How Charity Sunday works: for every comment made on this blog post, I will donate money to the charity named. The same promise is made for every blog site listed in the group–click the Linky Links link at the bottom of this post to see the list of participants and read/comment on any of them to see a donation go to that blogger’s charity. We’re all different! Thanks for your help and your participation!
This month I’d like to highlight The Independence Fund. The mission of The Independence Fund is “…to empower our severely wounded Veterans and their Caregivers to take control of their lives. We provide the resources and tools that enable Veterans to regain their independence and fight for their ability to sustain it.”
They support wounded Veterans of any era and use a “whole family” approach to achieve the greatest results and sustainability. They also partner with the VA to help stem the tragedy of Veteran suicides. And—and this is how I heard of this organization—one of the tools they provide is all-terrain mobility devices so Veterans might experience life outdoors. I’d seen these things long ago but didn’t know where to support their distribution. They allow truer outdoor activities since they go across lawns and even into the woods. I’m thrilled to support this organization!
My book of the month is Burning Bridges, a romance that has its genesis in the Vietnam War, and which Coffee Pot Book Club awarded the Gold Medal for Best Romance 2020!
Blurb:
Not your typical “secret baby” book! This Southern romance packs emotion.
Letters delivered decades late send shock waves through Sara Richards’s world. Nothing is the same, especially her memories of Paul, a man to whom she’d given her heart years before. Now, sharing her secrets and mending her mistakes of the past means putting her life back together while crossing burning bridges. It will be the hardest thing Sara’s ever done.
Buy link:
Kindle Unlimited
Excerpt:
Sara stared at the letters arranged before her in numerical order. The moment in time she and Paul shared was long ago, yet her dream had conjured his presence as though she’d just seen him. In her mind, his blue eyes darkened with passion before his lips captured hers, and he moaned his appreciation when their tongues met. She tasted his sweetness and knew the steel of his arms as he held her. How many nights had she put herself through hell reliving those memories? Too damn many.
After the concert, they’d met clandestinely on weekends, mostly at Sandbridge, where they could walk and talk undisturbed. With each meeting, stirrings built deep in Sara that pushed her to want more, but Paul insisted they restrain themselves because of her age.
Then the weekend before he shipped out, she’d planned a surprise and her life changed forever.
The kettle screeched, bringing her back to the present. Sara prepared a cup of tea and then picked up the envelope marked twenty-eight. At one time, she would have given her right arm to hold this letter. Now, curiosity and the desire for a brief escape drove her more than the passion of youth. Blind love had faded when she’d had no word to bolster her during the long weeks after the ship left.
First had come the waiting. No letters arrived, even though she wrote him daily. There were no phone calls, no notes, no anything, for days that dragged into weeks then crept into months.
Anticipation morphed into anxiety. She worried he was sick or hurt and unable to write.
One day she admitted that Paul must be afraid to write for some reason, and she feared what he would say if she did receive a letter. That their time together had been a mistake, that she was too young to be in love. That he really loved someone else and Sara had been only a stand-in while he was in Virginia. Perversely, she began to sigh with relief when she arrived home and found no word.
Now, knowing why she hadn’t received mail, what would she feel if she opened this letter and her old fears proved to be true?
“Nothing,” she murmured. “Paul’s dead. He can’t hurt me anymore.” At the very least, his letters might allow her to put his ghost to rest. For that reason alone, she had to read them.
She slid her thumb under the flap and ripped the envelope open. A single sheet held his hurried scrawl.
Author Dee S. Knight:
A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.
After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website (www.nomadauthors.com). Fortunately, Dee’s high school sweetheart is the love of her life and husband to all three ladies! Once a month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity.
Author links:
Website: https://nomadauthors.com
Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog
Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN
Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6
LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749
Sweet ‘n Sassy Divas http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K
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What a great idea! I’ve heard of these devices also. Thank you for sharing.
All terrain mobility is so important, as is suicide prevention for vets. Thank you!
Hello, Dee,
I tweeted your post, but then in the middle of last night woke up and realized that I had not commented!
Thank you for your stalwart support of Charity Sunday – and for your always-worthwhile charities which may be unfamiliar to many readers.
Coming from a military family, I appreciate this charity. thanks for doing and for giving me an excerpt to enjoy and more.
For a country that claims to support the military, there is damn little to show for it. Good on you for finding an organization that does just that. Glad to help support those who gave so much. I remember the war in ‘Nam. I had friends who lost brothers, boyfriends, uncles, etc, to the draft. I was a freshman in college when the draft ended. I was on a floor in the boys’ wing when I heard yelling and ran out into the hall to see one of my friends running toward me, then he stopped to punch the loudspeaker off the ceiling. His beaming face yelled, “No more draft!” Our celebrating went on for days, and was legendary!