A Men of Gilead Story
Clay and Daniel fell in love as enlisted men during Desert Shield, but Don’t Ask Don’t Tell meant they had to keep it secret. After Clay’s convoy was ambushed, PTSD changed him, and their relationship ended in a horrible fight on Christmas Eve.
Twenty-five years later, they’ve reconnected on Facebook, and Clay finds out Daniel will be alone on Christmas Eve. Impulsively, he sets out for Daniel’s hometown of Gilead, Ohio–where Daniel is now the mayor–to surprise him with a visit. But a blizzard strikes and Clay wrecks his car. All hope of seeing Daniel is lost–until a mysterious old man named Nick offers Clay a ride.
The weight of past wounds and the scars of war might make their reunion awkward, but Clay is willing to take the risk to win back his lost love. Despite a lifetime of disappointing holidays, Clay hopes that this soldier is finally coming home for Christmas.
Cover art by Ron Perry Designs
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EXCERPT:
I’M GONNA freeze to death.
That’s what Clay Fisher got for being an idiot.
A lovesick, stupid idiot.
Outside his Chevy Malibu, white swirls of snow whisked across open farm fields, making visibility impossible. Clay cursed and slammed his fists on the steering wheel, sending a sharp pain up his elbows. Wincing, he rubbed his fingers together.
How did I forget gloves?
“What were you thinking, coming out to the boonies at this hour?” he asked himself.
It’d been a fool’s mission, a reckless, impulsive decision.
And apparently one that would end his life.
Clay pursed his cold lips together, his breath already frosting in front of his face.
No!
Stuck in a snowbank on a backwoods country road in the middle of a damn blizzard would not be how this soldier went down. He’d survived the Gulf War, cancer, addiction, and the death of pretty much everyone he’d ever loved.
Unsure if he believed in God, miracles, happily-ever-afters, or any of that bullshit in storybooks, Clay sent a last-ditch prayer heavenward. “Please, help me get out of this alive. This can’t be how it ends. Not before I see him one more time.”
Daniel Millhouse.
His very name was like a prayer, a call home.
WELCOME HOME, SOLDIER
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