Status Updates From A Soldier's Homecoming (Con...

OK, I'm finished.

Review to come.

"But here it is. Right here. With you and Sophie. I was on a quest, and it ended right here. If I have to leave you, I won't go farther than Micah's place. And I'll keep beating on your door and bringing you roses until you say yes. Because I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

It's always like this in these books. Known each other for a few days, one single night of sex (one time)

"If anything happens to her..." Connie didn't finish the thought. She couldn't. Her hands clenched into fists so tight that her short nails bit into her palms. "Micah..."

"I know." His tone was grim. "I know. I killed once to protect Faith from her ex. I've got kids of my own. Trust me, Connie, you won't get to your gun fast enough."

She believed him. One look at his face, and she believed him.

Duh, you should have thought of this. How on Earth are you a cop?! Dumb.

He returned before the toast was ready, wearing a sweatshirt of his own.

Aaaaah, don't GET DRESSED! Stay shirtless! She's enjoying it! She didn't take you to bed last night, make her regret that. LOL

If I were you, I'd definitely be taking him to my bed for a second time. I'm shocked you are not. You should definitely seize the moment.

She wanted him to stay here. For the first time in her life she had someone she could really lean on. Someone who seemed to have shoulders broad enough to bear the burdens of life with her. And she didn't want to let him go.

Before she could dash from the room, Ethan caught her. His strong arms surrounded her, restrained her, held her close. Surrounded her with security.

"Shh," he whispered, and stroked her hair. "Shh. She's safe upstairs right now. I swear to you, Connie, I'll be right beside her every time she leaves this house. I'll walk with her everywhere. I'll watch her when she plays. Nobody's going to hurt that child as long

Discussing whether or not either of them will murder the bad guy. It will be interesting to see if he does end up murdered by the end of the book.

Ethan sat at the table, looking from daughter to mother. "Excuse my butting in, Connie, but the truth is always best. Sophie can handle more than you think."

I agree with him 100%. Plus, check your daughter's cell phone history! How can you call yourself a cop?!?!?!?

More steak and eggs. Even the little girl likes to eat steak and eggs.

"Leo made me feel as if I needed to apologize for everything. I'm still doing it."

He nodded, pushing his plate to one side. Hardly a crumb remained. "That's a damn shame, because I can't see anything you need to apologize for. Not one thing."

When he sank his teeth into his first bite of pie, he closed his eyes in sheer bliss, shutting out anything that might distract him from the taste. Fresh strawberries, perfectly balancing the sweetness all around them. When he finally allowed himself to swallow, he said, "Tell Julia I want to marry her."

"You can tell her yourself. But," she added coquettishly, "I know how to make this, too."

"Then I'll marry

After-sex midnight snack: strawberry pie. Very Stephen King.

"It's not as high in sugar or fat as you'd expect, not with all the strawberries. And she's gentle with the whipped cream."

Given the life he'd been living, such concerns were pretty much foreign to him. Flavor was everything, and he'd had little enough of that for a while.

It had been too long. Ethan had buried this part of himself for the last four years, using his stateside rotations to try to sort himself out, not wanting to turn to easy women, absolutely refusing to draw a better woman into the mess of his life.

Now here he was with a good, decent woman, feeling a hunger for her that took him by surprise in its strength.

UGH.

Weirdly poetic and vague sex. As was to be expected. I can't expect any better in this line of Harlequin, really.

This wasn't possible, she warned herself, but the warning seemed distant and faint. She knew she would never trust fully again, and she knew that Ethan would undoubtedly move on until he found a life that suited him. They were too wounded to build anything between them.

So if she gave in to the longings building in her, it would be for a night. A single night. There would be no future in it.

Oddly, that seemed

Before she knew what to expect, she was swept up into his arms and being carried up the stairs as if she weighed nothing at all.

Oooh. Oooh. Maybe something WILL happen tonight.

Life could be such a bitch.

But he knew one thing for certain: if he never did another thing with his life, he was going to make this woman and her child safe from this creep.

It was as solemn a vow as any he'd ever taken, filling his heart, touching his soul, giving back purpose and meaning where they had been stripped away.

No matter what it took.

"You didn't ask for this. You did everything you could to avoid it. Now it's here, and we're going to deal with it so you can have the life you deserve."

Something in his expression made her shiver. "You wouldn't..."

"Yeah, I'm a trained killer," he said bitterly. "But generally I don't kill unless I have to. I don't just get up on Saturday morning and decide it would be a good day for a murder."

Surprisingly, the homey scent of coffee brewing helped pull her back from the precipice of a breakdown. Rationality began to reassert itself. Gradually her breathing slowed and her heart calmed.

These characters drink coffee at all hours of the day and night, the book is permeated with coffee on every page. My kind of people, LOL.

"Good." He squatted to her eye level, an exotic, mysterious-looking man with eyes nearly as dark as midnight, yet strangely comforting. "Tell me everything he said."

I remember when Native American heroes were a thing. Are they still a thing? I think authors have learned to be more sensitive. Reading some of the lines in this book, I can't help but cringe.

Why, she wondered almost angrily, couldn't she enjoy the most basic human contact? Did she feel she had to punish herself for one major mistake? What made her so different from anyone else? Who said she could never trust herself again?

Her past. Her constant tension, as if she feared being beaten again. As she knew only too well, not even packing a gun could protect her from that, not when she loved someone. Or thought she did.

She turned and fled.

He listened to her feet pound as she ran upstairs to her bedroom, and he hated himself.

Not hurt her? He just had.

He was going to have sex with her but then had some sort of attack of conscience.

He'd bloodied his hands, whether for good or ill he no longer knew. How could he know?

he worried about his unit all the time. A sense of failure pervaded his every waking moment, just as nightmares haunted his dreams.

She needed that space, and she hated needing it. She wanted the comfort he offered, yet it terrified her. Finally she asked the most dreaded question. "Did you ever hate your mother for what she did? Ever? Did you ever resent your father for not knowing?"

Then she refers to herself as a 'crabbed soul.' o.O

She felt guilty. The man holding her had been through far worse. Endured far worse. That thing about not being able to drive a car was only the tip of the iceberg, and she knew it. Yet he had the strength to try to protect her daughter. To hold her and offer comfort.