Hometown Hero: Humble, Honorable and Horny, Book 1
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About this ebook
Soldier. Injured. PTSD. Loner.
Dalton Graham, a wounded member of the US Army special forces with problems of his own, has traveled a twisting, perilous road from the deserts of the Middle East to end up in the small town of Mountain City, Georgia. Dalton is trying to find his life after the service. Then he, along with his service dog, Turbo, meet a beautiful woman one day…
Granddaughter. Transplant. Vulnerable. Loner.
Olive Reynolds was down on her luck and near rock bottom when she pulled into Mountain City, Georgia, all the way down from Chicago. The only home she had left was here in town, but her Grandmother was no longer alive to greet her. Then she meets a handsome stranger...
Right away both realize that there is something between them, a spark of some intensity, but neither is ready to jump aboard a full out relationship yet. Liv is just trying to rebuild her life after losing both her job and now her grandmother.
After some time both realize that this new stranger is the person meant for them, but can Liv accept Dalton for who he is when she sees him at his darkest?
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Titles in the series (3)
Hometown Hero: Humble, Honorable and Horny, Book 1 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsHometown Hero: Humble, Honorable and Horny, Book 2 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsHometown Hero: Humble, Honorable and Horny, Book 3 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratings
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Hometown Hero - Maggie C. Brynnon
13
Chapter 1
FORMER LIEUTENANT DALTON Graham stood on his front porch and looked out over the valley below his home with a sense of pride. True, he didn’t own the land in front of him, but for all intents and purposes it was his to roam whenever he wanted. The valley that spread out below him was lush and green with grass nearly as tall as his waist in the summer months. During the winter it would snow some, but the snow here in Georgia was nothing like the snow he was used to in Missouri.
He remembered one winter when he was a youngster when there had been over a foot of snow on the ground for more than a month. All around him mountains covered with cedar and other evergreens rose into the air. These weren’t mountains like you would find out west. Most of them were more like rolling hills, but some of them were big enough to warrant the name mountain.
As he watched, a deer appeared from the line of trees on the other side of the valley. It lingered at the edge of the trees for some time as it scanned the area for movement. Assured that there was no danger in its immediate vicinity the deer, a large buck with a magnificent rack of antlers, moved out into the tall grass. Dalton grinned as he watched the buck forage for seeds and the soft grass that grew under the longer, hardier grasses. While he would never shoot a deer so close to his house, he might fall on hard times and need to utilize the closeness of such things then, and he was glad to know that there were animals close that he could harvest if the need arose.
No one came around here and that was just the way he liked it. Liked it so much that he had done some work on the only road in or out so that a large four-wheel drive was needed just to get close to his place. The road abruptly stopped a quarter of a mile from his house, and that was where he parked his truck. From there it was on foot. Even if someone got that far and decided that they would use a quad or a dirt bike he had made sure that they wouldn’t be able to get through without a lot of work. Various deadfalls, well-placed holes, snares, and some other tactics that he had learned in the military would keep any would-be intruders out.
Then something nudged against his hip. He reached a hand down and rubbed the head of his German Shepherd, Turbo. Turbo had been his companion in the army during all four of his tours in Iraq and Afghanistan and it seemed only fitting that he would be his companion now that he was home. He looked down at the dog and clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Turbo instantly became alert and rigid, prepared for an attack and searching for any movement.
He still remembers, Dalton thought with a grin.
Easy, boy.
He ruffled the hair on Turbo’s neck. Just wanted to keep you on your toes.
Although Turbo was more than ready to go mentally, Dalton knew that physically he was not. A bullet to the front shoulder had insured that he would never be able to run or jump like he once had. A full year of therapy and working with him on Dalton’s part had helped him to become mobile again, but he would never be the dog that he once was.
It had been the last month of his fourth tour in Iraq when Turbo got wounded. Dalton and a squad of three other men had been tasked with the job of infiltrating a known Al Qaeda hideout and snatching any and everyone who was inside for interrogation. The job seemed easy enough, but it proved to be anything but.
Dalton was in the lead with Turbo hard on his heels when they entered the building. He did everything he was supposed to do and checked his corners before he entered, but none of that mattered. The place was an ambush, and as soon as he stepped through the door gunfire erupted from outside. If it hadn’t been for Turbo lunging forward to grab an attacker who had been hiding inside a hollowed-out place in the wall Dalton would have been killed.
Instead, the bullet that would have hit him in the neck hit Turbo in the front shoulder. The dog went down hard. The man who had been hiding in the wall lunged forward, but Dalton cut him down with a burst of fire to the chest as he stumbled forward. He checked Turbo to make sure he wasn’t dead and then he did what the government had spent thousands of dollars training him to do.
He killed the enemy.
Two of the men with him were killed in the initial barrage, but the third was able to take cover. Dalton rushed back outside and regrouped with his remaining squadmate. Together, they made the enemy pay the price. In the last seconds of the fight a bullet struck the man beside him in the chest. It hit at such an angle that it ricocheted off his chest plate and went through his brow. Dalton shot the final enemy in the chest and grabbed up the radio from the injured man’s chest at his side. The man screamed at a constant high pitch as Dalton radioed in their coordinates and called for medivac.
He checked the injured man, but saw right away that there was little he could do. He pulled the man behind cover and rushed back into the house. Turbo was on his side. Dalton was sure that he was dead until the dog let out a whimper. He dropped to the dog’s side and checked his wound. It wasn’t too bad, and he thought that it hadn’t hit any vital organs, so he wrapped it