Book Blog Tour: Love & Honor series by Hallee Bridgeman




Christian Mystery / Christian Suspense

Christian Romantic Suspense

Publisher: Revell



September 2022, 384 pages

You can’t override the heart

It may seem odd to seek peace by moving to a war-torn African country, but for medical missionary Dr. Cynthia Myers, it provided a way to escape a shallow life of unearned wealth, a philandering fiancé, and a father now square in the public eye as vice president of the United States. At least here she knows her work and life have meaning. But all that is thrown into chaos when she fails to save the life of a local warlord’s mortally wounded son.

As part of the Army Special Forces A-Team on a mission to capture and subdue the warlord, Captain Rick Norton is compelled to use deadly force to save Cynthia’s life. Enraged at the violence she witnessed and riddled with guilt that men died because of her, Cynthia doesn’t want to like anything about Rick and his team–but an unexpected attraction is taking hold.

With two members of his team badly injured and rebels in hot pursuit, Rick will have to draw upon all his strength and cunning to get her out alive . . . because he’s beginning to think that, despite their differences, they just may be able to make a life together.


October 2022, 384 pages

You can’t outrun the past

FBI Special Agent Lynda Culter is investigating an ecoterrorist organization in the Alaskan wilderness when she and her partner are taken captive and he’s murdered before her very eyes. The only person who can identify the key players, Lynda gets assigned to take part in a joint operation in Istanbul to take the organization down. As a woman in a Muslim country, she’ll find it much easier to move around undetected with a fake husband. Unfortunately for her, the one assigned to play the role is none other than Army weapons specialist Bill Sanders–the man who crushed her heart in college.


November 2022, 352 pages

You can’t give up on love

When she was just five years old, Melissa Braxton watched her father take her mother’s life and suffered the pain of separation from her sister, Lola. Melissa grew up with a strong desire to help those stuck in abusive relationships. It’s why she became a therapist and opened a domestic abuse shelter.

After losing a leg to a gunshot wound in the line of duty, Phil Osbourne has felt like a man without a purpose–until he hears Melissa’s story and decides to use his Special Forces contacts to track down her missing sister, the wife of a Colombian cartel teniente. He knows what he discovers will break Melissa’s heart. What he doesn’t realize is that helping the women reunite will bring the cartel down on them like the category 5 hurricane striking Miami. Bruised yet not quite broken, Melissa and Phil battle the storm and the cartel, calling on strength they didn’t know they had to escape death, save the innocent, and–just maybe–find healing in each other’s arms.


Baker Publishing Group * Amazon *

* Hallee Bridgeman’s Website *

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Katangela, Africa

Captain Rick Norton crouched near the edge of the dirt road. Ears still ringing from the intense firefight, the smell of gunpowder burning his nose, he looked around, counting team members. Gerald “Jerry Maguire” McBride and Daniel “Pot Pie” Swanson came out of their hidden and elevated sniper-spotter positions. They both threw him a silent thumbs-up.

Travis “Trout” Fisher crouched nearby with his carbine pointed downrange and his radio rig tucked away. He also offered a thumbs-up. Jorge Peña “Colada” and Bill “Drumstick” Sanders glided backward toward his position with rifles at the ready. “Up!” they said in unison.

Rick scanned the jungle around him. “Ozzy, position?”

No response.

His gut tightened, and he motioned for the men to regroup. Tension flowed through the team like electricity, then came a measure of relief when they found their combat medic, Phil “Doctor Oz” Osbourne, lying under a banana tree. He was trying to patch up his own thigh with a surgical clamp and a threaded needle below his hastily applied field tourniquet. Rick slid on his knees toward him and took the clamp from him.

“Caught one, Cap,” Ozzy said, his voice hesitating as shock started to overtake his body. “No way I’m getting out of this jungle on my own two feet.”

Wordlessly, Rick clamped Ozzy’s artery despite its best efforts to worm up and out of sight, then wrapped a fresh field dressing bandage around his thigh, securing the clamp and protecting the wound.

“You don’t know that, Doc,” Sanders said. “I’d want Daddy patching me up if you were otherwise occupied.”

Despite his tension, Rick internally rolled his eyes at the “Daddy” nickname. Sanders had drawled the words in an Alabama accent just to make them sound sweeter. Rick would address his mockery in a more appropriate manner, maybe with a bucket of ice water in some idyllic moment of downtime. For now, he let it slide and listened to Fisher calling headquarters for their extraction. He looked up expectantly as Fisher ended the radio call.

“They can pick us up twenty klicks from here, azimuth 26.”

Twenty kilometers? With a quick calculation, Rick translated that distance to just over twelve miles. He scratched his beard, estimated the amount of blood already lost, observed the rate it continued to soak into the field dressing, and concluded that Ozzy wouldn’t make it two miles, much less twelve. He would lapse into hypovolemic shock before they could get halfway there, and he would undoubtedly expire soon after.

The team’s military intelligence asset, First Lieutenant Peña, retrieved and studied the laminated map that hung from a snap ring on his pack. In his fascinating mind, Peña carried all their mission details. He had an olive-green bandanna tied close around his head but kept his curly black hair uncovered, and his heavy black beard was shaved close to his face. “There’s a village two klicks east. Near the river. They have an American doctor, Cynthia Myers, in residence.”

Rick pressed his lips together, knowing that his lightly freckled skin beneath his red beard had just turned a few shades paler. He knew all about the American doctor. At least, he knew all about her father. “Any other options?”

“Drop packs,” Peña said. “Four-man carry to the exfil LZ. Bounding overwatch. Rotate out every five to ten mikes.”

Rick considered how long it would take for them to carry Ozzy through the jungle. Even after dropping their heavy packs and rotating in shifts, they would move too slowly. “It would take too long.”

“Have them move up the exfil time or relocate the LZ. This is a PR, after all,” Sanders said. Personnel recovery missions merited an elevated priority over routine combat operations and could require a more accessible landing zone.

“No-go on that one, Daddy,” Fisher said. “Limited resources. Politically sensitive area and such. Azimuth 26 is the best we got.”

Rick glanced at the blood-soaked bandage and nodded. Making his hand into a blade, he gestured toward the tree line. “Village it is. Maguire, Colada—fashion a stretcher. Trout, tell HQ to save their fuel for now. Pie, go collect some visibility on the AO until we’re ready.” He turned to Sanders. “You’re on point with me, Drum. First leg.”

“Check,” Sanders said.

“Go get yourself a little recon while we partake of this incredible good fortune.”

“Medals, Cap,” Ozzy interjected, his tone dry. “Thanks of a grateful nation, for sure.”

“You concentrate on stopping yourself from bleeding so much, Doc. I will take this time to plan our exfil, secure in the knowledge that this mission will doubtless earn us all legendary chest candy and fruit salad.”

His team snickered. They did not do their jobs for recognition. Green Berets had a reputation as the “quiet professionals” for a reason.

Using a nylon-poncho liner and some cut-down saplings, they fashioned a makeshift stretcher and carefully lifted Ozzy onto it. Sanders returned with a nod, indicating a clear path.

“Trout, toss your rig and Doc’s pack on there too,” Rick said. “You and Jerry Maguire make like Sherpas for Doc Oz. Pie, take overwatch for the first klick. Drumstick and I got point out of the gate.” He focused on the tall Black man with the thick black beard and shaved head slicing an apple with his razor-sharp K-BAR knife. With the name Daniel Swanson, everyone called him Pot Pie. “Pie, when we arrive, stand to. You and Colada establish a home base close to the village. Bring silence to bear if the situation screams for it.”

“Roger, wilco, Cap,” Swanson said with a nod.

“Any questions or suggestions?” Rick searched his men’s faces in the ensuing silence. “Right. Let us know if your little arms get tired, ladies. Let’s roll.”

****Click to continue reading Chapter One of Honor Bound

Hallee Bridgeman is the USA Today bestselling author of several action-packed romantic suspense books and series. An Army brat turned Floridian, Hallee and her husband finally settled in central Kentucky, where they have raised their three children. When she’s not writing, Hallee pursues her passion for cooking, coffee, campy action movies, and regular date nights with her husband. An accomplished speaker and active member of several writing organizations, Hallee can be found online at:

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All three books in the

Love and Honor series

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Filed under Book Reviews, Christian fiction, Mystery, Romantic Suspence, Suspense

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