by Katie Knight
But the date actually goes well—really well. Best sex of her life well. But the following day, Jake immediately pulls back, just as she expected. Romance only gets in the way of doing his job: protection has no room for passion. Resigned to their night together being nothing more than a blip in the road, Hanna’s unsettled when a pregnancy test turns that blip into a major speedbump.
Before she can tell Jake she’s pregnant, something far more unexpected lands on her plate. One of her high-profile clients has been murdered, and because he’s shared certain information with Hanna, the killers will stop at nothing to silence her.
Despite his promises to stay uninvolved, Jake can’t help but protect Hanna, baby bump and all, insisting they go on the run as they dig deeper into the dangerous situation they’ve found themselves in. But as the threat closes in on their secluded safe house, their biggest problem might just be falling in love and losing it all…
Grab your copy of Coming to Her Rescue
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EXCERPT
Chapter One
Jake pulled under the porte-cochère in front of Hotel del Coronado and chuckled to himself when the valet gaped at his car. He may not have been driving a Lamborghini or a Bugatti—and probably never would, considering his SEAL salary—but he was proud of his Subaru WRX STI. Ruby, he called her. Ruby the Subi. And those who appreciated cars—including the valet, apparently—knew what she could do.
The STI had plenty of ‘giddyup,’ and the custom racing harnesses he’d installed the day he bought her meant he could push her to her limits without fear. It also meant he got to initiate a little contact with every date he had as he strapped her in. He had yet to meet a woman who could figure out how to buckle up without any help. Or who objected when he reached over playfully to show her how to do it. It was the perfect icebreaker.
He’d love to take a date out for a drive right now. Or just burn some rubber along the open road himself. Or be… just about anywhere but here, stuffed into a suit that never fit as well as his uniform, about to enter an event he’d been dreading all week. He was currently on leave—he had racked up about forty days of “use-it-or-lose-it,” which meant he would be out more than a month of time off if he didn’t take it because it wouldn’t roll over—and he would rather be doing just about anything else on this “forced” vacation instead of coming here. But he owed a buddy a favor, so any plans he was thinking about making over the next month would have to wait.
Jake undid his own harness and opened the door to find the valet grinning on the other side.
“Sweet ride, man,” he said, stepping aside so Jake could get out.
“Thanks, bro.” Jake started up the steps but turned around before the valet had shut the driver’s door. “Take good care of her.”
Jake was planning on heading straight to the bar, but he realized he should probably find Brody first so Brody would know he’d kept his end of the deal.
Jake had met Brody five years ago, at basic training. They were both from Southern California, and they had bonded over complaining about the crappy local Mexican food and Lake Michigan’s freezing water.
When Brody married Natalie, a proper Southern girl from what had seemed to be a well-to-do Georgia family, his life changed dramatically. Since Natalie had been raised to believe that money talked but wealth whispered, Jake hadn’t put the pieces together until their wedding.
Natalie’s family wasn’t just well-to-do; they were ridiculously wealthy. And as soon as Natalie had gained access to her trust fund, she’d started one charitable foundation after another, all of which generated a steady stream of exactly the type of high society social events Jake couldn’t stand. Jake had managed to avoid all the benefits the happy couple had hosted—until now.
It’s not that he didn’t respect what Natalie did—he’d happily give his time and money to help foster kids or cancer patients or homeless pets—he just wasn’t thrilled about donning a tux and sitting in a stuffy ballroom for three hours sipping watered-down Manhattans and eating overcooked filet mignon.
Jake couldn’t avoid the SoCal Turtle Conservation Mission’s First Annual Bachelor/Bachelorette Auction, though. Not after the debt he owed his friend from the time when his path crossed with Brody’s while they were both downrange in Jalalabad. Brody had contacts in Washington, and when Jake’s Afghan translator was threatened for helping “the Americans,” Brody had facilitated visas for his entire family.
So Jake owed Brody a huge favor, and he was happy to pay him back—until he learned Natalie wanted all of Brody’s single friends to fill out the crowd at the next fundraiser. Jake should have known there was a catch when Natalie had specified that all the attendees had to be single.
Jake sighed as he entered the ballroom. It was going to be a long night. After locating the bar, he scanned the crowd for familiar faces. He recognized several guys from the teams—the Navy was a small organization, the SEAL world even smaller—but he opted to find the host before commiserating with them about being forced to attend. It didn’t take long to spot Brody and Natalie. They were surrounded by ten or so people, who were all paying rapt attention to Brody. He appeared to be telling a story with plenty of hand gestures. Jake chuckled. Brody could captivate an audience regardless of whether he was talking about going on a safari or changing the oil in a car.
When Brody saw Jake, his eyes lit up. He excused himself to let Natalie finish the saga. She may not have had the same booming voice, but she could hold a crowd just as well. They really were perfectly matched in so many ways.
“Jake!” Brody pulled him in for a tight hug. “It’s been way too long, man.”
“I know, brother.” Jake patted him on the back. “Though I wish I was running into you anywhere but here.”
Brody laughed. “It’s not so bad. Good food, free drinks…” He held up his glass and winked. “Lots of talent.”
Jake glanced around, unimpressed. “Where?”
“All the bachelorettes are backstage, man.” Brody checked his Rolex—a gift from Natalie for graduating BUD/S. While completing the Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL school certainly warranted a gift like a Rolex—roughly seventy-five percent of the guys who start BUD/S fail out—most of the newly minted SEALs and their families didn’t have the means for such a luxurious gift. “The auction’s starting soon. And I guarantee there are at least a few ladies you’ll want to bid on.”
“Doubtful.” Jake said. “Even if I meet a woman who’s perfect in every way, the day I buy a date is the day I become utterly pathetic.”
“You wouldn’t even buy a date to save the turtles?”
“I’ll donate to the cause, sure. But I will never exchange cash for a woman’s attention.” Jake shook his head. “I need a drink.”
Brody motioned toward the bar. “Knock yourself out.” He put a hand on Jake’s shoulder. “But trust me when I say this. You’re in for at least one surprise tonight.”
“You think so?”
Brody nodded. “By the way, you still talk to Masterson?”
Tyler Masterson had gone through basic training, and later, BUD/S with Jake and Brody. Although he and Jake had remained close—Tyler was a fellow sports car enthusiast and had actually helped Jake install the harnesses in Ruby—he was currently deployed with his team, which meant they hadn’t talked in a while.
“Yeah, man, we’re still friends.” Jake said. “Haven’t chatted with him recently, though. He okay?”
“Oh yeah,” Brody said. “I was just wondering if you guys were still tight.”
“Why?”
Brody smirked. “No reason.” He turned to rejoin Natalie without another word.
Jake shook his head. Brody liked to keep people guessing. During conversations, he would often mention something that seemed to have nothing to do with the topic at hand. At some point, though, he would tie it all together. Maybe that’s how he could always captivate a crowd. Maybe people enjoyed following his breadcrumb trails and gue
ssing where they led before Brody got to the point.
Jake wondered what Masterson had to do with saving sea turtles as he made his way to the bar. It was just another breadcrumb from Brody. It would make sense eventually. He wouldn’t worry about it until then.
“I’ll take a Manhattan neat with rye, please,” he told the bartender. He scanned the crowd while waiting for his drink. There seemed to be a lot of men there who were actually eager for the bidding to begin—none of them fellow SEALs, thankfully. He found the whole auction thing a bit off-putting, to be honest. If you can’t get a woman to go out with you for free, you should do some soul-searching to figure out why. You shouldn’t opt to pay for dates instead, even if it was for a good cause.
After Jake got his drink, he found a spot to the left of the stage where he could watch. The emcee had already started introducing the women, to the audible enthusiasm of some members of the crowd. It didn’t take Jake long to realize the guys in front of him were more than a few drinks in. They were talking about the ladies who were gracing the stage as if they were at a cattle auction.
“God, the things I would do to that ass.”
“You know she likes it rough.”
“Between those lips and those tits, I don’t know where to look. Or come.”
Jake was disgusted. He knew part of it was the alcohol talking, and part of it was grandstanding, showing off for each other—when a group of guys gets together and drinks, vulgarity always ensues—but he was also fairly good at reading people. And stone-cold sober, on their best day, he was still willing to bet that these guys were no good.
He sighed. Hopefully there were more honorable men in the crowd who would outbid these tools. If any one of these guys managed to win a date, the bachelorette would need a full security detail for the evening.
“Sold!” the emcee bellowed into the microphone. “To the gentleman with the powder-blue tie.” He pounded a gavel as the man who had bid on “rock climbing with Tasha” strode over to the stage. The bachelorette smiled when she saw him. As he helped her down the stairs, the emcee turned back to the crowd.
“Our next bachelorette is a licensed therapist with a master’s in psychology. When she’s not traveling the globe attending conferences in her field, she’s scouring bakeries along the SoCal coast in search of the perfect cupcake. She plans on taking her date out for drinks right here at Hotel del Coronado. Enjoy a cocktail at sunset with this beautiful and accomplished woman.” The emcee held out his arm. “Let’s give a warm welcome to Hanna Masterson!”
Hanna Masterson?
Jake shook his head. Surely he had misheard the emcee.
When he saw the next bachelorette grace the stage, though, he knew he hadn’t. Suddenly, Brody’s breadcrumb comment made perfect, horrifying sense.
Grab your copy of Coming to Her Rescue
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BLURB
After an “incident” on his last SEAL mission, Zachary “Z” Raybourn has been relegated to babysitting duty. He’s spent the last six months guarding the daughter of a small foreign nation, a girl so valuable to the US that she apparently can’t buy milk without him trailing along like a lost puppy. He’d joined the military to make a difference and stayed enlisted because of the SEAL team he considers family. Now all he wants is to get back to them ASAP.
Esme Hollycombe is her country’s last hope. Her father the King controls a very important port that serves as a naval base for the US. But with her father’s rapidly declining health, and her US-hating cousin next in line for the throne, Esme has been frantically searching for a loophole in her country’s law that says only a man can rule. The only thing she finds is that she can rule in the stead of any male heir she gives birth to. Unmarried and certainly not pregnant, the loophole isn’t of much use to her. Until her attention turns to the hot SEAL protector who has been pacing the palace for the last six months like a caged animal. He’d do anything to get back to his squad; and she’d do anything to keep her cousin off the throne, leaving him unable to evict the US and all their military protection from her country.
Esme offers a contract to Z: get her pregnant, marry her so the heir will be legitimate, and he can have his life back. Z eventually agrees. But being the partner of a princess comes with far more action and intrigue than he’d ever dreamed. He also finds that making a baby is an easy way to fall in love. Now, Z will have to choose: the military family he misses, or the nuclear family he’s creating.
Grab your copy of THE SEAL’s Contract Baby here.
EXTRACT
CHAPTER 1
“I’m twenty-eight years old. I don’t need a babysitter.” Her Royal Highness, Princess Esme Hollycombe of the tiny southern European country of Prylea, squared her shoulders and raised her chin. “I’ll take a regular security team with me to Washington, DC and be done with it.”
Her father’s intelligence advisors exchanged a look, then the head of security—a slightly hunched older man named Greaves who’d been hired by her father before Esme was born—gave her a quizzical stare. “Yes, your grace. But please remember that this trip is not only about you. Your ailing father, the king, will also be making the journey to get a second opinion on his condition. We cannot afford to leave either one of you unprotected during these turbulent times.”
Darn it. He had a point. And he knew just the right buttons to push. Esme would do just about anything for her father, as Greaves was well aware. Never mind the fact that the king was dying. This new opinion he was seeking in Georgetown would only slightly prolong his life, at best, or put another nail in his already well-sealed coffin. But she couldn’t turn down the chance to extend her time with him, even by one more day.
She swallowed hard against the lump of sorrow that had been lodged in her throat since her father had first been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer two years prior. Since then he’d been in and out of treatments, traveling the world to seek a cure for what was, as of yet, incurable. Still, if it gave her father some small measure of hope, she’d do whatever she could to ensure he got to see the specialist in DC.
Her fingers itched to pull out the knitting she’d brought along in her purse, but she clenched her fists instead. The hobby kept her busy and sane during these dark times and also helped her with one of her dearest charitable causes. All of the blankets she made were distributed to a charity for Prylea’s poor—under a fake name, of course. It wouldn’t do to have the royal family seen as nothing but a bunch of crafters, even for a good cause.
Esme took a deep breath and looked across the room to where her usual contingent of security guards stood. Most of them were middle-aged and indistinguishable from the others. They blended into the background as their job demanded. Silently watching and waiting for danger to rear its ugly head, then they’d spring into action to defend and protect.
One man, though, a relative newcomer, stood near the window, the sunlight striking his blond hair and making it look like spun gold. After six months of service, he was still an enigma to Esme. She was intrigued by him, watching him as closely as he watched her, and not because he was gorgeous either. Sure, the guy had the ripped physique of an ex-military man. He was a former Navy SEAL after all. But there was something more about him, a lingering haunted look in his gray-green eyes that had her wondering exactly what had happened to him during his time as a SEAL. She’d tried to find out by snooping through his employment records, but with everything else going on, she hadn’t had time to do a proper in-depth search.
“Your highness, we need an answer before you leave tonight,” Greaves said, his stern, jowly look setting her nerves on edge again. She didn’t like being forced into a corner. “We must insist on the security detail, princess. If you refuse, we’ll be forced to send your cousin Silvester in your place.”
Oh, he was good.
Silvester had once been a friend who’d now turned rival. The guy was only interested in power—namely the throne of Prylea. Unfortunately, Esme’s father had failed
to secure her place in the line of succession for the country by changing the outdated rule in the Prylean constitution that said a woman could not rule. So very nineteenth century. So very irritating.
The last person on earth she’d want representing her or her country in the United States was her cousin Silvester. Esme was having a hard enough time trying to figure out how to get around her country’s antiquated rules without thrusting her power-hungry cousin out on the world stage to strut about like the overblown peacock he’d become.
“Fine.” She took a deep breath. “But I choose the team lead.”
“Fine.” A muscle ticked in Greaves’s cheek, but otherwise his face remained stoic. He leaned closer to whisper to his cronies then turned back to Esme. “We agree. But you must choose from the current team members already in the room.” His beady black eyes glittered behind his wire-rimmed glasses, as if he’d just pulled off some wonderful coup. “May I suggest Sutherland. He’s quite accomplished and has long served your father with loyalty and distinction.”
Sutherland was a short, stout man of brisk manners and few words. He and her father were old friends. “He’s fine to guard the king. I’ve got someone else in mind for head of my detail.”
Greaves raised a bushy white brow but remained silent.
“I want him.” She pointed to the blond Adonis still leaning against the wall by the window, looking for all the world as if he were bored to tears. “Zachary Raybourn.”
“But, your grace—” Greaves sputtered. “He’s not even been with the team for a year yet. And he’s not a Prylean citizen. He’s American.”
“All the better.” Esme bit back a smile at the way the old man said that last word, more like an unsavory curse than a nationality. She pushed to her feet, blood pounding and knees wobbling. Her late mother had always said that being a good monarch demanded firm judgment and a will to succeed. Esme had the drive to become the next queen down pat. The judgment part was still in question. But Raybourn was really the only choice she had. All the other men were loyal to the Prylean constitution. At least Raybourn didn’t give two hoots about her country or its dark-age ways. He was here for the job, at least from what she could tell. And he kept his mouth shut, which was even more important. Heck, he’d barely said more than two words beyond the normal civilities to Esme the entire time he’d been in the family’s employ. “I want him to be the lead of my personal team or no deal.”
