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Jenna West has no idea what she might have done to her new tenant Mike Hightower. He’s surly and hateful every single time they meet, and he looks at her as though he despises her.
He does despise her. She’s from the Middle East, and people like her killed his friend Ramirez when the army sent them to Iraq.
Will the power of love work its magic to soften Mike’s bitter hatred, or will he ignore his growing attraction for his pretty landlady?
Mike nodded. He gestured toward Ramirez and Mason, and they silently followed him around the side of the building where they took their position behind an old burnt-out wreck. Mike had just finished adjusting his night vision goggles when an explosion erupted behind them. The reverberations from it hadn’t died away before another shell detonated in front of them.
The bright flash of light temporarily blinded Mike. “Fall back!” he heard Perry scream from somewhere on his right.
Mike staggered, tripped, and fell. The men beside him each grabbed an arm and hauled him to his feet. “Move your feet, Hightower,” Ramirez snarled.
They had gone about ten yards when gunfire opened up behind them. Ramirez screamed, and Mike felt him go down. He tripped again, but he managed to hang on to his gun. “Shoot, Mike! Hostiles at ten o’clock!” Mason yelled.
Mike fired, but he must not have hit anything because seconds later a hot, boring pain almost tore off his shoulder. Blindly he fired into the dark, and moments later his leg took fire.
Shots came from the street. Captain Perry yelled, “Hightower, Mason, hold your fire.”
Moments later Perry knelt beside Mike. “Where are you hit?”
“Shoulder and leg.”
“Sit tight. We’ll get a medic as quick as we can.”
“What about Ramirez?”
“Sorry, he’s gone.”
Mike forgot about the pain in his shoulder and leg as his anger built. Ramirez had been his friend. These people didn’t appreciate a thing that the United States was trying to do for them. What was their problem?
A world away Jenna West signed her name on the dotted line and became a home owner. “I think you got a bargain,” the realtor said. “There’s a lot of work to be done, but it definitely has potential.”
“I don’t mind the work,” Jenna assured him, and she didn’t. “I’ve never owned a home before; fixing up the place will be a labor of love.”
She took Jo’s hand on the way to the car. “When can we move in, Mama?” Jo demanded.
“Not for a few weeks yet, but don’t worry, sweet pea. The place is all ours.”
“Hooray,” Jo cheered.
“Hooray,” Jenna cheered right back, and Jo burst out laughing, making Jenna feel like she was the best mom in the whole world.
Copyright Elaine Cantrell