I can’t believe it’s mid-August! Where did the summer go? Yesterday was the first time the pool felt cool. 🙁 I’ll be lucky to get a full month more of swimming. And, tomorrow the kids go back to school—including the almost-5-year-old. Her mom and I are feeling a little sad about that. The baby’s growing up. Double- 🙁

In the meantime, I have plenty on my plate to keep me too busy to cry, and I’d better get to it. Hope you enjoy the excerpt and the contest!

For a chance to win one of my Uncharted SEALs stories,
winner’s choice, answer me this…
If you were dating a SEAL, where would you prefer to vacation?
Mexico? Destin? Fiji?

Through Her Eyes

Ex-SEAL and expert sniper, Wolf Kinkaid, is taking a little downtime while he considers his options. Being wooed by two elite spec ops groups, he’s enjoying Charter Group’s beach house in Cancun while he considers his options. A loner by nature and occupation, he wonders if he’ll ever really be able to connect to people around him. Afraid his loner nature will sentence him to spending his life alone, he’s not even sure he wants to continue looking down a scope, even if the pay’s good.

Bounty hunter Piper Ames loves the adrenaline rush she gets from her high-stakes hunts, but, now, she has time on her hands as she waits for her collar to pop up his head, so she can take him down. While she’s waiting, it doesn’t hurt that a big, buff, ex-military type is staying right next door. Not the least shy about going after what she wants, she’s surprised when he’s equally as aggressive. Their chemistry is off the charts, and the sex is the hottest she’s ever had.

While Wolf and Piper connect in the only ways their independent natures allow, danger lurks. When, at last, her target arrives, guns blazing, Wolf and Piper have to pull together to make it out alive.

Order Ebook: Kindle | Nook | Kobo | iBooks

Excerpt

Wolf hated the wait. Especially in the white-hot heat. Even at this elevation, the sun was merciless. Hot wind gusting through the pass provided no relief.

Sweat dripped from his hair down the side of his cheek, but he ignored it. His muscles cramped. His eyes grew dry. And still, he kept staring through the scope of his Macmillan Tac-50, watching the long line of insurgents trudge along the goat trail of a road below his position. Waiting for them to get close enough…

“A thousand yards. They’re coming within range,” came the voice of the mission commander through the comm in his ear.

Wolf reached for his box magazine, sitting on a rock beside him. He’d been heating the rounds in the sun to increase their range, but now, the time had come to lock and load.

Below were a couple dozen of the enemy, seemingly unaware of the weapons trained on them from above. All fresh from a battle in Ghazni. Intel said his target, Khalil Alam, would be among the group. So far, he’d searched every face but hadn’t found one that perfectly matched the grainy photo lying beside his mat.

The soldiers were all dark-haired. All wore beards or had the lower halves of their faces covered by cloths. His mark should be a little taller and gaunt. He’d spent months hiding in the mountains, orchestrating attacks from afar—a high-ranking Taliban commander who’d stepped out of the shadows to lead their latest attack, which left half a dozen Marines dead and fifteen more wounded, some maimed for life.

Again, the silence was broken. “Crosswind from the east.”

Wolf didn’t have the luxury of waiting for the wind to die down. He might have only one shot. One kill. If he was lucky.

Beside him, his spotter shifted, crunching the sand. “I see him,” he whispered, although they were nearly a mile away from the rag-tag army ambling through the mountain pass. “He’ll be coming over the hill, facing you. Best time to clip him. Nine hundred twenty yards.”

Quickly, Wolf rechecked the data he’d entered in his scope. He’d maxed out the windage. Maxed out the elevation drum. He’d need a one mil lead—aiming just ahead of the target for the four seconds the .50 Cal round took to travel.

Five seconds later, a tall angular figure climbed the trail. A weapon was slung over his bony shoulders. His robe billowed outward, caught by a sudden breeze.

Wolf kept his sight trained on the enemy’s center of mass—he’d aim for his heart. The distance was too far to even attempt a head shot. But he wasn’t the only sniper on this mission, although his was the most important target.

“Snipers, everyone found their mark?” their commander’s voice sounded. “Chime in when you have your target.”

In quick succession, the snipers called out.

“Sniper One, ready.”

“Sniper Two, ready.”

Wolf squinted down his scope at the tall Afghan he was about to take out. “Sniper Three, ready.”

He kept his breathing even, readying for the command to kill. All shots had to break at the same time, or the group below would scramble for cover and the opportunity would be lost.

“This is Foxtrot One. I have control. Shoot on my command.”

Wolf expelled a quick breath then drew in a long one and held it.

“Three…two…one…execute.”

He pulled the trigger and stared down his scope.

Beside him, his spotter cursed. He’d followed the vapor trail of the round Wolf fired and watched it splash in the dirt. He called out adjustments, which Wolf made in a second.

Still staring down the scope, he watched as everyone around Khalil Alam dove for cover. Not his target. The Afghan insurgent stood still, his head raised, his gaze narrowing as though he could see Wolf where he lay with his rifle, hidden in the shadows of a large rock. And then he did a strange thing.

Khalil Alam raised his arms out to his sides and bared his teeth.

Again, Wolf took aim and fired.

This time, his target dropped.

But so did the much-smaller figure behind him. One with a beardless, bloodied face…

Wyatt “Wolf” Kinkaid awoke and threw off the covers tangled around his legs. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, he set his elbows on his knees as he drew in deep, cleansing breaths.

He didn’t know why that particular kill haunted him. He’d killed kids before. Some intentionally. But that one…

Maybe because of the shock frozen in the young boy’s eyes. Khalil Alam’s son, he’d been told later. No blame, no censure came from his team. The boy was a terrorist in the making, following in his father’s footsteps. A “preemptory kill” someone who’d been trying to be helpful said. And yet, the memory still sickened him.

He wiped a hand over his face. Sleep-time was over. Daylight was burning. Not that he was on any kind of schedule. The sound of surf washing against sand in the distance reminded him he was as far from Afghanistan as a man could be. Rising, he strode to the window overlooking the beach. The large sea-side villa hadn’t impressed him nearly as much as the sight of the strip of pristine white sand. By the placement of the sun, he’d guess the time was around nine AM. He’d slept a full nine hours. And he wasn’t dead.

The peaceful view didn’t do a thing to slow his heart rate. To shake off the last sticky spider webs of his nightmare, he turned, rifled through the duffel sitting on the floor beside him, and pulled out his spotting scope. Cupping the compact Hensoldt in his hand, he stared through the lens.

If he’d needed confirmation before, he knew he was losing it when a few adjustments brought the surf closer, and, at last, he stopped hearing his pulse pound against his temples. Maybe he wasn’t meant to be up close and personal with anything. Ever.

The name he’d been given by the Team—Lone Wolf, which had been shortened over time—had never felt truer. Read the rest of this entry »

Are you ready for some action, adventure, romance, and some hot SEALs in the mix? Check out the Special Forces & Brotherhood Protectors Series. On July 16^th, Kindle Worlds closed down but Elle James and Susan Stoker went the extra mile to bring their worlds back online, internationally and in KU.

Each of these tales stands on their own, and can be read in any order, but if you’re like me you want to start at the beginning so kick off your journey with Securing Arizona as Mickey does his grandfather a solid to find a descendant of those remaining survivors of the U.S.S. Arizona.

Release Order:

• Securing Arizona
• Chasing Katie
• Guarding Gertrude
• Protecting Pilar
• Wrangling Wanda
• Shielding Shayna
• Covering Coco

From New Mexico to Montana to Washington D.C. and Europe. These guys go where they’re needed and they get the job done!

Like a lot of us, I find I have more leisure time in the summer. Work slows down, days get longer and energy goes up. Maybe it’s all a mirage, but suddenly there’s more time for the fun stuff in life.

Here are my top 5 fun summer leisure loves:

1. The Beach. Breathing the salt air. Splashing in the ocean waves. Walking I the warm sand. Any of it. All of it! One of my favorite all time beaches is Gay Head Beach on Martha’s Vineyard, a small island off the coast of Massachusetts and top summer vacation mecca. When POTUS vacations there, you know it has to be hot! Speaking of which, POTUS plans a vacation to Martha’s Vineyard in my latest Beachcomber Investigations novel, Beachcomber Danger. The problem is there’s a credible threat to his life. But my hero and heroine, Dane & Shana will do their part to foil the threat. Of course, nothing is that easy and nothing good happens without a cost. Find out the price Dane has to pay when you read the book…
2. Summer Theater. Maybe I’m a geek, but I love seeing those small productions done in all the vacation spots well off Broadway—mostly in the mountains. Revivals of long ago favorites like South Pacific or My Fair Lady, or my very favorite The Pajama Game. I’m heading up to the mountains in New Hampshire to see whatever they’re showing!
3. Shopping. I know, I know. This is a great leisure activity any time of year (think Christmas) but it’s extra special when you can cruise the boutiques and shops in a vacation town, especially one that’s on the water, and duck in for specials and AC when the sun gets too hot. My favorite spot is in the Berkshires of Massachusetts, closely followed by Wolfeboro, NH on the shores of Lake Winnepesauki. Or any water front harbor town along the coast of Maine, like York or Kennebunkport.
4. Ice Cream. I know it’s not an activity. Not strictly speaking, but eating ice cream cones, visiting shops or outdoor stands, especially if they’re along a beach or at a carnival, is classifiably a FUN activity! I enjoy the beach side stands at places like Old Orchard Beach in Maine or Salisbury Beach in Massachusetts among many, many others (closely followed by the stands that sell ‘Beach Pizza’!)
5. Reading a Beach Book. This is the ultimate leisurely activity in the summer. Laying around with nothing to do but read for hours on end. On the beach or in a hammock or poolside. Or maybe in bed late at night or before you get up in the morning because you have nowhere else to be. The definition of leisure activity.

If you’re looking for a great Beach Read, check out my romantic detective series, Beachcomber Investigations.

About the Author

USA TodayBestselling Author Stephanie Queen is a romantic at heart and a writer by nature. So of course, she loves creating stories where the good guys always win. She writes the romantic detective series, Beachcomber Investigationsset on Martha’s Vineyard and the Small Towncontemporary romance series as well as other series and stand-alone novels. So far she’s published more than 25 novels and novellas and has no plans to stop.

You can check out all her books at www.StephanieQueen.com.

Although she’s lost count of all the jobs she had before she settled on being a novelist, her favorite was selling cookies as a Keebler Elf. She is a graduate of UConn (go Huskies!) and Harvard U. She lives in New Hampshire with her family and her cat, Kitty.

Here’s my stalker sites:
Newsletter Sign-Up: https://stephaniequeen.com/sq-newsletter-sign/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/StephanieQueenAuthor/
Twitter: @StephanieQueen
https://twitter.com/StephanieQueen
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/stephaniequeen2/
Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/authorstephaniequeen
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/stephanie-queen
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2qCFaYV
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/738682.Stephanie_Queen
YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCcjLLwNSVMMxjEgC0F3qxUQ

I love my Uncharted SEALs series. All have rugged, alpha heroes. All have strong heroines. Humor. Action. All the ingredients that make the stories fun for me to write, and hopefully, fun for you as well.

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. You’ll meet the old guys in the scene below. Hope you enjoy it!

   

   

  

Click on the covers to learn more!

Contest

Win your choice of one of my Uncharted SEALs stories! There will be 3 winners! All you have to do to enter is answer me this…

If you could go anywhere in the world, what would be your cruise destination?

Before We Kiss

Navy SEAL, William “Wiley” Coyote, should have known his “piece of cake” assignment would go sideways in a hurry. But he’d been lured by the promise of an all-expenses-paid cruise. A nice “fluffy” assignment after the last one spent escorting freighters through pirate-infested waters in the Strait of Hormuz.

A general’s daughter, Poppy Shackleford, wasn’t some spoiled daughter of a man made famous for defeating insurgent forces. She’d endured her own tragedies—the loss of her mother when she was young and her father stationed in Afghanistan, and the loss of her fiancé after he’d sustained wounds in Iraq—not from the physical wounds that had claimed his two legs—he’d taken his own life. His death was why Poppy was involved in Soldiers’ Sanctuary, a non-profit that helped disabled soldiers adjust to their new circumstances. Her mission in life is to see that no veteran of war would ever feel so alone, so hopeless he’d choose her dead fiancé’s path. Which was why, despite the current threats against her father, she was on this cruise, assessing the ship’s ability to accommodate the soldiers rather than sending a surrogate.

However, the first threat doesn’t come from terrorists with an axe to grind. Mexican banditos stop her tour bus heading toward Mayan ruins to shake down the passengers for their money and belongings. When one snaps a picture of her, he soon figures out there’s a much bigger payday. She knows she’s going to be kidnapped, but she didn’t know someone was on that same tour bus who had her back.

Wiley’s unconventional takedown of her would-be kidnappers exposes the fact her father didn’t honor her wishes to fly under the radar. And now that the cat’s out of the bag, Wiley’s made it clear he’s moving into her suite for the rest of their time at sea to keep her out of harm’s way.

Excerpt from Before We Kiss…

William “Wiley” Coyote should have known the “piece of cake” assignment his team leader, Deke Warrick, offered him would go sideways in a hurry. But he’d been lured by the promise of an all-expenses-paid cruise. A nice “fluffy” assignment after the last one spent escorting freighters through pirate-infested waters in the Strait of Hormuz. He was due a vacation, and he’d envisioned slipping into a chaise on the cruise ship’s deck while his target sunbathed nearby. Something his team leader had warned him might not be in the cards. After all, Deke’d had a similar, simple assignment when he’d been tasked with protecting a girl. And look what it had gotten his buddy. Shot at. Then married. Happily, it seemed.

Not that Wiley had marriage on his mind. No, sir. Not him. Everything he owned was stuffed into a duffle bag. He lived in hotel rooms, tents, and, now, a cruise boat cabin. No, he had nothing to offer a bride. Marriage wasn’t something in his cards. And certainly not to some celebutante who couldn’t keep her picture off multiple social media sites on a daily basis. That sort of exposure, even by association, would be deadly in his line of business.

He’d listened intently when Deke outlined his assignment, determined to keep this job all business, despite the photos that had spilled from the envelope during his initial briefing.

“Every time she steps out of her suite, the room attendant will buzz you. You keep on her tail, but not close enough she notices. Her daddy said she’d raise hell if she knew he’d hired security after she refused a special detail.” At that point, Deke had grinned. “I think he’s a little afraid of her.”

Wiley hadn’t smiled. Instead, he’d grunted. General Shackleford wasn’t any lightweight desk-jockey. He’d seen his share of action.

The ship had barely left the Port of Miami before Wiley understood. The woman never stopped moving. Or talking. Sometimes loudly, if she didn’t like what she heard. If he could have worn earplugs, possibly his first impressions of her would have been very different.

Poppy Shackleford was a pretty little thing. Blonde-haired, blue-eyed, lightly tanned, curves in all the right places. And maybe five-foot-two in her espadrille sandals. He’d had a girlfriend charge two pairs to his credit card years ago, so he knew darn well what they were and how much the cork-heeled things cost. Although he could appreciate the sexy curves the three-inch heels gave her toned calves, he wasn’t risking getting any closer. So far, he’d managed to operate under the radar. He had no doubts she’d know exactly what he was there to do if she got one good look at him. Nothing escaped her attention. Not the too-steep ramps leading onto the ship when they’d embarked. Nor the undercooked steak she’d been served last night in the dining room.

He’d begun to think she was deaf because she talked so loudly, but then he’d realized her complaints were on behalf of her fellow passengers, and this cruise had been billed as senior-themed. Most of the thousand passengers on board were over seventy. The dinner conversation surrounding him last night consisted of tracking blood sugar levels as his companions pricked their fingertips and fed droplets of blood into their readers. Afterwards, their conversation drifted to the best fiber to promote healthy bowels and where the captain would store their bodies if they happened to pass during the night.

“No kidding?” Deke had said after Wiley’s status update early that morning.

Wiley’s jaw ground shut at the snickering no hand over a receiver could muffle. “The Countess cruise line’s security seems pretty tight. Someone is always nearby, although they’re better at blending in than I am.”

“You mean you didn’t pack any Hawaiian shirts?”

“Don’t own one,” he’d gritted out.

“How are you keeping from blowing your cover?”

Wiley grunted. “I haven’t shaved, and I have on my cowboy hat and boots.”

“So you’re sticking out like a sore thumb.”

“She won’t expect a security detail to blend in quite like I do.”

Deke grunted. “Just remember you have people positioned around the ship. Channel two if you need them.”

Which would be great if his assignment was actually aboard the ship. The farther into the jungle their tour bus drove, the deeper his concern grew. They were on an excursion to view Mayan ruins. Anywhere along their route would be a great place for an ambush. The two security people provided by the cruise line to accompany his target were in good shape, but he could tell neither was armed. Conventional weapons were impossible to smuggle aboard the ship, and the weapons kept under lock and key aboard the vessel wouldn’t have been permitted for this little jaunt.

And why were they out here? If he remembered right, the pyramids weren’t exactly wheelchair-friendly. But he knew Poppy was thorough, that she took her tour coordinator job seriously. No stone would be left unturned. No tour unvetted, personally, by her.

He’d read the dossier Charter Group had put together. Poppy Shackleford, daughter of Lieutenant General Randall Shackleford, wasn’t some spoiled daughter of a famous man. She’d endured her own tragedies—the loss of her mother when she was young and her father stationed in Afghanistan, the loss of her fiancé after he’d sustained wounds in Iraq, although not from the physical wounds that had claimed both his legs. Frank Sutton, who’d been despondent over the loss, had killed himself.

His death was why Poppy was involved in Soldiers’ Sanctuary, a non-profit that helped disabled soldiers adjust to their new circumstances, whether supporting wounded vets with additional therapies the VA was slow or unable to provide, or seeking the latest in prosthetics and mobility devices. And the organization provided mentorship, one wounded soldier to another, to ensure no veteran of war would feel so alone, so hopeless, they’d choose Frank Sutton’s path.

Wiley understood and admired her for not simply crying then moving on, but embracing a cause that might help others. However, today he wished she wasn’t quite so determined to make it impossible for him to protect her. Not that she had a clue he was there. If she’d glanced toward the back of the air-conditioned bus, all she might have noted was one dark head amid a sea of white, gray, and blue.

The fellow seated next to him gave another narrow-eyed, flinty glance.

Wiley aimed a frown his way, hoping the old guy would mind his own business. The man was burly, surprisingly muscled for an old dude.

He leaned sideways in his seat and whispered, “Name’s Joseph Olinsky, but you can call me Joe. I’m a Marine.” He nodded toward the head of the bus where Poppy stood beside the tour guide, asking questions. “She someone important?”

Not as invisible as I thought. Wiley blinked. “No, sir. I think she’s just another passenger. A noisy one.”

Shaking his head, Joe grunted. “She has a detail. That guy with a clipboard ain’t a cruise director. I’d say he’s ex-Navy, probably a SEAL. Has a trident tattoo on his upper arm. Saw it when he was stowing her backpack into the overhead.”

Knowing there was no use convincing Joe he was just a guy on a trip to see a pyramid, Wiley gave him another look. He recognized the type—his dad had been the same steady, patriotic sort. Once a Marine, always a Marine. Maybe he did need backup, should shit go sideways. “You’re right,” he murmured. “The cruise line provided her security.”

“What about you?” his gray-haired companion asked.

“Name’s Wiley, and I was Navy.”

“A SEAL,” he said, nodding. “Can’t hide that look. Everyone else, besides her, has been taking a nap. Not you. You’ve been watching the road ahead. Expect trouble?”

“Not expecting, but prepared.”

Joe nodded. “Don’t get along as well as I used to,” he said, patting his right knee. “But I can be another set of eyes. And I do know who she is, son. She’s the daughter of that general ISIS wants taken out. They had his face and his daughter’s plastered all over Facebook faster than Homeland and the FBI could take down the pages.”

Wiley almost smiled at how in tune the old guy was. “Nothing much gets past you, does it?”

Joe lifted his chin toward two older gentlemen seated across the aisle from them.

Wiley glanced over to find both old codgers staring back.

“We were in the same division, the 3rd, during Vietnam. We’re all that’s left of our company. Try to take a trip every couple of years. Went to Nam five years back. There were eight of us then.”
Wiley nodded his understanding.

“That’s Morty,” he said, pointing at the thin one with a round belly. “The other one’s Sly.”

Sly gave him a grin that displayed unnaturally white teeth.

Wiley gave both men a nod then turned his attention back to the front of the bus.

“She know you’re tailing her?”

How had the old guys figured out he was there for Poppy? He remembered how the old men had jostled him, cutting him from the rest of the group when they’d boarded the bus. He’d thought it unintentional, but now knew they’d meant to be seated beside him. Admiring their cunning, he shook his head. “She doesn’t know. Not yet, anyway.”

“Need a better cover,” Joe said, eyeing his boots and the scruff on his chin. “Could tell folks you’re my grandson.”

Wiley chuckled. Sounded like a better plan than the one he’d started with. “Just don’t get in the way. If things go down…”

“You could use another set of eyes—between the three of us, we might just make one good pair.” Joe tilted his head toward his buddies.

This time, Wiley laughed.

Joe grinned and gave a slow nod to his companions, who settled back in their seats and now directed their attention to the job at hand—and the woman wearing the pretty blue dress at the front of the bus.

Suddenly, the bus shuddered and slowed. Cries arose from those seated near the front.

“Fat’s in the fire now,” Morty said, pointing forward.

Wiley cussed. A pickup was parked sideways in the middle of the road. He began to rise, but then he noted the four men standing in front of the truck. All dark, but with features that were clearly Mestizo. So, bandits rather than terrorists. He settled back in his seat. He’d let this play out a bit before he gave himself away. As long as no one was hurt, he’d keep his cover.

The image of a writer varies, according to the person you ask. For some, it’s the image of a famous, wealthy author who goes on book tours, accompanied by a well-dressed but harried assistant and with tons of extravagances. For others, it’s the image of a poorly dressed, shivering person in an attic or garret, pounding away at a keyboard. And then there’s the image of the person who writes on the same book for eons, never to get it published.

The true image of a writer, at least for me, is very different. A writer is someone who lives for words. Words she reads, writes and edits over and over again. And this part of my life is very solitary. Not lonely, certainly, as I’m living with the people I’ve created and placed in jeopardy. But there is another facet of my life as a writer, and that’s the more public image.

As a romantic suspense writer, I compete, whether I like it or not, with many other writers and have to find readers in various ways. One of those is to attend conferences and book signings. There, I put on my smile and talk to readers, meet other authors and generally try to expand my world. Through the years, I’ve come to realize I haven’t only been trying to sell books and “get my name out there”, but I’ve met some awesome people.

I’ve met husband and wife teams who write together or who act as each other’s technical expert/editor/artist. I’ve met mother-daughter teams who do the same. And I’ve met individuals with talents that extend from cooking to metal works and more. Each and every one of these people who I’ve met has left a mark on me and on my creativity, I think. So, this blog’s purpose is to thank each and every person I’ve met over the years who has made conversation, complimented me on my books, laughed at my jokes and sat with me at breakfast when I’m less than pleasant.

While I’m an introvert at heart, I’ve come to appreciate and look forward to the reader/author events I go to each year and to see the friends I’ve made. I relish the opportunity to talk books with people who equally appreciate them, as I do. And I look forward to being able to do this in the future as well.

If I see you at an event in the future, please say hi. I’m there for the pleasure of socializing with like-minded people. And if I sell some books? That’s good too.

Oh, by the way, I have a novella coming out on June 26th, Saving Sidewinder. It’s set in Elle Jame’s Brotherhood Protectors World and is available here:  https://www.amazon.com/Saving-Sidewinder-Brotherhood-Protectors-World-ebook/dp/B07DR2GSZL/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1529969250&sr=8-1&keywords=saving+sidewinder.

Below is a short blurb. Hope you check it out.

Saving Sidewinder

Sam “Sidewinder” Jameson left the Rangers to keep an eye on his young friend, Kid, as he recovers from their last mission, an injury Sam blames himself for. To tide him over and be close at hand, Sidewinder agrees to a short stint with Hank Patterson’s Brotherhood Protectors. He expects his assignment to guard Alana Christian and her son from threats to be a job, nothing more. What he doesn’t plan on is how the job will change him and his expectations, both of Kid and of himself.

I just got back from Hawaii and a wonderful writer’s retreat! I spent time with my sister Delilah Devlin, J.M Madden, Susan Stoker and my daughter Megan. We swam, snorkeled, saw a turtle and lot of fish, rode ATVs through Kualoa Ranch where they filmed Jurassic Park, Jumanji, Skull Island and 50 First Dates. We visited the Polynesian Cultural center where many of the Pacific island cultures were represented like Samoa, Tonga, Fiji, Tahiti, Hawaii and New Zealand. I wrote 24000 words on my 6th book in the Mission Six Series while there. The first one is live today! All in all, I refilled my creative well with ideas. Now to get back to work! Get a copy of ONE INTREPID SEAL and start reading the series!

One Intrepid SEAL

Amazon | Kobo | Nook | iBooks | GooglePlay | Print

We’re just two days away from arguably one of the biggest moments in the MCU history with Avengers: Infinity War. A couple of weeks later we’ll get Deadpool 2, and then at the end of May, we’re face to face with Solo: A Star Wars Story.

Let me be blunt, for the nerd in me, this is both terrifically exciting and terrifying in equal measures. What if Infinity War blunders? What if Deadpool 2 is…egads the horrors…unfunny? And Solo: A Star Wars Story? I’ll be honest, the jury remains out because that kid isn’t Harrison Ford. Yes, you heard me, Alden Ehrenreich isn’t Harrison Ford, and that’s a big strike against a movie I would have given my eyeteeth to see 40 YEARS AGO.

Still, this is where we are and hot on the heels of Wonder Woman, Rogue One, The Last Jedi, and Black Panther—all epics that go right to the top of my must watch  movie lists, we’re circling around to the part where everything old is new again.

The phrase, of course, refers to the fact that there are no new stories to be told—just twists on these tales, or a different take on them. The part where most people disagree with a new take or even a sequel is when the creator’s vision doesn’t go where you think it should or what you envision. Maybe we’ll need to agree to disagree, but bear with me here: art is subjective.

C’mon, say it with me, art is subjective.

So, if art is subjective and everything old is new again, what’s the point? The point is inelegant, but simple. The point is to provide entertainment and escapism. Occasionally, we throw in the afterschool special and add a side order of enlightenment.  Still, the big goal is to entertain viewers and readers (whether we’re talking movies, television, or books). We want you to feel something…

• Avengers Infinity War – Who will die? What’s going to happen? OMG, I can’t wait for Star Lord and Iron Man to try and out snark each other!
• Deadpool 2 – How many creative ways can Deadpool break the 4^th wall? Will we get to see more X-Men? What crazy crap will they do?
• Solo: A Star Wars Story – It better be the Kessel Run! Are they going to explain 12 Parsecs? Nope. Not doing it. It’s not Harrison Ford

See what I did there? Yes, I’m focusing on movies because I’m sharing my experience with you. The same thing happens with books. Take any author you love, any author, and then think about the last book you read of theirs and why you would pick up the next one. There’s a certain familiarity and confidence, because you know what you’re getting.

Or at least you believe you do. When you love something author, film, or book series, then you have an expectation and that’s what you want to see more of. The moment it deviates in some way or doesn’t fulfill your vision—you experience disappointment and reluctance.

Thus we bring our verbal trip full circle: everything old is new again because everything old comes with expectations and promises attached. These engage the reluctant viewer and reader who may not be willing to pick up the brand new book or check out that brand new film—I mean what if it sucks? How will I know? I don’t generally listen to reviewers. They told me lots of movies were terrible that I enjoyed. What about the echo chamber of the Internet? Well, you can, but let me tell you they can’t come to a consensus either.

For now, we’ll get reboots, remakes, and the next in series because we need them. We need that guarantee of entertainment and the people who make them need a guarantee they will get paid so they can make the next one.

I’ll tell you a (not) secret. My husband refuses to watch trailers for movies anymore, and he won’t watch the tag that says what will happen next week on any show he likes to watch. He also won’t read book or movie reviews.

Why? Because they were robbing him of the joy because he would form all these pre-conceptions about what he thought SHOULD happen. Now, he goes in as fresh as he can and he’s been enjoying both his reading choices and movies more and more.

Do yourself a favor, take a risk every now and then. Go check out something you aren’t sure about whether it’s a movie, a book, or a television show. Give it a real chance. You never know what new thing out there is just waiting to become your something old.

About Heather Long

USA Today bestselling author, Heather Long, likes long walks in the park, science fiction, superheroes, Marines, and men who aren’t douche bags. Her books are filled with heroes and heroines tangled in romance as hot as Texas summertime.

From paranormal historical westerns to contemporary military romance, Heather might switch genres, but one thing is true in all of her stories—her characters drive the books. When she’s not wrangling her menagerie of animals, she devotes her time to family and friends she considers family.

She believes if you like your heroes so real you could lick the grit off their chest, and your heroines so likable, you’re sure you’ve been friends with women just like them, you’ll enjoy her worlds as much as she does.

You can find Wrangling Wanda, her latest release and more via her website.