It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Marines
Good morning, thanks to Sarah and everyone here for
welcoming me to Sarah Reads Romance.
Funnily enough, I know just how much Sarah enjoys the series and, to my
delight, she always shares her joy with each book. Of course, sometimes she has
to share the tears, too.
I never set out to make people cry when I write these books
and I most certainly don’t set out to make myself cry. Unfortunately, some of
these tales lend themselves to tears. When she asked me, of the five holidays
that I wrote about, which story was the easiest and which was the hardest, I
had to really think about it.
Arguably, they were all difficult because most of the
stories involve either being away from home for the holidays or being home for the
first time in many years. In my experience, coming home is often more difficult
than being away. When you’re at home people have expectations—which is the
issue that Kaiden ran into when he returned for Yule in Marine Under the Mistletoe.
For Charlie, serving overseas, home came to him in the form
of Jana. This presented its own set of challenges. Rebel actually goes one step
further because he wasn’t at home nor was he serving overseas. Instead, he’s in
the hospital recovering from extensive injuries and going to physical
rehabilitation. And, yes, I haven’t mentioned Isaacs story yet because I think
the answer to this question is a little self-evident—A Candle for a Marine was very difficult to write and not for the
reasons that you might think.
For Isaac and Zehava, the experience of reuniting was equal
parts pain and pleasure. The moment when Zehava half tells Isaac about the
birth of their son left me in tears. Not because it was sad, but because as a
mother I remember the day my child was born with such complete vividness, that it
takes very little to transport me back to that moment. The tears are both
happy, nostalgic, and, in the case of this book, bitter sweet.
This is a memory that both have and yet they will never
actually share it the same way. I think in many ways that makes the Hanukkah
book the most difficult holiday to write about and yet, in the end, also one of
the most beautiful because it truly was a time for forgiveness and miracles.
What was the easiest? I don’t know that I do easy in the Marine series. I had thought
Marine under the Mistletoe would be
easy to write because I am so familiar with the celebration of Yule yet there
was a deeply personal element to it that complicated the telling of the tale.
Oddly, as I sit here writing this I’m thinking about it. Even with the amount
of research I had to do, Have Yourself a
Marine Christmas was actually the easiest for me to pen from beginning to
end.
I hope you don’t laugh, but it’s okay if you do. Rebel and
Noel’s story played out in my mind and on the page like a Hallmark holiday
movie and—considering how much I love those—yeah, that one was the easiest.
I waited a long time to write these books. I find myself
looking forward to next year and wondering what holiday stories I will find
there. What about you? What holidays would you like to see or what holiday
tales would you like to see next year?
Please share the holiday Marines with your friends and give
them as gifts if you can. A portion of the proceeds from every book sold in the
series will be donated to Toys for Tots. Share the magic of the holidays and
pay it forward.
Semper Fi and good night.
Always a Marine
A Marine of Plenty
by
HEATHER LONG
Serving overseas is a lonely
duty…
Captain
Charlie Sparks faces an impossible task—assigned to a security detail for the
sister of a fallen Marine. The last thing Charlie wants is this beautiful woman
in the middle of a base in Afghanistan no matter what holiday she plans to help
them celebrate. But no one asked for his opinion, and worse, she’s everything
he adores in a woman and more…
Mourning what might have been
is a terrible burden…
Jana
Grimaldi had a plan—a plan to help her brother when he came home, but his death
in Afghanistan left a hole in her heart and a desperate desire to do something. With the help of
Congressman Sparks, she heads to Afghanistan to bring Thanksgiving to the men
and women who served with her brother. Nervous and uneasy, she finds an
unexpected—and familiar ally in Captain Sparks…
Not all wounds heal…
Charlie
was one of the first people to reach out to Jana, communicating via email when
her brother died—but coming face to face in the lonely desolation of the
holiday connects these two wounded souls…
Can
Charlie and Jana find hope amidst the heartbreak this Thanksgiving?
A Marine of Plenty
Always a Marine
Release Date: October 9,
2013
About the Author:
National
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.
Contact Details:
Website:
http://www.heatherlong.net
Email:
heather@heatherlong.net
Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/HeatherLongAuthor
Twitter:
http://www.twitter.com/HVLong
Enjoy
the following excerpt for A Marine of Plenty:
“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, one costing 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 e-mail about being your escort.”
“I haven’t looked at my e-mail 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.”
Always a Marine
A Candle for a Marine
by
HEATHER LONG
Tormented
by the question of 'what if...'
Home for Hanukkah, Sergeant
Isaac Janko has never forgotten the baby his girlfriend gave up for adoption
years ago. But he didn’t realize how angry he still was....
More
than time separates them....
A chance meeting at Temple
brings Zehava Elbaz face-to-face with the first and only man she's ever
loved. She sees a deep and hidden pain in him, one she blames herself
for...
An
invitation to Hanukkah brings them together....
The two must confront their
pain and loss. They have only eight days to face their past, and win each
other's trust, but it is a time for healing, reconciliation and miracles….
A Candle for a Marine
Always a Marine
Release Date: October 29,
2013
About the Author:
National
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.
Contact Details:
Website:
http://www.heatherlong.net
Email:
heather@heatherlong.net
Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/HeatherLongAuthor
Twitter:
http://www.twitter.com/HVLong
Enjoy
the following excerpt for A Candle for a Marine:
Except this morning, of course. All the shops were
locked up tight for Shabbat. They would open later in the day, after sundown.
The nostalgic throwback reminded him about how home he was. He slowed to a stop
at the edge of the blacktopped playground area to consider the new center. A
fence separated it from the street. The chain-link didn’t disguise the effort
toward cheer conveyed by colorful wall art covering every inch of the building
facade.
The city of Dallas could be seen in the distance on
one corner of the mural, a neighborhood ice cream shop that closed when he was
in high school closer to the front, and a dozen familiar faces made up the
people. Walking around the gate, he frowned at the man depicted in the bottom
right corner. It showed a ramrod straight figure walking away, a duffle on his
back and, upon a closer inspection, he recognized himself.
“It took a year to finish all of it.”
The low-keyed chime of her voice ricocheted to his
bones and crumbled his reserve and determination like so much ash and smoke.
Steeling himself, he slid his hands into the pockets of his shorts and turned.
Despite the cool temperatures, heat flash-fired through him. Zehava always had
that effect on him.
The center was her personal project. He knew that,
the reason why he’d come. He could lie about a lot of things, but not her. She
wore a dark green turtleneck, a lighter, camel-colored jacket, jeans, and a
pair of running shoes. Wariness shadowed her eyes and she had trouble meeting
his gaze. Jaw tight, he couldn’t suppress a flare of triumph at her discomfort.
“It’s lovely. I didn’t know you still painted.”
“Only projects like this and for some classes I
teach here during the week.” She folded her arms and unfolded them. A part of
him wanted to set her at ease, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to act on
it. Resentment slithered across his skin like a sand rash.
“Well, it’s good work. I’m particularly fond of my
place in it. Walking away.” Was that how she saw him? The man who left?
“Not walking away.” She shook her head and her chin
finally came up. “Walking toward the future. Defending our country, and lonely
because you had to leave us to do it. Inspiring because it’s not an easy choice
and even harder to live with. Brave because no one here can truly imagine what
you faced, so we hoped and prayed you’d come home, safe from hate and harm.”
Uncomfortable with how close her description struck,
Isaac dragged his attention away from her. She’d matured beautifully. The
softness of her features had taken on an aristocratic bearing, but she was too
thin, and her mouth too lush.
“It’s good work,” he repeated. So many words bottled
up in his throat and threatened to choke him. “I should get going.” He gave her
a quick, abrupt smile, the action physically painful, and jogged toward the
fence. The sooner he got the hell away, the better for both of them.
Always a Marine
Marine Under the Mistletoe
by
HEATHER LONG
He
used to believe in magic…
Kaiden Nelson looked like every other Marine, only
most of his guys didn’t grow up in a family of nudists, celebrating the wheel
of the year and the lunar cycles. His buddies wouldn’t name him a witch,
either. But after more than a decade at war, Kaiden isn’t sure he can—or even
wants to lay claim to that calling anymore. He’s got too much blood on his
hands and he’s tired…tired of war, tired of fighting. Some days…he’s tired of
living. When he’s sent on leave for the holidays, he’s unsure if he can ever
really go home again.
She’s
a candle in the night…
Rowan Harper lives in two worlds, the mundane where
she handles tech issues for a major corporation and the pagan where she
celebrates the sabbats and esbats with her coven. Like so many in the region,
she keeps her beliefs private. It makes life more bearable from others who
would judge, and she likes nothing better than the great sabbat retreats the
coven takes to the sprawling Lake House. It’s a time where she sheds the
shackles of everyday life and embraces the divine.
The
wheel turns…
When Kaiden turns up at the coven Yule, his Circle
of family and friends are eager to welcome him. He feels unworthy of the open
warmth and shies away to the darkness, but Rowan refuses to leave him in the
shadows. Can the inexorable pull of one woman help him face down his demons as
they hold vigil against the longest night of the year?
Marine Under the Mistletoe
Always a Marine
Release Date: November 10,
2013
About the Author:
National
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.
Contact Details:
Website:
http://www.heatherlong.net
Email:
heather@heatherlong.net
Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/HeatherLongAuthor
Twitter:
http://www.twitter.com/HVLong
Enjoy
the following excerpt for Marine Under the Mistletoe:
He grunted, but didn’t complain. The boys cleared
out without further warning and the goddess in the pale, gray silk dress
descended the stairs slowly. He didn’t get a glimpse of her feet, but the way
the skirt swirled around her, it gave her the effect of floating.
“Aaron?”
“Rowan?” The man’s nudity hadn’t bothered Kaiden
when he’d arrived, not really. He hadn’t been gone so long he didn’t remember
the comfort most others had in their skin—hell, a comfort he’d once shared. But
when Rowan achieved the last step,
Kaiden fought the desire to strip off his jacket and throw it at him. “Oh.”
Realization dawned across Aaron’s chastised expression. “My apologies, you two
haven’t met…I forget. Rowan Harper—this is Lorraine and Henry’s son, Kaiden.
Kaiden, Rowan Harper—she joined Blue Circle a few years after you enlisted,
give or take.”
“Merry meet, Kaiden.” She smiled, walked straight up
to him and brushed her lips to his—the contact a violent shock to his system
and he blinked once, going completely still. “It’s truly lovely to have you
with us this year.”
It took his mind a full minute to catch up to the
wrench in his body. “Hello,” the word came out strained and harsh, but either
she gave him a free pass as they were strangers or she didn’t notice it. Aaron
gave him an odd look.
Rowan gestured to the stairs. “Do you remember the
way to your room? I put fresh sheets on the bed and fixed it up when your
parents told me you had confirmed coming this year.”
He knew exactly where it was, but his manners
finally kicked awake. “Please.” Following her up the stairs, he glanced back at
Aaron once, aware of his amused gaze. Kaiden didn’t care for the sensation of
being watched. He’s a friendly. They’re
all friendlies. This is home.
The mental litany didn’t ease the tension winding
him up. At the curve in the stairs, she paused to wait for him and Kaiden
picked up the pace. He might be fucked up, but that didn’t mean he had to be
rude.
“Sorry, it was a long flight.” Mentally groaning at
the obviousness of the comment, he sucked in a deep breath, determined to do
better and inhaled fruity, deeply feminine, and deliciously sensual scent that
sent a shiver of awareness through his body and his blood plummeted to southern
regions.
“I don’t doubt it and I’m a total stranger.” She
started climbing again, lifting her skirt with one hand. “But I meant what I
said downstairs—I am very happy to welcome you home this year. Your mother
speaks of you often.”
“She’ll be annoyed with me.” The effort to make
casual conversation came out rough and jagged. “I got an earlier flight and
thought I could avoid anything too elaborate when I arrived.”
“Ahh.” She hesitated and her teeth clenched together
in a smile-grimace.
“It’s okay,” he held up his free hand, palm out. “I
know my parents. I know they’ve planned something special—especially since I
haven’t been home. They can still have it all happen, I just get some time to
be here before it starts.”
“I could talk to them if you like.” It was a kind—if
tempting—offer.
“Thank you, but the last place you need to put
yourself is between my parents and I.” The sentence came out far tougher than
he’d intended. Exhaling a hard breath, he concentrated on sanding down his
attitude. “And by that, I mean I haven’t been the poster child for good son.
They’re entitled to react in a way that makes them happy.”
They’d arrived at his door and he found the silence
almost as unnerving as the house itself. He’d picked out this room all those
years ago because it was furthest from the others, nestled off a quiet hall
that had a storage closet and attic access.
“Rowan, please ignore me. I apparently haven’t been
around real people in a while.”
“Oh?” Her too innocent eyes glittered under the glow
from the single lamp illuminating the hall. “And what mythical people have you
been spending time with?”
Always a Marine
Have Yourself a Marine Christmas
by
HEATHER LONG
Rebel
with a holiday…
Ryan
Edward Brun—Rebel to his friends—has always loved Christmas. Whether raising
money for Toys for Tots, delivering presents dressed up like Santa Claus or
driving his platoon crazy with Christmas ‘surprises.’ He never lacked for
Christmas spirit—until he lost his legs to an IED.
Operation
Good Cheer…
Noël
Torres has watched over Rebel for months, holding his hand when he wanted to
give up, and bullying him when he got lazy. But with Christmas right around the
corner and decorations filling every room in their wing of Mike’s Place, the
barren oasis Rebel surrounds himself in breaks her heart. He won’t call his
family, he’s not sending out cards, he won’t pull any pranks—she decides to get
this Marine back into the holiday action.
An
elf on a mission…
With
the help of some kids, a few good Marines, and Santa Claus and Noël is
determined to give Rebel a very Marine Christmas…
Marine Under the Mistletoe
Always a Marine
Release Date: November 26,
2013 – All Links Pending Release
All Romance eBooks | Amazon |
Barnes & Noble | Bookstrand | Decadent Publishing
About the Author:
National
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.
Contact Details:
Website:
http://www.heatherlong.net
Email:
heather@heatherlong.net
Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/HeatherLongAuthor
Twitter:
http://www.twitter.com/HVLong
Enjoy
the following excerpt for Have Yourself a Marine Christmas:
Jingle Bell Rock blasted through the speakers
and more than one voice jammed out to the familiar tune, echoing the song up
and down the hall. The music still invaded his room, even after one of the
nurses had closed the door for him. Rebel thumbed the volume louder on the
television, hoping to mute the insidious little ditty before it wormed farther
into his brain.
A cramp fisted in his thigh and Rebel dropped the
remote, digging his fingers into the recalcitrant muscle. He gritted his teeth
and a hiss of air escaped—his only concession to the pain radiating up from his
calf to pinch his quadriceps. It’s all in
your head, Marine. Suck it up. He had no calf muscle to cramp.
Because he had no damn calves.
Staring steadily at the news report offered him a
grim distraction. Trouble in the Baltics and civil war raging in an African
nation earned top news bites. Somewhere, someone always hurt worse than he did.
Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he tried to distract himself, but
the thunk of the faux foot on wood didn’t have the same effect.
The door opened, adding fresh punch to his misery as
Frosty the Snowman followed behind the luscious, caramel-skinned torturer who
looked after him.
“Close the damn door.” He regretted the snarl the
moment it passed his lips. The aggravating pain in his quad wouldn’t let go and
had begun to radiate up his back. Flattening his prosthetic foot had zero
effect and the socket friction on his skin compounded by the damn song
replicating like a virus across the walls of his mind.
“Good afternoon to you, too.” Noel Torres pushed the
door closed with a thump. “Cramps?” She
didn’t wait for his answer before crossing the room and adding her nimble
fingers to the job. Seizing his thigh in both hands, she dug her thumbs right
into the center of the knot, brutalizing him with a fresh wave of agony. “You
know the drill, Rebel.” Snappy and crisp, her eyes clashed with his. “Breathe.”
He could no more ignore the order than he could the
heady scent of her perfume—not that he was expert in such matters. Noel’s was
an exotic, distinctly feminine scent he associated only with her, and for the
last year it had been his salvation. Deep breaths calmed his racing heart as
her thumbs continued to apply pressure to the violent spasm seizing his muscle
until bit-by-bit, it eased.
“Breathe,” she ordered him. “In for four. Hold. Out
for four.”
Struggling to follow the command, he kept his
attention on her. Dressed in deep yellow polo shirt that truly brought out her skin
tone, and her long black hair pulled back in a severe ponytail, she looked all
of twelve years old.
Yeah, if twelve looked hot
and edible….
He scowled at the new direction his mind wandered and Noel squeezed his thigh.
A burning lance of sensation stabbed him and then the muscle let go entirely
and he wanted to weep.
“You’re holding your breath again.” She frowned, but
shifted her grip on his thigh and begun to massage it.
Reminded, he exhaled a hard sigh. “Hurts like a
bitch.”
“Of course it does, you’re tense and getting worked
up. You know your mood has as much of an effect on your recovery as your
exercise regimen.” Disapproval hung off the last two words and Rebel huffed.
“And don’t you take that impatient note with me. Did you really think they
wouldn’t tell me you skipped physio three days this week?”
“I was tired.” He tried to look around her, but she
only adjusted her firm touch to knead the taut muscles of his other thigh.
“Bullshit. Your physio is not an option. Get a grip
on your panties, Marine. You don’t get to play the I’m-too-tired card. We put a pin in that one months ago.”
Three months before, he’d been in the midst of a
black depression and slept day in and day out. He refused to go to therapy,
refused to engage with his psych evaluation, and damn near ended up on forced
medication. Noel hadn’t allowed him the luxury of mind-numbing drugs. Instead,
she’d all but dragged him out of bed, helped him into a wheelchair and took him
for a walk in the park—pushing him around like a baby in a pram.
Humiliating—but effective. He returned to therapy the next day—and she’d smiled
at him.
The soothing stroke of her fingers unlocked the
tension in his gut. “How was your trip?” he asked. Maybe distraction would
work.
Always a Marine
Lest Old Marines Be Forgot
by
HEATHER LONG
She
never stopped grieving…
It’s
New Year’s Eve, and thirty years since Brenda Connors buried the only man she
ever loved. Every year on the anniversary of his death, she finds herself in
the hospital, suffering from chest pains. No matter how expected, it always
takes her breath away. This year…this year she wants it to be different and
takes the advice of her best friend and would be sister-in-law to sign up for a
one-night stand. It seems ridiculous, just a year shy of her fiftieth birthday
to try and seek happiness she long since gave up on. She never imagined a stern
faced Marine with talent for making her laugh…
He
doesn’t know what the future holds…
Married
to his career and facing forced retirement, Major Tom Baxter doesn’t see much
of a future for himself in civilian life. A poker game with the son of an old
friend earns him some unwanted advice, but it’s advice he can’t get out of his
head. He signs up for a one-night stand, to discover what life on the outside
might have to offer. The last thing he expected was an elegant soul with a
streak of mischief…
Ringing
in a new beginning…
Can
Tom and Brenda make every second of their countdown to midnight count, lest old
Marines be forgot?
Lest Old Marines Be Forgot
Always a Marine
Release Date: December 2,
2013 – All Links Pending Release
All Romance eBooks | Amazon |
Barnes & Noble | Bookstrand | Decadent Publishing
About the Author:
National
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.
Contact Details:
Website:
http://www.heatherlong.net
Email:
heather@heatherlong.net
Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/HeatherLongAuthor
Twitter:
http://www.twitter.com/HVLong
Enjoy
the following excerpt for Lest Old Marines Be Forgot:
Their table sat in an alcove that also doubled as a
private balcony and overlooked a lit garden. According to his hostess, he and
his date would also be able to see the fireworks over Dallas later should they
still be at their table at midnight. If not, then their reserved suite also had
a balcony and a good vantage point. A marble-floored hallway led to their
dining table and though the alcove was simply one of several such isolated
settings, theirs possessed heavy cream curtains that could be closed to afford
them further privacy.
Overall, it was an excellent choice on Luke’s part.
Fortunately, years of not doing much with his salary meant Tom could also
afford the evening comfortably. He finished the cup of coffee and checked his
watch. Fifteen minutes to operation launch and he heard heels tapping on the
marble floor caught his attention. Glancing sideways, he spotted a pair of
elegant, long legs. Trailing his attention upward, he studied the woman
approaching.
The body-hugging sheathe of a dress molded her
curves, and what a shape she had…. Dark hair brushed her shoulders, the silvery
streaks amidst the deep brown seemed almost artistic. Straightening, he frowned
when she hesitated and checked her phone. The curl of anticipation in his gut
flattened out.
It didn’t matter if the elegant woman searched for
another date; he couldn’t take his attention off her. She all but glared at her
phone. A heartbeat later, she rewarded his captivation when her exasperation
transformed into sparkling laughter.
Squaring her shoulders, she lifted her chin and
their gazes collided. Her smile faltered for a heartbeat, then warmed. At her
look, he rose to his feet and enjoyed her long walk down the hall.
“Ms. Connors.” He extended his hand automatically,
her smooth palm gliding against his.
A hint of shyness softened her expression, but she
didn’t look away. “Mr. Baxter. Can I just say that you chose the loveliest spot
for dinner?”
Boosted by the compliment and her lovely manner, he
inclined his head. “Only if you’ll allow me to say that you outshine the
location—and then some.” He’d never really been that good with flowery
compliments, but a hint of color bloomed over her cheeks and he let out a
breath. “Here….” To pull out her seat meant he had to let go of her hand.
She had slender fingers, beautiful and tapered, and
they’d been silky-soft with the barest hint of callouses on her index fingers
and thumbs. Callouses that meant she used tools, but probably didn’t build or
work with anything. His brain’s need to catalog details had proven a godsend in
the field, but he didn’t need to pick apart his date.
“Thank you,” Brenda murmured and slipped around him
to take the chair he held out and he scooted it in just as she sat. From his
vantage point, he had a direct view of her cleavage and the teasing hint of a
dark mole on the curve of her right breast.
Clearing his throat, he moved back to his seat. “Of
course.”
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