Two Times as Hot has two times the soldiers!

**NEW RELEASE**
September 24th marks the release of TWO TIMES AS HOT, book 2 in my Oklahoma Nights series out through Kensington Brava. Like Tucker Jenkins, the hero from book 1, ONE NIGHT WITH A COWBOY,  Logan Hunt, the hero of book 2, also straddles the line by being both cowboy and soldier. But Logan and Tuck are very different. Where Tucker has embraced both his halves and is just as comfortable in cowboy boots as he is in combat boots, Logan really leans more toward his soldier side, in spite of his country upbringing.

Lifelong friends and neighbors, the two men are still definitely individuals. The differences between them were fun to explore and write, as were their reactions to each other at various times throughout the books. Logan thinks Tuck is crazy for hopping on the back of a bull. Tucker, and even Tuck's younger brother Tyler, call Logan out when he tries to use his commanding officer voice on them while they're home and 'civilians'. But different or not, when it comes time for Logan to make a choice between career and family, Tuck is there for him, offering a sounding board and sometimes a bit of tough love.

**SALE**
Here's some exciting news! To celebrate the release of book 2, Kensington has discounted book 1. Until Sept 24th, the eBook of One Night with a Cowboy can be found for $1.99 (a discount of 80% off list price) at quite a few retailers.

Kensington     Barnes & Noble     iTunes     Amazon (US)       Kobo

       

“Impressively fresh… [Johnson’s] dialogue lilts off the tongue . . . fans will be looking forward to the next in the series."  Publishers Weekly on TWO TIMES AS HOT

How about an excerpt from Two Times as Hot while you're waiting for release day?

Enjoy!

Cat Johnson


**EXCERPT**

Two Times as Hot (Oklahoma Nights Book 2) by Cat Johnson

Logan put his plan to figure out what was up with everyone into action the moment he left the Jenkins’ kitchen. Thinking like the military leader he was, he chose the target he judged would be the easiest to break—Tyler.

He waited until Tuck went to the garage to cut some two-by-fours to length. As the whine of the table saw filled the air, Logan turned to Tyler. “What was going on at the breakfast table this morning?”

Tyler’s brows rose. “Uh, we were eating breakfast?”

“I know that.” Sometimes Logan had to wonder if this young smart ass who joked about everything was really Tuck’s brother. They were such opposites. “What else? Why was everyone acting so strange and staring at me and Emma? And why is it so important to Tuck and Becca that I take Emma to the store with me?”

“Uh, I don’t know.” The way Tyler avoided eye contact with Logan now was in direct opposition to his casual shrug.

“Tyler. You know something. Spill it.” Logan employed the no-nonsense tone he used to reprimand his troops and his cadets.

“Oh, no.” Tyler shook his head. “I’m very happily a civilian so you can’t pull that army officer shit on me. You can frown at me all you want, Logan, but I can’t tell you.”

“You can’t tell me because you don’t know? Or you won’t tell me, which means you do know something?”

“Stop trying to trick me.” Tyler’s frown deepened. “That’s it. Discussion closed. I mean it, Logan. Drop it or I’m out of here. I love your father like he’s my own, but if you don’t ease up, you can finish this ramp your own damn self.”

Wow. Logan had never seen the smooth talking, easygoing Tyler so agitated. There was something going on, and judging by Tyler’s reaction to his questioning, it had to be bigger than just a bunch of interfering friends and relations sticking their noses where they didn’t belong.

Tyler whipped out one end of a tape measure. He shot Logan a glance over his shoulder. “Don’t you have a grab bar to install or something?”

Maybe Tyler wasn’t the easiest target to pick off after all. Logan cocked a brow at Tyler’s attitude. “Yeah, I do.”

And he would get to it right after he interrogated Tuck. Logan spun toward the garage and stalked his way to his next victim. By the time he reached Tuck, Logan found him frowning down at his cell phone. When Logan walked farther into the garage, Tuck shoved the cell into his pocket and turned back to the board on the workbench.

“What’s up?” Tuck asked the question without looking at Logan. Instead, he concentrated solely on the wood.

“You tell me.” Logan folded his arms across his chest.

“Just measuring.” Tuck shot Logan a glance over his shoulder and then went back to focusing on his work. “You know what they say. Measure twice, cut once.”

“Yes, so I’ve heard.” Logan drew in a breath and moved closer. “Now, put that pencil and tape measure down, turn around, and tell me why you and Tyler and Becca are throwing me and Emma together.”

One brow cocked high, Tuck asked, “Is that an order, sir?”

www.CatJohnson.net

Excerpt for BULL (Red, Hot & Blue Book 10) Now on Preorder!

BULL (Red, Hot & Blue, Book 10) by CatJohnson

When the going gets tough, the tough go out with a bang…

Spec Op “Bull” Ford is as big as his nickname. His team, the civilians he protects, whether they know it or not, all depend on him. But beneath his stony exterior beats the heart of a caring man—unless he’s crossed.

Between her job as professional harpist and fending off an ex-boyfriend who won’t take the hint, Marly feels like a circus juggler. She doesn’t need some oversized, overzealous security guard accusing her of being a terrorist—as if a five-foot-nothing woman in a ball gown could threaten anyone.

Though when the real terrorists strike, she’s more than grateful to have Bull at her side…or on top, which certainly makes what could be her last breaths memorable.

But after Bull takes the brunt of the explosion, Marly is left with feelings for a man who doesn’t remember who she is. And by the time the red-hot memories come flooding back, the trail to her heart may have gone cold.

Warning: Contains explosive sexual encounters—literally!

EXCERPT (G)

“Bull.” Matt’s voice seemed to explode out of Bull’s eardrum.

He jumped and turned toward the wall so the other guests in the room wouldn’t see him talking to himself. “Jesus, Matt. You scared the crap out of me. What?”

“The threat’s been bumped up. It looks like it’s fucking real. We’re on our way to you now.”

“Where’s it coming from?” Bull’s heart kicked into high gear.

“It’s right up your alley, buddy. Chatter on the lines indicates a bomb.”

“I swept the building—”

“It’s hidden somewhere inside the walls.”

“What? How?” Bull had spoken rather loud and got a few stares from the guests nearest him.
“There were workmen there six frigging months ago repairing the plaster. One of them has suspected terrorist ties. I was bored and started to check back just for fun.”

Bull never did understand Matt’s idea of fun, but it was a damn good thing he’d decided to have some fun tonight. A work crew six months ago had planted the bomb? This had been in the works for a while. Organization like that meant these guys were serious.

“Now the original threat makes sense.” Matt continued, “It was some sort of riddle about the walls of Jericho coming down. No one took it seriously until I found the record of the crew that worked on the walls.”

“What do you want me to do until you get here?” He didn’t want to start a panic, and he really didn’t want to tip his hand.

If the bomb was built to trigger with a detonator, that device could be held by anyone inside or outside the building. Letting that person know the good guys had discovered the plot would force the bomber’s hand. Bull reevaluated the guests and staff. There weren’t many people here. It was still early. That was good. The terrorist would want the biggest bang for his buck and wait for a full house.

“Get the senator out, first of all. We’ll never live it down if we let him get killed. But don’t let him know anything. Don’t let anyone know anything yet.”

 “Affirmative.” Bull moved closer to the senator. “Sir. Excuse me for interrupting. I need to speak with you. Now.”

When Dickhead—the frigging cocky idiot—looked annoyed that the security he’d insisted on being up his ass all night had bothered him, Bull added, “It’s urgent.”

It must have hit him something was wrong. His eyes went wide and he opened his mouth. Bull grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the room before he could blow their one advantage—the element of surprise. The guests, and probably the terrorist, would guess Bull was security, but no one but the Senator knew he came attached to a special task force highly trained for situations exactly such as this. And no one knew the good guys had discovered what the bad guys were up to.

Outside the building, Bull did a visual sweep of the area. It was deserted except for a few valets waiting around to park any new arrivals’ cars. Even so, Bull pulled the senator to where they could speak without being heard.

“What’s happening?” Dickhead’s voice rose, tinged with panic.

He didn’t feel comfortable telling Dickhead the truth, didn’t trust him to keep his cool or keep quiet, so he’d have to make up some cock-and-bull story. The man was probably a Chicken Little—the type to run around screaming at the slightest provocation. No way Bull could tell him there was very likely a bomb hidden inside the walls of the building where his hoity-toity associates still were.

“Nothing yet.” That wasn’t exactly a lie. “It’s just a precaution.”

“If it’s nothing, then why the hell did you drag me out here?”

Bull clenched his jaw and mentally talked himself down from telling the senator what he thought about him. “There’s new information about the threat. My orders are to keep you out of the building until further notice.”

They should evacuate. The commander would probably have Bull trip the fire alarm. That would clear the building but wouldn’t tip off the bombers. But until the commander and the team arrived, his orders had been to get Dickhead out, and he’d done that. Now he figured he was free to go unobtrusively search for the bomb and the bombers... If Dickhead would get clear of the damn building and let Bull do his job.

The senator scowled. “What am I supposed to do? Stand out here in the driveway like an idiot?”

He was already doing a good job of being an idiot, so that sounded like a good idea to Bull. A long black car pulled up and he recognized Dickhead Junior being helped out of the back seat by the driver. “It looks like your son’s arrived. I’d strongly advise you and he take the car and go elsewhere until the situation has been reevaluated. Somewhere far.”

Like out of the blast zone.

“All right. You have my number?” There must have been something in Bull’s tone or expression, but the senator quit acting annoyed and started to look concerned. Lucky for Bull, Dickhead was a chicken shit and all in for saving his own skin. He gave in.

“Yes, sir.”

“Keep me updated.”


“Yes, sir.” Bull watched Dickhead steer Junior back into the car. He even waited until the vehicle drove off the property, just to be sure. Then he turned on his heel and headed for the entrance.

“Matt, Dickhead and Little Dick are off the property. I’m heading back inside to see if I can spot the trigger man or find evidence of the bomb’s location.”

“Roger that.”

“Matt, we’ve still got civilians inside. Between staff and guests, about two dozen.”

“I know, but until I recheck everyone, we can’t clear them out. One of them could be our tango.”

“Understood.” Inside, Bull heard the harpist begin a new song. “Can you check the harpist?”

“Do you think she’s our tango?”

“No. Just covering all the bases.” He did think it would be a shame if she accidentally got blown up though. Maybe he’d come up with some bogus reason to get her out of there once Matt had cleared her.

 “Okay. Give me a few min—shit, Jack! Take it easy on the turns. You almost knocked the laptop onto the floor. I’m sorry, Bull, but I’m doing the best I can in the back of the van with Gordon up there driving like he’s on the NASCAR circuit. Hold tight. We’ll be there soon. It could still be nothing.”

“Should I ask around? Try to find out where the crew worked on the walls? It might give us a clue of where to start looking.”

There was dead air for a moment and then Matt was back. “The commander says no. Sit tight.”

“Roger that.” Bull sighed.

The one thing he was not all that good at was waiting and doing nothing. He glanced around the room again. The wait staff was comprised of pimple-faced boys. Old men and cleavage-baring women guests, and one petite harpist with reddish brown hair pulled into a sleek, surprisingly sexy ponytail rounded out the full complement of those in attendance. He’d bet his life—he was betting his life actually—not one of them was the terrorist.

He’d have to start his search again now that he had the all-important information from Matt to look at the walls. But this time, he’d have to do it so no one, the bomber in particular, would notice. He remembered a closet on the first floor. It apparently used to be a bathroom. The old cast-iron tub and fixtures were disconnected but still there, surrounded now by cardboard boxes and paint cans. It was obvious one wall had been freshly painted. He’d start there. If he was wrong...well, they’d know soon enough.

He slipped into the closet unnoticed and began running his hands over the surface of the wall, looking for any irregularities.

“Bull!”

He jumped one more time. It must be his being alone, without the team, making him so jumpy. He blew out a breath. “I copy, Matt. What’s happening?”

“There’s no record of a harpist on my list.”

Aw, crap.

Preorder on Amazon at http://amzn.to/17fQATT

http://catjohnson.net/books-2/bull-red-hot-blue-book-10-military-romance/

THE RED, HOT & BLUE SERIES

Available Now

TREY

JACK

JIMMY

BB DALTON (Free Read)

JARED

COLE

BOBBY

A FEW GOOD MEN

MODEL SOLDIER

A PRINCE AMONG MEN

Coming Soon

BULL October

MATT November

THE COMMANDER December

With it or on it.

Okay, so here I am two days from my blog post and for once in my life I don’t know what to say, so I’m just going to speak from the heart and see where it takes me. (By the way, after I wrote this, I had to amend, because of a big surprise I received.)

I’ve just spent the last two weeks seeing my boys off to deployment. My youngest is a combat medic in the Army. He flew out to South Korea two weeks ago. The other is a Marine, who has returned to Afghanistan for his second deployment. Both of their wives are pregnant. My youngest son’s wife is due any day with his first child.

There are few times in my life I have seen my son tear up. This is one of them. His duty assignment to Korea has become a “deployment”, which means it's unlikely he will be home for his daughter’s birth. In fact, they told him he may not see her for her first year, maybe even longer. This is one of the challenges our soldiers, sailors, Marines and airmen face daily, the separation from those they love.

Please let me share this picture of my daughter-in-law when the bus carrying my son pulled up in front of us after months of deployment in Afghanistan. She hates it. I love it. It tells a story of love. It says more than I ever could about how you feel when your hero returns. Sometimes the picture speaks for you, and I think I will let it.

 

When our young men and women serve in the military, they don’t just risk life and limb, they give up precious time that they can’t get back. My oldest son was here for his first daughter’s birth, but he missed the first time she rolled over, her first steps and first words. Now, he faces the same situation as my youngest. His wife is also pregnant, with her second child. He too will miss the birth of this child.

I understand what they are going through  all too well, know what it is to be that soldier and know what it is to be the family member left behind while their warrior goes off to war. Yes, I was once that soldier, and I was also the pregnant wife, waiting for my hero to set foot on US soil again.

For those that have been there, you will understand when I say this. While your loved one is deployed, especially if it is into a hot situation, where there is combat daily, it’s almost as though you forget how to breathe. You hold your breath. When you receive word their plane has touched down in the United States, for the first time since they left—you exhale.

So, last night I went out to dinner with my husband and daughter-in-law. I'm sitting there, looking over the menu when someone comes up behind me in my seat and hugs me. I turn to look, and my youngest son is standing there in an Army tee-shirt and his shorts. I was speechless. My husband was talking with my daughter-in-law's father and wasn't aware he was standing there, until I elbowed him. This was an amazing moment, and I can't say how happy I am that he can be home for her birth. I imagine my face looked very much like Cate's does above. There are tears in my eyes as I write this. Yes, his duty will eventually call him back to Korea, but for now, he is here and I can not thank those who made it possible, enough. They are heroes too, and perhaps it's because they've been there too.

“With it or on it.” This phrase is attributed to Spartan mothers when they presented their sons a shield the first time they went off to battle. It is a phrase of great courage, not only for the one receiving the shield, but the one who presents it. It says we know this fight is worth the sacrifice. It says come home, but not as a coward, serve honorably. Come home the sons we raised you to be. Men of honor. Men with a deep sense of sacrifice. Men who are willing will give all to make this country safe for their families, friends and posterity. Come home heroes—on your shield or with it.
And so to my sons I say.

“With it or on it.”

God bless. We’ll be right here when you get back, but while you're here, we'll embrace you with all we have.

Mom, and US Army Veteran.

www.authordljackson.com

Guest Author LK Hunsaker

Hello! It’s wonderful to see a new blog supporting and celebrating the military, romance style! I’m proud to help get things rolling as a guest blogger.

A little about me: I’m spouse of a retired career soldier and did 17 of his nearly 21 years with him while raising two children. When we met, he was an Army Spec 4 (a no longer used rank) in Texas and I was a small town girl in Central Illinois with no real knowledge of military life. My uncle and 4 great uncles had been in the service, but I didn’t hear much about it. You could say I jumped in heart first with no idea what I was getting into. He retired as an E7 (SFC) and here we are still together after 25 years. To me, romance is far more than heart flutters and passion. It’s also just hanging in there and getting through it, as all military spouses know.

I have eight books out under LK Hunsaker and one under a pen name, but I only recently began to

bring the military into my stories. The one I’m here to talk about today, Moondrops & Thistles, came about quite accidentally, you could say. In my 2009 release, Off The Moon, the main character is a rather arrogant and immature pop star who has to finish growing up, and his constant antagonist is his bodyguard, Daws. I knew while writing it that Daws had military background that related to Ryan being an Army brat, but that wasn’t Ryan’s story, so it stayed in my personal knowledge and I left it there. That is, until readers started to tell me how much they just loved Daws and wanted more of him and his story. Always one up for a challenge, I used Nanowrimo 2010 to figure out the rest of Daws and his background.

They say to write what you know, and because of Daws’s age in Off The Moon, I pushed Moondrops & Thistles to nine years earlier when he meets Deanna, which set the story back to 1991. With that timing, of course Daws is a Desert Storm vet. It worked perfectly, since my husband is a Desert Storm vet and those memories are something I intended to write at some point. The story is fiction. Many of the experiences are true. It is largely a tribute to the long distance part of the military relationship.

Love. Honor.
Trust.

Sacrifice.

Daws, aka Sergeant Fred Dawson, U.S. Army, is a determined and highly respected leader. Called to serve in Desert Storm, he performs two impromptu rescue missions and manages to bring all of his men back home. While still haunted by the cost of his actions, he loses the most important person in his life, in an accident for which he feels partly responsible.

Deanna Meyers has had it with men. As far as she's concerned, there isn't a true loyal and honest gentleman left in New York City. In the midst of trying to advance in the world of advertising where the men in charge are more interested in her other attributes than in her skills, she finds herself in another destructive relationship, theis time to the possible detriment of her career.

When they run into each other at a bus stop in the pouring rain after midnight, Daws and Deanna recognize the spark of a connection that draws them in the way they are both drawn to the city lights at night.

At signings when readers ask which of the two related books they should read first, I always suggest Off The Moon first, since I wrote it first, and then there’s the effect of later reading Moondrops & Thistles and thinking... “Oh!” My husband, however, suggests them the other way around. They are related but separate and if you’re looking specifically for a military romance, start with Moondrops & Thistles, available in both print and ebook. As a warning, it is longer than normal romance length, so if you’d prefer shorter with less of the full military experience and with more spice, grab the shorter & spicier version instead, available in ebook only: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/31804

I’ll leave you with an excerpt of Deanna’s first time on an Army base, which is an experience I’ll never forget! If you’d like to read the beginning of the story, see the book’s site: http://www.lkhunsaker.com/Moondrops/main.htm

You’ll find a listing of my books here: http://www.lkhunsaker.com/books.htm to include Off The Moon, and a short, sweet homefront romance called Protect The Heart, dedicated to my great uncles. (The trailer for Protect the Heart features several actual photos from Desert Storm.)

Thank you to the Military Romance owners and bloggers for allowing me to join the party. Hooah!

Moondrops & Thistles  Excerpt:

Deanna handed Fred her state identification card when he asked for her license, to show the MP at the gate along with his military ID. The gun on the man’s hip made her nervous, but he was friendly and told them both to have a nice night. Even knowing it was nervy, she asked to see Fred’s card before he returned it to his wallet. With a curious expression, he handed it to her as he pulled through the gate. It was like a driver’s license except with a green background and no address. It showed his height as six feet, his weight as 215. His birthday December tenth. Five inches taller than she was, and nearly 80 pounds heavier. It was all muscle. She knew without a doubt, after seeing the flash of his bare chest and abdomen, that he had no extra fat. She couldn’t say the same. Not that she had a lot extra, she kept in shape, but she was built round. Hereditary. Nothing much she could do about it. He was built like a Mack truck. An extremely sexy Mack truck.

Trying not to think of that glimpse, she held the card in her hand and focused on the brick buildings all in a row, marked with numbers on their fronts and signs telling what was inside, she supposed, along with directional markers pointing here and there. She had no idea what some of it meant. Class VI. Mess hall she knew was the dining area. JAG? Commissary he’d mentioned – a grocery store. Shoppette? It had to be a mini shop of some kind. LSO. 10th Sustainment. Garrison Command. She felt as though she’d just landed in a foreign country.

“That’s our motor pool.”

Deanna looked over to where he pointed. A tall chain link fence was topped with barbed wire. Inside she saw ... tanks? And big truck-like vehicles that looked like they were meant to carry something. A helicopter.

Helicopter. He’d said his major died in a chopper crash. “Do you fly those?”

“No. I stay on the ground.”

“Don’t like to fly?”

“Not particularly. I do as I need to. And I can fix the things if they need it, minor fixes. I’m more an organizer. I make sure we have what we need to have when we need to have it, and then make sure it all goes back where it belongs.”

She nodded, too overwhelmed to ask about the so many things she saw since she didn’t know where to start asking. Soon, he pulled into the parking lot of a pretty brick building with a lot of windows and neat shrubbery. It even boasted flowers and colorful plants along the sidewalk. Everything she’d seen was perfectly cared for, neat, and pretty. Not what she would have expected.

“This is it.” He put the Chevy in park, turned off the engine, and grasped her hand. “Relax.”

“Who says I’m not?”

“I see it on your face.”

“Is there anything I should know to say or not say? How do I greet them? They won’t be in uniform, right? So I won’t know their rank...”

He squeezed her fingers. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll introduce you and they won’t expect you to remember all their names. They also won’t hesitate to remind you of them. It’ll be fine, Deanna. No different than meeting people at a regular bar.”

She rather doubted that was true. Especially since she’d never had to show her ID to get into an area and then drive past barbed wire and guns.

LK Hunsaker

~Literary Romance with an Artsy Twist~

http://www.lkhunsaker.com

http://lkhunsaker.blogspot.com

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