By
NY Times & USA Today Bestselling Author
Teresa Reasor

After nine years of marriage to a Navy SEAL Zoe Yazzie knows about sacrifice. Because of numerous periods of separation from her husband she’s put her dream of having another child on the back burner. But now her biological clock is ticking and she needs Hawk’s cooperation.

Lieutenant Commander Adam “Hawk” Yazzie is stunned when his wife springs the idea of having a baby on him. Their son will soon be ten and Hawk believes their baby days are over. He’s faced with a dilemma, if he says no and crushes Zoe’s dream, will it cause long term harm to their marriage?

When Zoe is injured in a terrible car accident, the decision is put on hold while they wait for her to wake up. Hawk is faced with the possibility that his wife might not survive. But when she finally opens her eyes, he’s dealt an unthinkable blow. Zoe doesn’t remember him or their life together.

There are a number of things happening in this book. First we have Lieutenant Commander Hawk Yazzie who has a problem with Seaman Owen Morgan. Owen seems to be on a self destructive path since he returned from deployment to find his best friend died on a mission and to top it off his wife left him.

Then there’s Hawk’s wife Zoe, she’s thinking about possibly having another baby, their son A.J. is ten and really doesn’t need her as much anymore. She doesn’t have much time to consider this but she does have to discuss it with Hawk and get his feelings on another child at this stage of their lives. After all he was deployed through most of raising A.J. and only with this new promotion is he going to be stateside.

We have Lt. Sam Harding and his fiancé Moira planning their wedding. He’s keeping the fact that one of his team died on their last mission from her not wanting to take away from the joy of the occasion.

Everything starts falling apart from the moment Zoe heads out to get drinks and snacks for A.J.’s ball team. It’s last minute and her car has a flat so she takes Hawk’s SUV. A crash Zoe tried so hard to avoid leads to her having head trauma with memory loss. She remembers nothing of her life with Hawk, not even A.J. her son.

This is a favorite scene when Zoe comes home from the hospital.

Hawk poured a glass of cold, sweet tea from the pitcher in the refrigerator, added two fingers of bourbon to the mixture and squeezed in the juice of a lemon wedge. Drinking had rarely been his thing, other than a cold beer after a mission, but the stress of the day had brought on a craving. Now that A. J. was in bed and the house was quiet, he was just grateful to settle into the glider on the sunporch to unwind.

Ten days ago he would have talked to Zoe about the accident. But now, with everything she was going through, he wasn’t certain she was strong enough to hear the things the detectives told him. Someone had deliberately shoved the car out into traffic so she’d be hit. Did they know who she was? Had they believed he was at the wheel? Surely they could see it was a woman driving even from behind.

Who would have a motive to do this? He needed to work the problem.

Half an hour later he was still doing that when he heard a sound in the kitchen and got up to look in.

Zoe stuck the plate her mother had covered for her in the microwave and turn it on. When she noticed him standing in the doorway, she offered him a small smile. “Hey.”

Sleep pants hung low on her hips, emphasizing how much weight she’d lost in the past ten days. Her T-shirt had a cartoon on the front of a television remote that read, your remote does not qualify as an exercise machine.

“Wake up hungry?” he asked.

“Yeah.” “You slept for nearly three hours.”

“They don’t let anyone rest in the hospital. They woke me up at midnight, three, and six to take my blood pressure, pulse, and temperature. Then just when I finally went back to sleep, they’d come in to do something else. Then there’s breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and in between the vampires— sorry, lab techs— drawing blood, and the cleaning crew taking care of the room, and respiratory therapy wanting you to breathe into a machine to make sure you don’t develop pneumonia because you’re lying around too much…” She shrugged one shoulder “You get the picture.”

The microwave dinged, and she went to a drawer, got a potholder, and reached in for the plate. She set it on the island and stared at the potholder like it was something totally foreign.

“What is it?”

“Russell says that muscle memory is why I know where things are in the kitchen.”

He looked from her to the potholder. “Could be. Don’t push yourself, Zoe. Your body’s telling you, you need to rest to heal.”

She set aside the potholder and looked up. “I suppose so. I’m not used to waiting to do anything anymore.”

Hawk leaned against the door facing and sipped his drink. “No, but you’re really good at explaining to other people why they need to be patient.”

“Am I?” She took a bite of her Chinese.

“Yeah, you are. The people you work with at Balboa told me that.”

She chewed, then swallowed. “I want to see them. Talk to them. Maybe it will jar a memory since I spend significant time there. Russell said something about muscle memory triggering other things. And my work is a kind of repetitive muscle memory.”

“We’ll call and talk to your boss. It might be overwhelming for you to talk to too many people at once.” And embarrassing and upsetting if she couldn’t remember them.

“Can we do it tomorrow?”

“Zoe, I’d like for you to do it at a time when I can go with you, and I can’t make it tomorrow.”

“When?” She took another bite and chewed slowly.

“Maybe next week.”

She ate in silence for a time, then wiped her mouth with a napkin and carried her empty plate to the sink, rinsed it, and loaded it into the dishwasher.

Her silence wasn’t encouraging, but as much as he wanted to protect her, he needed to tell her about the detectives’ visit. “There’s something else I need to talk to you about.”

“What is it?”

“Two detectives have been assigned to investigate the accident.”

“Detectives? Aren’t accidents usually investigated by a special accident recreation expert?”

“Usually, but the truck that hit you had been stolen during a carjacking, and the man who owned the truck was killed.” He wouldn’t tell her that she’d been pursued for several minutes before the accident. “It was determined that the person driving the truck purposely pushed your SUV out into the middle of traffic.”

“Pushed me out into traffic?”

“Yes.”

“Why would anyone do that?”

“They don’t know yet. They asked if there were any neighbors we’ve had a falling-out with, or if there was any reason for someone to follow or attack either of us. We’ve never had issues with anyone in the neighborhood since we’ve lived here. The police will be questioning the people you work with at the hospital to find out if they’re aware of any issues. NCIS will be asking the personnel who’ve had issues with me some questions as well.

“Since you were driving my car instead of your own, they’ll probably be following through with some of the guys on post.”

“Why was I driving your car?”

“You ran over a six-inch piece of metal and had a flat. We’d all slept in and were running late, so you took my car to go to the grocery. I was changing the flat to the temporary tire when the hospital called.”

“The police detectives brought your purse to me at the office. I’ve put your cell phone, sunglasses and the purse on the dresser in our bedroom. I think the charger for your phone is in the nightstand.”

“Thanks.”

He was used to doing things for her without the barrier a thank-you threw up between them. It made them seem like strangers.

He’d shared a bed with her for ten years, and the loss of that closeness set off an ache every time he touched it, like a bruise that wouldn’t heal. The distance he read in her eyes…

He jerked his thoughts away from that and moved to the refrigerator, poured more sweet tea in his glass, then added a splash of bourbon, and a lemon wedge.

“Do you drink often?”

“No. A beer now and then. An occasional glass of wine with you at dinner when it’s just the two of us. We don’t usually drink anything but tea around A. J.” He turned to look at her. “I’m not likely to get drunk on two cocktails with barely an ounce of bourbon in each.”

“Can I have a sip?”

Surprised he studied her. “Only a sip. You just got out of the hospital today.” He extended the glass.

Zoe took a sip, held it in her mouth, swallowed, then grimaced. “That is— terrible.”

Hawk laughed.

“Want to sit out on the glider for a little while?”

“Sure.”
Teresa J. Reasor. Building Family (Kindle Locations 1486-1541). Teresa J. Reasor.

While Zoe has much to remember, she’s also trying to rebuild her life. Her body remembers Hawk, but her mind doesn’t and it’s frustrating for her.

There’s also the arrest of Sam’s father for embezzlement and murder, although the don’t have much evidence on the murder part.

As if there wasn’t enough going on, the money from the fundraiser Moira did for her school is gone and several people are suspected.

This is an edge of your seat read as everything starts to intertwine. With suspense, intrigue, laughter, tears and some sizzle.

5 Contented Purrs for Teresa!

Teresa J. Reasor

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Teresa Reasor was born in Southeastern Kentucky, but grew up a Marine Corps brat. The love of reading instilled in her in Kindergarten at Parris Island, South Carolina made books her friends during the many transfers her father’s military career entailed. The transition from reader to writer came easily and she was a closet novelist for many years until 2007 when her first book was published.

After twenty-one years as an Art Teacher and ten years as a part time College Instructor, she’s now retired and living her dream as a full time Writer.

Her body of work includes both full-length novels and shorter pieces in many different genres, Military Romantic Suspense, Paranormal Romance, Urban Fantasy, Historical Romance, Contemporary Romance, and Children’s Books.