Please welcome Kate McKeever to my blog today with her book, Sinner's Redemption. She shares an interesting tidbit about her DIY project that is sure to bring a chuckle...
I’ve always been an independent being. My mother said my first sentence was “Me do it,” and I’ve been insisting on doing things myself for ever since. And, yes, it’s definitely gotten me in trouble.
When I think of examples of the above, I come up with way too many but one that stands out in my mind is the time I bought drainage pipe. If you’ve ever done any work on your yard or house, you’re probably familiar with the flexible plastic pipe that is buried in the ground and connects to either a larger drainage pipe or the guttering of your house. It serves a wonderful purpose, that of making sure your yard doesn’t become a welcome wagon for mosquitos, mold and contractors who have to drain your basement.
I had such a back yard. When I bought my first house, a new construction with a small retaining wall at the back of the patio, I realized quickly that, with any rainfall, the runoff settled in my back yard, making it a squishy, sloshy mess until the sun dried it up. I, being a frugal, responsible home owner and above mentioned independent woman, decided I’d forgo the handyman or contractor route and figure out the drainage problem myself.
I did well with the planning. Always do, it seems. It’s the execution that goes south for me. I compiled a list, headed to the nearest big box hardware store and purchased all the items necessary for my drainage project. However, I hadn’t counted on space. The space in my Toyota Corolla’s trunk, to be precise.
I’d purchased fifty feet of drainage pipe and it came neatly coiled and tied with plastic ties, so to be easily transported. And so it was, until I got to my car. I’d figured on a tight fit but not on the fact that the pipe was too fat, in its nicely tied bundle, to go in the trunk. So I, in my independent wisdom, untied it.
Yep, you guess it. The pipe proceeded to snake its way across my lane in the parking lot and back toward the store, as if missing momma. I ran after it, gathering it up in my arms and hustling it to my car. After all, if someone ran over the pipe, it wouldn’t take any water anywhere.
After trying to escape my car trunk several times, the snakey pipe finally got corralled when I crawled into the trunk, released the back seat lever and folded the back seat. I then threaded the pipe into the back seat and trunk and happily drove home with the pipe in. my rear view all the way.
And no, no one asked if they could help, but I provided quite a show for the early bird contractors in the parking lot.
I haven’t written this in a book, yet. But I have plans!
You probably didn't realize this, but there was probably a whole bunch of guys inside the store watching you. LOL
Tell us a little bit about Sinner's Redemption
About Sinner’s Redemption
Ex Seal sniper Cole “Sinner” Ramsey left the service when one mistake ended an innocent’s life. His job now, that of a rehabilitation counselor at the Brighter Days Ranch outside of Eagle Rock, Montana, keeps him busy and is fulfilling his desire to be of service. He’s put his past behind him. Or so he thinks until Vanessa “Van” Hastings shows up at the ranch with PTSD and memory loss after being held hostage in the middle east for weeks. As Cole tries to put his resentment of her part in his career ending mistake on the back burner, Van’s beauty, bravery and vulnerability make him rethink this woman’s purpose, both in his life and for her own. As Van recovers her memory, the couple realize more may be at stake than their affection for each other. Can they stay alive long enough to find out if love is possible for them?
Cole sighted the target in his night scope and sussed the situation. Too many people around the man now, he needed to wait until there would be no ancillary harm. The woods and brush around him provided cover, along with the ever-present vines. He ignored the trickling sweat pouring down his back, grateful for the band he’d tied on his forehead. It wicked the moisture from his face, keeping sweat out of his eyes. Cole stayed in place, waiting for interminable moments, patient. Watching.
“Sinner,” his commander’s voice hissed over his com unit and Cole clicked in reply. “You got em?”
“In my sights. Waiting for clutter.”
“Take em now, we gotta get the woman out.”
Cole stifled a curse and clicked in reply. He took a breath, centering his body and looked down his scope again. The hostage, a dark-haired woman dressed in dirty jeans and a stained t-shirt, stood alongside the target, her hands behind her. As he squeezed the trigger, Cole watched in slow motion as the woman bent over and pushed at the target with her shoulder. Cole corrected automatically and his second bullet found its home. He wasted a moment to see the results of his shots. Damn it! Instead of the one hit, he’d taken out two. And one of them an innocent.
He policed his area and silently pulled back as all hell broke loose in the encampment. As he ran through the South American forest, Cole tried to get the image of the fallen innocent out of his mind but the blank eyes stared back at him, accusatory, judging.
Cole strode across the snow-covered Montana ground, his hands plunged in his denim jacket pockets. Damn, it was cold and not even officially winter yet. He’d have to get something warmer if he planned on staying at the Brighter Days Ranch for any period of time.
He stomped up onto the porch and entered the main house, wiping his boots on the mat before greeting Hannah, the program head. “Hannah, you didn’t tell me my ass would be numb here.”
She glanced up from the pile of paper on a work-worn table and laughed. “You’re a big boy. You should have done your research on the ranch before agreeing to come work for me. You need a coat, not that dinky jacket.”
Her husband, Taz Davilla leaned against the kitchen counter, a mug in his hand. “After the hot spots you’re used to, I don’t doubt you’re freezing your balls off. Sorry, babe,” he glanced at Hannah and grinned. “The truth’s the truth.”
She shook her head and gestured toward the coffee pot. “Get something to drink and we’ll go over the cases we have.”
Cole ambled to the counter and filled a mug to the brim before taking a tongue scalding sip. He sighed and removed his jacket, hanging it on a hook and took a seat at the table. “You got an office, right?” At her nod, he continued, “Why work at the kitchen table?”
She tilted her head. “I love this room, always have. It’s more comfortable than the office.”
“And she can watch everything that’s going on from here,” Taz joked and kissed his wife on the cheek before straightening. “I need to check in with Hank, babe. I’ll see you later,”
She nodded and Cole waited as she watched her husband leave the room. “He still working for Hank?”
“He takes assignments near home,” she replied. “Neither of us want him to be traveling all over the world and Brotherhood Protectors is growing. He still likes to ‘keep his hand in’, as he says.”
“Better him than me,” Cole muttered and ignored the sharp look Hannah sent his way. He’d been out of the military four years and it hadn’t gotten any easier, dealing with the dreams and memories.
“Are you satisfied with counseling?”
He nodded, not offering any explanation. Rehab counseling suited him now.
“I’ve noticed you still do lots of PE and target practice.” She laid a file aside, face down and opened another, not meeting his gaze.
He shrugged, “I loved shooting targets as a kid. I guess that never goes away.” And paper targets didn’t bleed.
She didn’t question him further. Hannah was good like that. He nodded toward the files, “What do we have?”
She handed a couple files to him for review. “A couple amputees are coming in this week. One has been out of the military for a year and the other is just coming out. And we have a non-military case.”
He glanced up from the folder he’d been perusing. “You haven’t taken any non-military cases, have you? Not in the time I’ve been here, anyway.”
“We make exceptions now and then. This one was a special favor from the State Department.” She pushed the folder toward him. “An amnesia case, along with some trauma. You’ll be in charge, since her wounds are more emotional than physical.”
“She was a hostage,” Hannah murmured and Cole felt his pulse quicken. “She got out of the hospital last week.”
“Syria. Apparently, the extraction team took out a hornet’s nest of bad guys and they found her in the middle of it all. They didn’t even know she was there until they went in to clean up.”
Cole grunted an absent response as he surveyed the information. "Female, early thirties, undernourished, scars from probable beatings, no memories of her imprisonment. Diagnosis of PTSD."
“She’s from DC, worked as a reporter for one of the cable stations. Went on assignments all over the world. She’d been freelancing this past year, after the station let her go. That’s why no one knew where she was.”
“No one reported her missing?”
“Seems that she went on that assignments without letting anyone know her destination. Right now, she’s pretty subdued. And scared. She’s in cabin three.”
Cole finally looked at the name tab on the side of the chart. He didn’t spout expletives, didn’t throw the file across the room, didn’t even change his breathing. Inside, the name Vanessa Hastings made his blood run cold. The woman responsible for the ancillary death was his new assignment.
He stood and refilled the half full cup at the counter, taking precious moments to regain his composure. Vanessa Hastings had bad luck with hostage situations. His last assignment as a Seal sniper, to assist in her extraction from a drug encampment years before, resulted in a final casualty for which he couldn’t forgive himself. If she hadn’t shoved the target–. Damn. His head started splitting with an intense headache, radiating from his neck. He took a breath and turned to Hannah.
“Let me look over her file and I’ll pay her a visit. She okay with me being in the room alone with her?”
Hannah shook her head. “No, we’ll have one of the women counselors with her at first. And the initial meeting will be with her handler.”
“Handler? She that important?”
Hannah tilted her head in consideration. “I think the information she can’t remember is that important. This request came down from pretty high in the government. I couldn’t have refused without a good reason, even if I wanted to.”
He grunted. “The handler male or female?”
“Male. And there’s a secretary that accompanies him everywhere he goes.” Hannah smirked. “Between you and me, that secretary probably has a nine millimeter inside her jacket."
Cole nodded. So the handler had a body guard. Did that mean Ms. Hastings needed one too?
Available at Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Sinners-Redemption-Brotherhood-Protectors-World-ebook/dp/B07K89LSBD/
I've always liked stories that have military heros. This sounds really intriguing and I look forward to reading it.
Let's find out a little about Kate McKeever.
Kate McKeever was born and raised in the south and spent her childhood rambling in the woods and reading, often at the same time. She spent a lot of time in libraries as a volunteer and reader, then as a perennial student, so her mother thought. She tried several careers before settling down on her current one. Writing is a passion and joy. Kate loves to write sweet and spicy contemporary and paranormal romances.
Thank you, Kate, for stopping by and sharing your story.
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