Heroes with Attitude

By Sharon Hamilton

If there was one thing you could point to that is different about Military Romance, what would it be? We have heroes in all fields: police, fire, para-rescue. But what differentiates a Military Hero from all others?

In my opinion, it's ATTITUDE.

I love the smart-mouthed quips and the making fun of things you can't do in polite society. Somehow, when you are putting your life on the line, it is totally appropriate to talk about jungle rot and chaffing balls, or the absence of tofu in a SEAL's diet. In one of Suzanne Brockman's books, the hero and his buddies were pinned down in the middle of a firefight, and they were discussing making offers on real estate as arms and limbs were being blown apart.

The smack talk conversations between the Teammates are my favorite pieces to write. Maybe my inner demon wants to have the gutter-talk they have. As a reader, my taste is for an abundance of four-letter words. I smile as I think about all the bleeps that would occur if they were quoted on TV. I like heroes who defy the odds, come up against higher authority, but get the job done anyway. I think that's why I love reading and writing SEAL stories so much.

Here's an excerpt from my latest book, SEAL Under Covers, which is releasing August 10th. SEAL Team 3 mates Fredo and the hero Armando are discussing Armando's wayward sister, real estate, and the condition of Fredo's truck.

            “So, ‘splain this to me. You save her life and the life of her baby. You buy her a fuckin’ great house in a good area, you buy her furniture and you help your mama too. And she disses you like this? I’m telling you, those demons is not only getting bigger, they’re having babies. What’s next?” Fredo responded.

            “What’s next is I’m gonna get her, bring her home and cook her a fuckin’ steak. And you’re gonna be a perfect gentleman, hear?”

            “Yessir. I get you.”

            After storing the perishables, Armando and Fredo stopped by Fredo’s apartment to pick up his  Parks Department four door beater truck. No sense exposing Armando’s black Hummer to the neighborhood to which they were headed.

Armando slid onto the torn leather bench seat and examined the contents of the cab behind him. The floor was nearly ankle-high with fast food wrappers and old milkshake and soda containers.

“Some super sleuth you’d make,” Armando said, holding his nose. “All anyone would have to do is sort through all your wrappers and receipts. They could re-create your whereabouts 24/7.”

Fredo shook his shoulders and jutted out his chin. “Just because you got an obsessive compulsive disorder for specks of dirt, don’t mean you have to insult a normal male with normal eating habits.” Fredo didn’t look back at him.

“That’s not normal,” Armando said with a thumb pointing over his shoulder.

They rounded a corner and the noise of displaced paper cups, balled up bags and wrappers was unmistakable.

Fredo put on the brakes and nearly was rear-ended. “You wanna walk? You’re usin’ my petrol for your own devious little plan. I’m just along to make sure you don’t get your ass busted.”

Armando started to open the door and Fredo grabbed his shoulder. “Get the fuck back in the truck, Armani. I’m just messin’ with you.”

“I’m just doin’ the same.” They rode in silence for a few minutes. Armando was twirling the comment Fredo had made over and over in his brain. “Obsessive compulsive?” he asked.

“No shit, Sherlock. Like you had to put plastic down on the couch yesterday before I could sit down.”

“That’s because you were working out before you came over. You was sweaty, man.”

“Yea, well don’t you get sweaty balling all those coeds on your couch, man? You think I mind if I sit my ass down on some teenage cum?”

“I don’t screw teenagers. You know that.”

Fredo humphed. The silence continued. Then Fredo spoke up. “I clean my truck on the first of every month, and always before deployment.”

“That’s a very good thing. No telling what could grow in the back seat in six months unattended. Might have to have a HazMat clearance.”

“That’s Coop’s problem, with all that Kambucha he drinks. I think it’s disgusting to drink something that’s living.”

“Well hells, bells. We finally agree on something.” Armando smiled at his Mexican friend and found Fredo chuckling as well.

What do you enjoy most about reading or writing military romance? One commenter today will receive a Kindle copy of my new book, SEAL Under Covers, on release day.

History Weaves a Tender Thread

Sometimes when I think of all the events in the world that have taken place so I could enjoy my life here in California, making a living writing romance of all things, and Military Romance (Yes, I capitalized it. Put away your red pen) in particular, I truly think I am living some miracle existence my ancestors could never imagine.

We all have family stories, and many of us, like me, have family members who have served their country in one form or another. As the 4th of July comes upon us, we reflect what it means to be a nation, and remember those who paid the ultimate sacrifice so we could have the lifestyle we have today. Far from being right or left politically, what is great about this country is the service so many have given for us all. And it's been said by philosophers over the centuries, that a people who forget where they came from will soon have nothing left worth defending.

My great-great grandfather came to the United States during the Civil War to fight for the Union Army, and obtain citizenship. This was offered to many from Europe, especially the British Isles. He was a young single man, a volunteer firefighter, who was involved in the miller's business and knew a young McCall lad who thought some day women might want to make their own clothes. Sadly, although A.C. Cameron was smart enough to come to the United States, he wasn't smart enough to go into business with Mr. McCall.

His brother had emigrated earlier, was married, had a family and had been a police Superintendent from Berwick-on-Tweed. Daniel became a General in the Union Army. He would later go on to run a prison for confederate prisoners of war in Chicago. His letters to then President Grant, complaining of the lack of funds and indecent conditions almost cost him his commission. I actually found copies of them when I was Googling our family history for a project I was working on. Here is a brief description I found:

Civil War Union Brevet Brigadier General. He came to America in 1851 with his family and settled in Wheeling, Cook County, Illinois. In 1853, he moved to Chicago and was associated with several newspapers as a publisher. At the outbreak of the Civil War, he enlisted in the Union Army, raised the 65th Illinois Infantry known as the "Scotch Regiment" and was composed exclusively of men from Chicago and Cook County. He was the commander of Camp Douglas from February of 1862 until June when he was then ordered to join the Army of the Potomac and the defense of Washington.

General Dan died in 1879. My great-great grandfather went on to work in the publishing business and met a young girl from Scotland, who had come over to work for a wealthy family living on Dearborn Avenue in Chicago. Everything she owned was in a box her father made for her, plus something else.

I had been going through some old photos and papers I needed to file away, and came across this piece about General Daniel Cameron. The top of the piece is in my grandmother's handwriting. The side note is in my mother's, which is probably too small to read. She makes note of a box Eliza brought with her from Scotland. And two rosewood chairs.







I don't know why my mother never told me the story of this chair before she passed. Or, maybe she did and I just forgot. But what sent a chill down my spine is that I was sitting in this very chair as I read this recount in my mother's handwriting for the very first time.

I'm fascinated by history, especially the stories of those who helped make this a great nation. From my bedroom window, I can see seven different fireworks displays on the 4th.

And this year, I'll be sitting in Eliza's chair as I do so. 

Sharon’s award-winning spicy Navy SEAL stories in the SEAL Brotherhood series, have consistently made best sellers lists and review sites. Her characters follow a sometimes rocky road to redemption through passion and true love.

She lives in Sonoma County, California with her husband, and two Dobermans. A lifelong organic gardener, when she’s not writing, she’s getting vera vera dirty in the mud, or wandering Farmer’s Markets looking for new Heirloom varieties of vegetables and flowers.

Book 3 of her SEAL series, SEAL Under Covers, will release the end of July.

Ten Things a Navy SEAL Would NEVER Say (plus one super bonus selection)

TGIF! We get to celebrate Fridays, but to our men and women in uniform, Friday is just like any other day. But in the spirit of the upcoming weekend, the upcoming RT Convention where several of us from this blog will be signing books, I'm going to put forth a lighter workout.

So, in my twisted way, here are the Ten Things (actually eleven) A Navy SEAL Would NEVER Say:

10. I loved every minute of BUD/S because it was a great male bonding experience.

9.  Hop and Pop? Is that some new kind of dance move?

8.  Too much action stresses me out.

7.  Guns? I'm kinda skittish about the noise and the kick.

6.  I need a full 8 hours of rest or I'm wasted the next day.

5.  I prefer my wife to be fully clothed because I like to use my imagination.

4.  I like it when things are quiet. I also love soft music. I dream about little boats floating on an inlet somewhere in sunny San Diego.

3.  We'd prefer to be working than home for the holidays.

2.  I was a good, obedient child growing up. Good grades in school. I never caused problems for my
parents.

1.  Do these cami's make my butt look too big?

And the LEAST likely thing a Navy SEAL would say Special Bonus:  I hope one day, if I work hard enough, I can join the Army.