer label ad. “What’s going on?” She stops when she sees Josh. “Why’s he here?” 

“Bad,” he yells, showing Charlotte the photo. 

“Put that down,” Charlotte roars, her face deathly pale. 

Her reaction sends a ripple of fear through Olivia. Where’s this coming from? 

Olivia grips Josh’s arm. “We need to go.” 

He shakes her off. “Bad. M-m-man!” He spits the word. Rage fills his eyes. Something else churns there, too. 

Heart pulsating in her throat, Olivia looks at the photo. There’s only one man in the picture because Lucas is just a kid, not much older than Josh: her dad. 

Words from Kerry Lonsdale, author of No More Words

Inspiration for No More Words with Kerry Lonsdale

One summer night years ago I awoke at 2:00 am to glass shattering followed by the horrible sound of metal on metal. The acrid scent of burnt rubber reached me through the opened window I’d gotten up from bed to look out. Parked across the street was my neighbor’s ex-husband’s truck, the side door and panels looking more worse-for-wear than they had when I’d gone to bed. The sudden squeal of tires drew my attention to my next-door neighbor’s driveway where I watched in stunned horror as a green sedan shot across the street and t-boned the truck. The sedan backed up and rammed the truck again. Then again and again until the sedan’s front end crumpled, the bumper scraping the asphalt, the windshield cracking. 

My neighbor’s ex-husband charged from the house in boxer shorts and a sleeveless undershirt hollering at the woman behind the wheel to stop. She didn’t, not until she’d pushed his truck up the sidewalk and onto the front lawn. Not until both vehicles were totaled. Not until the police arrived and convinced her to stop. And not until her face was so bloodied from hitting the steering wheel with each impact that she could no longer see. This was before airbags, and her eyes had swollen shut. An ambulance took her away from the scene.

Over the next few days, I learned that the woman behind the wheel was his girlfriend, and she wasn’t the least bit happy he was spending the night at his ex-wife’s house. She’d driven four hours, arriving in the dead of night, to show my neighbor’s ex-husband exactly how unhappy she was. She was also intoxicated. But the real tragedy was his daughter. He’d spent the night at his ex-wife’s house (on her couch) because he’d come to celebrate her eighth-grade graduation. And after the police left and the ambulance drove off, I saw her standing on the porch dressed in pajamas, clutching her favorite stuffed animal. She’d witnessed the entire debacle. 

I’ve often thought about her, the daughter, that is, wondering how that traumatic event affected her in the long run. There were others too. I wondered how they changed her relationship with her father. Did she pick up his habits as she aged, his boozing and gambling? Did she ever have a chance at a normal life, or did her childhood doom her to live with secrets and pain?

At the heart of the No More series I explore intergenerational trauma through the Carsons, the family featured in the series, and try to answer that exact question: Does a parent’s dysfunction prevent the younger generation from having a normal life, or have circumstances fated them to live with their trauma? From summers of neglect, lies and betrayal, teenage pregnancy, and serving time in juvenile hall, the Carson siblings have their share of baggage, thanks to parents who aren’t ideal. Dwight and Charlotte Carson’s parenting style leaves something to be desired, and of course, their actions lead to the tragic event at the center of the series that splits apart the Carson siblings. 

I believe we experience and understand the world through our parents. We mimic their behaviors and habits. And in cases where abuse and neglect are involved, we forge coping mechanisms that aren’t necessarily ideal or healthy. We see this happen with Olivia, the protagonist in No More Words, and the oldest Carson sibling. She is in denial that she and her brother Lucas were treated differently by their parents than their younger sister Lily, who the parents often emotionally abused and neglected. Haunted by her past, betrayed several times over, Olivia has closed off her heart. Her trauma dictates her behavior and actions. 

But despite this, I also believe that even though our past experiences can leave us fractured and flawed, we can rise above it, control it rather than letting our past control us. Through therapy, love, and acknowledgment, we can stop the cycle of intergenerational trauma. And we see this happen as Olivia works through her issues, taking ownership of the role she played in her family’s dysfunction and the disappearance of her younger sister Lily who she hasn’t seen since she ran away from home, sixteen and pregnant. 

This makes me believe that the thirteen-year-old girl on the porch all those years ago has been living a rich, normal life that isn’t ruled by her childhood.

About the Author

Photo Credit: Chantelle Hartshorne

Kerry Lonsdale is the Wall Street Journal, Washington Post, and Amazon Charts bestselling author of Side Trip, Last Summer, All the Breaking Waves, and the Everything Series (Everything We Keep, Everything We Left Behind, and Everything We Give). Her work has been translated into more than twenty-seven languages. She resides in Northern California with her husband and two children. You can visit Kerry at www.kerrylonsdale.com.

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