Here’s a reminder! If you have Kindle Unlimited, you can download my latest bounty hunter story, Eli, for FREE. It leaves KU on April 24th, so don’t delay!

Eli

MONTANA BOUNTY HUNTERS: DEAD HORSE, MT
Authentic Men… Real Adventures…

An ex-SEAL sniper, who has spent his life experiencing everything from a distance, finds his self-imposed solitude challenged by the one woman in the world who might have been made just for him.

Eli Pope left the SEALs when he feared that he was losing his humanity. Now, he’s the latest new hire at the Dead Horse branch of the Montana Bounty Hunters. However, working with the tight-knit hunters hasn’t broken through his reserve. He’s still the man on the outside looking in.

Then a chance meeting with Sheriff’s Deputy Kira Ennis sets him on a new path, leaving him hopeful for a brighter future. She’s unlike any woman he’s ever met—independent, smart, brave, and strong in her own right. He begins to believe that she’s the one person in the world meant to end his loneliness, but he hesitates, wondering if it’s right to pursue her when she’s so much younger than he is.

Get your FREE copy here!

UPDATE: The winners are…Athena and Miki!
*~*~*

Before there were bounty hunters, there were SEALs. And I loved writing my Uncharted SEALs series. All those rugged, alpha heroes and strong heroines. Humor. Action. Spicy sex. All the ingredients that make stories fun for me to write, and hopefully, fun for you to read.

With Uncharted SEALs, I experimented a bit. For the first time, I did sequels with the same characters—for the simple reason I couldn’t say goodbye to them. I wanted to see inside their Happy-Ever-Afters. Through Her Eyes and Between a SEAL and a Hard Place share the same main characters, as do Dream of Me and Heart of a SEAL. Big Sky SEAL gave birth to my Montana Bounty Hunters, introducing Jamie and Reaper, who as a result of their work in Big Sky earned their own satellite office of MBH. A fun theme I used in two of the stories was a cruise ship. Both Before We Kiss and Hard SEAL to Love are set on the same ship and have the same supporting characters. Plus, Hard SEAL to Love features a disabled female vet!

This time, I’d like you to read the EXPLOSIVE opening scene of Heart of a SEAL. This story is shorter than most of the Uncharted stories, but I figured it was more of a revisiting with the characters, so readers might enjoy a slice of what happens in the happy-ever-after for Sam and Ash.

Enjoy!

   

   

  

Click on the covers to learn more!

Contest

Win your choice of one of my Uncharted SEALs stories! There will be 2 winners! All you have to do to enter is answer me this…

Do you like the idea of romances featuring married couples?

Heart of a SEAL

Aislinn Blalock is the lone survivor of the extraction team sent to rescue hostages in Cambodia from the vicious criminal gang holding them for ransom. After her helicopter crashes, she has to stay one step ahead of them to stay alive long enough for a rescue team to get to her.

Ash’s husband Sam watches the mission go sideways on a computer monitor, sidelined by management because one of the team happens to be his wife—but now, there’s no way in hell he’s sitting this one out. He’s getting to Ash before the armed gang can cause her any harm. He’ll risk everything to save the woman who holds his heart.

Excerpt from Heart of a SEAL…

What a difference six months made. Aislin Blalock lay in tall grass beside a withered rice paddy, staring up at a clear, starlit sky. A billion pinpricks of light scattered across a dark canvas. No moon, thank God. Beautiful, really. But the distant stars only deepened her sense of unreality. In the distance, she heard metallic creaks and groans, as well as the crackle of fire. She had yet to move, afraid adrenaline was giving her brain the wrong signals, masking the fact she’d been hurt. She had, after all, just fallen from the sky.

Six months ago, she would never have imagined she’d be here in Cambodia in December, participating in a mission to rescue wealthy tourists who’d been kidnapped for the fat ransom their families would pay. She’d been a cop, still suffering the loss of her boyfriend and partner during a robbery. Just met the man who would drag her out of hell and show her love was still possible. That guilt didn’t have to consume her. That she had the right—and the duty—to survive and find happiness. No longer did she drink herself into oblivion for the chance to dream of Marc and pretend he wasn’t gone. Now, she had Sam.

Sam…

Ash drew a deeper, sharper breath.  He hadn’t been happy about her being pulled from her training with Charter to be part of this team, but the company had wanted a woman along, and she was one of the first female operatives they’d hired. He’d been supportive of her decision to apply for a position with his company as a field operative. Naively, she’d believed that being part of Charter, rather than remaining with the New Orleans Police Department, would mean they’d see each other more often. And she’d needed a change. A new job. New home. Without constant reminders of what she’d lost or the time she’d nearly lost herself grieving after Marc’s death. When Charter had tapped her for this mission, she hadn’t hesitated.

Two of the hostages were nuns—not wealthy tourists like the rest. And Charter had decided she’d make the women more comfortable during the rescue and transit. But her team never made it to the drop zone, a click from the kidnapper’s jungle encampment. Although they’d flown well below radar, someone had alerted the well-organized, well-funded group holding the hostages.

Her helicopter had been in the lead. She’d already shuffled toward the open door, ready to drop down a rope when they’d been hit. She’d had a split second to react. Thought she’d heard a voice in her ear, telling her to jump. Marc’s voice, but that had to have been a dream. Her subconscious prodding her to take that leap of faith.

Her landing had been cushioned by deep, soft vegetation. She’d landed on her feet. Sort of. Her bottom making contact a split-second later. Even if she’d suffered a break or a spinal cord injury she couldn’t yet feel, she was far better off than the men who’d been aboard her helicopter. She’d had time to jump from the left door when the right side of the helo sustained a direct hit from an RPG. The rest of her team, whom she’d met only two weeks before, hadn’t been so lucky.

She drew deep, ragged breaths. Lungs expanded. No hitch, so her ribs were likely fine. Inside her combat boots, she wiggled her toes and felt them scrape hard leather. Time to move. But she was still afraid. After a few wasted moments, at last, she rolled to her right and came up on her knees. Everything appeared to be working, but maybe she’d sustained internal injuries. Gingerly, she dropped her pack and unlatched the cover, feeling inside for her headset. Her hands closed around thin bands. She donned her headset then the night vision goggles, set her mike beside her mouth, and tapped ON, using the team’s call sign to identify herself. All actions were performed by rote, because if she’d had to think, she would have frozen. “Do you read me?”

“Jesus, fuck!”

She almost smiled at hearing Sam’s break with protocol. But his curses, so harsh in her ear, relaxed her. For the moment, she felt his reassuring presence.

“We see one heat signature a distance from the helo. That you, babe?”

“Yes. I don’t think anyone else made it out.”

“The second helo just crossed back into Viet Nam.”

Which meant she was alone. If anything had gone awry with the mission, the pilots had been ordered to return to Charter’s base camp. She swallowed hard to still the panic rising in her throat.

“Are you hurt?”

She heard the soft note of hesitation in his voice. Knew he was bracing for the worst. Not sure, yet. “No,” she said, more firmly than she felt.

“Fuck. More heat signatures. Nine of them. Coming from the West.”

Her stomach clamped. Men from the kidnapper’s encampment. “Roger,” she said, her voice clipped. She knew what she had to do. Run.

“Head northeast. You’ll be in deep jungle. It’ll give you cover.”

She checked the illuminated dial of her wrist compass, took her direction, and pushed up into a crouch. As quickly and as quietly as she could, she streaked toward the tree line.

UPDATE: The winners are…Denise, Jennifer Beyer, and Stacey Kinzebach!
*~*~*

I love writing short stories. I used to submit short stories to publishers all the time because writing short, getting to The End quickly, gave me a rush. Writing short also gave me a chance to try new things out without a lot of risks. It’s how I discovered my love for writing bounty hunter stories! Eventually, I “graduated” to editing and publishing my own collections of short stories because I love the process of seeking stories from talented officers, making choices regarding which stories work together, editing every precious word, and then sending the book out into the world for readers to enjoy. I’m working on volume #7 of my Boys Behaving Badly Anthologies right now—Silver Soldiers—that I think you’ll like.

It releases later this year! The book will be a big thick volume of shorties and will be dirt cheap—just $0.99—like all the Bad Boy anthologies are. No excuses at all for anyone not to pick up a copy!

You can check out previous anthologies by clicking on the covers. And yes, they are all just $0.99—not because they’re not worth full price, but because the authors of these stories want as many people as possible to devour their stories! They’re a great deal and a great way to find new-to-you authors!

Contest

Comment for a chance to win the download of your choice of
one these anthologies!  There will be three winners!

Excerpt From “In the Wild” inside First Response…

If not for her GPS device, Martika Mills wouldn’t have had a clue where she was. All she knew was that she was soaked to the skin, mud sucked at her boots, and two days into this hunt, she was no closer to finding Marlon Oats.

Earlier that morning, after sliding a twenty to a gas station attendant on the Montana border, she’d thought she was getting close. She’d gotten a description of the car Marlon had “borrowed” on his flight into the wilderness and had found it parked in a narrow roadside viewing point, just inside Yellowstone National Park.

After that, she’d followed the narrow stream into a deep gully off the road, knowing Marlon considered himself quite the fisherman, or so his mother had said. No doubt he intended to live off the land until the heat died down after he’d failed to make his date with the judge in Helena, where he was due to be tried for robbing a pawn shop in Springdale at gunpoint. His mother had been very helpful, liking the fact that Marti seemed like “a nice girl” who might “ask” her son to let her put him in handcuffs rather than shooting him. His mother didn’t want Marlon hurt, even though his skip might cost her the home she’d lived in since she’d married Marlon’s no-account, long-dead father.

Marti was just about to call it a day, figuring she had just enough daylight left to get back to her SUV parked behind Marlon’s at the roadside park, when she spotted a puff of dark smoke rising over the gully. Noting its direction, she climbed up a steep embankment, seeking footholds in mud and rock and grabbing vines along the sides of the rocky face until she stood at the top and realized the land on this side of the stream was flatter and filled with tall spring grass—and a herd of buffalo that didn’t seem to pay her any mind as she bent over and dragged in deep breaths. She glanced at her hands braced on her knees and grimaced, because they were covered in mud, which she shouldn’t give a shit about because her jeans were streaked with dirt as well.

Marlon had a lot to answer for, but thoughts of the rich bounty she’d score kept her from throwing in the towel. Her mother liked to say that stubborn was her middle name, which was a quality that worked well in her line of work. She always got her man because she never, ever gave up. She’d been bounty hunting for nearly three years now, the last one going solo because she didn’t like sharing her bounty with a partner or an agency, although she was considering working for one again. Agencies often served as bail bondsmen, too, and therefore had the downlow first on the richer bounties. Fetch Winter from Montana Bounty Hunters had been working on recruiting her to join a new satellite office he was trying to get off the ground in Dead Horse, Montana, to service southwest Montana and into Wyoming. He needed hunters with experience, and he’d heard good things about her.

She’d heard good things about the agency, too, if you discounted the cable TV show that followed his hunters out of Bear Lodge. Fetch gave his crews a higher percentage of the bounty than most agencies did, and he’d assured her that he wouldn’t be looking to do any spin-off series featuring his other offices, but he had admitted that the bonuses for the hunters who permitted the production crews to accompany them were very generous. The job was hers, if she wanted it. But first, she had to find Marlon Oats.

Trying her best not to draw the herd’s attention, she walked along the edge of the ravine, keeping within the narrow line of trees standing along the edge of the ravine as she made her way toward the place she believed a campfire had been lit.

As she drew closer, she stayed hidden and peered into a clearing. A small tent had been pitched, one that had seen better days. One of the screen windows was torn, and one of the poles that held up the tarp over the door was missing. But she couldn’t make out whether anyone was presently occupying the campsite.

Just then, she heard movement coming from the stream below and a soft off-key whistling. Hunkering down, she waited patiently until the person climbed over the edge of the embankment and stood.

“Marlon, you sweet idiot,” she said under her breath. Her heartbeats quickened, and she drew slow breaths. She needed calm, not adrenaline, to get closer to her target.

Marlon strolled toward his campsite holding a string of four fish, which he lowered into a pot beside the fire. As he began taking them out, one at time, gutting and filleting them, and then tossing the pieces into a pan he’d filled with oil, she moved closer, choosing her footsteps carefully, grateful for the chorus of gargling grunts from the buffalo nearby that masked the sounds her feet made in the suctioning mud.

She studied Marlon to see what challenges he might present. A rifle leaned against the tent, and he held a knife in his hand. Slowly, she dropped her backpack to the ground and drew her own 10mm Remington from the holster on her thigh, and then began to work her way toward the edge of the tree line, knowing she’d eventually have to expose her position to prevent him from making a move toward the rifle.

Soft chuffing grunts sounded from the herd, but she ignored the animals, keeping her gaze fixed on the more dangerous game in front of her.

Then she stepped on a twig, and it snapped.

Marlon’s gaze swung toward her position, and his eyes widened. His gaze shot to the rifle, but she shook her head.

“I’m a Fugitive Recovery Agent, so you know why I’m here,” she said, keeping her tone low and hard.

Eyes still wide, his body tensed as though he was preparing to bolt upwards and make a run for it.

“Don’t even think about running,” she bit out.

He blinked, and his gaze went to something behind her. “Bitch, you might want to think about making a run for it.” Then a smile stretched across his face as he slowly stood and waved his arms.

What the fuck…?

Then she heard it. A deep, gargling grunt. With her handgun still held in both hands in front of her, she darted a glance behind her. Read the rest of this entry »

I sent this out in my newsletter this morning, so if you’re getting this a second time—sorry!

It’s April Fools’ Day! It’s also Friday, and maybe you’re getting ready to download a story and meet your new weekend Book-Boyfriend. Well, I have a suggestion for you. Troy Barlow is a firefighter, who will fall like a ton of bricks when he meets the right woman. He’s sexy, funny, brave. Everything you could want in a BBF.

I reduced the price for this weekend only!! You’ll save $2 if you pick up your copy now! Read the excerpt below for a peek inside the fun you’ll have!

Happy Reading!
~DD

Flashpoint

Flashpoint
A Cowboys on the Edge Story

His touch makes her burn…

Troy Barlow wasn’t looking for love when he competed in the Texas Tough Firefighting Competition, but one feisty little blonde caught his attention and wouldn’t let go. The more she tried to deflect him, the more determined he became to make an impression, until he did something she couldn’t possibly ignore.

The last thing Diana Boyle expected to feel was attraction for another firefighter. After her husband’s death, she’d been adamant — never another firefighter. But Troy was impossible to escape. When he wore down her resolve, she thought a one-night-stand might purge him from her system once and for all, but his powerful appeal and uninhibited lust and zest for life were addictive. When a harrowing fire threatens their newfound happiness, Diana has to face her worst fears.

Get your reduced-price copy at one of these vendors now!

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Apple

Excerpt from Flashpoint…

Every time he’d finished an event, he’d searched, encouraged when he found her looking his way, even if she did immediately give him her back or pretend she wasn’t staring.

He guessed he wasn’t hard to miss. Even in a crowd. Besides his large frame, he was extremely athletic. A ringer, some of the firehouses had complained good-naturedly to his chief. Which was true, he’d competed nationally in other firefighter challenges and placed. But this weekend wasn’t about trophies or blue ribbons, the competition was about raising money for the Fallen Firefighters Fund. Chief Thacker had told his crew not to embarrass him, placing would be nice, but having fun and making sure the people attending enjoyed themselves was the highest priority.

Troy had already done his part, winning the ladder competition—his score seconds faster than Cade’s score climbing a ladder up a tower of scaffolding. He’d helped his team secure second in the hose relay, where firefighters representing their houses ran with fire hoses, extending them as fast as they could to the next firefighter on the track, who then had to run with his own section of hose toward the finish line. Yeah, he’d more than done his part. And while he was pretty sure he could blow through the competition during this final event, he didn’t think his boss would mind if he broke the rules and disqualified himself—all in the name of giving the crowd something they’d love.

At last, his turn arrived to stand behind the starting line, this time beside Kole. There being only two Rescue Randy dolls meant only two firefighters could compete at one time. The goal was to lift the weighted doll and drag it to “safety” a hundred feet to the finish line. Troy eyed the doll lying on the ground in front of him and smirked.

“Don’t think I’m making this easy for you,” Kole said.

Troy fought to keep his voice even. “Oh, I know you can give me some competition. Just don’t break your stride over anything I might do.”

Kole shook his head and laughed. “Already making excuses for why I’m gonna smoke your ass?”

“Just saying,” Troy said, grinning. He shot a look at the blonde woman’s table. Her gaze widened when it locked with his. Did instinct tell her she ought to run? He hoped so.

A shot rang out, and Kole leapt forward to pick up his doll, tucking his hands under its armpits and shuffling backwards down the track.

Troy turned and darted into the crowd, heading straight for the woman’s refreshment table.

“And we have a firefighter who’s a little directionally challenged,” drawled the commentator over the loudspeaker.

Troy didn’t break stride, leaping over duffels and hoses, his gaze on his prize.

His prey’s eyes widened farther, and she pushed up from her chair, her head turning left and right as though making sure she really was his quarry. Her delayed reaction gave him time to catch her. He planted a hand on her shoulder, turned her gently, then bent and pushed his shoulder against her soft belly.

With a yelp, she folded over his shoulder and grabbed for his waistband to steady herself, because he was already straightening and turning. From the corner of his eye, he noted the firefighters from San Angelo beginning to stand, hands fisted as they moved to cut him off, but he was closer to the track, and definitely more determined. He reached up to pat her bottom. “Hold on tight. I’ll try not to bounce you too much, sweetheart.” With laughter ringing out among the onlookers, he jogged behind Kole who shook his head and continued dragging the dummy down the track.

“Seriously, bro?” Kole shouted out.

“Put me down, idiot!” came the sweet, chopped voice of his victim.

“Can’t now, hon. I’m committed. You really should have told me your name. We’d have shook hands, I’d have asked you for your number and a date—”

“I would have said no!”

He laughed, not the least disappointed. She acted as he’d expected. “And that would have been okay. Not that I would have given up.” He slowed his pace, not wanting the race to end too quickly.

Kole laughed too hilariously to threaten anyone’s time. At the moment, he was bent over the doll he’d dropped as he held his sides.

Troy was nearly running in place, doing his best to drag out his rescue. “Yeah, I’d have called, and when you blocked my number, I would have shown up at your job and sweet-talked all your friends into telling me where to find you.”

She wiggled on his shoulder, pinched his sides. “You’re just a stalker! A freaking perv.”

Only he noted that she didn’t sound very outraged. Instead, she sounded like she was choking. Was she laughing? He grinned.

“And you’re a liar. There’s no way you could find out where I live or work.”

“Sweetheart, I have friends with badges. I’d have followed you to your car, got your plate number—”

“That’s illegal. Officers wouldn’t just run a plate like that.”

“I’d have said you stole something. That I saw a pretty girl carrying it away. And hey, I did my civic duty and wrote down her license plate…”

“Oh yeah? And what did I steal?”

Pretending to stumble, he patted her ass again. “You don’t know what you took?”

This time laughter shook her frame. “You’re a jerk.”

“That’s okay. You’re a thief.” He crossed the line behind Kole and turned toward the crowd, holding out his arms and raising his hands, still balancing her slim body on one shoulder.

The crowd roared, but her friends moved in on him, their faces tight and red. He figured he needed her help to keep this friendly and slowly bent, lowering her to the ground.

She shook back her hair and met his gaze. “What did I take?” she asked, her face reddened, her expression a mixture of embarrassment and something kind of…poignant.

Troy hated to end the moment. She deserved a truthful answer. Instead, he reached for her shoulders and turned her toward her friends, then wrapped an arm around her middle and pulled her against his side. “Don’t suppose you could tell them we planned this, huh?”

She gave a breathless laugh and cocked an eyebrow. “Think it would help? They look pretty pissed.”

“Maybe they’d believe it, if…” Knowing he gambled but couldn’t resist, he turned her again, bent with her, and then brushed her mouth with his.

The crowd roared their approval.

He glanced toward her friends who’d slowed their stomps, deep frowns lessening as her hands rose to grip his shoulders. And for a moment, he forgot this was just a way to blow off steam, to teach her a little lesson in good dating manners. Forgotten was the crowd. His boss. Her friends. His attention narrowed to the soft lips moving beneath his, the small hands kneading his shoulders.

Last summer I did some traveling to research the area where I set my forthcoming novel, Shattered Ice. This third book in the Melting Hearts series takes place near Aspen, Colorado. It’s a gorgeous area with majestic mountains and lush forests, and one I’d never been to. Road trip!

I’ve been a fan of car trips since I was a little kid and, like everyone else, I’ve been cooped up for far too long. But a road trip means packing up the writing companions I affectionately refer to as the Insane Pound Posse (IPP). Dora, the senior member by two weeks, is a sixty-pound German Shorthaired Pointer with the temperament of Tigger from Winnie the Pooh. She’s the happiest dog I’ve ever known and greets each new day with leaps of joy.

Lulu—the younger, but significantly larger—is a ninety-pound red Doberman. Her idea of the best way to greet the day is to start her first nap. She likes to conserve her energy for barking at delivery drivers, dog walkers, and everything else that passes by. This requires loads of rest, preferably on a bed or couch, depending on how her royal highness is feeling that day.

I’ve become pretty skilled at road trips with the IPP, but we usually go to our favorite hotels where they know us. I had to find a place in Colorado that could accommodate one hundred and fifty pounds of spoiled-rotten canine.

Thank goodness for vacation rental sites like Vrbo and Airbnb.

I started searching, and quickly realized that rentals in Aspen are not like rentals anywhere else. We’re talking big huge dollars. I’m a little bitty writer. So I found a place in Carbondale, about 40 minutes west of Aspen, and it was still fabulous. It had a caviar view on a fish-and-chips budget. And the best part was that they allowed dogs. Perfect.

Still, my four-legged companions had to be on their best behavior—no scratching the furniture or breaking lamps. But unlike kids, dogs are completely impervious to threats. (Ask me how I know.)

So how was I going to manage the IPP in a tricked-out house with wood floors, floor to ceiling windows, and luxury linens?

The key to this, like most challenges, is to be prepared. With that in mind, the IPP and I put together this fabulous graphic should you decide to try a rental with your furry crew. FYI, they made me add the toys and the bowls. They still haven’t forgotten the time they had to use an unfamiliar water bowl.

“It was awful,” howls Lulu.

“But she remembered our blankets, and treats!” Dora is much more forgiving, although she still hates having her nails done on spa day before we go.

If you like reading books with dogs, check out Xmas Angel, the second book in the Melting Hearts series.

Shattered Ice, the third book in my series, will be released May 31, 2022, just in time for summer vacation reading. And, if you’d like to keep up with the occasional antics of the IPP, subscribe to my newsletter at jordynkross.com and get the free prequel to the series: Jack’s Frost.

So, St. Patrick’s Day was yesterday, but why not continue celebrating. And who doesn’t love a holiday that gives us a great excuse to get together with family and friends, attend the local parade, wear lots of green clothes, and drink beer. Oh, and dye rivers green!! However, there is a lot about this holiday which people don’t know. Stick around and read about five St. Patrick’s Day facts you might’ve not been aware of!

1. This holiday falls on March 17th each year because that is the traditional death date of Saint Patrick, the patron saint of Ireland. Did you know that Saint Patrick wasn’t even Irish? He was actually born in Wales. He was held as a prisoner by Irish raiders shortly after he turned sixteen years old, and this is when he found his faith.
2. Green was not always the color associated with St. Patrick’s Day. For thousands of years, light blue was the color people used to celebrate this holiday!
3. The first St. Patrick’s Day parade was held right here, in the United States. The parade tradition originated in Boston, Massachusetts, in 1737. New York followed shortly behind them, launching their first parade in 1762.
4. From 1927 to 1961, St. Patrick’s Day was a dry holiday. The Irish government banned alcohol to enforce the religious aspects of the holiday. Pubs around the country were forced to close for this day. Nowadays, approximately 11 million pints of Guinness are consumed on this holiday.
5. Chicago dyes their river green for the spirit of St. Patrick’s Day. The dye they use is plant-based, allowing it to return to its normal color in approximately thirty hours.

Hopefully, you learned a few fun facts, and March 17th will have more reasons to celebrate in the future! Now I wish I could say I wrote a romance book about St. Patrick’s Day, but the closest I can come is my Navy SEALs of Little Creek series, where two of the heroines work at a local pub. Below you can find an excerpt from Issued (complete with a GREEN cover).

Issued

Excerpt from Issued…

I’m sorry. 

Two words that should be simple enough to say. But putting my business on display for the public isn’t my thing. Though, after Brittney’s scene two nights ago, people who don’t even know a thing about me now know I’m broken. Leave it to my ex’s sister to tell the world I’m the emotional equivalent of Humpty Dumpty after his fall from grace. All of my pieces are glued back with such haphazard carelessness that I can’t remember what it feels like to be whole. Or what it feels like to go through life without falling apart, without being forced to admit my own weakness.

I drag my hands over my face, my heart in my throat, as I do my best impression of a kicked puppy in the middle of Shaken & Stirred. Taya catches sight of me, slams down her tray, and turns on her heel to stalk off in the opposite direction. My body trembles, and I dig my nails into my scalp, wishing for the hundredth time that my stubborn wife had acknowledged me when I’d tapped on her door last night. Or the night before. This whole thing could have been handled in private. Although, shit, guess that cat had gotten out of the bag two days ago. Until then, Bear had been the only one who knew about my TBI, but now everyone knows. Everyone who was within earshot of our table.

But the way Taya leapt to her feet to defend me. She’d been all fiery eyes and blazing cheeks, a hellcat ready to attack on my behalf. Hope bubbles in my chest for a second before I viciously squash the feeling. Taya deserves someone normal, someone who can stand up to the light of her scrutiny without cutting her on all his ragged, imperfect edges. She deserves someone better than me.

But right now, we need to put on a performance for my superiors and any of the committee attending the function later tonight. My jaw aches and I’m grinding my teeth together as I flag down the hostess. “Can you get her? It’s important. Please?”

She turns, flinging her hand at me in a dismissive wave. “Sure.”

Inara heads into the back. Despite her snarky claim that she cares more about cucumbers than what I think is important, a minute later, Taya makes her way toward me. I force a smile, but the muscles in my face tighten and twitch. Taya stops in front of me, her forehead a collection of unhappy little wrinkles. With one hip cocked and her arms folded beneath the small swell of her teacup breasts, she’s the personification of feisty disapproval in a server’s apron and non-slick shoes.

“What do you want?”

“There’s a mandatory work party and I need you to come with me.” Not the best start, but I’m fully prepared to apologize and grovel for a date rather than show up in front of my commanding officer without Taya on my arm. This is my shot to prove that I’m committed to the IPP program.

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

I want to turn around and leave, but I’m already down to the wire. Maybe I’ll just toss her over my shoulder and make a run for it. Taking a deep breath, I try again. “I know you’re mad, but I need your help. We don’t even have to talk or stand next to one another. We’re basically carpooling to an open bar. This is important. If my C.O. doesn’t think I’m trying to make the IPP program work, I’m screwed.”

Her body slumps, but her eyes remain locked with mine. “When?”

“Tonight.”

“Are you serious?” Her voice is high pitched and more than a little accusatory. “You literally waited until the last second?”

“Not exactly.” I glance at the time on my phone. “We actually have about three hours.”

Buy links:
https://www.amazon.com/Issued-Navy-Seals-Little-Creek-ebook/dp/B085Q51PLS
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/issued-paris-wynters/1136625248
https://books.apple.com/us/book/issued/id1502152322
https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Issued?id=SobVDwAAQBAJ&hl=en_US&gl=US

Greetings from Melbourne, Australia and thanks to Delilah for hosting my blog. It’s good to be with you again.

Okay, I’m just going to come out and say it. I have three confessions.

Confession number one: I love musicals and old movies.

The other day, I sat down to watch the latest version of Westside Story and was hit with a mix of excitement and trepidation. I absolutely love the original with Natalie Wood and I was worried this one would be a letdown. But it was fantastic! I fell in love with the forbidden romance between Tony and Maria all over again.

The forbidden trope is one of my faves. I mean, who doesn’t love an attraction between two people who, for whatever reason, are forced to be apart. The stolen moments, the element of being discovered and of course, sex in creative places, all perfect for a delicious storyline.

The only thing I dislike about this musical but cannot avoid, is the ending because there isn’t a happily ever after. Which brings me to my next confession…

Confession number two: I’m a complete sucker for a HEA.

They fill my heart with love and light. They’re the reason I fell in love with the genre of romance in the first place. You know exactly what you’re going to get.

They’re also one of my biggest reasons for wanting to write because rest assured, I’d never let my beloved characters go out into the big, wide world without their perfect partner by their side.

And writing a series with intertwining characters means that I don’t have to say goodbye to them. At least not for a while anyway.

If I’m honest, I’m a HEA tragic. I look for them everywhere.

With each season of married at first sight that rolls around, I find myself crossing my fingers for that one genuine couple that’ll be in it for the long haul… I told you I was a tragic.

Confession number three: I cannot limit myself to one fictional boyfriend.

I can’t even limit myself to one book boyfriend and one TV boyfriend, so here are my ultimate faves.

Officer/Detective Sam Swarek from the TV series Rookie Blue.

Mountie Jack Thornton from the TV series When Calls the Heart. (He is played by an Aussie actor so bonus points for him)

And then there’s the Stephanie Plum series by Janet Evanovich which has kept me in a book boyfriend love triangle for the longest time. Just like Stephanie herself, I’m torn between Officer Joe Morelli and bounty hunter/CEO Ranger.

Are you detecting a pattern? Either I have a thing for men in uniform, men in authority or I’m seeking the thrill of handcuffs.

So, what happens when you’re craving more? You create your own hero.

Meet Kane Browne. Nope, not the singer.

My guy is a sexy as sin cop with a selfless nature that’s about to be put to the test when a roadside interaction with feisty Jess Frost leaves him wanting more.

Between Jess’ self-confidence issues due to an ongoing illness and his four younger brothers, one of which has a problem with him, Kane has a challenge on his hands.

This hot, contemporary romance is not only about love, delicious sex scenes and a happily ever after. It’s also about resilience, overcoming adversities and the importance of family. And for Kane, it’s about the ultimate test of selfless versus selfish.

It is the first in a series featuring the five Browne brothers and I‘m proud to say that I’m halfway through writing book 2 – The Athlete.

The Cop

Excerpt from The Cop by Deb Robinson:

‘Please call me Jess. I’ve never really warmed to the whole full name thing.’

‘I’m Kane…’ He shrugged, almost apologetic. ‘Can’t shorten that any further.’

He was right, Jess considered… Hang on a minute. ‘Kane Browne… As in, the singer?’ When he didn’t reply, she elaborated. ‘One thing right.’

‘I know who he is. I’ve never really warmed to the whole celebrity shared name thing. And before you ask, I don’t sing.’

She smiled at the words that’d been plucked from her statement. ‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Shoot.’

Jess froze on the spot, mouth open. ‘I can’t believe that just came from the mouth of a police officer.’

A sexy as sin, husky sound came from him. His laugh was all kinds of beautiful and it did something to her. She was tingling… all over.

‘Let me rephrase. Yes, you can ask me a question.’

‘Where do you keep your gun?’

*~*~*

The Cop is now available in paperback and e-book formats on Amazon (KU)
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