Heroes. Heart. And happily ever afters.
Get a healthy dose of all three in Megan Green’s Wounded Love series – three stories of sexy military men and the women who love them. Watch as they overcome the trials and tribulations of deployment, PTSD, and injury, as well as the everyday obstacles of depression, loss, and domestic abuse. Fall in love alongside them as each hero sets out to rescue the love of his life. And stick around to witness how each lovely lady rescues her man right back.
Ryan Porter considers himself married to the military. After losing his father and brother at a young age and witnessing the subsequent downfall of his mother, Ryan has sworn off any semblance of love.
After Ryan helps Haylee out of a sticky situation, the two find themselves growing closer, but with Ryan's impending deployment and Haylee's trust issues, they vow to never let it become something more.
However, Ryan quickly finds himself falling for Haylee, and Haylee is unable to deny that Ryan makes her happier than she's been in a long time. Will the two of them be able to overcome their pasts and open their hearts? Or will they always be determined to keep everyone at a safe distance?
Emma Nicholls knows pain. Four years after the devastating loss of her fiancé, she's set up her own business providing service dogs to veterans in an attempt to put her own life back together.
Circumstance brings Isaiah into her life, but neither are prepared for the fire that burns between them. It's immediate, one broken soul finding solace in another, but it's also... terrifying.
His soldier's heart is surrounded by walls ten feet high. But maybe, just maybe, Emma and her brood of trainee service dogs can break through and be the light he so desperately needs.
Joey Roberts and Nichole Hadley were inseparable from the moment they met on the playground. Years later, with graduation looming and their future about to begin, they were positive nothing could tear them apart.
Until one bad decision.
More than a decade following their breakup, Joey returns to town after suffering a devastating injury in Iraq. With a new job on the police force and a new house to fix up, he knows he’ll have no trouble keeping his mind and body occupied.
But when a call brings him face to face with a broken and battered Nichole Hadley-Reynolds, it ignites a flame he'd long thought extinguished.
Joey was certain he’d forgotten Nichole.
Nichole doubted she still held a place in his heart.
Will this be the start of a second chance at lost love? Or will they remain floating adrift, forever in search of... Solid Ground?
“Now, what is a pretty thing like you doing sitting at the bar all by yourself?”
My head turns at the sound of the deep voice, my eyes landing on an arrogant smile. I quickly scan the rest of his face. Crystal-blue eyes. Nose that’s just slightly too big for his face. Defined cheekbones. Megawatt smile. Dimpled chin. He looks to be in his early thirties. Not old by any means, but at least seven or eight years older than my twenty-three years. He slides onto the stool to my right. Even though he’s sitting, I still have to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. He signals the bartender and leans into me. “What are you drinking tonight, gorgeous?”
I slant my body to the left, trying to widen the gap between us. This guy clearly doesn’t understand the concept of personal space. I glance down at his attire. Suit, tie, perfectly polished shoes. Everything about this guy screams confidence. Gorgeous, well dressed, and if the watch on his wrist is any indication, loaded. Every girl’s fantasy, right?
I look past him, scanning the crowd for Amanda. Her boyfriend, Justin, tends bar here on weekends. He’s the reason we’re here tonight. He’s also the reason I’m sitting here alone. His break started a few minutes ago, and he and Amanda immediately took off toward the dance floor.
Mr. Perfect reaches out and brushes my hair over my shoulder, his fingers lingering on my collarbone. Clearly oblivious to my silence and current search of rescue, he trails his fingers along the side of my neck. I shudder.
Mistaking my revulsion for desire, he leans in closer. When I turn to face him, I see his
eyes drift shut as he draws near. His mouth forms a small pucker and he stops just inches from my face. I stare at that mouth. Is this guy for real?
His eyes flicker open, those baby blues peering up at me through hooded lids. When he sees where my eyes are settled, the corners of his mouth curl up into a wry grin. I pull back just as he tries to close the distance between us.
He doesn’t take kindly to my rejection. Darkness fills his eyes and a small frown tugs at the corners of his lips. But he quickly regains his composure, laughing at me softly.
“Hard to get, eh? I like that.” He winks, continuing to laugh like we’re both in on some private joke. I look around again. Where in the hell is Amanda?
The bartender finally makes his way over to us, giving me a temporary reprieve from the man’s scrutiny.
“My usual, Jimmy. And another of whatever this pretty lady is having.”
Jimmy nods curtly and turns to prepare the man’s drink order. As he moves, I see a slight roll of his eyes. I’m guessing this isn’t the first time my new friend here has tried to pick someone up in this place.
The man interrupts my thoughts. “I’m Bruce. Phillips. Phillips and Lambert Real Estate. You may have seen our signs around town. Best in the biz, if I do say so myself. Buying or selling, we’re in a class by ourselves.” He extends his card to me. I stare at it blankly. That awful slogan is plastered across the top. When I don’t reach to take it, he shrugs and tucks it back inside his jacket pocket.
“So, cat got your tongue? Do you have a name, sweetheart?”
I decide I’ve had enough of his attempted sweet talk and those heated glances. I turn and place both elbows on the bar, cradling my drink between my fingers. Without meeting his gaze, I
take a sip and finally put him out of his misery.
“Well, that sure is an interesting name. Can’t say I’ve heard that one before.” He gives me a sideways grin, his attempts at charm failing miserably on me. I resist the urge to roll my eyes, instead letting out an exasperated sigh.
“Look, I get it. I get the cocky attitude and the confident swagger. I’m sure you’ve got women falling down around you. Begging you to take them home, to give them one night they’ll never forget. And so on and so forth,” I say with a dismissive wave of my hand. This time I’m unable to contain my eye roll. I turn on my seat, looking him square in the eye.
“I’m sure your next line will be that any girl in this place would kill to be in my position right now. So why don’t you go ahead and save yourself the time and effort and go find one of them? Because this—” I gesture between the two of us “—is not happening.” With that, I turn away from him, placing my elbows back on the bar in front of me. I can see the stunned look on his face out of the corner of my eye. His mouth opens and closes, giving him the appearance of a fish out of water. Hoping he’s taken my not-so-subtle hint, I down the rest of my drink and start to stand.
As soon as my feet touch the floor, a rough hand closes around my arm, halting my movement. I stumble back to my seat, staring up at the man. What the fuck does he think he’s doing?
He towers over me. He has at least six inches on my five foot nine. The anger I saw in his eyes has returned. Only this time it’s deepened. He looks furious.
“Look here, you stupid bitch. I don’t know who you think you are, but nobody talks to me like that,” he growls. His fingers tighten on my arm, nails digging into my skin. I squirm, trying to break free of his hold. It only results in more pressure. I can feel the bruises already starting to form.
“Now. You’re going to sit here and enjoy that drink I so generously bought for you. And you’re going to tell me your name and laugh at my jokes. And when I say it’s time, you’re going to leave here with me. You got that?”
My sharp words and tough-girl persona disappear in a matter of seconds. I feel the panic rising in my chest, the sweat breaking out along my hairline. I’ve had to deal with unwarranted advances before. But not like this. Usually men just slink off, calling me a bitch and finding someone else to lick their wounds and stroke their ego. But not this man. I’m in over my head here and I know it. My eyes desperately search for Amanda or Justin. Anyone I know who can help me. I come up empty.
“P-please. Just let me go.” My voice is barely audible over the loud music booming off the walls of the club. I hate the meager sound of my words. I hate that this bastard has reduced me to this. Helpless—something I haven’t felt in years. A few ugly words and a strong arm and I’m back to where I was. Where I’ve tried so hard to never return again.
Megan lives in Northern Utah with her handsome hubby, Adam. When not writing, chances are you’ll find her curled up with her Kindle. Besides reading and writing, she loves movies, animals, chocolate, and coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. She loves hearing from readers, so drop her a line! You can find her here: