The winner of the Amazon gift card (chosen by random number generator) is…Angel Shaw!

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I wanted to bring 2015 in with a fierce roar. That’s this year’s word: Fierce. I decided to put intense, fierce focus on my writing and publishing. So, I needed a fierce little book to start January with a punch. Watch Over Me is the first of the Uncharted SEAL series. I decided I’d do an all SEAL collection of unconnected stories, using my favorite SEAL tropes: The bodyguard, the captive rescue, the pirate rescue, etc. You get the picture. Something fun and sexy with a dash of action.

I hope you’ll read Watch Over Me, and if you do, that you’ll leave a review on your favorite bookseller’s website or tell a friend.

Buy at: Amazon | Kobo | iBooks

Comment today and you’ll be entered to win a $10 Amazon gift card!

Watch Over Me

Deke Warrick’s unsanctioned detail is to keep tabs on a congressman’s daughter while she vacations in the Caribbean. He’s determined to keep his distance from the beautiful Nicky Martir, but finds his limits tested when Nicky sets out to seduce him.

What seemed like a simple mission becomes deliciously complicated—and then dangerous, when she’s snatched from their hotel room.

Amazon | Kobo | iBooks

Deke Warrick pushed his sunglasses down his nose to peer at the woman stretched on a chaise not five feet away. She laid face down, her head turned away, thick brown hair held in place by a clip. From the slowness of her breaths, he knew she was dozing. And since he figured she wouldn’t be leaving the beach anytime soon, he relaxed, forcing his fingers to stretch around the teak wood arms of his lounge chair.

After two connecting flights and a short leg in a specially chartered puddle-jumper, at last he had eyes on Nicky Martir. He knew the woman was her because a hotel staff member he’d bribed had pointed her out. Assistance he’d needed because at the moment she didn’t look anything like the air-brushed Facebook photo he’d been given. After finding her, he’d checked out the hotel’s parking and lounge area, all entrances and exits, the stairwells, and then greased the palms of the concierge and wait staff. His initial recon over, he now had time to focus on his target.

From his vantage point, he’d already determined his former commander’s “little girl” was all grown up. In fact, she was a very well-proportioned woman with lush curves above and below a narrow waist. Must have taken after her mother, he mused, because her father’s frame didn’t sport an ounce of excess flesh. At the moment, her bottom was most prominent—rounded, firm, and displayed all too well by the narrow thong bisecting her cheeks. Not that he wanted to notice, but hell, it was right there, and with more than enough curve that a healthy, hetero man could well imagine his hands gripping each mound as he…

“Señor, would you like another drink?”

Deke jerked. No one had managed to sneak up on him in a long time, which said a lot about Nicky’s attractiveness.

The cabana girl’s voice held a note of irritation. Her dark brows were drawn into a frown, her lips pursed in disapproval. But not because he’d been ogling a sleeping girl. He’d claimed a spot beneath a thatched umbrella at the edge of the small tiki bar’s outdoor seating area, and he had yet to deliver on the promise he’d made with his smile when he’d asked for this prime piece of real estate. The seat with its attached table provided a perfect view of the beach, as well as the private gated entrance of the hotel parking lot. More importantly, the chair was situated near Nicky. Not close enough to touch, but from here, he could watch over her, amidst the other sunbathers.

Giving the waitress an equally irritated glance, he reached into his pocket and took out several bills, more than enough for five drinks and a generous tip. “Bring me a virgin mojito,” he murmured quietly. A ruse to disguise the fact he hadn’t had a sip of alcohol, because he was on the job—even if this mission was strictly off the books and a favor to a man he admired.

His gaze swung back to the dozing woman. She’d turned her head while he’d been talking to the waitress and was facing him now, a dark fringe of long lashes resting against her cheeks. Yeah, her photo hadn’t done her justice. Sure, he’d known she was pretty, but this close, he could see a smattering of freckles across her nose—a feature she must hide beneath makeup, but which he thought was cute. Made her seem more approachable. Her mouth was full, the bottom lip a little puffier than the top and wide. A mouth made for kissing.

Deke winced and glanced away, feeling guilty over lusting after Commander Martir’s daughter. He was here to do a job. Although Martir had retired from the navy and now held a seat in congress with special oversight of the administration’s war on drugs, he had maintained close ties with the SEAL community, working with his contacts inside the Drug Enforcement Agency to find positions for several of Deke’s friends when they’d started the next phases of their lives. Their special skill set had been a perfect fit for the spec ops work the agency did, and Martir wanted men he could trust working there—disciplined, honorable men. Martir had promised Deke he’d keep a spot open for whenever he was ready to leave DEVGRU/SEAL Team 6, something Deke had automatically refused a year ago. But after his last deployment in the sandbox, he was having second thoughts. Martir’s timing, approaching him the day after Deke set boots back on the tarmac at Oceana, VA, had seemed like a sign.

Deke had answered a summons to his present commander’s office, and instead found Martir standing with his back to the door as he stared out across the green, hands clasped behind his back. Other than the gray at his temples, Fred Martir looked exactly as he had when he’d been the one in charge here.

Deke entered the room and shut the door behind him. “Sir,” he said, coming to attention—out of respect for a former officer who had been a SEAL himself.

When the congressman turned, he raked his gaze over Deke, dressed in a fresh uniform, but still looking scruffy due to the beard he kept while deployed and the non-reg hair he’d let grow well past his collar. “At ease, Deke. Callahan,” he said, referring to the team’s present commander, “tells me you’ve accumulated leave which you refuse to take.”

As he narrowed his gaze, Deke slid his hands behind his back and braced his feet apart, wondering where that statement was leading. “I didn’t exactly refuse, sir. I prefer sticking close to base.” That he didn’t have family to visit or a girlfriend to spend time with was no one’s business but his own. And no one needed to know how uncomfortable he’d come to feel wandering outside his close-knit community.

The older man’s gaze locked on Deke. “This last rotation—I hear things got pretty rough.”

Deke straightened his shoulders. Not a secret, but definitely not something he wanted to discuss. “We lost two good men. Happens.” And while his words were spare, maybe even a little too nonchalant, he couldn’t keep the gravel from his voice at the thought of Sting’s death, or the fact he’d been the one to gather what was left of Mark’s body before he’d humped it back to the helo.

“Callahan says your OIC would prefer you take a break. But since I know you’re a stubborn son of a bitch, I have a proposition for you. Something that’ll get your commander off your back. A job. Strictly off the books. Something personal.” He cleared his throat. “For me.”

Deke met Martir’s gaze, steady as always, but noted there was a hint of worry there, a tension reflected in the deepened lines of his face. Whatever his reason for being here had to be pretty important because he’d never seen that expression on the older man’s face. “I’m listening.”

Deke learned that Martir had received death threats from a drug cartel unhappy with recent crackdowns he’d helped orchestrate. And while his ex-wife and daughter lived well-away from DC and out of the public eye, he was worried about their safety.

“I have eyes on my wife, but my daughter…” He shook his head. “She has vacation plans she’s refused to postpone. And she wouldn’t accept my offer of a bodyguard.” Martir winced. “If you haven’t guessed already, we’re not on the best of terms. She tends to do the exact opposite of anything I suggest.”

A situation that almost made Deke smile—the thought that anyone would stand up to the tough old bird. And just as quickly, he decided this “job,” even if it was a boondoggle, was an assignment he needed. A purpose to focus on beside the sorrow and guilt that weighed him down. “Sir, what exactly do you want me to do?”

Just a day later, he’d managed to track down his former commander’s daughter on this little speck of an island in the Caribbean. Despite Commander Martir’s fears his family might be targeted due to recent media leaks, Deke doubted Nicky was in any serious danger of retaliation. Not here. The island was too small—both in size and in population—for any group to infiltrate undetected among the small tourist population. But Martir was picking up the tab for this working vacation, so Deke would keep frosty.

Not that doing so required effort. Deke had forgotten how to relax. The attitude was one he had to force himself to try because he knew his constant edginess wasn’t healthy. Might even be a sure sign of some nasty issues he’d never admit to, but that could wind up biting him in the butt if he didn’t handle them on his own. A vacation in the Caribbean should have fit the bill. Not that an island getaway would have been on his short list of places he’d want to chill after a long deployment. He was sick to death of heat, even if a light sea breeze made the hot sunlight bearable. Still, the view wasn’t bad.

Again, he shifted in his chair, trying not to stare too long at Nicky’s lovely ass. Dressed in Hawaiian-themed swimming trunks, the only style he’d found in the hotel gift shop other than skin-tight bikini Speedos, he worried he couldn’t hide his growing interest in the pretty brunette’s many assets. She was off-limits. Any woman would be, because he wouldn’t allow any distractions. Even if this mission was a cake-walk, he’d give the work a hundred-ten percent of his attention. He was a SEAL; after twelve years on the DEVGRU team, mission focus was part of his DNA.

A movement caught his eye. Small hands slid up the side of the chaise, going for the bow securing her bikini top at the back.

Deke gritted his teeth. As the ribbons loosened and the bra fell away, he had a glimpse of pretty white breast, just the side, but the swell was generous. Now he was imagining a full frontal view. Would her nipples be pink or brown? Once he’d dated a girl with pale beige nipples that had turned a lovely rose when…

“Dammit,” he said under his breath and looked away again, breathing deeply as he willed his body not to tighten. He scanned the other chaises and then looked out to the ocean, counting through the approach of three sets of waves.

When he glanced back at the chaise, he spotted those pink-tipped fingers reaching to the ground and scooting a bottle of sunscreen across the sand. Toward him.

His gaze shot to her pretty cognac brown eyes, and he caught her small, one-sided smile.

“Do you mind?” she asked, her voice a little raspy, like a woman might sound when she first woke in the morning. Like maybe he was the first person she’d spoken to that day.

What the hell? Some covert operator he was—he hadn’t managed to hide his attraction. If he didn’t act on her question, she might come to the conclusion he was a perv or a stalker. Better to make a move, but he’d keep it light.

Slipping off his chair, he strode toward her, bending to snag the bottle. “Just the back?” he asked, keeping his tone amused.

“And anywhere you think needs it,” she said, her voice breathier this time.

Deke blew out a long stream of air then turned back to where he’d been seated, carefully placing the rolled-up towel he’d brought that hid the compact Beretta Nano the pilot on the puddle jumper had provided beside him. Then kneeling, he dribbled creamy liquid that smelled of coconut and Shea butter across her shoulders and gently laid his hands on her hot, golden skin. Under his fingers were firm muscles cloaking her slender frame. And tension knotting her shoulders. “Relax. I can’t get too fresh. Too many people around, anyway.” He smoothed the thick liquid over her shoulders, fingers wrapping around the tops to give her a light massage. “How’d you know I spoke English?”

“I heard you talking to the waitress.”

“Oh.” He’d tried to keep his voice lowered so he wouldn’t attract her attention. Either he was slipping, or she had super-power hearing.

“You here on vacation?” she asked.

Why would she think otherwise? He pressed his thumbs against the knots at the back of her neck. “I am.”

“Alone?”

“Yeah.”

“My dad send you?”

Here in the U.S. it’s winter time. Time to cuddle under blankets. Time to drink hot chocolates and lattes. Time to wear fluffy sweaters and my Ugg boots. I love all this. I do. But truth be told, on most days, I’d like to kick Ms. Winter where the sun don’t shine. 😉 So today I thought I’d go summer in Janaury and talk about my favorite place: the beach!

“The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net forever.” ~Jacques Cousteau

This is so true for me! Being a Southern California girl—I know what you’re thinking. She doesn’t like winter? She has NO IDEA what winter is like. And you’re right. But being born and raised here, well, um, I get cold very easily. Soooo, being a Southern Caliofornia girl, I’ve been lucky to spend a lot of time at the beach. Growing up, I wanted to be a marine biologist. I couldn’t get enough of the ocean and its sea life. I collected seashells like crazy! And the idea of studying all the things that made the ocean so fascinating filled my head with wonderful dreams… Until I got to college and discovered how much math and science I’d need to take to follow through with my childhood ambition. So I minored in biology (the fun part!) and since I was in San Diego, visited Sea World often.

Nowadays, if I could have the sand between my toes every day, I would. Plop me down on the beach with the waves at my feet, and I’m a happy camper. I love to breathe in the salty air, feel the sunshine on my back, catch sight of a dolphin, and people watch. I especially enjoy watching the surfers. 😉 So don’t tell my other heroes, but when I decided to write a book with a pro surfer hero, I maybe, sort of, had the best time ever writing him.

I feel like the beach is the kind of place where you can do absolutely nothing and be totally content. Or you can get busy – surf, swim, boogie board, snorkel, scuba dive, paddleboard, kayak – the list goes on for creating memorable adventures. Not many places can boast something magical from two different extremes like that.

“At the beach, life is different. Time doesn’t move hour to hour but mood to moment. We live by the currents, plan by the tides and follow the sun.” ~ Unknown

How about you? Where’s your favorite place? Leave me a comment for a chance to win a digital copy of any book from my backlist.

Hope wherever you are, you’re warm and cozy! And if you want to keep in touch, I’d love that! You can sign up for my newsletter and find all of my social media links here: http://robinbielman.com

About Keeping Mr. Right Now…

A temporary agreement neither could keep…

Brainy, organized Sophie Birch is no beach bunny. In fact, she’s totally out of her element among the sun-bronzed crowd at a film festival in beautiful White Strand Cove. When a surf lesson introduces her to Zane Hollander, suddenly she’s up close and personal with the world’s sexiest surf star. But what can a great-looking, experienced athlete possibly see in a klutzy out-of-towner who’s never set foot in the ocean?

Zane Hollander’s playboy reputation has never been a problem…until recently. Now his management team wants him on his best behavior to entice a meaningful new sponsor. Sophie Birch is the perfect girl to help reform his image. She’s genuine and respected—and their relationship is purely fictional. But the more Sophie blooms under the beachy sun, the more Zane knows he’ll just break her heart. Because nothing’s more important to Zane than following the tide. 

Buy Links:
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1qiqU09
B&N: http://bit.ly/1rhqFJ8
iTunes: http://bit.ly/YmKmST

January may be the start of the new year, but for me it’s always had the feel of an in-between month. Winter still has its grip on us, and the uplift of the holiday season is behind us. There’s something almost shamanic about January, as we dig down into the dark, struggling with any new year’s resolutions and looking for what’s next.

In shamanism, to move forward, first you have to go inward, and inward means down. Down’s not a bad place. The answers are there. But you sometimes have to go through some dark stuff to get to them. That journey can be painful, but it’s worth it.

To become a shaman, the shaman must go through some sort of spiritual dismemberment. Shamans have to break down their ego, freeing themselves to be their core self.

What does this have to do with my book, Spirit on Fire? The heroine, Samantha, went through a physical trauma before she became a shaman. But what I admire about her is that instead of letting it beat her down, she learned forgiveness and lifted herself up. It’s that heart full of forgiveness that makes her an equal match for her lover, Marek, who struggles with the desire for revenge. Because she’s gone deep into that black pool herself and come out of it, she understands the darkness in him.

Katlyn Conrad

Find her on Goodreads

Spirit on Fire

Samantha wants a normal life, but the were world won’t leave the sexy new shaman alone. An outcast, she has the potential to control were spirits of all kinds—if only she can figure out how. When she encounters a red-hot demon were, everything she never wanted to know about the supernatural gets turned on its head.

The fire demon Marek claims he’s been ordered to kill Samantha, but he’s disobeying the command. He’s come to save her instead, so they can work together against his sadistic vampire master. Demons are notorious liars, so Samantha has her doubts but no choice. A common cause—survival—draws them together and cool suspicion turns to sexual heat.

A Romantica® paranormal erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

Spirit on Fire is available at: Amazon, Ellora’s Cave, and Kobo

I don’t know what I dreamed last night. My cat kept waking me, and if I don’t think about the dream the moment I open my eyes, it’s gone. The cat doing her paddy-cake thing with her claws tends to get my attention. Anyway, I woke up startled, grumbled at the cat, and then knocked over a bag of runes I had on my bedside table. While picking up the pieces, I wondered…

I have occult things all over my place…a collection of fortune-tellers tea cups, a palmistry hand, a crystal ball, two sets of Norse runes, and three sets of tarot cards. Oh, and tons of books! I have more “stuff” but I don’t want to catalog it all.

What I’m wanting to know is whether you do too—
Do you have tarot cards? Do you have a crystal ball sitting
on a shelf gathering dust? Do you have a Ouija board?

Music has always had a huge influence on my writing. I have particular playlists that I listen to depending on what I’m writing and what my mood is. While deciding to write a novella for a box set, I was listening to Type O Negative’s October Rust album and I thought about what a great character the late Peter Steele would be in a rock and roll romance story. He had that tall, dark and handsome appearance along with the angry, broody and mysterious persona. He played bass guitar and his lyrics were laced with angst and despair. I wanted to write a hero like him.

All of us have, at one time or another, fantasized about falling in love with a rock star. So, I wanted to encompass that a normal, girl-next-door type could catch the eye of a rock star like Peter Steele. But just a normal romance where boy meets girl and they fall madly in love would be boring, right? So, I shook it up a little bit.

I thought about the challenges that rock stars face; the lack of privacy, over the top fans and limited time for a personal life. I wanted to give a realistic picture of that lifestyle but still keep it fantasy enough to feel like it could happen to someone like me or you.

In Unraveled, Evie is an unassuming girl who works a nine-to-five job and Lyle is the quintessential rock star women drool over. The two of them meet in a chance encounter after a concert and just as the chemistry starts to brew, enter a crazed fan that sees Evie as a threat and decides to eliminate her competition. For every action, there is a reaction and trying to keep two people apart sometimes has the opposite effect.

I really enjoyed delving into the rock and roll lifestyle and I currently have a second rock star story in the works. Unbreakable will release later this year.

Unraveled

Evie Brant lives quietly under the romantic radar until a coworker invites her to a concert where she meets Lyle Crane, the sexy singer of a heavy metal band. A little harmless flirting between the shy paralegal and the outgoing rock star provokes a crazed fan to eliminate her competition. Chemistry brews between Evie and Lyle when a gunshot rings out in the dark and the unlikely couple is set on a collision course neither of them saw coming.

Available at Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00MMXGPE8

Alyssa Breck is an author of horror/urban fantasy, paranormal romance and erotic fiction. She grew up reading Stephen King and V.C. Andrews. The Shining changed her life and sparked a love of all things scary, spooky and spine-chilling. Add some romance to that and she found her niche weaving paranormal and erotic romance stories. Alyssa lives in the south with her family and myriad pets.

You can learn more about Alyssa by visiting her website www.AlyssaBreck.com and by following her on Twitter @AlyssaBreck and Facebook.

UPDATE: The winner of the free download is…Kim Smith!

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DD, here! Just poking my head in the door to remind you that yesterday’s posted contest is still ongoing, and to tell you that you have a second chance to win the prize by commenting HERE today!  Check out Em Petrova’s sexy new cowboy story!

Reining Men

There’s no escaping ranch policy—anything to please a lady…
The Boot Knockers Ranch, Book 3

The Boot Knockers Ranch caters to women in all ways. And now rookie Paul is officially part of the team. He’s had six months to hone his skills with the ladies and prides himself on being a prime catch.

Jack would agree. He can’t get the rugged cowboy out of his system. He wants Paul in his bed more than anything, but his best friend has always been resistant to relations with other men. Jack’s instinct says different, but he values Paul’s friendship too highly to push it.

Then Jack takes on beautiful new client Lissy Lofton and finds himself falling hard for the confident show jumper. He’s not the only one. Lissy has caught Paul’s attention, and the attraction is mutual.

But now Jack has a problem. Lissy’s sexual appetite is so ravenous, he doubts he can last the week without backup. Which presents an irresistible opportunity to invite Paul into their bed—where the incandescent heat brings all their walls tumbling down.

Warning: Contains two smoking-hot cowboys whose drive to please the same woman spurs a desire to please each other.

Excerpt

“This lower lip is as ripe as a juicy peach. And this upper one”—he dragged his thumb over the rounded edges—“is a man’s wet dream.”

His dirty words spiked her desire. She wrapped her fingers around his strong wrist. Wide, sprinkled with light hairs, warm from the sun. Damn, she wanted to touch his every inch. For a week, Jack was hers to worship.

And she planned to take total advantage and make the big fee worth it.

His lashes lowered over smoldering eyes the color of sea glass. As a child she’d gathered the remnants from the beach and kept them in a little wooden box her parents had given her. What had happened to that collection?

Who cared? Now she had a new kind of sea glass to admire.

Jack tipped closer until the brim of his hat bumped her forehead. With a warm chuckle, he nudged it up. “Hat on or off, Lissy?”

Her mind bounced around the question. What did she want her first kiss to be like? He was allowing her to choose her path. Her heart swelled with the knowledge of her own power.

“On,” she whispered, her voice a stranger’s.

He angled his head, nose brushing hers. She filled her lungs with his scent—leather, man, hay. All the things she adored clinging to one perfect cowboy.

Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/Reining-Men-Boot-Knockers-Ranch-ebook/dp/B00NOM4IOK
B&N:
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/reining-men-em-petrova/1120375387?ean=9781619223813
Samhain:
https://www.samhainpublishing.com/book/5286/reining-men

Em Petrova lives in Backwoods, Pennsylvania, where she raises four kids and a Labradoodle named Daisy Hasselhoff. Her dream is to buy an old pickup and travel small-town USA meeting people and hearing their stories. Her heroes are hardworking—in bed and out—and she is known for panty-scorching erotic romance.

WEBSITE http://empetrova.com
GOODREADS https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4342760.Em_Petrova
AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE http://www.amazon.com/Em-Petrova/e/B005D0EXCI
BLOG http://hardworkingheroes.wordpress.com
FB FAN PAGE https://www.facebook.com/empetrovahardworkingheroes
TWITTER http://twitter.com/empetrova

UPDATE: The winner of the free download is…Kim Smith!

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Are you a fan of short stories? Have you ever read one? I love reading and writing them. Good thing, because one of my jobs is “editor” for sexy anthologies for Cleis Press.

I love short stories for many reasons.

• It’s a very short, satisfying journey to THE END.
• I can experiment with genre and see whether I’m any good at writing something different.
• Writing shorts cleans my writer’s palate much like eating bread at a wine-tasting.
• It’s just plain fun.

I write short stories for the collections I edit, but I also love to write them for other people’s collections. I get rejected the same as anyone else, so it’s still a rush to make the cut when a story is accepted. And because I normally retain all rights for the stories, I like to bundle them up occasionally into my own little self-pubbed volumes of Strokes. So far, I’ve published two. In a month or two, I’ll be publishing the third.  Today, I’m giving away a copy of the first volume to one lucky commenter. The second volume had to be republished a few months ago, and I lost all my reviews. 🙁 So if anyone happens to pick up a copy, I’d love you forever if you posted a review!

If you post a comment today, you’ll be entered
to win a free download of Strokes, Volume 1!

Strokes, Volume 2

Click to Buy

From New York Times bestselling author, Delilah Devlin, comes another naughty collection of seven bedtime stories—a week’s worth of nighttime reading pleasure.

Ride along with two soldiers, just returned from war, who find sweet release in “The Long Ride Home.” In “Tailgating at the Cedar Inn,” a woman has one last fling with two sexy construction workers. A cowboy kidnaps his “Runaway Bride” to get some sweet satisfaction. A woman travelling alone in Europe enjoys a hot steamy sauna in the “Textile Free” zone. In “Love in Bloom,” a florist tempts her high school crush. A naughty nooner with an office colleague ends in a “Quick Draw.” A dispatcher kicks inhibitions to the door when she seduces a younger truck driver in “Drive Me Crazy.”

Four of the stories have appeared in separate Cleis Press anthologies. Two of the stories were featured in Penthouse magazine! All the stories are featured in one sinfully hot collection…

Excerpt from “The Long Ride Home”…

White-hot sun beat down on the tops of our helmets. Sweat pooled between our shoulder blades and dampened the necks of our t-shirts. However, it was a hot, humid East Texas heat—so unlike what we’d endured for the past eleven months that none standing in formation really minded. We were home.

I watched it trickle down the side of one particular soldier’s neck as he stood in the row in front of me. Not for the first time, I thought I’d like the chance to lick it away.

Not that Staff Sergeant Mason Haddox had a clue how I felt. We’d been part of the same platoon—played volleyball and shot hoops, drove trucks over long, barely paved expanses of desert and mountains, and cleaned our weapons, side by side—but he hadn’t seen me as anything but another private who needed looking after.

And yet, his tall, muscled frame, black close-cropped hair and wintry blue eyes had made quite an impression. I’d lusted after him since the first time he’d shown up drill weekend, a month before we’d deployed. His steadfast calm during the most nightmarish day of my life had only cemented his attraction.

My nose started to itch, and I wrinkled it, hoping formation would break soon so I could scratch it. My feet were roasting in the boots sticking to the black pavement.

True to his word, our commander kept his speech short. A good thing, since SSG Haddox fidgeted, hands tightening and easing, swaying slightly on his feet as though waiting to spring into action. I knew he scanned the crowd seated in the bleachers from the corners of his eyes, hoping she’d show, that she’d changed her mind. I’d looked too and knew she wasn’t there—and wouldn’t be coming. I felt bad for him, but was also secretly hopeful he’d be ready to let go, that he wouldn’t do something stupid now we were back.

Just a month before we began preparations for our unit’s return from Afghanistan, Haddox had gotten the Dear John letter from his girlfriend, informing him she’d moved his belongings from their apartment into a storage unit. She’d included two keys taped to the page—one for the storage unit and one to his Mustang. She’d written she was sorry, but had he really expected her to wait all those months?

Had I been in her shoes, I would have. But then, I knew the feeling of being so far from home that Skype and email couldn’t fill the loneliness. I’d survived it once. However, my husband’s second tour had severed our connection—that and the emails I’d discovered when I’d hacked his Gmail account. Ones he’d sent to a female corporal stationed in another province who was planning a little R&R rendezvous. As quick as that, my love for him dried up like a closed tap. I’d forwarded the email to my account, then sent it to him along with a request for a divorce.

So I knew what Haddox felt. The searing betrayal. The anger. Maybe she’d been a decent person, but personally, I consigned her to hell. The worst thing the person at home could do to a deployed soldier was abandon him when he was too far away to do a damn thing about it.

I hoped he didn’t plan to go find her now.

“Company, attention!”

I snapped into position.

“Dismissed.”

Cheers from our unit and from the family and friends who filled the armory motor pool rang in the late afternoon air.

Head down, Haddox stomped away, not bothering to share a word with anyone.

My sister waved and made her way through the throng spilling from the bleachers, a wide smile splitting her face. I gave her an answering smile, but couldn’t help darting a glance to watch that broad set of shoulders move toward the open motor pool gates—the only space large enough to hold the formation and the guests who’d come to welcome the Reserve unit home.

The buses that had delivered us from the airport were pulling away. Most of the soldiers and their friends and family were heading inside the armory for the welcome home celebration, but Haddox strode toward the parking lot.

I gave my sister a quick hug. “Go say hi to Shelby—he’s got it bad for you.”

She laughed and blushed. “Where are you goin’?” Then her gaze followed mine. “Seriously? I thought you said he was an asshole.”

“He grows on you. I’m sorry. I have to go.”

She gave me a smile and hitched her purse over her shoulder. “Don’t worry about me. But you better call.”

“Tell Shelby to grab my gear!” Out the gates I sped.

Haddox was already dropping his duffel bag into the trunk of a car—an older model black Mustang.

I halted beside him, trying to figure out what I could say to keep him from driving away.

“You forget something, PFC Hollister?” he asked, glancing to the side as he slammed down the trunk lid.

“Megan,” I said, suddenly breathless. “Thought you might like some company.”

His gaze narrowed. “Did you, now? I’m gonna blow the carbon out of the exhaust. The ride’s gonna be bumpy.”

“I don’t want to get in the way—if you have plans.”

“No plans.” He snorted. “Don’t even have a place to sleep. Didn’t your sister come to pick you up?”

“Yeah, but she’s all right with me leavin’.”

This time, his mouth twisted into something between a smile and a snarl. “Shelby?”

“Yeah. You know they’ve been writing each other.”

His gaze trailed straight down my body, then up again. “Get in.”

I strode quickly to the passenger door, opened it, and slipped into the bucket seat. Then I tossed my hat in the backseat and began unbuttoning my ACU-camouflaged jacket.

When he slid in beside me, one dark brow lifted, but he didn’t say a thing when I threw it into the back as well and sat in my sweat-damp shirt in the musty car.

“Better roll down the windows.” Then he said a little prayer under his breath and turned the key in the ignition. I buckled my seatbelt. The engine rumbled into life. With a quick, tight grin, he jerked the stick into reverse, and then punched it forward. We rolled out onto the street, heading west rather than east into town.

Hot wind whipped through the interior of the car, dispelling the musty air and tugging at my blond hair looped into a clip at the back of my head. I reached back and released it, then laughed as the Mustang roared.

Glancing toward Haddox, I noted the hard edge of his jaw, the hand wrapped so tight around the steering wheel, the muscles in his forearm tensed. I didn’t have to crawl inside his head to know he didn’t want me there, but I was.

Maybe I could help him out a bit. And maybe, he’d see me as more than a fellow soldier who’d shared the bench seat of a deuce-and-a-half truck a time or two. One I’d been driving when he’d had to talk me through a hail of gunfire when our transport convoy came under attack.

I unbuckled my belt, ignoring his deep frown. I turned in the seat and reached for the buttons of his jacket, flicking them open then parting each side.

He didn’t say a thing, but his nostrils flared, his jaw sawed tighter.

I gripped the front of his t-shirt, bunched it in my hand, and tugged it from his ACU trousers.

His stomach jumped, and he sucked it in, making just enough room for me to get my fingers behind the waistband as I unbuckled, unbuttoned and tugged down the zip.

“Dammit, Hollister,” he said, his voice rough as gravel. “You’re gonna get us both killed.”

His gruff tone spurred me on. “Not if you keep your eyes on the road,” I said, tilting up my chin. Then I leaned over his lap, folded down the elastic band of his boxer briefs and pulled his cock upright.