Home of the Free – Heart of a Wounded Hero Read Online Frankie Love

Categories Genre: Angst, Contemporary, Insta-Love, Romance Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 19512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 98(@200wpm)___ 78(@250wpm)___ 65(@300wpm)

Read Online Books/Novels:

Home of the Free - Heart of a Wounded Hero

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Frankie Love

Book Information:

After everything that went down in the Army, I’m a changed man. Back in the town where I grew up, suddenly nothing feels familiar.
Taking hikes through the Rough Forest is the only way to keep my demons at bay. But when I find Faith in the woods – once again, I have something to fight for.
Someone to fight for. She’s fragile like a bird, delicate like a flower, and more beautiful than any sunset I’ve ever seen.
I’ve always been wild and free – but when I meet Faith, I know I’ve finally come home.
Home of the Free is a high heat romance where love (at first sight) conquers all!
The Heart of the Wounded Hero series was created to pay tribute to and raise awareness of our wounded heroes. Each of the over eighty authors involved have contributed time, money, and stories to the cause. These love stories are inspiring and uplifting, showing the sacrifice of our veterans but also giving them the happily ever after they deserve.
By increasing awareness through our books, we believe we can in small part help the wounded heroes that have sacrificed so much
Books by Author:

Frankie Love



It's strange to be back in Home, Washington. This town is where I was born and raised. My mom still lives here, in the same house where I grew up.

It's a town full of memories, nearly all of them good ones. It's a salt of the earth place, with a Main Street and a Fourth of July parade, where people don't just know your name, they invite you over for dinner on Sunday afternoons. It's a good place to visit, but I think it's too sweet, too damn sugary, for a man like me. Maybe before, when I was younger, I could hack it in a place like this, but now, I've seen too much, been too many places, lost too much.

As a soldier in the army, I’ve realized how fucking precious life truly is, all of it. Every minute we've got, it matters, and that's why I'm headed over to my mom's place this morning, to bring her a bouquet of flowers.

Yeah, it might sound cheesy, or like I'm a mama's boy, but I don't really care. What I care about is, while I'm home on leave, my mom knowing that she did a good job raising me. I know it's been hard on her. She was a single mom raising one child all on her own. Me living overseas in the military slays her, I know it does. So while I'm home this month, I'm going to make the most of it.

I'm lucky that I have a cabin I built before I ever joined the military. I enlisted when I was 20 years old and had spent time living in town, working at the hardware store for the Rough family. But eventually I realized I wanted to go serve my country. It was hard on my mom, but she understood. I have always had a strong sense of duty.

All that to say – I spent the year before I was shipped off to bootcamp living in the cabin I built with my own two hands. Well, of course, some of my friends helped. Bartlett Rough and I were best friends when we were growing up, and he and his brothers helped me lay the foundation.

This morning everyone is out getting things ready for the parade this afternoon. I keep my head down though, not wanting any attention. Being back for the first time in a few years is big news in Home, but I don’t want to talk about what it was like in the Army. I’ve never liked attention, and the last thing I feel like is a hero.

I head to Main Street, I grab a bouquet of flowers from the local florist, then wind my way around town to my mom's place. She lives on the outskirts, right past Tender Trail. Her little cottage has a great view of the popular walking path that cuts across town.

When I get to her house, she smiles broadly as she opens the door. "Oh Jake, you're so thoughtful."

"Well, I know you love flowers."

"Honey," she says. "You've been home 48 hours and already, you're making me remember why it was so hard to let you leave."

"Sorry, Mom. I'm not trying to make this more difficult. I just thought..." I shrug as I walk into the house, head into the back where the kitchen is. She follows me and reaches for a vase in a cupboard, then fills it with water before adding the pink dahlias to it.