Never to Early to Send a Hero a Holiday Card

Make your plans early this year folks! It's never to early to plan ahead. While you're getting settled back into school schedules, looking at dialing back the lawn work or even shopping for your Halloween costumes, remember you can make a difference.

We Remember....

High Octane Heroes - Erotic Romance for Women

Last week was the anthology launch for High Octane Heroes. I was proud to be asked to participtate in this group of authors who write about heroes in and out of uniform. Just about all branches of service are represented, to Army Ranger, Navy SEALs, Marines, police and fire, as well as special EMT and rescue squads.

What’s different about this anthology is the erotic nature of the stories. Meant to be something you could take to bed with you, resulting in hours of luscious dreams, or as an afternoon delight. Our authors cover it all.

I’m sure I’m not the only one who loves seeing a man in uniform. The fantasy of loving a hard bodied man, with the training, the sense of duty and honor against unspeakable odds, is more than a pleasant one for me. They are the true definition of heroes. They come home to unleash this passion in the bedroom in our stories. I think it is a classic for women everywhere.  We delivered the goods here. But see for yourself.

Maya Banks is quoted on the cover:

Our readers here are already fans of military romance. I know they’ll enjoy getting their shot of adrenaline in High Octane Heroes.

Excerpt, SEAL Destiny:

Special Operator Chief Luke Paulsen had that dream again.

Her red lips pressed like tiny pillows against his cool mouth. Though he was buried in his Afghan dugout bunk, he could feel the delicate vibration of her moan as her lust for him whispered things. Unmentionable things. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t recall her words. He could only remember the heat washing over him as she breathed life into him. Again. Like she did every night.

A sharp crack of gunfire forced him to open his eyes. He caught a glimpse of Carson’s scared face in profile just before the young Marine got the round in the chest that exited out between his shoulder blades. In a graceful dance performed all too often, Carson fell into his arms and Luke watched the youngster’s life bleed out onto the sandy pit and all over his boots. He held Carson’s clear blue gaze, and, without saying a word, told him he’d see him again one day.  The boy’s eyes remained open and fixed after his soul had departed. Luke became witness to the young Marine’s passage from his arms into the arms of death.

A split second later, Luke remembered who he was and why he was here. A day’s ride by donkey from anywhere. He lifted the tiny mirror on a wire, the sun to his back. 

Still clutching the body of the lifeless Marine, he followed the trajectory of the round that killed his young apprentice, and caught the glint of dark blue steel disappearing into a blackened doorway. Laying the Marine down gently, he picked up his H&K MP5, counted to five while he clicked the safety once. Before he saw the barrel of the ragman’s rifle again, he fired off several rounds that landed exactly ten inches above the protuberance and saw the red spray of a kill.

Was it wrong that the color of the spray reminded him of her crimson lips? That he died a thousand little deaths with each of her kisses?

His dreams were stealing his present.

A week later, SOC Luke watched the sun pour itself into the horizon on one of San Diego’s white sand beaches. The afterglow felt good. So did the blush on his face from the three beers he’d finished. He usually drank with the rest of his SEAL Team III. But this last DT, Dissociative Tour, in Afghanistan had given him a cadre of young Marines eager to prove themselves, along with Carson, the medic-in-training.

But Carson had drawn a different card and would be taking the short flight home. Luke raised his long-necked IPA to the sunset and toasted the man.

“To all the young hearts you won’t break,” he whispered to the soothing waves and the sunset.

It was a damned shame. He thought Carson would have made an excellent doctor.

Luke heard laughter as two lovelies in shorts ran past him to splash in the surf. Slender tanned legs kicked droplets of white foam into the air. He loved watching the girls’ carefree spirit, just being goofy and lacking an ounce of self-consciousness. He couldn’t help but smile.

The dark haired one with the cutoff inside-out sweatshirt that showed her muscled midriff stopped and turned to face Luke. Her brown eyes were wide set. Her thin nose lead to full lips that were stained bright red. She licked those lips and pushed her chocolate brown hair from her forehead, exposing a delicious ridge of little lines on an otherwise smooth and flawless forehead. With a tiny angle she tilted her head to the side and waved in that embarrassed way her mother must have told her never to do. Especially to a strange sailor sitting alone on the beach with empty beer bottles at his feet.

Luke waved back, using the same three middle fingers she used, sending his communication off with a shy smile. He imitated the angle of her head and felt the dangerous curiosity and wonder of their chance meeting.

He wanted her in the worst way.

The blonde was pulling her friend, pleading, but she wasn’t having any of it. Luke’s unspoken message had touched her, and those golden tethers of his thoughts drew her to him, just as if he had special powers. It was lovely when that happened. He could almost believe in the supernatural, like those paranormal guys his sister read about in her romance novels.

The exquisite young thing with the well-defined legs came to within striking distance. If he wanted to, and hell yes he wanted to in the worst way, he could reach out and bring her to his arms and he could tell she wouldn’t resist. But it would be so much better if he showed a little restraint.

Those who wait? What was that saying?

No matter. Luke felt the confusing enchantment like vamps did in those books. It was a pleasant fantasy. Let her have her way with him. Yes. He could tell she felt she had a date with destiny.

I can be your destiny for one night, darlin’.

She disposed of her friend with a sharp command and, alone now, stepped closer to Luke. “You look like you could use some company,” she said as she swung her upper torso from side to side. Her feet had implanted themselves in the sand and he watched her pink nail polish peek out between the grains.

Lady, you have lovely toes.

But, she’d asked a question that needed an answer. “That depends,” he was stunned at the joy it gave him let his eyes walk slowly up her body, every lovely inch, heightened by the knowledge that she let him. He watched the tops of her breasts quiver under the sweatshirt. He’d learn to assess subtle changes in body language and heart rate. He noticed the blush in her cheeks and the red blotches on her chest just below the delicate V of the top of her breastbone. His eyes roamed over her heaving chest again and he smiled. He couldn’t wait to hear her response.

“Depends on what?” She asked. Her brown eyes mirrored truths he wasn’t sure he’d divulged to himself.

“If it’s complicated,” he said. “I like uncomplicated.” He was telling her something he was trying to convince himself he believed.

She took in a sudden brief inhale, her gaze quickly diverted to the ocean, giving him a full pour look at her upper torso, every curve and valley, until he thought perhaps he could even taste her skin. What Luke saw in profile was a strong handsome woman with a body made for hard loving, who was unafraid.

Then she turned back and faced him fully. Her body dropped to her knees in front of him so quickly he though perhaps she’d gotten suddenly ill. “I don’t do uncomplicated,” she whispered.  “I like it complicated, and rich. I like entangled. I like feeling everything and being sorely missed when I’m gone."

Sharon Hamilton

SEAL Under Covers out now.

 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.

Her Golden Vampires of Tuscany are not like any vamps you’ve read before, since they don’t go to ground and can walk around in the full light of the sun.

Her Guardian Angels struggle with the human charges they are sent to save, often escaping their vanilla world of Heaven for the brief human one. You won’t find any of these beings in any Sunday school class.

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.

It's time for a re-release!

Hello again! I can't believe that Summer is almost over and that Fall is just around the corner. This is definitely not my favorite time a year. I don't mind Fall, but I don't like that Winter is coming. I am SO not a snow-loving person!

The good thing about September is the re-release of another of my books, The Princess and the O, on Kindle on September 15. Here's a little taste. Nolan may not be part of the US military, but he's definitely 100% military! I hope you enjoy!

Blurb:

What’s a girl got to do?

Princess Acelin of Timoria is staring down the barrel of her self-imposed deadline to marry and grant her father’s wish, her thirtieth birthday is less than a month away.  She has been wined and dined by royalty from England to Monaco and everywhere in between.  And she has yet to meet her Prince Charming, the man who can give her the one thing she longs for…an orgasm.  She’s beginning to wonder if she’s asking for too much.

Is he the man for the job?

Prince Nolan of Bermine is beginning his leave from the Royal Air Force when his father drags him to the birthday celebration of the woman dubbed “the Promiscuous Princess” by the press.   And finds himself tied up in knots over her.  Now he just has to exert enough control to prove to her that she can indeed it all.

Excerpt:

“What’s he doing here?” Acelin whipped around to stare at the fine ass retreating down the corridor. The all too familiar one she’d been fantasizing about since she first saw it retreating into the cockpit.

Okay, there was an image she didn’t need.

“He who?” Patrice stopped several steps ahead of Acelin, making it necessary to back up.

“Tall, blond, and mouthwatering, that’s who,” she said, jerking her head in the direction of the outstanding specimen of male tushes. She kept her voice low to prevent her royal watchdog from overhearing.

“Oh, you mean Prince Nolan.”

“Prince Nolan.” Acelin knew her mouth gaped open like a floundering fish.

“Yeah, of Bermine.”

“Of Bermine.”

Patrice stuck her face directly in front of her friend’s. “What’s wrong with you? Other than the fact that you’re doing a great job impersonating a parrot?”

Acelin swallowed the lump in her throat. That, that magnificent example of manhood was the mysterious Prince Nolan? What was he doing posing as a pilot on the family jet? “What do you know about him?” She forced one foot in front of the other until she managed to get moving in the direction of her father’s study. Best to act normal. If Patrice suspected more than a casual interest, she’d never let Acelin live it down.

“Not much. He was here when I got back. He pestered me about you, wanting to know where you’d gone. Why?”

“He piloted the plane that flew me back here.”

“He did? I wondered where he’d disappeared to. Hell, every woman in this place with a pulse wondered.” Patrice scrambled to keep up with Acelin’s quick steps. “The gossip has been flying since he showed up, from what I understand. He was here when I got back, so I’m not sure when he arrived. He’s a pilot with the Royal Air Force, home on leave, and his father forced him to come to your birthday bash. Maybe he was the only one available to come for you on such short notice.” She watched Acelin’s face as they spoke. “I know that look. What are you thinking?”

Oh, Patrice gave her too much credit. She wasn’t thinking about anything other than the far too masculine, way too powerful, much too handsome for her piece of mind Prince Nolan. On the jet, his potent aura filled the small space and sucked up all the air. Now she understood why he carried himself as if he owned the airspace. “Any clue what he does in the Royal Air Force?”

“No one is sure, except that he’s a pilot, he flies anything and everything, and has for the decade or so he’s been in.”

Ten years. Well that explained why he’d been off her radar of available men. He’d been flying around the world playing G.I. Joe. Her spirit plummeted. Too bad he was off-limits. Anyone who put in that much time at a job had to be devoted to it, where she needed—wanted—a man devoted to her. She didn’t do one night stands or even one week stands and his military career prevented anything more.

      She sighed. What a waste. He was even more handsome now than he had been on the plane. His polo-style shirt clung to his wide shoulders and broad chest, showing off his flat abdomen to perfect advantage. The passing glance had her hormones revving up, anxious to see him again.

Don't forget to check out and Like my new Facebook author page!

Writing the Injured With Realism and Sensitivity...

I get a lot of comments about my books, particularly my Lost And Found series. All of my heroes are disabled- some seriously, some not so bad- and have major life issues to deal with.
I worried about writing this series because while I do feel strongly about disabled veterans, I don't actually have any in my life. I write after watching videos, reading blogs, listening to interviews. Scenarios creep into my brain and I play out how I would react if I were missing a limb or in a wheelchair. I think it also helps that I've worked with men most of my life. When I was a deputy sheriff, I was one of the few women on the road, and to be part of the guys, you have to be accepting of just about everything they do. You have to be one of the guys. I worked with a lot of former military, body builders, and total MEN. It was very enlightening.
I think that insight helped me write my heroes. I knew that even though they were injured, they would still be men; who liked to look at women, who liked to eat and joke with their buddies, who would be extremely frustrated to be incapacitated in any way. I think as long as you understand those few things, you can get an idea about injured warriors.
But when you write about them, you can't sugar-coat the injuries themselves, or the way they react to them. If you don't treat the injury with the respect that it deserves, you devalue the injury itself. These men (and women) sacrificed life and limb, literally. I try to give them the respect they completely deserve.
If you haven't checked out the prequel to my series, The Embattled Road, you should truly try it out. There are no love interests in it, only three strong Marines struggling to find balance is their drastically shifted lives with their new limitations. And the best part of it is, the book is FREE!

Full Circle

I discovered the internet during the winter of 1996.

At the time MSN was running a crafty deal (if you signed up with them for 2 years, you got a $400.00 rebate on whatever computer you were buying) I wanted a computer, and that $400.00 instant rebate cut the cost in half,  so  I signed up with MSN as my internet provider, and bought my first computer.  And that’s when I discovered this entirely new world called the internet. 

 By the mid 1990s, I’d been an avid romance reader for years, but I didn't have anyone  to discuss my beloved romance books with. My family were big readers, but they didn’t read romance and while they never said anything, I always got this subtle sense of contempt from them in regard to my reading tastes. The town I lived in had all sorts of book clubs, but none that read romance, so I craved the chance to discuss my favorite authors and books with other romance lovers. So the first thing I did, on that very first trip online, was search for romance reading groups. 

I found them by the dozens. Groups, bulletin boards, and message forums for every sub-genre of romance you could imagine. I was in heaven. I read pretty much everything, so I jumped right into all those enticing book discussions. 

 My favorites were romances that had elements of suspense, so I gravitated toward discussions about that sub-genre.  I used to haunt the local bookstore, just waiting for the Silhouette Intimate Moments (SIM) to come out.  And it was through one of these SIMs in the summer of 1996,  that I discovered this amazing, riveting, incredibly sexy warrior called a SEAL. The book was called Prince Joe, by Suzanne Brockmann, and it turned me into a lifelong Brockmann fan, and a SEAL devotee. 

I wasn't the only reader immediately smitten by SEALs, all the bulletin boards and forums I visited were buzzing about Price Joe, and that buzz just got stronger when Brockmann released the second book in her Tall, Dark and Dangerous series.  Then someone on one of the bulletin boards started up a Tall, Dark and Dangerous fan group on Yahoo, which I joined.

  

.Joining that yahoo group probably had the most impact on my writing career outside of discovering the internet, because it introduced me to an aspiring romantic suspense writer who was writing a SEAL series of her own. This author’s name was Jenny Low, and the book she was posting chapter by chapter, to the yahoo group was titled Kissing Games. 

Through Jenn I was introduced to an entire community of writers, including Patti O’Shea who became a longtime critique partner. This interaction with writers rekindled my own interest in writing.

The funny thing is that back then I wasn’t writing military romantic thrillers.  I was writing romantic suspense that featured law enforcement heroes.  While I loved reading about SEALs, I had no interest in writing them.  Jenn Low eventually sold her Kissing Games (which was retitled Into Danger) as well as the rest of her SEAL series to Avon and began publishing under Gennita Low. I kept plugging along with my cop heroes.

Until one cold February Night in 2010 when I had a horrifying nightmare.  The nightmare was about a plane getting hijacked and all the passengers slaughtered.  And the men trying to stop the carnage were Navy SEALs. I woke from that dream driven. I couldn’t get those hunky SEALs out of my head. They were so real, so alive, and so insistent that I write their stories.

Suddenly I found myself switching focus completely and writing a military romantic thriller series.

 It’s funny how things work out. I’d lost touch with Jenn Low years ago, but when I  released Forged in Fire, the first book in my Red-Hot SEALs series, we reconnected. Turns out she’d received the rights back to the SEAL series she sold to Avon all those years ago, and self-published them . . . at the same time I’d self-published Forged in Fire.  

Weird, huh? 

We'd come full circle.

It's a #TeaseYouTuesday ! Look at How Always a Marine Started & Sneak Peek at an Upcoming Holiday Tale

Every series had to begin somewhere, and for the Always a Marine series, it began with Once Her Man, Always Her Man. Enjoy this look back and scroll down for a sneak peek at A Marine of Plenty, my first holiday release do out later this autumn.

Fulfilling a favor and executing a business plan, Luke Dexter arrived at Dallas' Sybarite Club for a one-night stand. He never imagined that in the darkened club with bluesy strains of jazz playing he'd come face to face with the woman he left behind a decade earlier.

Rebecca Rainier fell in love with Luke Dexter in high school and was crushed when he dumped her to join the Marines after 9/11. Now, waiting for a date her best friend and business partner set up, she's unprepared when Luke walks in.

Can Luke and Rebecca bridge the pain of a decade long abandonment in one cold Texas night? 

All Romance eBooks | Amazon | Barnes and Noble | Bookstrand | Decadent Publishing

Excerpt:

Luke’s chest hurt, but he braced himself against it. Shock wrinkled the line between her brows, the emotion far more brutal to him than a firefight in Kandahar or Kabul. She didn’t turn to look at him. But her reflection in the mirror didn’t soften. The familiar, flirtatious smile fled from the cool, firm line of her lips. Color drained from the face of the woman who shifted on the bar stool. Movement to his right caught his attention. A man approached, intent on her, but meeting Luke’s iron expression, the would-be interloper diverted to another table.

Satisfied, his attention returned to the girl—no, the woman—gazing at him, pain etching the softness of her lips. The memory of her lips got him through Paris Island. He’d thought about them, about her smile, every single, damn day.

“Hello, Luke.” Her voice poured over him like warm honey.

Life doesn’t always offer second chances….

“May I join you?” He nodded to the stool next to her.

“It’s a free country.” And just like that, she turned her back and the warm honey chilled, hardening over his chest.

“Thank you, ma’am.” He tacked the ma’am on as an afterthought. But the steel wrapped in her velvety voice jabbed his kidneys. Perching on the edge of the stool, he motioned to the bartender. “Two more of whatever the lady is having.”

She watched him from the mirror. Hungriness reflected in the gold flecked, tawny brown eyes, a perfect contrast to the tight jaw and stiff fingers wrapped around her wine glass. She tossed back a third of a glass like a shot of vodka.

A shot of vodka sounded like a great idea. But he needed his wits about him. IEDs laced the battlefield in front of him and patience and procedure and about eighty-five pounds of protective gear weren’t handy. But the trick to survival was to examine what was right in front of him and to react to it. He could do that in the field, he could do that with her. It was what he did best.

After the bartender served the drinks and took his credit card, Luke sat sideways, intentionally brushing his leg against hers. She didn’t recoil—exactly—but did shift away after a few seconds.

Definitely treading in dangerous waters.

Sneak Peek at A Marine of Plenty

unedited excerpt

“Miss Grimaldi?” A deep, smooth, masculine voice pulled her back to the present and the officer dressed in the deep dark tan and olive MARPATS waiting inside the door. He stood easily over six-foot. The uniform did little to disguise his broad shoulders or thick muscular arms.

Rising, she adjusted her bag and held out her hand, fumbling for a greeting. “Hi. Captain…?”

“Sparks.” Quiet hesitation arrested his features and a muscle ticked in his jaw.

The congressman’s brother was her escort.

Her heart thudded against her ribs and her nerves stretched taut. Captain Charles Sparks gave the order that led to her brother’s death—a communication failure. She understood all the terms, the reasoning, and the apologies. Even his letters expressed his heartfelt condolences and apologies. Letters she’d answered, and he’d returned regularly.

He grasped her hand and the world seemed to shrink away, as though someone dropped her in a drum and banged it loudly from the outside. His words had provided a desperately needed source of comfort—straightforward, blunt, and without any pretty excuses. A mistake had been made, a mistake that cost a good man his life. He didn’t ask for her forgiveness. He’d never asked her for it, no matter how many exchanges they’d had.

Staring into his coffee brown eyes, she knew he hadn’t forgiven himself. And that’s why Congressman Sparks offered his help and asked for mine. Weak-kneed, she sat abruptly. Her fisted grip on the captain’s hand pulled him forward a step.

Concern rippled across his face. “Ma’am? Jana?”

Unexpected grief locked her throat and tears filmed her vision. She held up her other hand and he wavered. Fighting the urge to sniffle, she squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated on breathing. Grief might be the one emotion everyone had in common, but acceptance came in its own ways, on its own time. Understanding the concept intellectually and experiencing it, however, were two completely opposite things, because the crappiest part of her grief lay in how she couldn’t control it.

“I’m okay.” She fought to get the words out. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” he said, his voice gruff. “I should apologize. I thought you received my email about being your escort.”

“I haven’t looked at my email since leaving Dallas, I’ve been so focused on getting here.” Moistening her lips, she struggled to bring her tumbling emotions back into focus. It would be easy to hate the man, to blame him for what happened, and to let anger take over her grief.

But easier didn’t make it right or fair.

Belatedly, she glanced up, surprised at her white-knuckled grip still firm on his hand. He didn’t pull away or try to let her go, but sadness clouded his eyes—sadness, and quite possibly regret. “I didn’t mean to fall to pieces on you, Captain Sparks.”