This time the teacherâs learning the lessonâ¦in love
Brenna Sullivan has a strict policy about not getting emotionally involved with her students. Yet thereâs something about the new student, Carrie, and her father that has Brenna breaking all her rules.
Mike Langstonâs parenting methods may be more than a little outdated, but Brenna is struck by the brave and honorable man he is and, despite her better judgment, sheâs falling deeper and deeper for him. But how can she cross the line when their feelings start to grow?
âWhat did you think you were doing just now?â Mike asked.
âHelping to improve your relationship with your daughter.â
âThatâs not your job.â
Brenna smirked at him. âI wouldnât even consider it my job if you were doing yours.â
The blatant criticism was too much. When he couldnât think of a comeback, he said, âThis is so not your business, lady!â
A snort burst from her mouth or her nose, or somewhere, and Mike knew heâd gone too far. But so had she.
âLady?â Coming from her lips, the word sounded like the worst sort of insult. âDid you just call me lady? The calendar says weâre in the twenty-first century, Mike.â
He rubbed his face. He wasnât a chauvinist. Never had been. âListen, check us out all you want. The bottom line is I donât want my daughter in your house or anyone elseâs without my knowledge. I hope Iâm making myself clear.â
âCrystal.â Brenna managed a smile and a wave at Carrie in the truck. When Brenna turned back to Mike, she made sure her features displayed the seriousness of her intent.
Dear Reader,
We hear a lot today about soldiers coming home from battle zones. Joblessness, uncertainty and post-traumatic stress syndrome have become our working vocabulary to understand the men and women we are so indebted to.
In A Soldierâs Promise, I have isolated the story of one such brave man who returned home only to find the life heâd counted on no longer existed. But he forged ahead because of a promise heâd made to his dying wife and, with the help of friends, and one very special teacher, he learned that life isnât over until you give up.
I hope youâll enjoy the story of Mike and Brenna, one a soldier, one a teacher, both American heroes.
Cynthia Thomason
CYNTHIA THOMASON
inherited her love of writing from her ancestors. Her father and grandmother both loved to write, and she aspired to continue the legacy. Cynthia studied English and journalism in college, and after a career as a high school English teacher, she began writing novels. She discovered ideas for stories while searching through antique stores and flea markets and as an auctioneer and estate buyer. Cynthia says every cast-off item from someoneâs life can ignite the idea for a plot. She writes about small towns, big hearts and happy endings that are earned and not taken for granted. And as far as the legacy is concerned, just ask her son, the magazine journalist, if he believes.
Having been a teacher, I know what a difficult, rewarding and inspiring job it can be. This book is dedicated to the great teachers Iâve worked with over the years, among them Darby, Tila, Linda, Bill and Rosemary. There are many students who owe their success to your guidance.
CHAPTER ONE
BRENNA SULLIVAN SCRATCHED around the bottom of her large purse until she found the raggedy fan sheâd been given as a wedding favor three years ago. She fanned her face vigorously while trying to squeeze under the shade of a scraggly oak tree in front of her car. Her fellow staff member and best friend in Mount Union, Georgia, approached from across the shimmering parking lot, causing Brenna to check her watch for what seemed like the hundredth time.
âHave I been standing out here in the ninety-degree sun long enough for even Super Teacher Diana Montgomery to be leaving the building?â she asked herself. âNo matter. Another few minutes and Iâll be dead from heatstroke.â
âWhat are you still doing here?â Diana asked when she reached Brennaâs car. âItâs Friday afternoon. The students left over an hour ago. I expected you to have already begun celebrating the end of a successful first week of school.â
Brenna blew her bangs off her forehead with an impatient breath and leaned on the hood of her seven-year-old Mazda. âI wish I were.â
Diana looked confused. âWhat are you waiting for?â
âA mechanic. I called Alvinâs Garage forty-five minutes ago. And as usual, Alvinâs âWeâre on our wayâ is a gross exaggeration.â
âWhatâs wrong with your car?â
âWonât start.â
Diana stared at the shiny silver sedan, which Brenna kept immaculate and in good running order. âDo you know why it wonât start?â