Always a Marine
A Candle for a Marine
by Heather Long
Tormented by the question of 'what if...'
Home for Hanukkah, Sergeant Isaac Janko has never forgotten the baby his girlfriend gave up for adoption years ago. But he didn’t realize how angry he still was....
More than time separates them....
A chance meeting at Temple brings Zehava Elbaz face-to-face with the first and only man she's ever loved. She sees a deep and hidden pain in him, one she blames herself for...
An invitation to Hanukkah brings them together....
The two must confront their pain and loss. They have only eight days to face their past, and win each other's trust, but it is a time for healing, reconciliation and miracles….
A Candle for a Marine felt like coming home, I was right there with Isaac as he walked into temple and found peace. Ms. Long evoked that feeling of home and peace that quickly for me, and then she took me on this journey. It was a journey full of both pain and love and I fell in love with both Isaac and Zehava. They’re both hurting and I felt every bit of their pain.
I highly recommend this holiday story, Ms. Long captures the feeling of the holiday and of two people who through all the pain and anger still love each other. They’re family to the core and even time and anger doesn’t change that. This is easily one of my favorite Marine stories from Ms. Long because of the wealth of emotions she brought out in me.
I received a copy in exchange for an honest review. I was not compensated for my review.
About the Author:
National bestselling author, Heather Long, likes long walks in the park, science fiction, superheroes, Marines, and men who aren’t douche bags. Her books are filled with heroes and heroines tangled in romance as hot as Texas summertime. From paranormal historical westerns to contemporary military romance, Heather might switch genres, but one thing is true in all of her stories—her characters drive the books. When she’s not wrangling her menagerie of animals, she devotes her time to family and friends she considers family. She believes if you like your heroes so real you could lick the grit off their chest, and your heroines so likable, you’re sure you’ve been friends with women just like them, you’ll enjoy her worlds as much as she does.
Enjoy the following excerpt for A Candle for a Marine:
Except this morning, of course. All the shops were locked up tight for Shabbat. They would open later in the day, after sundown. The nostalgic throwback reminded him about how home he was. He slowed to a stop at the edge of the blacktopped playground area to consider the new center. A fence separated it from the street. The chain-link didn’t disguise the effort toward cheer conveyed by colorful wall art covering every inch of the building facade.
The city of Dallas could be seen in the distance on one corner of the mural, a neighborhood ice cream shop that closed when he was in high school closer to the front, and a dozen familiar faces made up the people. Walking around the gate, he frowned at the man depicted in the bottom right corner. It showed a ramrod straight figure walking away, a duffle on his back and, upon a closer inspection, he recognized himself.
“It took a year to finish all of it.”
The low-keyed chime of her voice ricocheted to his bones and crumbled his reserve and determination like so much ash and smoke. Steeling himself, he slid his hands into the pockets of his shorts and turned. Despite the cool temperatures, heat flash-fired through him. Zehava always had that effect on him.
The center was her personal project. He knew that, the reason why he’d come. He could lie about a lot of things, but not her. She wore a dark green turtleneck, a lighter, camel-colored jacket, jeans, and a pair of running shoes. Wariness shadowed her eyes and she had trouble meeting his gaze. Jaw tight, he couldn’t suppress a flare of triumph at her discomfort.
“It’s lovely. I didn’t know you still painted.”
“Only projects like this and for some classes I teach here during the week.” She folded her arms and unfolded them. A part of him wanted to set her at ease, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to act on it. Resentment slithered across his skin like a sand rash.
“Well, it’s good work. I’m particularly fond of my place in it. Walking away.” Was that how she saw him? The man who left?
“Not walking away.” She shook her head and her chin finally came up. “Walking toward the future. Defending our country, and lonely because you had to leave us to do it. Inspiring because it’s not an easy choice and even harder to live with. Brave because no one here can truly imagine what you faced, so we hoped and prayed you’d come home, safe from hate and harm.”
Uncomfortable with how close her description struck, Isaac dragged his attention away from her. She’d matured beautifully. The softness of her features had taken on an aristocratic bearing, but she was too thin, and her mouth too lush.
“It’s good work,” he repeated. So many words bottled up in his throat and threatened to choke him. “I should get going.” He gave her a quick, abrupt smile, the action physically painful, and jogged toward the fence. The sooner he got the hell away, the better for both of them.