Shirley Jump - Return of the Last McKenna

What happens when the hero comes home?

Dr. Brody McKenna has just returned home from serving as a medic in Afghanistan, and he has one more mission to fulfill....

Standing outside Kate Spencer’s sweetshop, he takes a deep breath. Going through that door will take courage, for he’s here to keep a promise made to his dying friend. He’s prepared for tears or anger—not the deep attraction he feels for sparky-but-stressed Kate. One spontaneous offer of help later, this hero is surrounded by cupcakes, candy canes—and the greatest enticement to forget his past and take a new kind of risk.…

Dear Reader,

I’m almost sad to write this Dear Reader letter because it means the McKenna brothers trilogy has come to an end. I loved each and every brother, and had a lot of fun writing their stories. Not only did these books let me return home to the place where I grew up, but they also presented lots of challenges and interesting story lines.

Heidi, the dog who first appears in Finn’s book, is based on my own real-life golden retriever, who died a few years ago. I enjoyed being able to bring her to life again on the page and having her become a big part of the McKenna family. But most of all, I really enjoyed writing about the military and its heroes. My father is retired from the military, and my husband is former military, so the sacrifice our troops make every day is very dear to me. I hope you enjoy Brody’s story, and can relate to Elena’s grandma’s addiction to cupcakes (that one is all, uh, me. I love cupcakes!).

I love to hear from readers, so please visit my website ( www.shirleyjump.com) or visit my blog ( www.shirleyjump.blogspot.com), where I share family recipes and writing news. Stop on by and share a recipe, a favorite book, or just say hello!

Happy reading!

Shirley

Return of the Last McKenna

Shirley Jump

www.millsandboon.co.uk

New York Times bestselling author Shirley Jump didn’t have the willpower to diet or the talent to master under-eye concealer, so she bowed out of a career in television and opted instead for a career where she could be paid to eat at her desk—writing. At first, seeking revenge on her children for their grocery-store tantrums, she sold embarrassing essays about them to anthologies. However, it wasn’t enough to feed her growing addiction to writing funny. So she turned to the world of romance novels, where messes are (usually) cleaned up before The End. In the worlds Shirley gets to create and control, the children listen to their parents, the husbands always remember holidays and the housework is magically done by elves. Though she’s thrilled to see her books in stores around the world, Shirley mostly writes because it gives her an excuse to avoid cleaning the toilets and helps feed her shoe habit.

To learn more, visit her website at www.shirleyjump.com.

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To the most heroic military man I know—my husband, who served his country, and has made me proud to be his wife in a thousand different ways. Not to mention, he’s the kind of guy who brings home cupcakes just because I had a hard day. He knows me well!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

BRODY McKenna checked his third sore throat of the morning, prescribed the same prescription as he had twice before—rest, fluids, acetaminophen—and tried to count his blessings. He had a dependable job as a family physician, a growing practice, and a close knit family living nearby. He’d returned from his time overseas none the worse for wear, and should have been excited to get back to his job.

He wasn’t.

The six-year-old patient headed out the door, with a sugar-free lollipop and a less harried mother. As they left, Helen Maguire, the nurse who had been with him since day one, and with Doc Watkins for fifteen years before that, poked her head in the door. “That’s the last patient of the morning,” she said. A matronly figure in pink scrubs decorated with zoo animals, Mrs. Maguire had short gray hair and a smile for every patient, young or old. “We have an hour until it’s time to start immunizations. And then later in the afternoon, we’ll be doing sports physicals.”

Brody’s mind drifted away from his next appointment and the flurry of activity in his busy Newton office. His gaze swept the room, the jars of supplies, so easy to order and stock here in America, always on hand and ready for any emergency. Every bandage, every tongue depressor, every stethoscope, reminded him. Launched him back to a hot country and a dusty dirt floor hut short on supplies and even shorter on miracles.

“Doc? Did you hear me?” Mrs. Maguire asked.

“Oh, oh. Yes. Sorry.” Brody washed his hands, then dried them and handed the chart to Helen. Focus on work, he told himself, not on a moment in the past that couldn’t be changed. Or on a country on the other side of the world, to those people he couldn’t save.

Especially not on that.

“Lots of colds going around,” he said.

“It’s that time of year.”

“I think it’s always that time of year.”

Helen shrugged. “I think that’s what I like about family practice. You can set your watch by the colds and flus and shots. It has a certain rhythm to it, don’t you think?”

“I do.” For a long time, Brody had thought he had the perfect life. A family practice for a family man.

Or at least, that had been the plan. Then the family had dissolved before it had a chance to form. By that time, Brody had already stepped into Doc Watkins’s shoes. Walking away from a thriving practice would be insane, so he’d stayed. For a long time, he’d been happy. He liked the patients. Liked working with kids, liked seeing the families grow and change.

It was good work, and he took satisfaction in that, and had augmented it with volunteer time with different places over the years—a clinic in Alabama, a homeless shelter in Maine. When the opportunity to volunteer assisting the remaining military overseas arose, Brody had jumped at it.

For a month, he’d changed lives in Afghanistan, working side by side with other docs in a roving medical unit that visited villagers too poor to get to a doctor or hospital, with the American military along for protection.

Brody had thought he’d make a difference there, too. He had—just not in the way he wanted. And now he couldn’t find peace, no matter where he turned.

“You okay, doc?” Mrs. Maguire asked.

“Fine.” His gaze landed on the jars of supplies again. “Just distracted. I think I’ll head out for lunch instead of eating at my desk.”

And being around all these reminders.

“No problem. It’ll do you good to take some time to enjoy the day.” Mrs. Maguire smiled. “I find a little fresh air can make everything seem brighter.”

Brody doubted the air would work any miracles for him, but maybe some space and distance would. Unfortunately, he had little of either. “I’ll be back by one.”

He stepped outside his office and into a warm, almost summer day. The temperatures still lingered in the high seventies, even though the calendar date read deep into September. Brody headed down the street, waving to the neighbors who flanked his Newton practice—Mr. Simon with his shoe repair shop, Mrs. Tipp with her art gallery and Milo, who had opened three different types of shops in the same location, like an entrepreneur with ADD.