Return to Glory
In Glory, Kansas, the best bakery in three counties not only brings together ingredients for sweet treats, but is the place where-through the powerful mix of friendship, community and a well-stocked kitchen-a wounded hero can forge a forever kind of love.Back in the hometown he left behind five years ago, Jack McConnell has returned battle-scarred and feeling like half a man. But Betsy Lewis only sees the hero who once saved her life and set her heart on fire. Now she's burning to save him in return. She'll use every trick she's got up her sleeve, from her generous natural assets to her talent for baking, to coax Jack out from the bottom of his whiskey bottle. At first, Jack responds to Betsy like any red-blooded man would. He's always denied his attraction to the innocent girl he used to know, but he's returned to find Betsy's grown into a full-on woman with strength enough for both of them. Until Jack realizes the only way to conquer his demons and be worthy of the hero's mantle she's pinned to his shoulders is to save Betsy one last time – from himself.
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In Glory, Kansas, the best bakery in three counties not only brings together ingredients for sweet treats, but is the place where—through the powerful mix of friendship, community and a well-stocked kitchen—a wounded hero can forge a forever kind of love.
Back in the hometown he left behind five years ago, Jack McConnell has returned battle-scarred and feeling like half a man. But Betsy Lewis only sees the hero who once saved her life and set her heart on fire. Now she’s burning to save him in return. She’ll use every trick she’s got up her sleeve, from her generous natural assets to her talent for baking, to coax Jack out from the bottom of his whiskey bottle.
At first, Jack responds to Betsy like any red-blooded man would. He’s always denied his attraction to the innocent girl he used to know, but he’s returned to find Betsy’s grown into a full-on woman with strength enough for both of them. Until Jack realizes the only way to conquer his demons and be worthy of the hero’s mantle she’s pinned to his shoulders is to save Betsy one last time—from himself.
I’m so excited to share my new series, Home to Glory, with you. These are stories that prove that love really does heal all wounds by teaching us to heal ourselves. In this series, it happens in the small town where they grew up—in the town where I grew up. There’s something both cathartic and terrifying about healing in the town where you were raised. It’s much harder to show your scars to people who already know you. But that’s definitely where the magic happens—you can’t get to the castle until you go through the haunted forest.
I can’t begin to thank everyone who helped me with with my research. The SEALs, rangers and private contractors I spoke with helped me bring these characters to life both as soldiers and as people. They chose to remain anonymous, as some of them are still in theater, but I thank them for their help, their courage and their service.
I hope you enjoy Jack and Betsy’s story. Do stop in and let me know what you think at www.facebook.com/saraardenbooks.
Thanks for reading,
Sara Arden
Contents
IT WAS DURING the predawn hours on a Saturday morning when former navy SEAL Jack McConnell donned his dress whites and pressed the cold, hard barrel of his .357 Magnum to his temple. With only one bullet in the cylinder, he had a one-in-six chance fate would right the wrong it had so grievously dealt him eighteen months ago.
Jack was supposed to be dead.
He’d sacrificed all he had to give, and now he was nothing but a broken weapon of war. No use to anyone, or anything. If he’d had even a shred of honor left, he’d have made sure every slot in the cylinder was full when he played his little game with fate every Saturday.
But something wouldn’t let him, and for that, he cursed himself for a coward. Death was no stranger to him; it’d been a warm friend at his back for every mission. So why couldn’t he meet it with certainty?
Jack took a deep breath, hoping it would be his last, and pulled the trigger on the exhale. The hammer made an impotent little click that echoed like a gavel in his ears.
It occurred to Jack that maybe the first time he’d played this game, he’d won and this was actually hell.
Today, Glory would welcome him home, the returning hero. Welcoming him back to the town where he was born, back to the house that had stood empty since his parents’ deaths and back to the corpse of a life that was no longer his.
And he was expected to stand up in front of them all and happily accept it as his due with all eyes on him, his ruined face and his new leg made of metal and gears rather than flesh.
A loud bang exploded into the silence and Jack dived to the floor, his hand curled around the .357. The racket repeated and he realized it wasn’t an explosion. It was only someone knocking boisterously on the back screen door. Jack realized it was a paradox that he’d just held his own weapon to his head, but any sound similar to gunfire caused him to take cover. To try to protect himself.
He swore as he struggled to pull himself up onto the couch. Jack could walk on his leg, he could even run, but he still had a tough time from a prone position. The knocking banged again and the handle rattled.
Jack had a good idea who it was this early in the morning. He didn’t want anyone interfering in his business, and the best way to ensure that happened in a town like this was to act as if there was no business in which they could interfere.
“If this isn’t the zombie apocalypse or you’re not Salma Hayek,” he began as he finally pulled himself up and grabbed his gun, “you’re about to gain ten pounds of lead.”
