Military Erotic Romance—Naval Maneuvers
by Dee S. Knight (@DeeSKnight) #military #romance #eroticromance
Men
and women of the armed forces experience desire and love pretty much like
everyone else. Except, well, there is that uniform. And the hard-to-resist
attraction of "duty, honor, service" as a man might apply them to a
woman's pleasure. All things considered, romance among the military is a pretty
sexy, compelling force for which you'd better be armed, whether weighing anchor
and moving forward into desire, dropping anchor and staying put for passion, or
setting a course for renewed love with anchor home.
Individual
blurbs: (the book is in three parts)
Weighing
Anchor (allowing a ship to move forward by retrieving the anchor): A professional
woman sworn to avoiding all things military finds herself in love with a
lieutenant commander in the Navy. Love won't conquer all if she allows her
childhood memories to eclipse future happiness.
Dropping
Anchor (securing movement by dropping the anchor): Two people find
(surprisingly) that they are both in the Navy and love their chosen
professions—until one turns out to be an officer but not a gentleman and the
other is a gentleman but not an officer.
Anchor
Home (safe, smooth sailing): When two former lovers find each other
after more than a decade, will a long-hidden secret threaten the course of a
rekindled romance or be the cause of it?
Buy Links (Get $2 off
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Excerpt:
"And what is your name,
pretty?" Mel Crandall addressed the dinosaur bones in an undertone,
bending nearly to face level. The skeleton displayed an open mouth and rows of
fierce, sharp teeth.
"Roger," a man standing next
to her said in a low voice. Startled, she looked up. Up being the operative word. She stood a decent five feet ten
inches, and he beat her by a good half foot. She studied him. He ignored her.
The guy had a solid profile, strong
chin, chiseled cheekbones, and a straight back with muscular shoulders. Short
brown hair. He wore glasses and stared straight ahead, but glasses couldn't
disguise the laugh lines that radiated from the corners of his eyes. His
posture was near perfect and he was not overweight, as evidenced by the trim
fit of his jeans and red polo shirt that clung enough to give evidence of a low
body/mass index number.
As a doctor, she immediately noticed
body characteristics before actual looks. But with this guy, examination in
lieu of admiration was hard. Men were often put off by the fact that she paid
attention to whether they looked sallow or flushed, or if their hands were cold
or warm before she "saw" them. She noticed if a man's eyes were
dilated or glittered with fever before she registered eye color. Dates started
with mini examinations before she relaxed enough to enjoy personalities, but
that's just the way she was. Men had to take it or leave it. Sadly, most left
it. Which was why she talked to dinosaurs at the Smithsonian Museum of Natural
History all on her own.
Mel moved on to the next exhibit, a
shorter built specimen but still tall and with a nasty spiked tail. "I
wonder what you looked like," she murmured. "What color were you,
what did you eat, and what's your name?" She bent to read the exhibit
information.
"Gray. Grass." That same guy
had followed her. Rather than having a strong profile, she was beginning to
think he was a weirdo. "Annnd, roger."
Quickly, Mel moved to the next exhibit.
"And you are–"
"Roger."
He stood beside her again! Mel started
to look for a museum guard but saw none. Great. Planting her hands on her hips,
she turned to him. "Stop following me," she said loudly enough that
people in the general area turned to see what was happening.
The guy said, "Hold it."
Hold it? Hold it, as in "Wait a minute, little lady?" She opened
her mouth to lay into him when he turned and removed his glasses, showing her
the richest, most chocolatey brown eyes she'd ever seen. The words stuck in her
mouth.
"I'm sorry, what?"
In a lower voice she said, "You're
following me from exhibit to exhibit and talking to me. I want you to
stop."
"I didn't realize…" He wiggled
the glasses at her. "I'm working here and I'm afraid I didn't notice
you."
Well. What was worse, that he was a
pervert following her place to place, or that he wasn't a perv and hadn't even
noticed her?
His brow furrowed while he studied her.
"Yes. Yes." Then he shook his head. "Roger."
Again with that Roger.
"Gotta go. Later." Then he
smiled at her. "Just a minute, okay?" He folded the glasses and put
them first in a protective case. Squatting, he placed a briefcase on the floor
and opened it. He stored the glass case inside a pocket. Then he removed
something from his right ear—an earbud?—protected it and also put it in the
case.
Mel watched all of this with curiosity.
He expected her to wait for him? What arrogance. And yet, wait she did. When he
stood, holding the case in his left hand and smiled once more, her heart
stuttered. The guy was drop dead gorgeous—at least to her understanding of the
word. Normally, she appreciated the male form, mostly from a medical viewpoint.
This man she enjoyed with pure pleasure.
And Good God. He hadn't been talking to
her, he'd been talking to whoever was on the other end of that earbud.
Embarrassment flooded her.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I
thought you were…" She slid her hand between the two of them and then to
the exhibits.
"No," he said. "I apologize. I shouldn't be testing this
stuff around people. The last time I did it a kid thought I was calling him
Roger." His voice had a soft drawl to it. Western Virginia or North
Carolina, maybe? Somewhere in the
mountains. It felt like a cool stream as it ran over a body hot and tired
from hiking: refreshing and invigorating, at the same time soothing and
relaxing. She wanted him to talk more.
Stop
that! She laughed. "I thought you were naming each
dinosaur." He smiled and dimples indented his cheeks. His eyes crinkled
and Mel's breath caught. This guy should come with a warning label. Approach with caution. Could bring on lustful intentions and
ultimately, broken hearts. Take only in small doses and in public places.
He held out his hand. "David
Stimson."
She took it gingerly, half expecting
lightning to bolt between them. Nope. Nothing. So much for romance novels. He
had a nice hand, large and warm with healthy pink nails, and she grasped it
firmly. "Melissa Crandall."
"Nice to meet you. Do you mind if I
wander along with you?" Grasping the briefcase with his left hand, he
deftly, he moved to the left of her.
"No, please. It's a free
country." She walked to the next dinosaur re-creation. "And this one
is…" She half waited for his pronouncement.
"Not Roger," he said, stopping
her heart with that killer smile again. He leaned over to read the information.
"Torosaurus latus. It says here
that these bones were dug up in North Dakota, but that the Torosaurus roamed
from Canada to Texas, and that he had the biggest head of any land
mammal."
"Well, I guess that's something to be proud of," Mel
responded. David laughed and she found herself smiling back. When she moved to
the next exhibit, he strolled along with her, hands behind his back.
He pointed to the next specimen.
"Poor guy. Starved to death."
"Oh, yeah? How do you know?"
"Can't you tell? He's all
bones."
Author Bio:
A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing,
making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed
people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility.
And they had sex, lots of sex. Writing was so much fun Dee decided to keep at
it. That's how she spends her days. Her nights? Well, she's lucky that her
dream man, childhood sweetheart, and long-time hubby are all the same guy, and
nights are their secret. Dee loves writing erotic romance and sharing her
stories with you. She hopes you enjoy!
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