Inspirational Journeys Presents: Special Guest Interview with Lynette Eason

Today’s special guest is fast becoming one of my favorite authors, because she writes in the genre that I absolutely love. Click the links below to see and hear our engaging conversation. Don’t forget to sign up for my newsletter to receive a free short story.


Special Guest Interview with Lynette Eason!
I’m proud to announce the following guest for your listening pleasure.
Please be sure to read onward after the following message to learn how you can be my guest here on INSPIRATIONAL JOURNEYS.
Thanks for listening and do write to let me and my guest know what you thought of this presentation.

Lynette Eason
Tuesday August 4, 2020



Lynette Eason is the bestselling author of Collateral Damage and Acceptable Risk, as well as Protecting Tanner Hollow and the Blue Justice, Women of Justice, Deadly Reunions, Hidden Identity, and Elite Guardians series. She is the winner of three ACFW Carol Awards, the Selah Award, and the Inspirational Reader’s Choice Award, among others. She is a graduate of the University of South Carolina and has a master’s degree in education from Converse College. Eason lives in South Carolina with her husband and two children. Learn more at

Lynette’s Featured book is entitled, Acceptable Risk.

Description: Sarah Denning is a military journalist with the Army in the Middle East when her convoy is attacked and she’s taken hostage. When former Army Ranger Gavin Black is asked by his old unit commander–Sarah’s imposing father–to plan an extremely risky rescue, he reluctantly agrees and successfully executes it.

Back in the US, Sarah is livid when she’s discharged on a false psychiatric evaluation and vows to return to the Army. Until she learns of her brother’s suicide. Unable to believe her brother would do such a thing, she puts her plans on hold and enlists Gavin to help her discover the truth. What they uncover may be the biggest story of Sarah’s career–if she can survive long enough to write it.

Strap in for another breakneck nail-biter from bestselling romantic suspense author Lynette Eason that will have you up turning pages long into the night.

Purchase link:
From the Publisher:
Barnes and Noble:

Sarah Denning sat on the dirt floor of the Afghani prison cell and shivered in the ninety-degree heat fighting the fear that had been her constant companion since the Taliban had attacked the school. One minute she’d been a guest teacher at the request of her friend, Talia Davenport, the next a prisoner of cruel men who would use her and kill her without blinking.
She tugged the piece of cloth covering her head lower and patted the bottom section that concealed her mouth and nose, while praying she could stay hidden until they were rescued. If rescue was even on the way. If their captors found out she was an American . . . or worse, who her father was—
The guard gave the barred door a violent tug and she jumped, her heart stumbling into overdrive. The door held fast. She doubted he was worried it wouldn’t. He let out a satisfied grunt and turned to walk down the hallway, his boots pounding the dirt floor before he disappeared from sight. Sarah’s pulse slowed a fraction. The longer he stayed gone, the better their chances of rescue. However, how long would he stay gone?
The whisper reached her from the corner of the cell. “Fatima?”
“I’m coming over there.” The teenager crawled on all fours, dodging her classmates, to curl against Sarah’s side with a shiver. “What’s going to happen to us?”
Sarah wrapped an arm around the fifteen-year-old. During her weekly guest teaching spots, she’d come to recognize Fatima as a bright, highly motivated young woman with the desire to be a pioneer in bringing change to her country. Sarah had treasured those days at the school and building relationships with the girls. “I don’t know.”
But she did. They all did.
“They’re going to sell us,” Samia said from the other side. “We’re to be brides to the Taliban, aren’t we?”
Brides? More like sex slaves. Punching bags. Assigned to a life of abuse and misery. And terror.
She, Talia, and the twelve students had been taken from the school and loaded into the back of a waiting van. No one had tried to stop them and she hadn’t dared resist them. Approximately twelve hours later, they’d arrived here.
Wherever here was.
“I’m so sorry, Sarah,” Talia whispered, her voice cracking, her fear tangible. “I’ve been there for three years and while we’ve had a few minor scares, there’s been nothing like this.”
“It’s not your fault, Talia, you couldn’t know.”
“I don’t want to be a Taliban bride.” Nahal, the youngest of the girls at thirteen years old, scooted closer to Sarah as though Sarah could keep that from happening.
Sarah had been afraid before, but the images filtering through her mind sent the horror clawing inside her to a whole new level. She pulled in a steadying breath, desperate to find a way to remain calm and be strong for the other girls in the ten-by-twelve cell, because while she wanted to fight back, any sign of defiance would only get her—or one of the teens—killed.
She shuddered and let her gaze roam their prison. It consisted of four cement walls with a door on the one opposite from where she lay. A small barred window above her head streamed a thin ray of light, cigarette smoke, and low voices that sounded like they were arguing although she couldn’t make out the words.
Except for a brief stop at the outhouses lined up along the south wall that included lewd looks and a few comments she’d pretended not to hear, she and the other girls had been left alone by their captors.
Which was confusing, but welcome. However, she didn’t expect that would last much longer. The one thing allowing her to keep her fear under control was the fact that they hadn’t been searched. Knowing that it would happen at some point, she’d seized the opportunity during a chaotic moment to snag the satellite phone from the pocket of her burqa. Using the bodies crammed against her as a shield, she’d pressed the SOS button and sent out her distress signal.
Minutes passed, the only sounds being the hushed whispers and terrified weeping of her cellmates mixed with the low voices of the guards outside the window. Sarah leaned her head against the wall and watched the hallway while her hand searched through the folds of the cloth. Fatima looked up at her as Sarah’s fingers closed around the sat phone. Did she dare take a chance to see if anyone had called? If there was a message? If help was on the way? All she had to do was sneak a peek.
“Don’t ask why,” she whispered to Fatima, “but can you sit slightly in front of me?”
“Yes.” The girl moved enough to shield her from the guard’s gaze should he return.
With shaky fingers, she pulled the phone from her pocket.
Talia’s eyes widened at the sight of the phone. “What are you doing? If they know you have that, it won’t be good.”
“I know. I need to find a place to hide it.”
She glanced at the screen. Nothing. No response that her plea for help had been seen. Cold dread sent a wave of nausea through her. The SOS should have gone out to her brother, FBI Special Agent Caden Denning, and to their father, Lieutenant General Lewis Denning. Even if her father ignored the message, Caden should have been able to track the phone and have help on the way before these monsters could blink. Caden might be in the United States, but he had a long reach. As did their father. She’d thought carefully about adding him to the SOS list, but had decided to do so “just in case.”
This situation was about as “just in case” as one could get, and for once, she was glad her father was who he was—although she’d bite her tongue in half before admitting it. Then again, if admitting it would get them out of here, she’d shout it from the rooftops.
Surely, the message had gone through. She pressed the SOS button once more and slipped the phone back into her pocket. Caden would do something. Her father? The last time she’d talked to him had been when he’d told her he’d disinherited her for going into the Army. She’d laughed. “I don’t need or want your money.” She needed and wanted his love, but that had never been within her grasp.
Because of her ongoing conflict with her father, Sarah had kept a low profile, never acknowledging her relationship to the powerful man. Just before she’d joined the Army, she dyed her blonde hair a dark brown and decided to go by a different first name, insisting her family get used to calling her by it. Her only feature that might draw attention to her was her green eyes. Otherwise, with her flawless Pashto, she should be able to pass as a native. At least, that’s what she told herself.
The guard’s heavy footfalls sounded in the hallway once more and her adrenaline spiked. Another guard joined him. They stood at the door grinning and pointing, talking openly about the girls’ futures. Bile rose in the back of her throat even as the comforting presence of the phone pressed into her hip.
Please, Lord, send help.

Connect with Lynette at the following links:


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