Anthology of 8 Navy
SEAL novellas by New York Times, USA Today and award-winning bestselling
authors: Marliss Melton, Gennita Low, Teresa Reasor, Elle James,
Delilah Devlin, Stephanie Tyler, J.M. Madden and Sharon Hamilton
HOLDING ON by New York Times Bestselling author
Stephanie Tyler:
(a novella set in
the Hold series - originally published in SEAL of My Dreams altho) Jamie
Michaels is an FBI Agent, married to a Navy SEAL…and about to give birth while
her husband’s deployed. Navy SEAL Chris Waldron’s been on some impossible
missions before, but getting home in time for the birth of his son might prove
to be the toughest–and most rewarding mission of all.
A quick note from Stephanie:
This story is set approximately six and a
half months from the end of HOLD ON TIGHT. So many readers asked about what was
happening with the Navy SEAL brothers from the HOLD series (HARD TO HOLD, TOO
HOT TO HOLD, HOLD ON TIGHT), I thought this was the perfect opportunity to
catch everyone up.
This story has also been featured in the
anthology, SEAL of My Dreams.
Chris
told her, “I walked ten miles in the snow, uphill. And don’t think this kid
will ever hear the end of it.”
His
different color eyes stood out in stark contrast to his very tanned skin. Jamie
reached out and stroked his cheek, just to make sure he was real. “You just got
in?”
“About an
hour ago. Roads are impassable.”
“Not for
you.”
“Not for you,”
he countered as her fingers skittered over the buttons on his jacket before
skimming the icy material off him, letting it falls to the floor.
He stood
patiently, this familiar act becoming something of a ritual between them. It
was like she had to catalogue everything when he came back—every smile, every
scratch—and he let her, without complaint.
Her pace
quickened as she touched the cold skin on his biceps. She needed to get him
warm, wanted him skin to skin with her. At this moment, that was her only
mission and the only one that mattered.
She
pulled the shirt over his head next, his dogtags clinking and coming to rest on
his bare chest, and saw where the blood had come from. The gauze that covered
his size was large, but clean.
“It’s
nothing,” he told her and she didn’t press even as she continued to memorize
the other, numerous bruises and scrapes littering his upper body. He wore them
as if they were nothing. He bent and took off his boots, but only
because she couldn’t. And then she helped him off with his pants next—he eased
them off and laid them on a chair carefully because they were heavy with some
of his gear.
“Rough
trip home?”
“Not so
bad,” he said.
“Why are
there chicken feathers coming out of your pocket?”
“Just be
grateful the walk home in the storm washed away the smell.”
“Most of
it,” she teased.
“Fuck,
you look beautiful,” he murmured, a hand on her swollen belly.
“Big.”
“Gorgeous,”
he corrected, and he meant it.
“Let me
clean you off,” she murmured. “Come on.”
He
followed her to the bathroom, sat on the edge of the bathtub while she wet a washcloth and wiped the paint and dirt from his face
gently, like she was uncovering the real him again, like she did every time he
came back.
It would
never be that easy—coming home rarely was for these men, she’d learned—but this
helped connect them again.
He let
her finish with his face and neck, both knowing he needed more than a
washcloth, but he wasn’t complaining. He’d stripped completely before he sat
down and it was warm enough to where he’d stopped shivering.
“Thanks,”
he said when she was done, and she cupped his clean face in her hands as time
dropped away and it was their first time together on the plane or the second in
Africa before things went bad and it all blended together in a wonderful way.
Their history.
He made
her sentimental; she’d never been that way before. “Why don’t you take a nice,
hot shower and then—”
“Later,”
he said, the way she’d hoped he would before standing and pulling her close.
And then
she couldn’t wait—had never wanted anyone more. No words were necessary—he was
on her the way he’d been from day one. Logistics were of course trickier but
the man and his body seemed to bend in ways that were superhuman. Chris’s hands
were weapons all their own—the fact that they roamed her body with such gentle
and purposeful need made it all the better. And when he took her, all was right
in the world again. His mouth covered her skin, his kisses hot against her neck
as he trailed his tongue in a way that made her squirm with pleasure. She
exploded, then melted and he was far from done.
She
hadn’t known how badly she’d needed this. Beyond the sex, she’d simply needed
to be in his arms.
New York Times Bestselling author Stephanie
Tyler was a Secondary Ed teacher for grades ranging from middle school to
college while she pursued a PhD in English Literature, all while trying to
convince herself that she would get back to her dream of writing as a career eventually.
When her daughter was born with serious medical problems, Stephanie found
inspiration in the fighter her child proved to be—and found her own way back to
writing. She’s published in a variety of genres, including romantic
suspense, new adult and paranormal romance, and she also co-writes erotic
paranormal romance under the name Sydney Croft. She lives in New York
with her husband, her kids and her crazy Weimaraner, Gus, and they’re all cool
with the fact that she’s permanently on deadline.
You can
contact Stephanie through her website: www.StephanieTyler.com for more information on the Hold series and her other books, for news on
upcoming titles and more!
Thanks for hosting!!
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