Tracey Cramer-Kelly's Blog, page 4

The Inspiration Behind ROCKIN’ IT HOME: Rick Springfield

I created the character of Benjamin Lawson (ROCKIN’ IT HOME) when I sketched out the Lawson Family Series. I understood his personal demons – and knew the journey he would take in the book – by early 2019.

I’ve always been a huge fan of musician/songwriter Rick Springfield, so I made Ben a (younger) look-alike. That prompted me to ‘catch up’ with the real Rick Springfield.

Lo and behold, he’d published a memoir (Late, Late At Night) and a fictional novel (Magnificent Vibration). Of course I had to read the memoir first (I’ll get to the fiction next).

Let me be clear: Rick Springfield is a ROCK GOD (at least in my mind). But he’s also incredibly human, and not afraid to show it.

As a writer and singer/musician myself, I fully understand the kind of guts it takes to reveal your vulnerabilities in a book (or a song, for that matter), and I was floored by the honesty in Rick’s memoir. I don’t know him, of course, not really, but his writing style is so conversational, so conspiratorial, that it made me I feel like I do.

I’ve always wondered why he ‘dropped out’ when the world thought he was ‘at top of his game.’ Now I know. I also know it took him a long time to realize that fame was not going to make him happy. He also makes no secret of the fact that he’s struggled with depression and sexual addiction all his life.

I admire him because he did ‘drop out’ of the rat race he was in (because of that, he got to be around more when his two boys were growing up). Because he wrestled with his demons honestly (and still is). And because he never ‘dropped’ his music. Instead, he found a way to be true to himself and his love of music, and write/play what he wants. He’s no longer consumed or driven by an elusive idea of ‘fame.’

Music is his passion and the way he connects with people. I’ve seen him perform three times; at every one of those performances, he’s gotten off the stage and into the crowd at some point. Man, if that doesn’t make him feel like a human being!

Rick turned 70 in 2019, and on New Year’s Eve, he performed not one, but two, 90-minute shows here in Minnesota. He looked good and sounded great.

I was privileged to ‘meet’ him (I use the term loosely because we were shepherded through so quickly). I had a complete fan-girl moment and got tongue-tied when I finally came face-to-face with him. I wish I’d had more time to tell him what his music and his example have meant to me.

Part of that example is inspiring not just my writing, but also my own relationship with music. At times it’s been a love/hate relationship with many rejections (and yes, relationship issues) not to mention just too damned hard to make a living at. But I’ve always felt the pull of it. In a few years I’ll be done raising children, and I’ve been thinking about going back to music. I have doubts… but damn, if Rick can do it at 70, shouldn’t I at least try?

So… back to Benjamin Lawson…

This young up-and-comer meets and gets to know Rick (older and wiser than he) and eventually sees Rick as an example of how to truly follow your heart and be true to the music (and the loves of his life), whether that means fame or ‘something less but more.’

I wrote ROCKIN’ IT HOME (including a cameo appearance by Rick) before I read Rick’s memoir. Ben’s journey actually parallels some of Rick’s. I hope readers enjoy Ben’s story, and if you want a real-life inspiration, take a look at this guy.

 

2019 Veteran’s Day Charity Recipient: America’s VetDogs

Support America’s veterans when you purchase any of my books in November!

If you’ve followed me for any length of time, you might already know that I spent five years as a combat medic in the Army National Guard (and now work as an EMT).

Soldiers and their families are one of my passions.

Each year I choose a veteran-focused charity to which I donate a percentage of book sales during the month of November.

This year I’m honored to support America’s Vet Dogs (and sister organization Guide Dog Foundation), whose mission is to help those who have served our country honorably live with dignity and independence.

VetDogs trains and places:

service dogs for those with physical disabilities;
guide dogs for individuals who are blind or have low vision;
service dogs to help mitigate the effects of post-traumatic stress disorder; and
facility dogs as part of the rehabilitation process in military and VA hospitals.

You may have seen Sully, President George H.W. Bush’s service dog (who has a new mission – read about it here!). Or heard about Captain, the Washington Captains baseball team’s (and 2019 World Series Champs!) new service dog puppy (details here).

If you really want to get all the feels, watch the VetDogs Graduates’ videos here.

What Qualifies

When you purchase ANY of my books this month (if you are a military romance fan, you may especially enjoy TRUE SURRENDER or the ARMY RANGER SERIES), you’re not only getting hours of enjoyment… you’re helping veterans, too!

This includes author-signed print copies you can purchase directly from me here. (With the holidays fast approaching, these books make great gifts or stocking stuffers!)

More into e-Book? Here’s where to find my books:

Amazon/Kindle

Kobo

Nook

Apple iBookstore

 

Please Share! Post this on your Facebook, Twitter, Instagram – anywhere you “talk” to others. To make it easy, just copy-and-paste the below!

Military romance author donates a percentage of every sale in November to America’s VetDogs! Check out the details here: http://www.traceycramerkelly.com/vete...

The Inspiration Behind PROTECTING HIS HEART

I’m so excited about PROTECTING HIS HEART (Lawson Family #2), which releases September 18 and is available for pre-order right now at a special price!

Meet Ian & Rachel

Police officer Ian McCleary knows from personal experience what abuse looks like. Thanks to his best friend’s family, he managed to escape his childhood—or so he thinks. Now he’s back in the small town he grew up in, determined to protect and serve those who knew him as a kid.

Rachel gave up her dream of becoming a nurse, but she still craves marriage and a family with all her heart. Josh seemed like the answer—but now she’s hiding a secret that could destroy those hopes, too.

The Inspiration

Police officers have a difficult job. The situations they encounter are rarely black/white. Split-moment decisions can change the course of lives (including their own). Things they see and experience may cause them to second-guess their own decisions and beliefs—and can beat them down mentally and emotionally.

They’re also individuals with their own issues and problems (such as those Ian struggles with).

PROTECTING HIS HEART also deals with a very real problem: domestic violence.

I can’t say that was an easy topic to take on (and thankfully I’ve never experienced it first-hand), but I can say that I was inspired, in part, by some of the things I’ve seen/heard at my job in a substance abuse counseling center.

Today I thought I’d share an excerpt that no one else has seen yet. A scene that shows both Ian’s protective nature and Rachel’s struggle with self-esteem. I hope you enjoy it.

Don’t forget to Pre-Order Now for the best price. THANK YOU!

P.S. PROTECTING HIS HEART is book #2 in the Lawson Family Series and features Ian McCleary, the adopted Lawson son/brother. Although you can read PROTECTING HIS HEART as a stand-alone, I think you’d enjoy Jamie’s story (CALLING THE CURVEBALL) – and it will certainly get you “in the mood” for Ian and Rachel’s story! Download it today!

New Store! Buy directly from me so I can write more!

My readers ROCK!

A couple weeks ago, I asked my subscribers if they’d be willing to purchase books directly from me (versus Amazon or other eReaders), and a whopping 76% said YES!

I was blown away. First, because I felt so supported. I can’t tell you how much that means to writers. If I can make a better margin, I can write more. Heck, readers might even make it possible (eventually) for writers everywhere to obtain a more level playing field (especially when it comes to Amazon).

So I did it. I set up a store of my own. It includes downloadable ebooks as well as (author-signed!) print versions. You can see it here.

My promises to you:

The books in my store will always be at the same price (or in many cases LOWER) than you’d find on Amazon et al.
They will always come with instructions to load on your device (Kindle, Nook, Kobo, etc).
You do NOT need to share your credit card info (all payments will be via Paypal).
I will always be here to help if you encounter any glitches.

SO… if you’re ready for a new story, head over to “Tracey’s Store”!

Hearts and Chocolate go together like … EMTs and a Heart Attack?

Man, am I glad January is over! It’s never my favorite month, but it is usually a productive writing time for me (think sub-zero weather and slow motorcycle sales).

Not so this year.

As you might know, I was trained as an Army combat medic years ago (I’m not saying how many) and was in the Army National Guard for five years.

That experience stuck with me and definitely influenced my writing, but I never did it as a job. The interest was always there, but between a career in the high-tech industry, then running the family business (and raising my kids – can’t forget about that!), the timing was never right.

That changed recently.

For the past 4 months, I’ve been in EMT (Emergency Medical Technician) training. I’m happy to say that I passed my Practical Exam this weekend (the ‘book test’ is later this week). I hope to take the National exam by the end of February, and start working as an EMT at sporting events by April.

In the midst of the run-up to the exams (and a ride-along with a paramedic ambulance crew, a shift in an ER, and regular homework plus FEMA mass-casualty courses), my brain just couldn’t settle into anything resembling a creative groove.

About half-way through January I gave up, and let myself take the month off from writing.

Now I’m almost ready to reclaim my groove and decide what story to work on next.

How about you? Did January help your “groove” – or hinder it?!

Book Sales Benefit Mighty Oaks Warrior Program

In November, I shared with you that I would donate a percentage of all my books sales during the month of November (I do this every year in honor of military veterans) to the Mighty Oaks Warrior Programs (read more here).

If you purchased any of my books in November, THANK YOU on behalf of the veterans benefitting from these programs.

I wish I could say that I knocked it out of the park in terms of sales, but I have to be honest: I fell short of my goal.

Perhaps my goal was too aggressive. Perhaps I didn’t do a very good job of getting the news out. Perhaps there were just too many other things going on in everyone’s life.

At any rate, I’ve decided to donate the amount I had originally hoped for (partially funded by book sales), and to keep those veterans in my prayers this holiday season. (I’ll keep you there too!)

Ranger’s Honor – First Chapters

Chase is a new amputee, while Cory’s war wounds are not as visible (but no less crippling). When tragedy strikes again, can Ella and Maddy convince them they’re still the men they fell in love with?

MORE INFO / PURCHASE

© Tracey Cramer-Kelly

PROLOGUE: CORY

Boston, MA

Funeral of Sergeant Brett Michaels

A physical dread uncurled in Sergeant Cory Foster’s stomach as he took another step toward the flag-draped coffin. His palms were slick with sweat and he rubbed them on his military dress uniform. The muted sounds of a hundred people mourning pressed against his chest, and it was an effort to focus on the people standing to the left of the coffin.

Why couldn’t they just be still? Just for a minute. It’s all he needed to pull everything back inside…

He felt Maddy’s hand graze his and he grabbed onto it like a lifeline as he came face to face with Brett’s parents.

“Thank you for coming.” The woman’s voice was flat, as if every word required a monumental effort. Her eyes played over the medals on Cory’s uniform, then fastened on his name. “Foster.” Her eyes jumped from his chest to his face. “Cory! Please. You were there, when my boy…” Her breath shuddered dangerously. “Tell me what happened. Please!”

“Anne.” Her husband—Brett’s father—stood beside her, looking for all the world like he was holding her up. His voice was low and raw. “You know what happened.”

“No!” she cried. “It wasn’t enough…”

Cory didn’t know how to respond to the grief pouring out of this woman. This woman who’d lost her only son.

“I’m so sorry.” His throat was tight with his own grief, his voice threatening to break.

“Wasn’t there anything else you could have done?” she cried.

Her words hit him like a slap to the face, and he nearly took a step back. He’d asked himself the same thing a thousand times; if he hadn’t been focused on Chase, could he have done something more for Brett?

And Chase… he would be here if he could. Doing this far better than Cory…

“Anne!” Cory heard the shock, the hurt, and the disapproval all in that one word spoken by Brett’s father.

That didn’t make it any easier to respond, but he tried. “He didn’t suffer…”

Anne collapsed into her husband’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

Maddy leaned into the older woman, her dark hair spilling over one cheek. A sharp need jabbed through Cory. He wanted to give up control again. To Maddy. Just for a little while…

A vise tightened around his chest, forcing his breath to go shallow. He looked longingly toward where they’d parked the car.

I have to get away.

He gripped Maddy’s shoulder with more force than he’d intended. “I’ll wait for you in the car.”

He felt Maddy’s eyes on him but he couldn’t stop his feet from carrying him away. Away from the accusing glances. Away from the palpable grief.

Only to find himself locked out of the car.

He wanted to scream. To scrape his insides out with a primal howl. Instead he gave the tire nearest him a vicious kick that only served to radiate pain through his ankle. He swore at his foot. He swore at the car. He swore at the mud he’d somehow picked up on his dress shoes.

And shit, he could not catch his breath. What was wrong with him?

He slumped on the hood of the car, one hand pressed to the scar on his side, which seemed to throb with its own energy.

“Hey.” Maddy hoisted herself onto the hood next to him. “You okay?”

He nodded as he studied the mud on his shoes. Gonna have to clean those when I get home.

“What Anne said, it was only out of grief,” she said. “You know that, right?”

“It was a valid question,” he said.

“No.” Her voice had an edge he’d never heard before. “You did everything you could. You all did. Sometimes there just isn’t a way to save them. I know.”

Without warning, the weight on his lungs went from mild to crushing. His body bent forward, his mouth sucking in harsh breaths.

“Cory.” He felt her hand on his shoulder. “I think you’re having an anxiety attack.”

“Don’t diagnose me,” he snapped. “You’re not my doctor.”

She reeled back as if he’d slapped her. He cursed himself even as he pressed one hand against his chest. Holy hell, it felt like a heart attack!

He just needed it to stop. All of it. He wanted to apologize to Maddy but he didn’t trust himself to speak. There was too much twisted and rioting inside him, and he couldn’t let her see.

After a few moments, he heard her draw a deep breath. Heard the hurt in her voice when she said, “Let’s go home.”

CHAPTER 1: CHASE

Six Weeks Later

Savannah, GA

“Home sweet home.” Sergeant Chase Richards’ mom flipped the light switch, then stepped aside.

Chase maneuvered the wheelchair over the threshold and was stopped by a memory so vivid he had to clench his jaw: Ella, meeting him here, at the door, in nothing but a thong. Ella in his arms, pressed up against the wall…

He glanced at the leg that ended just below his knee, then at his left hand, which sported a heavy-duty bandage and bristled with pins.

That wouldn’t happen again.

The weeks at Walter Reed had been hell. The constant pain had worn him down, but it was the reliance on others to do even the simplest things—like getting his pants on—that had turned him into someone he didn’t recognize.

Didn’t want to recognize.

“Chase?” His mom’s voice pulled him back to his living room. “You need to take your meds.”

The pain medication that he couldn’t function without.

Even with it, the edge was never completely off. And his hand? It was worthless…

With the fingers of his good hand, he pressed the lever to turn the wheelchair toward the bedroom. “Can you bring it to me? I just want to lie down.”

The only good thing about the medication is that it made him sleepy. And—at least for a short while—it allowed him to escape.

He rolled himself to the bed. He eyed the disparity between the bed and the wheelchair.

He set the brake on the wheelchair, then used the nightstand and his right hand as leverage to get himself on his feet.

Check that—on one foot.

He hitched his hip onto the bed, then twisted his torso to slide his body onto the mattress. He bit back a groan as he lifted his stump onto the bed with him. Yes, it was definitely time for meds.

His mom entered as he shifted gingerly and reached for the sheet. Yes, cover it up.

His mom dropped the pills in his hand and handed him a glass. “You should call Ella.”

He grunted as he handed the glass back to her.

She crossed her arms. “If you won’t, I will,” she said. “She deserves to know you’re back. You know she wanted to be here.”

Chase closed his eyes, let his head fall back. “Mom. We already talked about this.”

“And I told you what I think,” she said.

It was easy for his mom to say… but he was the man, damn it. He was supposed to take care of Ella, not the other way around. He hadn’t wanted her to see him—to know what he went through at Walter Reed Medical Center—so he’d sent her away. He thought he’d feel better when he was released…

The bed dipped as she sat on it. “Sweetheart…”

“Mom, please,” he interrupted. “Can I just sleep for a bit? Please?”

She brushed a hand over his brow. “Yes, you need to rest,” she said. “Because tomorrow, you get your prosthetic.”

His new leg. It should have sounded good—it was progress, right?—but it was just one  more thing that others would have to help him with.

That Ella would help with?

After all, his mom wasn’t going to stay forever. And how the hell would he put it on himself, with a porcupine for a hand?

His eyes burned hot behind the lids. His mom fussed with the blankets, but his body remained rigid. Long moments passed until he heard the soft click that put the room into darkness.

CHAPTER 2: ELLA

Ella Foster pounced on the phone the moment it rang, like she always did these days.

But it wasn’t Chase; it was his mom. She swallowed her disappointment and answered. “Virginia? Is everything okay?”

There was a pause. “Ella, honey. How are you holding up?”

Tears sprang to her eyes, but Ella huffed out a breath. “I…”

I miss my man with every fiber of my body. I ache for his touch and sometimes I cry myself to sleep at night.

“I’m hanging in there,” she said. “How’s Chase?”

“Well…” Virginia said. “We’re home.”

Home?

“Home, as in Augusta?”

“As in his apartment in Savannah.”

Her heart leapt. Chase was here. “I can be there in twenty minutes.”

“Ella…”

Something in Virginia’s voice made her blood chill.

“He’s not ready to see you,” Virginia said.

All the breath left her lungs. “I… I don’t understand.”

“Honey, all I can say is he’s not in a good place.” Ella heard the strain in Virginia’s voice. “I pray he finds it, but right now…”

Things hadn’t been good at Walter Reed. She’d thought by leaving—by giving Chase the time and space he claimed he needed—that things would be better between them when he came home. It had been one of the hardest things she’d ever done.

And now he’d come home without even telling her.

He didn’t want her there.

The realization hurt so much it made her feel nauseous. She sank down onto the couch.

“Ella, I know you mean well, and I know you want it badly,” Virginia continued. “But coming over here won’t help. He’s just not ready.”

“Ready for what?” How could he not be ready to see her?

“For what his injuries mean to him long-term,” she said. “Ready for… well, who he is now.”

Ella didn’t care that Chase couldn’t go back to the Rangers; she was just glad he was still alive.

But he would care. He would care a whole lot…

“You know Chase loves you,” Virginia said.

Ella sniffed. “Does he?”

“I know my boy, and he wouldn’t have asked you to marry him if he didn’t,” she said firmly. “I know it’s hard, but you have to be patient with him. Men are… well, their egos are much more fragile than they let on.”

Chase? Fragile ego?

“He’s vulnerable and needy and he hates it,” Virginia said.

Ella leaned forward, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “What do I do?”

“Give him time,” she said. “He’ll come around.”

How much time will it take?

“You think so?” Ella said.

“I do.”

Ella pulled in a long breath. “Okay. For now. But I’m not going to do this living-in-limbo thing forever.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to, honey,” Virginia said. “And when the time is right, you’ll have my blessing to kick his butt into gear.”

MORE INFO / PURCHASE

Ranger’s Sacrifice Chap 1

Army Rangers Cory Foster and Chase Richards fought for their country. Are they willing to fight for the women they love, even when it gets hard?

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© Tracey Cramer-Kelly

PROLOGUE: CHASE

Afghanistan

Sergeant Chase Richards flattened himself against the wall on one side of the door. This Iraqi home was nothing special, but if all went according to plan (and the intel was accurate), they would drag the High-Value Target out in flex cuffs in just minutes—all while the neighbors slept the night away.

Chase’s friend and fellow Ranger, Sergeant First Class Cory Foster, positioned himself on the other side of the door. The taste of adrenaline—grit mixed with absinth—filled Chase’s mouth, and he ran his tongue over his teeth.

Cory signaled to him, and Chase nodded. Oh, yeah, baby. Locked and loaded.

Cory lifted a boot.

CRAAACK!

The door caved in with one well-placed kick and Chase swung himself around the frame, his M4 pointing first right, then left, his eyes scanning rapidly.

He plastered himself against the inner wall as Cory frog-hopped his position. He sensed more men behind him. Brett and Ricky.

Cory waved them on, and the men spread out.

The house was quiet. Too quiet. Sweat trickled down Chase’s face, tracing the edge of his Night-Vision Goggles as he moved further into the house.

Just another day at work.

He rounded the corner, his rifle flitting in every direction.

And he saw them. Ghostly-green through his NVGs. Two full-size, and two smaller…

Chase’s spit stuck in his throat, and his rifle lowered slightly as his mind assimilated what he was looking at. A wave of nausea rolled over him, but he ignored it.

Cory signaled from the doorway.

“Cory.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

Cory’s gaze locked with his, and Chase tipped his head toward the ceiling.

“Sonofabitch!” Cory’s voice was low and rough. “Get Intel in here.”

“Whatcha got?” It was the Captain, coming over their headsets.

After a beat, Cory spoke. “Four dead. Looks like a whole fucking family. Hung like Goddamn deer.”

 

CHAPTER 1: CORY

Cory tossed his gear on the ground with more force than was necessary. He dropped his ass onto it, using the crumbling wall as support for his back.

Nothing. They’d found nothing. Where there was definitely supposed to be something. More specifically, someone. A High-Value Target, otherwise known as HVT. Where was this elusive traitor/double-agent they’d been sent to track down? And how many more people would have to die before they neutralized him?

He rubbed his temples. Had they missed something? Had he made the right decisions?

Absently he rubbed his hand over his side where Rolando had knifed him. Pressure is good, he reminded himself. Keeps you on your game.

He surveyed the members of Echo Platoon, First Battalion, 75th Ranger Regiment. Some were stretched out, trying to catch a few zzz’s. Others were cleaning rifles or checking gear.

“Yo.” Chase dropped his duffel next to Cory’s. “Transport will be here any minute.”

Cory grunted; you never knew what “any minute” meant over here.

Chase proceeded to flop down on the duffel; he pulled a small notebook from his side pocket. No doubt writing to Ella.

Ella and Maddy occupied more of Cory’s mind than he preferred. He had hated leaving this time, leaving both of them. Ella because of what she’d been through, and because he didn’t trust Rolando to stay away from her. And Maddy because…

Because she was Maddy. Smart, compassionate Maddy with her generous breasts, soft curves, and silky hair… The first woman he’d ever asked to be exclusive. The first woman he’d ever asked to wait for him. For a moment he allowed himself to relive their last night together…

“You think the girls are telling the truth and there’s really been no contact from Rolando?” Chase’s voice cut into his thoughts.

He supposed he should be thankful to Chase for taking over communicating with Ella, but it was still odd to think of his best friend and his sister, together. Cory had never been good at keeping Ella ‘in the loop’ when he was gone. Hell, there were a lot of things he was no good at, and most of them had to do with women. You had to keep your head in the game over here. When you were Platoon Leader, like he was, it was even more imperative.

Cory considered for a moment; he hadn’t known Maddy long but they’d already been through a rather intense experience together. His gut told him she was incapable of being devious, at least with him.

“I reckon so,” he finally said. “I don’t think Maddy could lie even if she wanted to.”

“It almost doesn’t make sense,” Chase said.

That was bothering Cory, too. If Rolando considered Ella his ‘property,’ why would he let her go so easily? At least she’d found a new place for them both to live. Not that he expected Ella to spend many nights in their apartment now that she and Chase were… involved. But she wouldn’t be far away, and he’d sleep better knowing she was with someone he trusted.

“Maybe we should still put Operation Vigilante Justice into play,” Chase continued.

“At least put the surveillance cameras in,” Cory said, warming to the idea.

Chase tipped his helmet lower on his head. “Something to keep busy with at home, anyway.”

Cory knew what he meant; they were trained to a fine edge, and sometimes being home was, well… boring. They needed that adrenaline rush…

“Yo Boss!” Brett called. “Helo’s comin’ in.”

Cory watched as the helicopter made its approach.

It was the first leg of the journey home.

 

CHAPTER 2: MADDY

Fort Stewart, Savannah, GA

Doctor Maddy Wright stood on the airport tarmac at Fort Stewart. Mentally she catalogued the physical symptoms of her nervousness: elevated heart rate, sweaty palms and a mouth dry as toast.

Several soldiers had already stepped off the plane into greetings and welcome hugs.

But so far, no Chase or Cory.

Would seeing Cory be a good thing? Or would everything have changed? Would he have changed his mind about her? After all, she’d hardly heard from him…

“There they are!” Her overly-enthusiastic companion—Cory’s little sister Ella—grabbed her hand and pulled her forward. “Come on!” Then she squealed and bounded forward, throwing herself into a soldier’s arms.

But Maddy wasn’t looking at Ella. She blinked at the man coming toward her; was Cory this devastatingly handsome when he left? His dark hair curled slightly at the nape of his neck, and a shadow of a beard accentuated his strong jaw. His plain brown tee shirt was stretched across his shoulders, the tattoo on his left arm peeking at her.

She stopped several feet from him; her mouth opened but nothing came out.

“Maddy.” He had stopped, too; he sounded so serious. Now that he was closer she could see the slight shadows under his eyes.

“Cory.” She matched his demeanor, suddenly not sure if he really wanted her there.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, then made its way slowly over his features. She saw the glint in his eye just before he reached out and pulled her to him.

As soon as their lips connected, the awkward feelings—heck, everything around her—seemed to evaporate. It was just the two of them, picking up as if they’d left off only days ago. As if they hadn’t been apart for the last three months.

Cory’s tongue pushed into her mouth and Maddy welcomed it against her own. She shivered when he pulled away.

“Where do you want to go?” She was breathless; never in her life had she wanted to jump a man right where he stood. In public. With his friends all around them.

His eyes were that dark-dark, smoldering green that left no question as to his thoughts and set the butterflies going in her stomach. Oh, yes, he wanted what she wanted…

He turned, nodded at Chase, then hefted his bag to his shoulder. “Your place.”

MORE INFO / PURCHASE

Chapter 1: TRUE SURRENDER Military Romance

When Major Aaron Bricewick is rescued from Afghanistan terrorists, he thinks the worst is over. But his biggest battle – the battle for his heart and soul – is just beginning…

MORE INFO  /  PURCHASE

© Tracey Cramer-Kelly

CHAPTER 1

The pale princess came to him in a flowing white dress, a garland of leaves across her forehead and threaded through her long dark hair. She touched his feet, massaging them with oil.

There was no pain here.

She motioned for him to follow her, and he did, moving without effort as if made of something weightless and fluid.

They passed through a corridor, windows on every side. Light flowed through this space, yet he sensed the darkness pressing close—so very close.

He followed a sense of her rather than sight, until he felt her halt.

A new vibration seemed to occupy this space. He obeyed her unspoken directive and turned his attention to the other side of the windows.

A child stood there. A boy, maybe four or five. His hair was lit a brilliant blond, and his hand gripped an object in almost fierce protection.

His heart ached for this child, though he did not know why.

There was another presence here. He could not see her but he sensed her wrapping her arms around the child. The mother.

His eyes searched out the princess. She is coming for you, she said, though her mouth never moved.

A rush of cold air—darkness squeezing light—pushed through the corridor. He shivered. Who is coming?

There will be a time to surrender, she said, but this is not that time. You must be strong.

He desperately wanted to stay in the light and the warmth, but the dusky presence of the mother pulled him toward the darkness and pain that spread like a moss blanket.

I’m here, she said. I’m waiting for you. I am your promise. I am your promise…

************************

Major Aaron Bricewick awoke with a start, the pain returning abruptly. He lay still in the darkness, wanting desperately to feel a presence again. But no…he was alone.

I must be hallucinating.

And yet he was thinking clearly now, more clearly than he could remember. How many hours—how many days—had he been here? He couldn’t be sure, but it seemed like quite awhile since anyone had come to him; perhaps the terrorists had abandoned him altogether.

What if I am never found?

The thought came unbidden, and he shook his head as if that would shake it out. He heard the now-familiar scuttling sound of his only company. Though he’d never seen the rats, his imagination now conjured up images of them crawling on and over his lifeless body.

Move, Bricewick.

He forced himself to use the bucket to relieve himself. The pain and the stench nearly made him retch. He tamped it down; vomiting again would only make it worse. He was weak but felt no hunger.

How many more hours can I hold out?

Surely the terrorists had figured out by now that his two charges couldn’t give them whatever they were seeking. Private Young was just a clerk, and Scott a civilian contractor with minimal access to military intelligence. What was happening to them?

It was Scott who tended to Aaron’s wounds after that first beating, tearing strips from his own clothes to fashion a makeshift bandage for Aaron’s broken fingers.

“Aaron, I must know.” It was only a whisper, but the urgency was clear. “Do you have a personal relationship with Christ?”

Aaron didn’t know how to respond. All his life he’d been surrounded by people who professed to believe, and yet engaged in un-Christian behavior: affairs, lies, prejudice. He’d never, in his 36 years, known anyone like Scott, who was direct and frank about his faith—who lived his faith each day.

Before Aaron could answer, they’d been roughly forced apart. Aaron was taken to this dank, dark place to face new terrors without Scott’s faith to help sustain him. Instead, it was all too easy to blame God. After all, where was God in this place? And why would He allow this?

But now, in the wake of this strange dream, a sense of calm enveloped him. The thought of dying no longer terrified him. What difference did it make now? It was not for him to decide.

Memories washed over him as he drifted in and out of consciousness. He had regrets: his estrangement from his father…not being there when his mom and stepfather died…the failed relationships…the woman he should have married and made a life with.

Holly.

When he thought of her, he thought of Duluth, the snow falling soft and white against her black earmuffs, laughing at his first attempts to ski. When he thought of her, she was running on the beach in Hawaii, hair tossed by the wind…he thought of removing her barely-covering bikini and making love to her there in the surf…

Sounds filtered into his reverie: scraping…grating…shuffling. They no longer cast fear in him. Was this the peace Scott spoke of—the peace of Christ?

Now louder: banging.

And closer…very close…just outside the door.

More scraping. Then—BAM! His body jerked.

The door. Someone had kicked in the door.

A sudden light hurt his eyes. “Oh, my God!” It was Scott’s voice. “Aaron!”

“Get the flashlights out of his face.” Another voice.

More figures and more voices.

American soldiers.

Scott knelt beside him, and someone else—touching his forehead—said, “He’s burning up.”

Hands on his neck, his back…

I’m rescued!

“Major.” That same voice again. “We’ve got to get you out now. Can you make it?”

Aaron nodded, and he was pulled to his feet. White-hot fangs tore through his legs and he cried out.

I will not pass out. I will NOT…

The soldiers formed a human sling and carried him that way. How far, he didn’t know, but then he felt the sway of a moving vehicle.

Words flowed over and around him:

“Need an IV.”

“Cold compress.”

“Medevac.”

He tried to focus but the pain kept crowding out any logical thought. He wanted to form words but he felt himself slipping, slipping, slipping…

“…Private…Cheryl?” He managed.

“She’s okay.” Scott’s voice again. “Everyone is OK, Aaron. The nightmare is over.”

Aaron clung to that like a lifeline as they laid him on a gurney. His last memory of Afghanistan was of helicopter blades spinning above and an oxygen mask closing over his face…

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Ranger’s Destiny Chapter 1

Army Rangers Cory Foster and Chase Richards think they’ve seen it all. Then two women show them they still have a lot to learn…

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© Tracey Cramer-Kelly

CHAPTER 1

Savannah, GA

Cory drove too fast. He knew it, but he didn’t care. Ella was his focus.

After all the years of looking after her, Cory could tell in less than thirty seconds—even over the phone—that she was scared.

And she was in pain.

She’d told him that much, but not enough. “Just come home,” she’d said. “Quickly. Please.”

He wouldn’t panic. He never did. He was calm, cool and collected—even in the midst of a firefight.

He slammed the door behind him, and the shades on the window rattled. He needed to find them a different apartment. It was one thing for him to live in a crappy place—he was hardly ever home—but Ella should have better digs.

“Ella?” He paused to listen, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Bathroom. She was in the bathroom.

He stalked down the hall and tapped on the bathroom door. “Ella. I’m here.”

“Cory…”

“You’d better tell me what’s going on.” He used what she called his authoritarian voice.

“Oh, it hurts…”

Her moan set his teeth on edge. His hand went to the doorknob, and he almost turned it. “Ella, what’s happening?”

The only reply was muffled crying. This was not good. “I’m coming in.”

“No!” But it was a weak protest.

He turned the knob. “I’m not going to look.” But he did. There was a pair of underwear on the bathroom floor. Bloody underwear. He nearly gagged, and his heart rate jacked up.

Oh my God…

“Please tell me it’s that time of the month.”

No answer to that either. But even he knew that was too much blood for a monthly period.

He pushed the door open further. Now he could see her sitting on the toilet, naked from the waist down. She was leaning forward, head down, elbows on her knees and hands fisted in her hair.

“Oh, my God, Ella.”

She looked up at him, her eyes wide with fear, her face streaked with tears. “I don’t—don’t know.” Her voice was jerky. “I—I can’t stop bleeding.”

He dropped to his knees beside her. The metallic smell of blood hit his nostrils. He was no stranger to blood, but this… this was different. This was Ella.

His voice came out calm, even though he was not. “Sweetheart, I think we’d better take you to the ER.”

CHAPTER 2

St. Joseph’s Hospital

Savannah, GA

The board at the front of the ER was full: respiratory in three, flu in four, slip-and-fall in eight.

But Doctor Madeline Wright couldn’t think about those other patients right now, because the young woman in Exam Room Two was bleeding vaginally and complaining of cramps in her abdomen and pain in her lower back. She was young—only twenty-one—and she had a firm grip on the man in military camouflage who’d brought her in.

Maddy pressed gently on the young woman’s abdomen. “What’s your name, honey?”

“Ella.”

“Foster,” the soldier added. “Ella Foster.” The soldier was looking at her patient with a mixture Maddy had seen many times: worry, love… and guilt.

The boyfriend.

He looked up, and she was struck by how dark his eyes were. Brown. No, actually… green. But so dark…

“She won’t stop bleeding.” Maddy heard the underlying fear in his voice. “What’s wrong with her?”

Maddy performed a cursory exam while she asked Ella standard questions—how long and how much she’d been bleeding, when her last period had been, etc. She met the young woman’s eyes and knew that she knew.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to wait in the family room,” Maddy said.

“I will not!”

Maddy stepped to the side of the bed, placing her hand on the man’s arm. “She’s having a miscarriage.”

“A… what?”

Maddy waited for the inevitable understanding.

“You mean…” he sputtered. “She’s…”

So her patient hadn’t told him.

“She’s pregnant?!”

Maddy nodded.

The man went still, clearly stunned.

Ella started to cry. “Cory, I’m so sorry, Cory…”

Maddy glanced at the nurse. When she turned her attention back to the man named Cory she was taken aback by the fury in his eyes.

“Who did this to you?” he demanded.

Crap. She’d been wrong; this was not the boyfriend. Then who was he? And why had the nurses let him in?

The girl only shook her head, crying harder.

“I swear to God, Ella, if he hurt you—”

The girl shook her head again, now clutching at his hand. “No. No, it’s not like that. I thought… I thought he loved me…”

“So he’s…”

“He’s gone,” the girl said.

His eyes went flat. “It’s Rolando, isn’t it?”

The girl’s downcast eyes were his answer.

“You went with Rolando while I was gone, even though I told you not to!” Maddy jumped as his fist hit the wall. “I’m going to kill the bastard.”

This was rapidly getting out of hand. Maddy tightened her grip on his arm and physically steered him toward the door. “Sir, I really need you to step outside right now.”

The man glanced at her as if just noticing her hand on his arm. Under that camouflage she sensed the raw physical power. A deep part of her wanted to recoil, but for the sake of her patient, she would not…

She didn’t need to. He backed away.

“Cory?” the girl whined. “I’m sorry… I didn’t know I was pregnant… not until a few days ago… I swear.”

He was shaking his head, but he allowed Maddy to steer him into the hallway. “Who are you and what relationship are you to my patient?”

“Cory Foster,” he said. “I’m her brother.”

“Cory.” She took a deep breath and spoke slowly. “Your sister is going to be fine. I know it’s hard to see her in pain, but we’re going to take good care of her. I promise.”

His eyes wandered to the doorway.

She placed her hand on his arm again. “This is what I need you to do—what your sister needs you to do,” she continued. “Wait in the family room. I’ve already paged our OB/GYN doctor. I’ll bring you an update as soon as I can.”

He looked at her, a pleading look on his face. It was another look she’d seen before. “She’s going to be fine,” she said softly. “Really.”

She sensed the fury ebbing away. She needed to know he was going to do as she’d asked. “Okay?”

She held his gaze until he nodded briefly.

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