Table of Contents
SEAL of My Dreams
Acknowledgements
Foreword
COMING HOME
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
BABY I’M BACK
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
SEALed FATES
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
GOING DARK
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
FINDING HOME
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
SEALed WITH A KISS (A Black Ops, Inc. story)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
PANAMA JACK
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Epilogue
WRAPPED AND SEALed
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Epilogue
WORTH THE RISK
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
TWENTY-ONE HOURS
NOT WAVING BUT DROWNING
HER SECRET PIRATE (A Crossfire SEAL Story)
Epilogue
SEALed by Fate
SIGNED, SEALed, DELIVEREDŠ.Š.Š. I’M YOURS
DOG HEART
WHIRLWIND
HOLDING ON
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
LETTERS TO ELLIE
About the Authors
About the Veterans Research Corporation
Blurb
Honor, duty, courage, passion . . . the men of the Navy SEALs are a special breed of hero, and in these stories by eighteen top romance authors these heroes are celebrated not only as symbols of devoted service to their country but as the kind of man every woman wants to love. They’ll rescue a damsel in distress and her lap dog, too. They’ll battle hometown dramas and international bad guys. When it comes to giving away their hearts, they’ll risk everything.
All proceeds from sales of SEAL of My Dreams goes to the Veterans Research Corporation, a non-profit fundraiser for veterans’ medical research.
Among them, the authors of SEAL of My Dreams have won dozens of writing awards including multiple RITAs from Romance Writers of America. Their nearly 600 published novels have sold at least 25 million copies worldwide. The SEAL of My Dreams roster includes many of the best-known authors in modern romance fiction. In addition, many have strong family connections to the servicemen and women of our nation’s military, and many specialize in novels featuring heroes and heroines from all branches of service.
Visit the authors at their websites and at http://sealofmydreams.com.
SEAL of My Dreams
An Anthology with Stories by
Robyn Carr
Jami Alden
Stephanie Bond
Kylie Brant
Helen Brenna
HelenKay Dimon
Cindy Gerard
Tara Janzen
Leslie Kelly
Elle Kennedy
Alison Kent
Jo Leigh
Gennita Low
Marliss Melton
Christie Ridgway
Barbara Samuel
Roxanne St. Claire
Stephanie Tyler
Loreth Anne White
Bell Bridge Books * Memphis, TN
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead,) events or locations is entirely coincidental.
Bell Bridge Books
PO BOX 300921
Memphis, TN 38130
eISBN: 978-1-61194-066-4
ISBN: 978-1-61194-051-0
Bell Bridge Books is an Imprint of BelleBooks, Inc.
Foreword—copyright © 2011 by Robyn Carr
Coming Home—copyright © 2011 by Jami Alden
Baby, I’m Back—copyright © 2011 by Stephanie Bond, Inc.
SEALed Fates—copyright © 2011 by Kylie Brant
Going Dark—copyright © 2011 by Helen Brenna
Finding Home—copyright © 2011 by HelenKay Dimon
SEALed With A Kiss—copyright © 2011 by Cindy Gerard
Panama Jack—copyright © 2011 by Tara Janzen
Wrapped and SEALed—copyright © 2011 by Leslie Kelly
Worth the Risk—copyright © 2011 by Leeanne Kenedy
Twenty-One Hours—copyright © 2011 by Alison Kent
Not Waving But Drowning—copyright © 2011 by Jo Leigh
Her Secret Pirate—copyright © 2011 by Gennita Low
SEALed by Fate—copyright © 2011 by Marliss Melton
Signed, SEALed, Delivered . . . I’m Yours—copyright © 2011 by Christie Ridgway
Dog Heart—copyright © 2011 by Barbara Samuel
Whirlwind—copyright © 2011 by Roxanne St. Claire
Holding On—copyright © 2011 by Stephanie Tyler
Letters to Ellie—copyright © 2011 by Loreth Beswetherick
Printed and bound in the United States of America.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.
We at BelleBooks enjoy hearing from readers.
Visit our websites – www.BelleBooks.com and www.BellBridgeBooks.com.
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Cover Design: Croco Designs
Interior design: Hank Smith
Photo credit: © John Moore @ Getty Images
:Mmsd:01:
Acknowledgements
Many thanks to Croco Designs, who donated the design work for the fabulous cover of the book, and Getty Images, who discounted the licensing fee. Also to Sharyn Cerniglia at Bell Bridge Books, who donated her copyediting tasks.
The cover model is the real deal, an active-duty SEAL at the time this picture was taken by photographer John Moore. We offer our heartfelt respect and thanks to him—his identity is classified, but we hope he sees this note. The photo is titled “U.S. Navy SEALS Prepare For Night Mission In Fallujah,” and captioned: “FALLUJAH, IRAQ - JULY 27: A U.S. Navy SEAL prepares for a night mission to capture Iraqi insurgent leaders July 27, 2007 near Fallujah, Iraq. American Special Forces operate throughout Iraq, targeting ‘high-value targets’ in commando raids, often at night to take advantag
e of their night vision superiority.”
Foreword
Robyn Carr
America is in love with the Navy SEALs.
We stood witness as a nation, as a world, to acts of bravery and mastery driven by patriotism as they took down one of the world’s most dangerous villains. When the highest level of competence and fealty was required, the SEALs were called. And they did not take a bow.
Here’s what they are not—they are not celebrities, movie stars or sports idols. They are flesh-and-blood men who have volunteered for the highest level of military training available and taken an oath to perform heroic acts at great personal risk in the defense of a country that will not put their pictures on magazine covers or pay them a multi-million dollar contract. Indeed, their ‘bonus’ will come in the form of hazardous duty pay. They are compensated by their rank and could choose far less dangerous or frightening roles. And their success as SEALs depends, at least as long as they serve in this capacity, on anonymity.
Who is better equipped to honor the image of our greatest warrior heroes than the gifted pens of some of the romance industry’s finest authors of romantic fiction. In this volume, the visage of some of the world’s most revered heroes is captured in scenes of love, bravery, laughter and passion, all created to bring into focus the SEALs of our dreams, those men we hold in such high esteem.
While the SEALs have the distinction of recently compromising the world’s most insidious criminal and as a team are recognized and honored for their astonishing success in that mission, it brings into specific relief the number of units and teams in the Armed Forces who we, as a nation, rely on to defend our freedom. From Green Berets to Rangers, every branch of service is renowned for their Special Forces’ Olympian skills and almost mystical abilities. And always, they anonymously perform these duties for the safety of their comrades and the citizens they protect.
I seem to be spending a lot of time in airports lately, and I use much of that time approaching military men and women traveling in battle dress uniform and wearing suspiciously dusty, beat up boots. With mist clouding my vision and a lump in my throat, I thank them for their service and, when I do so, because I’m not intimate with unit insignias, I have no way of knowing if their job has been to take out the free world’s worst enemy or count paper clips. And in point of fact, what is important to all of us is that our faithful men and woman who serve are there for us, defending our freedom and liberty, in whatever capacity they are able. What matters is this—every single job in the Armed Forces is essential, is honorable, is worthy of the highest praise and deepest gratitude. Every raised voice is needed, every hand lent to the task and every heart committed.
Which brings me to this—while the volume you hold pays tribute to the Navy SEALs, the proceeds from these works of the heart will benefit all military men and women. No one involved in this project will profit except the Veteran’s Research Corporation, a non-profit foundation supporting medical research for veterans. The money this project earns will directly benefit our veterans from all branches, all units, all missions. God bless and keep them, one and all.
COMING HOME
Jami Alden
Chapter One
Nick DeMarco had been to the most hellish corners of the earth, had witnessed the horrors people could inflict on one another. He’d seen his closest friends fall in a battle, had held their hands as they bled out.
He’d gladly relive any of those moments to not have to be here right now.
Standing next to a fresh grave at St. Mary’s cemetery, listening to Father Fiore deliver the final sacrament before his mother was lowered into the ground. At the priest’s direction, Nick picked up a handful of dirt and tossed it on top of the casket.
The finality of the gesture hit him like a kick in the chest, breaking through the cloak of numbness that had settled over him since he’d received the news three days ago. Joan DeMarco was really gone.
He endured what felt like a thousand kisses on the cheek, shoulder squeezes and murmured “I’m so sorry.” There had been over five hundred people at both last night’s rosary and this morning’s mass. Many of them had joined the procession to the cemetery. In her forty-year career teaching freshman English at Greenwich High School, Mrs. DeMarco was a favorite with students, parents, and her colleagues.
Many of them had shown up today, taken the opportunity to tell him how his mother touched their lives, how much they loved her. Nick might have been touched, had he been able to get past the feeling that he’d taken an RPG to the chest and been blown wide open.
“Hey, nice threads,” the familiar voice shook away a bit of the fog, and Nick looked into the sympathetic face of Robby Girardi. Though Robby was thirty-two, like Nick, Robby’s face was still round, almost childish on top of his wide neck, and his black hair was still so thick it stood up like a brush on top of his head.
Nick and Robby met on the first day of kindergarten and were inseparable through elementary and middle school. Joan started calling them Mutt and Jeff after Robby’s height topped out at five four in ninth grade and Nick had shot up another foot to tower over him.
Nick gave his old friend a feeble smile and returned Robby’s hearty, back slapping hug. “I hate wearing the damn thing,” Nick said, tugging at the collar of what he and his SEAL teammates referred to as the ice cream suit, blinding white from head to toe. “But Mama always liked me in it.”
“When did Mama Joan get to see you in it?” Robby asked, the accusation evident in his voice. “Last I checked you haven’t been home in what, ten years?” He saw, along with accusation, hurt in Robby’s eyes. When Nick had left that last time, he’d left for good. Turned his back on the town he grew up in and everyone in it so he wouldn’t have to be reminded of what he’d lost when he’d chosen a different path.
“More like nine and a half,” Nick said lamely. “She came to see me a few times.” But not enough, and not at all for the past year and half, because she’d been too sick. And Nick hadn’t managed to get his ass on an airplane to the east coast to see her.
Because for all that he was a Navy SEAL, had made it through the most rigorous training program on the planet, and regularly carried out dangerous combat missions, deep down Nick was weak. A coward.
Even though he’d known better to believe her false assurances that she was feeling well and she was having no problem with the chemo, Nick had planned to visit three times in the past six months, only to postpone it at the last minute. All because he was afraid of coming face to face with the reason why he’d left.
Now it was too late, and Joan was dead. Not because of the breast cancer that the doctors had been treating aggressively, but so far successfully, but because of an infection. Any normal healthy person would have been able to fight it off, but with her immune system depressed by the chemo, her body hadn’t stood a chance against the virulent bacteria.
And Nick, her only son, the only close family she had left, hadn’t dragged his sorry ass home to say goodbye.
“I’m sorry,” Nick said, as much to his mother as to Robby. “I should have come home more often.”
Robby’s mouth pulled down at the corners, his eyes dark with sympathy. “I get it. I remember how everything went down. Speaking of, have you seen—” Robby’s voice cut off abruptly. “Never mind. Here she comes.”
Nick followed Robby’s gaze into the crowd. His entire body went hot, then cold when he spotted her. Sarah Decker, the reason he’d never returned to Greenwich after that last, ill-fated visit nine years ago.
Just like the first time he’d spotted her the first day of seventh grade homeroom, Nick was unable to take his eyes off her as she moved through the crowd. She stopped to talk to several mourners on the way over, her light blonde hair falling over her shoulder, obscuring her face as she leaned in to listen to Dr. Hicks, the superintendent of the schools.
Nick braced himself as though for impact, summoning up all of his hard earned discipline as he threw his shoulders back an
d lifted his chin in full (military) stance. Gaze forward, unseeing. Impervious, impenetrable.
Then she was there, and he felt his meager defenses strain under the force of her tentative smile, her teary, “Hi, Nick.”
“Sarah,” he said, hoping she didn’t notice how he was drinking in the sight of her. Other than a few fine lines around her blue eyes, she looked exactly the same as she had nine years ago. Her body was still slim and modestly curved beneath a form fitting, sleeveless black dress.
With her big blue eyes and fine, almost delicate features, fair skin with its dusting of freckles, and slender frame, her beauty was in stark contrast to Nick’s dark good looks and tall, muscled frame.
They used to joke about how when they had kids their features would cancel each other out.
The memory hit him out of nowhere like a knife in his gut, and it took every ounce of strength he had not to double over.
They’d had so many dreams, so many plans for the life they were going to build together. Then on September 11 the towers had come crashing down. Killing a half dozen of their close friends. Killing Sarah’s father, who had been on flight 93, on his way to a board meeting.
Nick had known, with every fiber of his being, he needed to do something meaningful with his life. Something that would have a bigger impact on the world than working at some investment bank trying to spin money into more money by moving it around.
The attack had come just one month into their senior year of college, throwing their lives into turmoil along with the rest of the country. Sarah had pushed through her grief, insisting that her father would want her to finish school and go on with their lives.
Though Nick had broached the subject of joining the military after graduation, Sarah would always immediately change the subject, determined that their lives would go on exactly as before. Frustrated, Nick had stopped trying to win her over, thinking he’d make a move and leave her no choice but to deal with it.
So in July of 2002, two weeks after they had graduated from college—him from Boston College where he’d gone on a football scholarship, her from Harvard—Nick had canceled the interview one of Marcus Decker’s former colleagues had set up for him at Goldman Sachs. Instead, Nick headed to the local recruitment office to enlist in the Navy.
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