A Long Journey Full of Peril (Preview)

Chapter One

The sound of the horse moving steadily toward town was cold comfort. 

A blanket of snow stretched out before John, and he pulled his winter coat up against his ears. It had been quite some time since he had ventured to this area. He wasn’t looking forward to going back.

A cold shiver ran down his spine; he could feel it all the way to his toes tucked inside his custom-made leather cowboy boots. He made his fortune selling high-end leather products to those who could afford nothing but the best.

John had had no idea what he was going to do when he’d left. The funeral and subsequent condolences had been too much for him to bear, and only one person had been fortunate enough to know that he’d intended to skip town after his father was buried. 

His best friend Robert had always been there for John, growing up. They had gotten into a lot of trouble together but always had each other’s back no matter what.

John pulled down the brim of his tan cowboy hat, which was collecting a dusting of snow that fell onto the saddle. It instantly melted, dripping to the ground below. 

It always smelled like death during the winter months when everything had died with the hopes of coming back to life in the spring.

The one thing John wanted to avoid most of all was the hoopla of the holidays. Christmas was a particularly painful time, a stark reminder of his father’s demise and absence from his life.

Demons in the form of nightmares plagued his every thought, forcing him to relive the ordeal over and over again. It was a cardinal mistake to run from his problems. He felt suffocated, unable to breathe when he walked into the house, despite being surrounded by acres of land. He had an empty feeling inside.

Smith & Wesson was his only friend. The gun was won in a poker game during his first year on his own. It had been a struggle for him to become a social butterfly when he had always been an introvert.

Breaking the cycle of solitude came at the expense of young women plied with enough liquor to see him as a viable conquest. They were merely distractions to keep him from thinking about the life he had left behind.

He didn’t remember their names and tried to keep things about a physical need instead of the entanglement of emotions. He felt raw and wounded, still sporting the fire in his belly for vengeance with no visible target upon which to release his wrath.

The sign up ahead announced his arrival back in his hometown. He had to pull back on the reins, feeling the leather of the strap digging into his hand. It was wrong to come back unannounced, but to give them any forewarned knowledge would have exposed him as the coward he believed he was.

A variety of hazards, including a pack of wolves looking to make him their dinner, accosted him along the way. Being a consummate hunter, courtesy of his father’s tutelage during his formative years, had come in handy. Playing cat and mouse with them allowed him to stay one step ahead.

He was rather tall at over six-foot-four with an upper-body strength that surprised many. He wore mostly dark clothing, reflecting his mood through his fashion choices.

It wasn’t easy to put on a brave face every morning with a fake smile to make people think he had the world by the tail.

He jumped down, temporarily leaving his footprints in the snow. He lovingly grazed his horse before he stepped away. 

Walking over to the sign and brushing away the snow gave him a jolt of recognition, bringing back a flood of memories from his youth.

Family was very important to him, but he’d never felt he had anything to contribute with this chip on his shoulder. His last connection was his father Ed. Losing him sent him down a dangerous path. He was lucky that he wasn’t in jail or something worse. John sighed deeply, feeling pangs of guilt for walking out on his friends.

Too many memories haunted him. He had loaned the ranch to a young couple at his friend’s suggestion. They had kept him up to date but had finally washed their hands of it, leaving the place vacant and at the mercy of Mother Nature for almost a year.

John walked back to the horse, a wild-eyed black stallion he had attempted to break to no avail. They had what he could only consider a strained relationship. Respect was a two-way street that didn’t include whipping the animal into submission.

John frequently worried in the back of his mind that the horse would find him intrusive and run away to find adventure elsewhere. He was always startled when he woke up after a long night’s sleep to see that the horse was still there.

“This is the first time you’re going to see your new home, but don’t get used to it. I’m not planning to stick around any longer than necessary. I’m going to fix up the place and sell it to the highest bidder,” he said to the animal. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s almost as if you can read my mind,” John added, as if the horse was talking to him without using words—which was exactly what it was doing, in his humble opinion.

He knew the area like the back of his hand, and it seemed not much had changed in the few years he had been absent. 

The one thing different about him was the black mustache underneath his nose. He had become the face of leather goods. Word of mouth had spread quickly about his fine Italian leather.

He walked along with the horse to a path just on the outskirts of town. It made him smile to see that the children from the area had continued the tradition of using the trail. Even with the snow, the broken branches confirmed there was life after his father’s demise.

It was the strangest sensation to be back after all this time had elapsed. He had no interest in meeting old acquaintances, except for one dear friend working tediously at the sawmill. 

It was still early, but he knew from previous experience his friend Robert would be hard at work. It was a family affair and one that Robert didn’t shy away from. John felt like he had betrayed his father’s legacy by leaving and never looking back. 

It was a bitter pill to swallow to slink back into town without anybody being aware of his presence. Some would have turned their backs. The guilt had affected his decision and he had procrastinated in returning until he realized that chapter of his life was going to have to be closed before he could move on.

The path in question went around the town, providing panoramic views of the countryside. Living and breathing a small-town environment was something he missed greatly. It felt like no time had gone by and everything remained the same.

He continued to trek through the snow-laden foliage, brushing the flakes from his suede brown jacket. The lining of wolf fur around the collar was pure white and helped keep the chill from the back of his neck. It also became free advertising and a conversation starter. He knew how to market his goods.

Some lucky recipients got free clothing to help spread the word like wildfire. He usually picked travelers. That way, he reached more people. It had worked better than he could have predicted.

Fur trading was all the rage. John cultivated deals with fur companies directly in competition with one another who would undercut each other to get his business. He had no loyalty to anyone. For him, it was just about business.

The next sight to greet him was something that did give him a moment of pause. 

Robert had expanded the sawmill enterprise into the juggernaut before him. The business was huge in comparison to what it had been when John had left town under the cover of darkness with his friend’s blessing.

They had stayed in touch, making the best of a bad situation by corresponding with one another throughout the years. 

It was to his chagrin that John had learned that his friend had never married or had any children. Robert had completely immersed himself into the family business, working his fingers to the bone. 

While John was saddened by how his friend never extended his family tree, it was hypocritical for John to judge him unfairly when he had gone down a similar path of least resistance.

Robert was busy talking to his employees, and John heard the sound of some of his men hard at work forming the lumber by hand. John watched, entranced by how they are worked in unison.

He cleared his throat when Robert stopped talking and the employees returned to their tasks. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“I thought you were raised to have better manners. It’s not nice to sneak up on one of your best friends and scare the living daylights out of him,” he chuckled. “Nothing changes with you. I think that’s the reason why we have remained friends all of these years,” Robert said, turning to see his friend for the first time in years.

When they were face-to-face, a moment of silence ensued, each one waiting for the other to make the first move. A wide smile stretched across John’s face.

“It’s good to see a familiar face. I’ve been debating for the last couple of months whether or not I was going to come here personally or send someone to take care of my business. I’m glad I decided to come back. That ugly mug is something I have missed dearly,” John stated before reaching out and taking his friend’s hand, pulling him into a long hug.

“I should be mad at you, but I know you did what you had to. Most people understood, there were only a few who felt you abandoned the town. I’ve done my best to keep the peace. It hasn’t been easy, but I think time heals all wounds eventually,” Robert said, hinting at his own pain.

John understood better than anybody how losing a part of your family could strengthen or weaken your resolve. 

Robert’s brother Andrew had died shortly after what happened to John’s father. He’d felt bad for not being there for his friend, but it had still been too soon to return where the memories of his father’s mysterious death were fresh.

“I’m sorry about your brother,” John whispered into his ear.

“I still miss him. He was the brains behind everything you see behind me. It was his design and know-how that gave me the idea of expanding the business. I wish that he was around to see it. He was always the dreamer.” Robert stopped talking. 

“I know I don’t have to explain why I didn’t return until now. I think if anybody would understand, it would be you. Ironically, I would’ve stayed to run the family ranch. My father was my hero. He was a workhorse—always up at the crack of dawn, working tirelessly until the sun went down,” John reflected on a man that had given him everything.

“I’m in no position to judge you. Nobody can do that unless they walk a mile in your shoes. I felt an obligation to my parents. They sold me the business and moved back east to retire. What do you think?” Robert inquired with a wave of his hand.

John could smell the sawdust in the air. It was amazing how Robert had taken a small enterprise and turned it into the lifeblood of the town. Several young men in the prime of their life were hard at work. 

“I would say your parents should be very proud of you. You have injected new life into the town. Creating jobs is what it is all about. You make money hand over fist while giving young families a way to keep food on the tables and a roof over their heads. I’m very impressed,” John praised him.

“I could really use a partner. I don’t want to put too much pressure on you, but maybe you would consider working with me. It would be just like old times, always at each other’s throats over the littlest thing. I miss those spirited debates. I can help you get set up. Are you going to stay at the old homestead?” Robert asked, gesturing to his men to keep things moving along at a steady pace.

“That’s a generous offer. I don’t plan to stick around long enough to put down roots. I’m not looking forward to walking back into the house after all this time,” John stammered with a little catch in his throat.

“What are your plans now that you are back, however long that is going to be? I know it’s selfish to want you to be here with me, but I think you know making friends is not my strong suit,” Robert lamented, staring at his vacant ring finger.

“It looks like you have done well for yourself. I wouldn’t have expected anything different. I can see now why you were vague about your accomplishments in your letters,” John said with a backward glance toward the horse, indicating the letters had accompanied him on his journey.

Robert walked ahead of him, showing him how the business had grown with several acres added to the enterprise.

“I was going to say the same thing to you. I admire a man who doesn’t mind flaunting his wealth in front of his friends,” Robert said with an abrupt turn before grabbing the white fur stretching over John’s shoulders.

John saw his friend’s belt buckle and smiled. His friend had memorialized his family with their crest on his buckle. It depicted a fork in the road with the double branches of a tree emblazoned in the silver landscape.

“I earned my money the hard way, like you. I don’t need much to live on considering I don’t have a family to support. You mentioned something about setting me up, but I have more than enough money that I don’t require any handouts even from friends. I hope this doesn’t displease you or make you think I’m not grateful,” John said.

“I just want to do right by my friend. Are you sure there’s nothing I can say to change your mind about leaving again? It pains me to admit business is getting a little too big for me to handle alone. Having somebody I trust implicitly would be a godsend.” Robert offered the position in a backhanded way.

“I appreciate your confidence in me, but I’m sure you can find somebody worthy of such an honor to stand with you in this endeavor. These are challenging times in the West. My father was always waking up to strange noises. I can’t count how many times I found him on the porch holding onto the shotgun with both hands, watching for the slightest movement.” John recalled his father’s strength and willful attitude when it came to people sniffing around his property.

“I hate to bring up a sore subject. Do you still think something wasn’t right about your father’s death? Maybe you should take your concerns to the new sheriff in town. Martin Poor has taken over for his predecessor and has done some incredible work to keep law and order,” Robert said.

“I remember Martin. He was that shy kid nobody wanted to have anything to do with. I guess some things do change, and sometimes for the better,” John said with a grin of remembrance.

Robert punched John’s shoulder. “I know what you mean. He was always this gangly kid, barely speaking a single word. But he blossomed when the old sheriff took him under his wing to teach him the ropes. He became outspoken. He’s tough but fair, never letting anybody get away with anything.”

“It might be good to get some fresh eyes on this, though it still doesn’t sit well with me. The one thing that bothers me the most is how my father had bloodied knuckles, like he was in some sort of fight. Sheriff Patterson ruled it an accidental mauling by a wild animal,” John confessed, bringing up lost and forgotten doubts about what happened to his father.

“You could stay with me. I have plenty of room. It’s not like I have little ones running around under my feet,” Robert pointed out.

“I need to assess the family property. My plan is to fix it up and then sell it.” 

John walked over to survey the men hard at work with everybody having a purpose. It was an assembly line.

“I know you well enough by now to understand how hard this is for you. Once you get things fixed up, you won’t be able to leave. You might not think so, but this place will grow on you again,” Robert persisted.

“I left for a reason, and that reason is still there. Nothing has changed. You don’t have to believe me. Just know that my stay is going to be short and sweet. Do me a favor?” John hesitated.

“You know you can ask me anything. How long have we known each other? It feels like only yesterday we were exploring the hills together. Remember those bones we found in the cave?” 

It was something the two of them had promised never to talk about again.

“I still have nightmares. We’ve been friends for 30 years. You think you know me, but these years apart have changed me,” John concluded with a crooked smile.

He went over to his horse and climbed back into the saddle. He gave a solemn nod to his friend, receiving one in return.

He had died, metaphorically speaking, when his father was put to rest. Going through the motions wasn’t living. It was mainly existing, taking up space. John wanted to shake free from the memories, but he was about to walk back into the lion’s den.

Chapter Two

Megan O’Reilly was walking toward the church with two young kids barely out of infancy hanging from each hand. They were to be used as props, to tug on the heartstrings of the townspeople.

Her white dress hung loosely over the snug corset holding everything in place. Megan had wide hips and curves to make any man stare in admiration when they walked by.

Though she was well respected, Megan was still a desired woman. Her best feature was her blazing blue eyes, almost hypnotizing in the right light.

“I want you to let me do all the talking. I know you didn’t feel right about doing this.  Parading them in front of the congregation is a dirty tactic, but it’s the only way to get them to act.” Mary Beth Marcus referred to her two young children, Madeleine and Stevie.

“I hope you know this is pandering, and I don’t feel good about it. We shouldn’t have to resort to extreme measures. God knows I’ve tried to talk to them, but they won’t listen to me.” 

Her pleas for another teacher had fallen on deaf ears.

“You’re just not speaking their language. The schoolhouse is standing room only. I’ve tried my best to help, but I do have other obligations. The best thing for everybody is to get you some help. That way, you can slow down and find a good man to settle down with,” Mary said.

Megan sighed deeply.

It was a running joke between the two of them. Mary wasn’t going to be happy until Megan was married off and had children of her own.

Everybody had come out in their Sunday best the weekend after the holidays. Spending it alone hadn’t been easy. Her plans to go back east had been derailed. The small house she was renting was in desperate need of repair, but everything was functional except for the leaky roof.

The money earmarked for travel had to be spent on keeping a roof over her head. Still, she did enjoy Christmas mass. It was uplifting to see all the candles lit, creating a magical environment.

“I’m in no hurry to settle down. I think you recognize there are not very many prospects.” Megan brought to mind Robert. 

He was one of the good ones, but he was always too busy to socialize. It was something they had in common. He certainly wasn’t hard on the eyes, but they were more like friends. 

He was the only one to show up during Christmas with a gift from the heart—a novel called Wuthering Heights. Reading material wasn’t easy to come by. She had promised him to keep his gift a secret without uttering a word to anybody, including Mary.

It was an experience to absorb the words on the pages carefully and slowly. Losing herself in the characters made her understand the importance of the written word.

Some people couldn’t escape their upbringing, never being given the advantage of learning to read and write. It was her purpose and her mission to make sure the town’s children were given everything their parents didn’t have growing up.

The white church with its doors wide open was beckoning the townspeople, the sound of the bell ringing incessantly. 

Father Tanner O’Brien had come from the Scottish Highlands looking to spread the word of God.

He wasn’t what Megan considered a normal preacher with a Bible-thumping ignorance. He was the first to introduce music into the proceedings. It made it a pleasure to sit in the pews and listen to the dulcet tones of young men and women in the choir.

Mary motioned for her kids to go into the church without her.

“Let me paint you a picture. Imagine waking up to a warm body next to you, his hands gently running through your hair as he stares into your eyes. You feel a breathless desire come over you. The sheets ruffle and his hand trails under them…” Mary hesitated.

A wagon with two horses rode past, a young couple inside arguing. It was something about money, but their voices trailed off until Megan couldn’t hear what they were saying.

They got out of the wagon, followed by two young children. The town had been overrun by young families. Those two children were just one of many that were going to further their education under her watchful eye.

“You do make it sound tempting, but I don’t need a man to complete me. I don’t have the time. I want somebody who is going to respect my profession. I don’t want to give it up. It gives me something to live for when I wake up, knowing the children are waiting to learn. I feel an overwhelming sense of accomplishment I can’t even begin to describe to you,” Megan explained.

She was an important and integral part in giving these children a future they would be proud of.

“Were you saying something? Those kids are going to be the death of me. Stephen is doing inventory this morning at the general store and he won’t be able to make church. This influx of people has made it hard to keep things on the shelf. I know this is progress, but Stephen can’t do it alone. He thinks he can,” Mary said with a motion to her children to stay out of the mud.

“New people bring with them headaches, including criminals looking to profit over the misery of others. It’s a good thing Sheriff Poor has a posse of deputies working around the clock to keep the peace.” Megan reflected on the gunshots ringing out at night, but recently things had quieted down.

“What you fail to understand is those criminals you speak of have always been here, lurking in the background. They’re just waiting for the opportunity to make our lives a living hell,” Mary said pessimistically.

Megan nervously curled a lock of her blond hair around one finger. It was better than the alternative of biting her nails in an unladylike fashion.

Father O’Brien stopped them from entering the house of the Lord with two hands outstretched. 

“I know I agreed to this, but I don’t want them to feel ambushed. They depend on me to lighten the load. They don’t want anything to waste their time,” he said. “I’m giving you this forum to find funding to hire another teacher. The next generation is very important. Let me get started and then I will turn it over to you.”

“I honestly don’t know how to thank you for this. We need a captive audience. Acquiring their attention during a town hall meeting is pointless. Having them in one place will help to get the message out quicker,” Mary said.

Father O’Brien was young and impressionable. He still had designs on making the world a better place and was heard saying it too many times to count.

Megan was determined to make her mark by shaping the young minds of the next generation.

The inner circle of power was under one roof.

Father O’Brien directed them to the front of the church with the raised pedestal his to command. He had a booming voice and wasn’t shy about using it to preach fire and brimstone.

“I am so happy to see all of you this morning. The topic today concerns all of you attending here. I stand before you a humble servant of God doing his work. We have a lot to be thankful for. This is a family, and we look after each other. Volunteers are the lifeblood of any church. This community has come together many times, and this should be no different.” 

Father O’Brien hinted that there was something important to discuss without coming out and saying the words.

Megan was sitting on her hands, trying valiantly not to chew on her cuticles. The good Father had gotten their attention with mumbles of confusion all around her.

“I look around the room and I see good people. We all stumble from time to time, but we manage to stand back up with the help of the community. I see a town built on faith and the Gospel according to the holy word in the Bible,” Father O’Brien stated with his hand slapping the cover of a black leather Bible emblazoned with a gold cross on the front.

Everybody moved a little closer in the wooden pews. He had them in the palm of his hand and this was no time to let up. 

Megan was impressed by how easily the words came to him, when she was always a little stunned under the pressure of the glaring light. 

It was different with children. 

Standing in front of a crowd of adults could render her speechless in a matter of moments. It was the reason she was depending on the kindness of Father O’Brien and Mary to do the heavy lifting for her.

“God stresses the importance of coming together. You can read the passages every night by candlelight. I have provided each of you with the tools to build a solid foundation. Those books came at considerable expense, but fundraising for the church is a pleasure when I know I have the respect of my peers. I came here looking for a change and you all welcomed me with open arms. 

“I know I do things differently, with the added bonus of making it fun. Why should it be boring with somebody droning on for hours making you feel that going to church is a chore? I say to those in a position of power to use that podium in the spirit that it was intended,” Father O’Brien rattled on, his short black hair dripping sweat from how he was pounding down on the pedestal to get their undivided attention.

Megan was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It was amusing to see them transfixed by his word, unable to read between the lines. They wouldn’t even see it coming when Mary made her plea for a new teacher using the house of the Lord as a backdrop to keep them from running in the opposite direction.

Father O’Brien was getting his point across. They needed his words to help them to navigate the pitfalls of temptation.

Megan was not immune to the temptation of the pleasures of the flesh, but she felt empowered to resist the natural allure of the opposite sex. Fighting it was a never-ending struggle. Father O’Brien made it easy for her to speak candidly about her problems behind closed doors. He never judged her for having impure thoughts. 

It was nice to hear him talk about others facing the same trials. He never mentioned any names, but she was happy to know she wasn’t alone.

“I’m going to turn over the pulpit to somebody you know very well. She has been instrumental in giving this town a sense of community. I want you to give her a warm welcome,” Father O’Brien said before motioning for Mary to join him at the front.

Mary had her hair pinned up when she walked confidently to the front of the room.

She slapped her hand down on the podium to make them all flinch. “We are in a position to help those less fortunate than us. This is a major problem and must be addressed immediately. Our children demand nothing but the best, and we have fallen short of that mark. This is not my story to tell. Megan O’Reilly can say it better than I can.” Mary stopped, and several heads turned in Megan’s direction.

Megan swallowed hard, completely taken off-guard. She hadn’t imagined that she would have to speak to the crowd. She couldn’t shrink inside of herself.

It dawned on her that it wasn’t right to let somebody else do her job. She was scared to speak her mind with the adults, but it wasn’t going to stop her from being heard.

She took a deep breath to rally her strength in the face of those that were in a position to judge her. As she made her way up slowly, she tried to show her confidence even though she was tempted to pass out.

Mary walked past her with a huge grin on her face.

Megan was getting a better understanding of what was going on. She was being put on the spot, but it was obvious from the smirk that Mary had this planned all along.

Megan couldn’t bear to look at the congregation when she was finally at the front of the church, all of their eyes staring back at her. The words in her mouth were frozen and she could barely speak beyond a little squeak. 

This was no time to be shy.

“I believe most of you… ahem… know who I am. Those who don’t will probably find out sooner than later. My name is Megan O’Reilly, and I’m responsible for teaching your children. I wake up every morning and put on my best smile before walking into the schoolhouse ready to roll up my sleeves.” 

Megan followed with an account of her day-to-day responsibilities. Nobody said a word, but she could tell they all had questions, which she was summarily going to answer before they had a chance to interrupt her spiel.

“I love my chosen profession and I have nothing to complain about. It’s a pleasure to see their smiling faces light up when they learn something. I’m the conduit to further their education, but I can’t do it alone,” she announced. 

Looking around, she found nobody denying what part she played in giving their children a future. Talking in public was outside of her comfort zone, but it was good to shake things up a bit.

“Another teacher would go a long way to alleviating the pressure on my shoulders. The older children help out when they can, but they also need guidance. Call me old-fashioned, but I believe the future is in their eyes. Won’t you think of the children?” Megan repeated something her mother said to her.

Fundraising could be a headache, but she was ready to say her piece. The seeds were sown and she had to make the idea grow until they felt they had no other choice than to comply.

“The days of teaching your children from the home are coming to an end. We all have busy lives. Teaching is what I was born to do. I see the injustice of a little boy who can’t read. Hiring help is a small price to pay. This town is growing every day—you only have to look around to see how progress is catching up to us.” Megan referred to several buildings in different stages of construction.

Father O’Brien came over with soothing hands of comfort on her shoulders. “This woman gives and gives but receives little in return for all of her efforts. You take her for granted. She is a very important part of this society. Give her proposal the thought it deserves with my glowing recommendation. I stand behind every word. Judge not lest you want to be judged,” Father O’Brien said before taking his rightful place to begin once again spouting the frailty of mankind’s weakness when it came to temptation.

After church, Megan met Mary outside to confront her, but she didn’t get a word in edgewise.

“I apologize for putting you on the spot like that. I figured an impassioned plea from you would make them understand the importance of another teacher,” her friend explained.

Megan had a few choice words, but Mary was using her children as human shields by keeping them close.

“I suppose no harm was done. It’s probably a good thing to force me out of my comfort zone from time to time. I need the kick in the ass,” Megan whispered.

“I’ll continue to press them on this issue. They won’t hear the end of it until they do something about it. I do have to run, though. I promised my husband that I would help him with the inventory. He’s useless without me, but don’t tell him that,” Mary teased.

“I’ll be over to your place for dinner this evening. Don’t make the mistake of trying to set me up with one of your friends. We know how badly that went the last time,” Megan warned with a smile on her face. 

She saw all of her children jumping into the puddles made from the melting snow.

Her biological clock was ticking, and she knew it.


“A Long Journey Full of Peril” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!

John Franklin was a strong man until a tragedy broke his body and spirit. Losing his father made him leave everything behind, but he never truly forgot the place he called home. Now, he has to return in the hopes of reviving his old family ranch and maybe settling down. However, the realization that his father’s death may not have been an accident awakens a deep desire within him for investigation and revenge. Devastated and losing hope, he shudders to deal with the injustice until Megan, a cherished person from his past, offers to help him on his journey. Will he have the courage to face the truth regardless of how dangerous or challenging it may be?

Ever since coming back to his hometown, John’s found it hard to find his place. When he meets Megan, he is quickly captivated by her calm and sweet nature but knows he must put his feelings on hold. He confesses his suspicions to her about his father’s death and soon realizes how willing she is to help him. A vicious attack against Megan will force John to keep his unexpected emotions in check while he seeks revenge. When the situation becomes more intricate, Megan will make John see clear… Can she break through the walls around his heart or will his quest bring both of their demises?

Even though John and Megan are opposites in every way, they manage to uncover a series of small-town secrets and lies. As they work together for a common cause, they will discover how hard they’re both willing to fight for what they believe in. A strong connection between them will bring them inner peace, but can the new lives they seek for themselves also include love? When secrets come to light and scores are settled, will their investigation set both Megan and John free?

“A Long Journey Full of Peril” is a historical adventure novel of approximately 80,000 words. No cliffhangers, only pure unadulterated action.

Get your copy from Amazon!

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