I don’t know about you, but Halloween/Samhain/Dia de los Muertos is kind of a big deal around here. We don’t buy candy because we live in the boonies—no one goes door-to-door with their kids. Tomorrow afternoon, I’ll be working with my dd to get the kids’ facepaint right. We have one zombie and one sugar skull to create.  

All this made me wonder what sort of prep you do for the big date? Tell me about it and you’ll be entered to win a $5 Amazon gift card!

In the meantime, enjoy an excerpt from an appropriately scary/sexy tale, Zombie Love. It’s a short story and just $0.99!

A woman desperate to save her infected boyfriend from certain extermination faces her battle alone, in secret, until one day she has to trust he’s still inside the monster she feeds…

No one knew where the infection began. However, rumors abounded. It was a government experiment gone awry. Or an ancient plague released by melting icecaps. If anyone knew, they weren’t saying. Before long, no one cared about its origin. We were too busy trying to survive in our new world.

A bite…a kiss…was all it took to change everything. We eyed our neighbors with suspicion, held our families close, until, one by one, they were struck. The contagion spread, leading to panicked looting and murder. Businesses and homes boarded up windows, locked doors. Travel was limited. Curfews enforced. Silence settled over cities, interrupted only by the rattle of gunfire or the screams of sirens. Haunting but distant—someone else’s tragedy, until it arrived in your home. And then how did one face the horror? Well, there were regulations to follow, specific entities to inform. However, I chose a different path from everyone else I knew. One I hoped I wouldn’t regret.

Over the long weeks since Danny’s infection, I noted the mindless roars lessened in their intensity. He ceased slamming his fists and head against the walls and thick Plexiglas until they were bloody. His features, though coarser than they’d been before, and gray-tinged, were no longer frightening. Bruising faded. Split lips, cheekbones, and knuckles healed.

The clumsy jerking motions he made as he moved around the space where we’d trapped him eased into something less inhuman. Still unsteady on his feet, he used his hands to push off the walls or press against the ceiling to keep the wavering from sending him to his knees.

Physically, he was improving. I recognized him now beneath the dirty clothes and scruffy beard. But his eyes still betrayed his savage soul. They gleamed red. The darkening of his irises, one frightening red fleck at a time, had been the first sign the disease had struck. Red had eventually consumed the brilliant blue.

I’d defied the law, refusing to report him or quarantine myself, and instead, had locked him in the garage studio he’d built when he’d been an aspiring musician, but which now served as his prison cell.

I’d watched the news as the disease continued to spread. The virus which caused an unending hunger for raw meat, turned law-abiding citizens into mindless murderers. At first, the sick had been quarantined in hospitals then prisons. When those reached capacity, the infected were loaded onto train boxcars and sent to internment camps, or so the government said, until a cure could be found.

But rumors had started almost immediately that everyone who boarded those trains was destined to be “put down”—a humane solution, which protected the rest of the population. But still, the disease ran rampant.

Businesses operated, but only because people needed basic commodities and the money to buy them. There was a military presence on every street corner.

Hiding Danny had proven tricky. The need to purchase large quantities of fresh meat meant I spent a good part of the daylight traveling to grocers in other counties so that my buying habits weren’t noted. I couldn’t risk having my home raided and losing Danny.

I’d do anything to protect him from extermination. No one knew whether the illness was reversible, but I was willing to wait, and hoped the signs of improvement that I noted every day in my journal weren’t just my wishful thinking. I’d loved him since high school—the shy girl who’d fallen for the bad boy rocker. The engagement ring he’d given me days before he’d become ill was hidden away in a drawer—something I pulled out when I wanted to remind myself why I was doing this.

Today, his gaze followed me through the thick glass without blinking. The raw, intense hunger was tinged with something else. Regret perhaps? Was he remembering us?

As I did every day, I unlocked the door to the studio and carried in a fresh set of comfortable clothing, a towel and washcloth, soap, and a tall pitcher of warm water.

Unlike days past, he didn’t rush toward me only to be jerked back when he reached the end of his chain.

I slid everything as close as I dared, and then backed away from the door, all the while holding his smoldering gaze. “Please bathe, Danny. I’ll bring you food in a little while.” I reached the door and turned the knob behind me. “I love you.”

My life was reduced to this. Foraging for food. Cleaning the perimeter of the dirty enclosure where I kept him. He’d helped prepare his own prison, installing a toilet where the old mudroom sink had hung on the wall before he’d converted the space. Welding chain to a manacle and testing the length to ensure my safety when I entered. He’d removed his sound equipment and instruments. Placed a sturdy metal cot in the corner.

The morning he’d woken, feeling as though he had the worst hangover ever and rushing to the fridge for the hamburger I’d thawed the night before, he’d recognized the signs.

I’d awoken with him standing in the doorway, his eyes haunted.

“What’s wrong?” I’d asked.

He’d given me a tight smile, but then I’d noted the deep gray shadows beneath his eyes, the slick of perspiration on his forehead. The reddening irises. “Danny?” I’d asked, sitting up on my elbows as my stomach roiled.

No, it can’t be happening. Not to us. We’d done everything right. We’d stayed clear of quarantined areas. Used our own vehicles rather than public transportation to get back and forth to work. We never drank after one another. Didn’t eat out in restaurants where we couldn’t watch the cutlery and plates being sterilized. Didn’t kiss.

“How?” I’d asked, my throat thickening with tears.

He shook his head. “I don’t know, baby. But I have to go. I’ll walk to the center. Turn myself in. I won’t tell them where I live, but you’ll need to sanitize when I’m gone.”

My stomach tightened in rejection. “You aren’t going there.”

His sweet smile stretched, although his eyes watered with unshed tears. “I don’t have any choice. I’m already scared to death I may have infected you.”

I shook my head, the back of my throat burning. “You know what they say about those places. I won’t ever see you again.”

He spread his hands and gripped the doorframe, his head bowed. “I love you, Trish.” Then he backed away from the door.

I threw back the covers. “No! We’ll find another way. Wait this out. They’ll find a treatment.”

But he walked away, down the hallway toward the front door.

I scrambled from the bed and followed. Before he reached the door, I encircled his waist with my arms and held him back. “Don’t do this. Stay with me. We’ll find a way to keep me safe. You still have a little time.”

While he’d finished the raw hamburger and I’d drank a pot of hot coffee, we’d conspired. By the end of the day, I’d hit the hardware store two counties over, and he’d cleared his beloved studio.

That hug at the doorway was the last time I’d touched him.

I just wanted to show off my meager graphics skills today. I made that image in Canva, and I think it’s pretty darn eye-catching—don’t you? Helps to have great covers (thank you, sis!).

These are the first three stories in the series. Early next year, I’ll begin releasing the next three. After that? Well, it’s up to you. If you’d love more cowboys who ride hard and love harder, just let me know…

This coming Thursday, The Cowboy and the Widow releases. I know. It’s a clunky title, but it tells you what you need to know, right? And I promise it’s sexy as hell! It has these themes goin’ on: older woman/younger man, reunion, widow overcoming disappointment, a cowboy with all the right moves… Uh huh… Go reserve your copy! ~DD

Contest

For a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card, answer me this:

What is your favorite romance genre?

Texas Cowboys

Wearing His Brand
Texas Cowboys, Book 1

An accident involving barbed wire gives Lyssa McDonough the chance to play damsel-in-distress to capture rancher Brandon Tynan’s attention. Brand promised Lyssa’s older brother he’d keep an eye on his kid sister when he went off to war, but the sexy cowgirl tempts his code of honor past the breaking point when her actions beg for his brand of sensual punishment.

A little TLC turns into one hot encounter neither can just brush off. Now, Brand is determined to put the brakes on Lyssa’s reckless behavior–just as determined as she is to find a way to stay in his bed, forever.

Get your copy here!

The Cowboy and The Widow
Coming November 2nd!
Texas Cowboys, Book 2

Following her husband’s death, Maggie McDermott faces the onerous task of running the family ranch. She doesn’t know the first thing about horses, so she knows she needs a capable hand. But Daniel? Guilty memories of the time she’d tempted the younger man keep her blushing.

Daniel Tynan is more than willing to show sweet Maggie the ropes. His gentle ways melt her heart, and his sensual passion burns away her inhibitions. He may be younger, but he’s not without the right kind of experience…

Pre-order your copy here!

Soldier Boy
Coming December 5th!

Fresh from war, “Mac” McDonough wants just two things: whiskey to drown the pain in his damaged leg and a woman. But one look into Suki Reese’s haunted eyes, and he knows she needs the kind of muscle only an ex-soldier can provide.

Mac’s brooding gaze and hard body leave Suki Reece breathless and disturbed. The rugged ex-Marine won’t listen to a word she says until Suki distracts him with a sexy striptease. That gets his attention.

While Suki may have gotten the upper hand, Mac is going to be on top.

Pre-order your copy here!

UPDATE: The winner is Buttons!

* * * * *

My favorite cause—finding forever homes for homeless pets—is also the inspiration for my Klein’s K-9s Service Dogs contemporary romance series. In fact, all of the pets in my books were adopted from animal shelters or rescue groups. There is a long-held, erroneous idea that shelter animals are pathetic mutts, flea-bitten cats, or vicious, antisocial pets. The majority are wonderful animals in need of love and a family. Through our writing, authors have the opportunity to reinforce that fact and encourage responsible pet ownership, such as spaying or neutering pets.

Smokey, my author logo and the Chinese crested hairless drug-sniffing dog from my first book, At Her Command, was adopted from a shelter. The idea of such a talented, tiny dog working for DEA appealed to my sense of humor, and I’ve included a crested in all of my books since.

Klein’s K-9s

My Klein’s K-9s series features wonderful working pets—from police and military dogs to service and therapy animals. In Racing Hearts, the first novella in the series, a toy-sized dog is a trained seizure alert dog. Tom Tyler, my race-car driver hero, suffers a traumatic brain injury and is at first skeptical that a dog who barely reaches his ankle can help him. But soon he’s relying on the little pooch and falling for Meg Klein, the dog’s trainer.

Buy Links for “Racing Hearts”

Amazon: https://amzn.to/1OzgWn9
Barnes & Noble: https://tinyurl.com/jnbntuu
Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/racing-hearts-9
Apple: https://tinyurl.com/zkps7pa

The second in the series, 8 Hounds a-Howling, is a humorous story about the photographing of a dog-themed 12 Days of Christmas calendar. This novella includes 78 dogs, along with several cats and a pot-bellied pig. The third Klein’s K-9s novella, Nothing But a Hound Dog, finds a country music star working off his community service sentence at the local animal shelter. The fourth, Scrooge & the Secret Santa, pits an anti-Christmas police dog trainer against a holiday-loving therapy animal trainer. Love, of course, wins.

Contest

Not surprisingly, I enjoy stories that feature pets. I’d love to hear your favorite books, TV shows, and movies that include animals. Tomorrow, I’ll randomly pick several commenters to receive a free “Racing Hearts” ebook! I hope you’ll drop by my website to check out my books. Happy Adopt-a-Shelter-Dog Month and Happy Halloween!

About the Author

Marcia James finaled in 11 Romance Writers of America contests before selling her first contemporary romance. A national and international Amazon and Barnes & Noble bestseller, she writes hot, humorous romances featuring heroines you can root for, heroes to die for, and funny dogs. In her eclectic career, Marcia has shot submarine training videos, organized celebrity-filled nonprofit events, and had her wedding covered by People Magazine. After years of dealing with such sexy topics as how to safely install traffic lights, she’s enjoying “researching” and plotting her novels’ steamy love scenes with her husband and hero of many years.

Website: www.MarciaJames.net
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MarciaJamesAuthor
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Marcia_James
Pinterest: https://pinterest.com/marciajames/
Amazon Author Central page: www.amazon.com/author/marciajames

UPDATE: The winner is… Tamara!

* * * * *

The word fantasy means something different to everyone. It could be a forbidden tryst meant only for your own mind in the dark of your bedroom.

Or a desire so taboo you can only share it wearing a mask at a masquerade ball in another hall, in another town, in another country.

Maybe even something so simple and sweet you wouldn’t even think to call it a fantasy but for someone else it’s what they desire the most. To be held at night. To be taken in a rain storm in the middle of no where. To laugh with someone else you’ve been trying to meet for years.

I simply love the concept of a fantasy.

Just the word itself makes me hold my breath.

It could be anything or nothing.

Something to strive for, something to reach, something to achieve and grow from and learn from and become the person you’ve ALWAYS wanted to be…..ssssiiiigghhhhhh.

This is where the concept of my Fantasies A-Z series came from.

A married couple looking for more and finding it in the arms of each other. There are nine stories total…short kinky stories meant to tantalize and excite you. May you fall in love with love and everything that word means to your fantasies…

Amazon – https://goo.gl/h0rg1l
B&N – https://goo.gl/pirQxv
Kobo – https://goo.gl/baXVQc
Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/587751
Ibooks – https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id1052596739
Print copy – https://www.createspace.com/7293784

I hope anyone that reads these stories gets a little spark to live a bit more. To reach for something they didn’t think they could have. You’re wrong.

You can have it all. You can do anything.

Life is made for living so go out there and conquer the world!!!

**GIVEAWAY – US ONLY**

Just look at all the awesomeness you could win!! Including a full print copy of the entire series! So tell me the story of your favorite fantasy!!

I’ll pick a winner on Monday the 23rd!! Good Luck!! PS –It’s always great to leave your email address in your comment so I can contact you! Hate not being able to give winners their goodies!!

Decadently Yours,
Jennifer Kacey

About the Author

Jennifer Kacey is a writer, mother, and business owner living with her miniman in Texas. She sings in the shower, plays piano in her dreams, and has to have a different color of nail polish every week. The best advice she’s ever been given? Find the real you and never settle for anything less.

Website – Newsletter – The Decadent Divas– Amazon Page
Facebook – Facebook Author Page – Twitter – Goodreads – Pinterest

UPDATE: The winner is…Buttons!

* * * * *

At some point, the numerous releases will slow down. I’ll reach the end of the stories my publishers returned to me, and you’ll be stuck with only new stories to read. Will you be sad? I know some of you are more recent recruits to my stories, so the oldies I refurb and repub are “brand new” to you, like this week’s Under a Blood Moon. Thanks to everyone who purchased it! Hope you love it, because I’m writing three brand new stories to complete that series! But here’s what else is coming soon!

Coming November 2nd!
The Cowboy and The Widow
Texas Cowboys, Book 2

Maggie McDermott doesn’t know the first thing about horses, but Daniel Tynan is more than willing to show her the ropes. His gentle ways melt her heart, and his sensual passion burns away her inhibitions. Daniel takes the time to love her right.

Pre-order your copy here!

*~*~*~*

Coming November 9th!
Big Bad Wolf
Night Fall, Book 13

Ginnie Martin is a badass. She was born that way. Forged in blood—her own and her family’s. The vampire who saved her recruited her to fight with his small army against the creature responsible for her losing everything. But now, Viper’s asking too damn much. He wants her to open her home to new allies who, until only recently, were their fiercest foes. Wolves.

Calum Fletcher already bristles over providing muscle to a vampire force. Content living in his remote cabin on Dark Mountain, he’s never been much for mixing with other wolves, much less making nice with vampires. He thought he was having a hard time dealing, but the woman letting him bunk in her home wears an even larger chip on her shoulder. Quickly, his new favorite sport is goading her into losing her temper—because everyone knows a vampire’s bloodlust leads to some very sexy places…

Pre-order your copy here!

*~*~*~*

Coming November 14th!
Reaper
Montana Bounty Hunters, Book 1

“As a general rule, Reaper didn’t like working with a partner, especially female partners. When working a warrant, he preferred to keep his head down and follow the leads. He didn’t like the “chatter” that usually accompanied working with a woman.

However, partnering with Jamie Burke had taught him a few things. There were women who could focus on the job at hand without letting silly distractions get in the way of his concentration. Jamie was one of those rare creatures who didn’t gossip, didn’t get into his business, and could actually be useful when shit went sideways and they had to get physical. Her methods of subduing a target weren’t ones he’d ever employ, but she knew how to compensate for her smaller frame and lesser strength. Over the months since their boss, Fetch Winter, had put them together, Reaper had come to admire the woman’s grit and ingenuity.

Case in point was their present predicament…”

See what happens when Reaper has to deal with a ride-along author who, when shit goes sideways, proves his first female partner’s “grit and ingenuity” weren’t just lucky happenstance, and who challenges Reaper’s relationship rules…

Pre-order your copy here!

*~*~*~*

Coming December 12th!
Wolf Moon Rising
Beaux Rêve Coven, Book 3

In Jefferson Parish, deep in the bayou, is a place called Bonne Nuit. Off the beaten path, isolated by swamp and connected to the sea, there the Beaux Rêve Coven thrives. Five witches… Too many demons to count…

Aoife is the most flighty of the sister witches, and she has a secret, one her mother told her to keep close to her heart. Her father was a fairy. Which explains her quirkiness and her affinity for flowers and butterflies. She lives in a cabin on stilts that juts into the bayou, and one of her demon guardians is a werewolf. She’s attracted, but how would he feel if he married her, fathered a child, and that child disappeared into the land of the fae. Plus, she’s being stalked by her ex-fiance, a skin-walker, who has infiltrated the demons protecting the witches. If he can’t trick her into choosing him as a mate, he will take her.

Pre-order your copy here!

Contest

All you have to do to enter to win a small Amazon gift card, is answer me this…

Are you planning to read any of these stories? If so, which one(s)?

An author’s work is never done. It sounds like a trite truism, but it is my life. For those of us who self-publish as well as working with New York (aka hybrid authors), this is especially true, because we have, essentially, multiple bosses tossing deadlines at us willy-nilly.

I’m basically running my own business, which, let’s be honest, is NOT what I signed up for. I am responsible for sending out invoices, paying vendors, auditioning voice artists, researching marketing strategies, and doing (shudder) math. I have to be on top of industry changes, know who is who in the field and try to keep track of what readers REALLY want. Oh yeah, and write, edit, package and sell my product. Meanwhile, all this is taking place on a merry-go-round that never stops changing. During an earthquake. In the middle of a tornado.

Beyond that…I have a life that I like to live sometimes. Meals I want to eat. A dog who wants her tummy rubbed. And a family who expects me to appear occasionally.

To make matters even more interesting, places like Amazon and Facebook frequently make arbitrary changes that seriously influence our ability to make a livable wage.

Is it any wonder authors often ask ourselves, “Why am I doing this again?”

I just got a real, hard-core down to earth reminder.

See, when I was a little girl, my pre-school teacher told my mother that I had a learning disability so horrible, I would never learn to read or write.

My mother—who was an Amazon Warrior of her time—did not accept that. She made it her goal to give me a love of books—though torture. Every night she read me one chapter (no more). I eventually became so frustrated to know what was going to happen, I learned to read. THAT is true motivation.

My mother was reduced to coming into my room every night to confiscate my flashlight.

And my emergency back-up flashlight.

Needless to say, I learned to read, though I am still (and always will be) severely dyslexic.

Can I have a shout out to the inventor of spellcheck???

So that explains why I love books, but why romance? Maybe because I read 2-3 romances a day when I was a blossoming young woman? Maybe because they are perennially satisfying? Maybe because I love the magic of bringing three souls together in a perfect love triangle?

Three? you ask.

Yes. Three. Not that I write ménage. (I don’t) The magic three are the hero, the heroine…and you. You are part of the magic. You are why I love to write, despite the frustrations and unfuns. (No pressure).

But there’s a little more to the story, if you will indulge me.

Why do I love Highlanders so much?

Because of her. That woman who refused to let me be labeled as a dummy. Who refused to let me fail. Who insisted on reminding me that I wasn’t weird (I was) but rather that I marched to the beat of my own drum.

My mother.

My mother, the Scot.

Directly descended from Mary Queen of Scots. A woman whose family hailed from Kinloch Rannoch. A woman who wore the Stewart Plaid every day. A woman who fought for me like a tigress.

My mom passed on the 20^th of September after a long difficult battle with Alzheimer’s. It was so hard saying goodbye, even though it was a blessing and a well-deserved rest.

When something like this happens, you look at your life and you ask yourself, why am I doing what I am doing? Does it matter? Is it enough?

If I can please one reader, I feel like it does. It is.

Thanks, Mom, for helping me find my passion.

Thanks for believing in me.

Thanks for giving me a way to reach others and (maybe) make the world a better place for a little while for that one reader.

For you.

*~*~*

Sabrina’s newest release is from St. Martin’s Untamed Highlander Series…And yes. It’s a Highlander…

The Highlander Is All That
by Sabrina York

Elizabeth St. Claire has always been hard to please. Dreaming solely of Highlander men her whole life, no prancing London Lord can stand a chance at winning her heart…

… But perhaps a Scotsman can.

Elizabeth watches intrigued as the Highlander of her dreams, a Scotsman named Hamish Robb, arrives to oversee her season at the behest of her cousin, the Duke of Caithness. Elizabeth doesn’t hide her feelings for the striking Scot. But Hamish, determined to obey his order to protect the St. Claire sisters, steadfastly rejects her every seducing lure.

Believing that the debutante Elizabeth deserves a better, wealthier man, Hamish continues to turn away from her affection, even though he doesn’t exactly want to. Can this Highlander Scot resist the tempting seductress’ attempts to win his heart?

Read an Excerpt!

He emerged in the kitchens and, after greeting the plump and friendly cook—and snagging a scone from the cooling tray—he followed her directions out into the garden.

Ah yes. This was what he needed. The scent of mown grass, a hint of flowers, fresh air, and sunshine. He turned his face up to the sky and soaked it in.

Granted, it was a watery sunlight, and it struggled to shine through the haze of coal dust, but it beat the hell out of a musty carriage. He strolled along the path, studying the immaculately trimmed hedges, perfectly arranged rosebushes, and the affected pond in the center of the garden.

Everything was prim, proper, and utterly controlled. How British.

He missed the wild heathers of the Highlands, the raw scraggly trees that clung to the cliffs of the coast, the cold breeze gusting from the sea.

While he had been honored that Lachlan had entrusted him with this mission—for it clearly was important to the duke to support this family he had not known he had until recently—Hamish hated being away from home.

He had a business to run and had been in the process of seducing the lovely widow Dunn when the duke’s summons had come. But when a duke commanded one’s presence, one responded.

Ah well. The lovely widow could wait.

Hamish stilled and the little hairs on his nape prickled as he caught the trail of a tantalizing song. Like a sailor called by a siren, he followed the sound. As he rounded a corner, a whimsical gazebo came into view. There, leaning against a column, was his angel…

CLICK HERE TO READ MORE OF THIS SCORCHING TEASER AND BE THE FIRST TO ENTER TO WIN THE HIGHLANDER IS ALL THAT TIARA! https://sabrinayork.com/the-highlander-is-all-that-untamed-highlanders-from-sabrina-york/

UPDATE: The winner is…Ann Q!

* * * * *

Hey there! I’m up bright and early today. What does that phrase mean, anyway—bright and early? It’s  dark as midnight outside at the moment. And you know, I stumbled over the “dark as midnight” too. I wanted to write “dark as fuck”, but figured you might not like that word outside of a scene where the F-word is definitely being used as a verb. The “dark as fuck” is a remnant of a relationship I had with an Irishman. He loved that phrase. Now, it slips far too easily off my tongue and fingertips…

So, there was absolutely no point to that opening paragraph. Hope you didn’t mind the meandering segues. I have a feeling it’s going to be one of those days. I have a shit-ton of editing to do today, and how will I be starting my day? I’m headed to the Pumpkin Days Festival, which a little nearby church in the sticks holds every year. The kids always love it, so of course, we have to go. Games, food, PUMPKINS.

Do you have big things planned for today? I have a suggestion! Read the excerpt below from Hard SEAL to Love, and tell me you’re not tempted to find a SEAL book-boyfriend!

Contest

Comment for a chance to win one of my Uncharted SEALs stories
PLUS an Amazon gift card!
Click on a cover to explore the series!

Hard SEAL to Love

Former SEAL, “Big Mac” McLane, is sure he earned all kinds of bad karma somewhere when his next mission with Charter Group is to guard the “Love Boat” and a pretty program director. Okay, so the cruise line is sponsoring a special cruise for wounded soldiers and their significant others—a great cause. Mac doesn’t doesn’t know a thing about spending time with “good” women, but Kylie Hammond is full of surprises. After the initial shock of meeting her, he feels like he has two left feet whenever she’s around. So he’ll do his job, keep it strictly business, fade into the background whenever she’s around, but Kylie seems to have other ideas…

Kylie knows the muscle-bound SEAL isn’t exactly gung-ho for his new assignment, and she isn’t exactly the “princess” he expected, but she can’t be more pleased. The big man’s the yummiest thing she’s ever seen, and coaxing blushes and glares from him becomes her favorite sport. Then someone aboard the ship is killed. The thing her charity most feared—a terrorist attack at sea—appears to be underway. Now, she has to trust Mac and his team to keep her wounded soldiers safe.

Read an excerpt…

Five hours later, Mac stepped through the entrance of the Hampton Inn. The lobby was a study in orderly chaos. Suitcases were lined up and stacked against one wall. Men and women, some in wheelchairs or walking with crutches and walkers, and missing limbs—some multiples—filled the space.

Mac tamped down a feeling of guilt for being able-bodied and whole as he walked through the throng, nodding now and then as he passed the veterans. He headed to the concierge and asked where he could find Kylie Hammond. After being informed which conference room Soldiers’ Sanctuary had commandeered to hand out welcome packets to arrivals, he headed down a hallway, relieved he didn’t have to push through a sea of bodies. He was ready to start this op. Sooner the better. Five days would fly by, and then he’d have the down time he needed to get his head on straight before the next assignment.

Stepping inside the room, he noted two long conference tables filled with plastic buckets of folders. Three elderly men manned the table.

One of them who sported a gray buzz cut and a surprisingly muscular build glanced his way. He lifted his chin in greeting.

Mac decided he was as good a place to start as any and strode toward him.

The old man held out his hand. “Joe Olinksy,” he said, in deep, loud voice. Then he leaned against the table edge and whispered, “You with Charter?”

Mac eyed him then glanced at his two buddies who were moving closer. His presence as part of the security team was supposed to be on a “need-to-know” basis.

Grinning, Joe waved a hand. “We’re part of your support. Eyes and ears only. We’re a little too long in the tooth to be the muscle, but we’re here to help. We’ll be staying in the stateroom next to yours.”

Skeptical that this band of elderly brothers could be of any service at all, Mac drew a deep breath and gave Joe’s two companions another look.

“This is Morty,” Joe said, pointing toward a thin man with a round, pot belly. “And that’s Sly.”

Sly smiled, and his teeth were blindingly white and little too large in his mouth.

“Ex-marines, 3rd Division during Viet Nam,” Joe said. “You a SEAL like Wiley?”

“Semper Fi,” Morty said, grinning.

Mac grunted, revising his original assessment. These guys had seen real action. “I’m looking for Kylie Hammond.”

“She’s out in the atrium,” Joe pointed toward the windows behind him, “getting a cup of coffee. She’s been manning the tables since dawn. And don’t worry about us. We can handle ourselves. After all our help on the last cruise, Poppy made sure to add us to the team. We’ll have your six.”

The three elderly men hadn’t been mentioned in any of the briefings he’d attended back at HQ. Wiley for damn sure hadn’t said a thing, but then again, Wiley had looked a little smug when he’d heard Mac was being assigned to protect his wife’s best friend. He cleared his throat. “Mac McLane by the way,” he said, giving a nod to all three men.

“We’ll see you aboard the Oceanus,” Joe said.

Mac left them and thought about calling Wiley to find out why the hell he hadn’t mentioned his geriatric buddies. Just to bitch because he was already dreading the coming minutes. He didn’t have a lot of experience with Ms. Hammond’s brand of womanhood. He’d served with women in the field, and slept with the women who swarmed bars outside Navy bases, hoping for a hookup with a SEAL.

Women outside those two categories tended to make him nervous. In his experience, women had served only two purposes, as support and/or stress-relief for a SEAL. Not that he looked down on them. He liked the women he’d known. But he hadn’t had to think much about what kind of impression he made or how to talk to them. He could be gruff and blunt. What the hell would he talk about for the days and nights he and the princess would be glued to each other’s sides?

Entering the atrium, he glanced around for someone who fit the picture he’d made up in his mind. She’d be pretty, no doubt. He couldn’t imagine anyone who was friends with Poppy Shackleford and attending her social functions looking any different.

Most of the small round, brightly tiled tables were filled with men and a few women. Probably wives of the wounded soldiers, who’d be accompanying their husbands on the cruise.

One woman sat alone, her head bent over her cell phone which lay flat on the tabletop, a tall Styrofoam cup beside it. Her hair was a mass of dark brown curls. Her body, what he could see of it hunched over the table, was slender. Her bare arms and the tops of her shoulders, revealed by an olive tank, showed well-developed muscles. She wore no jewelry, save for a watch on an olive-colored web strap. Faux military-issue? And now he wondered whether she was one of those who was so enamored of military men she wore cammo pajamas. He’d met a few like that. As he moved nearer, she must have sensed someone watched her.

The woman’s gaze lifted from her phone and locked with his.

As he took in her features, he slowed his steps. Wide-set green eyes whose gaze never wavered, tan skin, rose-colored lips, cheeks that were prominent and high. She was lovely, but didn’t wear a hint of makeup. She didn’t need it. Unbidden, interest flared inside him, heating his blood.

“Are you Mac?” she asked, her voice even and little husky.

His tongue felt thick as he gave a crisp nod and replied. “You Kylie?”

Her smile was a little tight, but she pushed up from the table to greet him, her arm reaching forward.

When he looked down at her hand, with its long fingers and short bare nails, his gaze dropped to her legs. Another shock stole his breath. She wore shorts which ended at mid-thigh, revealing one long, nicely turned limb paired with a shapely thigh that disappeared into the black cup of a prosthetic limb.