The Christmas Angel #5
The year is 1969…
Gary Fairchild is proud to be a hippie college student, and he protests the Vietnam War because he believes in love and peace. To him, it isn’t just a counterculture movement—it’s a way of life. When tickets to the Aquarium Exposition—3 Days of Peace & Music, or Woodstock, as it was better known, go on sale, there’s no way he isn’t going.
Richard Ronsman is a sheltered farm boy who lives in the shadow of his overbearing father. He’s hidden his darkest secret to earn his father’s love, but nothing is ever good enough—not even volunteering for the Vietnam War. And with just a few days left before he’s deployed, he’s invited by a striking hippie to join him at a music festival.
Three days of music, drugs, rain, mud, and love forged a bond between these two very different men that would shape the rest of their lives. They share dreams and fears, and when Richard is shipped off to war, they share letters and love. For Richard’s first Christmas home, he is gifted a special angel ornament that just might make a soldier’s wish come true.
This story is one of seven stories which can all be read and enjoyed in any order.
The Christmas Angel Series
In 1750, a master woodcarver poured all his unrequited love, passion, and longing into his masterpiece—a gorgeous Christmas angel for his beloved’s tree. When the man he loved tossed the angel away without a second thought, a miracle happened. The angel was found by another who brought the woodcarver True Love.
Since then, the angel has been passed down, sold, lost and found, but its magic remains. Read the romances inspired by (and perhaps nudged along by) the Christmas angel through the years. Whether it’s 1700s England (Eli Easton's Christmas Angel), the 1880’s New York (Kim Fielding’s Summerfield’s Angel), the turn-of-the-century (Jordan L. Hawk’s Magician’s Angel), World War II (L.A. Witt’s Christmas Homecoming), Vietnam-era (N.R. Walker’s Soldier’s Wish), the 1990’s (Anyta Sunday’s Shrewd Angel), or 2018 (RJ Scott’s Christmas Prince), the Christmas angel has a way of landing on the trees of lonely men who need its blessing for a very Merry Christmas and forever HEA.
I have to be honest and say I generally don't seek out stories told in the 60s & 70s, maybe its because I was born in 1973 so that time frame isn't old enough to be "historical" and yet its not really new enough to be "present day" either. Don't get me wrong, I don't not read that era if a book that sounds interesting comes along but I just don't go looking for it. So my decision to read A Soldier's Wish was partly the intriguing way the series is connected by a Christmas angel ornament but mostly the author. NR Walker has never let me down before and she didn't here either.
For some Richard and Gary's insta-connection might seem farfetched or reaching but I loved it. Insta-love is not for everyone and I'm the first to admit that sometimes it just doesn't work for the characters or setting but that's not true here. Nope, A Soldier's Wish is well written and completely believable that two people who on the surface are polar opposites but given the right atmosphere you realize that they are only perfect for each other. I really loved how the author used letters and visits to advance the story, giving the boys a piece of each other even when physicality and location wasn't exactly on their side. The letters especially warmed the heart.
As with my reviews for the other entries in The Christmas Angel series, each book is a standalone and can be read in any order. I still highly recommend reading Eli Easton's Christmas Angel first though because I know I would be a bit distracted wondering about the angel's origins and that would take away from completely enjoying the entry I was reading. However, that is just my personal opinion and no matter what order you read this series it is most certainly not one you want to miss.
RATING:
Gary’s POV…
I began to study the other folks in the diner. The hippie-hating farmers were still there, sour-faced, scowling in their cups of joe. And there was a young family; I smiled as the kids enjoyed their pancakes. But then there was a guy, by himself, in a booth staring out the window. He was wearing slacks and a sweater. His blond hair was the good ol’ short back and sides. He was so tidy and clean-cut, he couldn’t be anything but military. The duffle bag at his feet confirmed my suspicion.
U.S. Army.
Normally I wouldn’t look twice at his type, and Lord knew, his type never looked twice at me. But there was a look of such profound sadness on his face, I couldn’t look away.
“Gary?” Lyman called my name.
I turned, not having heard any of what he’d said before. The three of them were watching me. “Hey, I’m just gonna go say hi.” I took my cup of coffee and slid out of the booth.
“We’re leaving in five,” Kathryn called after me.
I gave her a nod to let her know I’d heard her and made my way over to the sad army guy. He was still staring out the window, looking like he was fighting tears. “Hey,” I said so as not to scare him. I nodded to the seat opposite him. “Can I join you?”
He startled anyway and shifted in his seat. “Oh, sure,” he replied.
I slid in and put my coffee between us. “I was just sitting over there with my friends,” I explained. “I couldn’t help notice.”
His eyes, so blue, shot to mine. “Notice what?”
Wow, okay. So that was an overreaction. And over what? What did he think I noticed? He swallowed hard and looked back out the window, a deep blush staining his cheeks.
I put my hand up. “I couldn’t help but notice you were here alone.”
He glanced at me again, then kept his eyes on his hands that were now clasped on the table. “Sorry, I… I…” He sighed. “It’s been a helluva day.”
“It’s early morning.”
The guy almost smiled, then shook his head. “Feels longer.”
It was pretty clear he wasn’t having a good day, so I gave him a smile. “My name’s Gary Fairchild.”
He looked at me then, like really met my eyes. His cheeks pinked up a little. “Nice to meet you, Gary. My name’s Richard Ronsman.”
I began to study the other folks in the diner. The hippie-hating farmers were still there, sour-faced, scowling in their cups of joe. And there was a young family; I smiled as the kids enjoyed their pancakes. But then there was a guy, by himself, in a booth staring out the window. He was wearing slacks and a sweater. His blond hair was the good ol’ short back and sides. He was so tidy and clean-cut, he couldn’t be anything but military. The duffle bag at his feet confirmed my suspicion.
U.S. Army.
Normally I wouldn’t look twice at his type, and Lord knew, his type never looked twice at me. But there was a look of such profound sadness on his face, I couldn’t look away.
“Gary?” Lyman called my name.
I turned, not having heard any of what he’d said before. The three of them were watching me. “Hey, I’m just gonna go say hi.” I took my cup of coffee and slid out of the booth.
“We’re leaving in five,” Kathryn called after me.
I gave her a nod to let her know I’d heard her and made my way over to the sad army guy. He was still staring out the window, looking like he was fighting tears. “Hey,” I said so as not to scare him. I nodded to the seat opposite him. “Can I join you?”
He startled anyway and shifted in his seat. “Oh, sure,” he replied.
I slid in and put my coffee between us. “I was just sitting over there with my friends,” I explained. “I couldn’t help notice.”
His eyes, so blue, shot to mine. “Notice what?”
Wow, okay. So that was an overreaction. And over what? What did he think I noticed? He swallowed hard and looked back out the window, a deep blush staining his cheeks.
I put my hand up. “I couldn’t help but notice you were here alone.”
He glanced at me again, then kept his eyes on his hands that were now clasped on the table. “Sorry, I… I…” He sighed. “It’s been a helluva day.”
“It’s early morning.”
The guy almost smiled, then shook his head. “Feels longer.”
It was pretty clear he wasn’t having a good day, so I gave him a smile. “My name’s Gary Fairchild.”
He looked at me then, like really met my eyes. His cheeks pinked up a little. “Nice to meet you, Gary. My name’s Richard Ronsman.”
N.R. Walker is an Australian author, who loves her genre of gay romance. She loves writing and spends far too much time doing it, but wouldn't have it any other way.
She is many things; a mother, a wife, a sister, a writer. She has pretty, pretty boys who she gives them life with words.
She likes it when they do dirty, dirty things...but likes it even more when they fall in love. She used to think having people in her head talking to her was weird, until one day she happened across other writers who told her it was normal.
She’s been writing ever since...
AUTHORGRAPH / KOBO / PINTEREST
EMAIL: nrwalker2103@gmail.com
A Soldier's Wish
Series
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