Hot SEAL, Confirmed Bachelor

by Cynthia D'Alba

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  ** Cold Beer ** is part of the Diamond Lakes, Texas Series and Sand Castle Resort series. Each book can be read as a stand-alone. They do not have cliffhanger endings.

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  **Hot SEAL, Cold Beer** is also in the “SEALs in Paradise” connected series. Each book in the multi-author branded SEALs in Paradise series can be read stand-alone, and individual books do not have to be read in any particular order.

  Read on for an excerpt:

  If there was one thing Dr. Jennifer Pierce hated, it was not being in control. She’d rather tell people what to do than be told. She despised surprises and was much more comfortable in situations where she had all the information. And, most importantly, she maintained a firm discipline over all emotions, especially her own.

  However, right now, she was as nervous as a first-year med student holding a scalpel in surgery, and that irritated her, which only amped up her anxiety.

  She agitated the martini shaker violently, the ice clanging against the stainless-steel container like a hail storm. After pouring the dry martini into a glass, she took a long, steadying sip.

  Yeah, that didn’t help her nerves.

  On the other hand, the stiff drink didn’t hurt, either.

  With a resigned sigh, she walked to the living room and sat to await Nicholas Falcone. Her brother, Robert, had suggested Falcone as her potential date for a fast-approaching destination wedding. She loved her twin brother and trusted him...mostly. Because historically, the men he believed perfect for her had been so far off the mark as to be not even in the same book, much less on the same page. But she was between a rock and a slab of granite.

  All she knew about this Falcone guy was he worked at McKenzie, Gladwell and Associates with her brother and had been a Navy SEAL. Weren’t they called jarheads? Hell, she didn’t know. She took another gulp of the cold vodka. What she knew about the military wouldn’t fill a shot glass.

  She’d give her brother credit for one thing. If Falcone’s online photo was anywhere accurate, Nicholas Falcone looked the part she needed him to play. When Robert had called her to tell her about his solution to her dateless dilemma, she’d pulled up her brother’s accounting firm on the internet to look at the staff photos and had been pleasantly surprised. The picture had been of a gorgeous guy with a neatly trimmed beard, a sexy smile, and mischievous eyes. Man, she hoped he could carry on a decent conversation and not grunt answers to everything.

  Her doorbell pealed, and her heart jumped in response. Pressing her hand over her quaking stomach, she drew in a calming breath, not that a calming breath had ever helped. So she took the next best option to deep breathing and finished off her martini.

  Carrying her empty glass with her, she opened the door and looked at her potential blind date. Her brain hiccuped or maybe quit functioning altogether. He didn’t look at all like she’d expected and prepared for. In person, he was…more. A whole lot more. With his chiseled cheeks and sharp chin, he was a million times more attractive in real life. His green eyes—a billion times more beautiful than that black-and-white photo showed—held an amused twinkle that coordinated handsomely with his amused smile. And his body? Dear lord. Broad shoulders pulled a white, oxford shirt tightly across them. Long sleeves rolled to mid-forearm exposed thick, ropey muscles that bunched and flexed when he extended his hand.

  “Dr. Pierce. I’m Nikko Falcone.”

  She stepped back, embarrassed that she’d been staring at him. “Of course. I’m sorry. I was…never mind. Not important. Come in.”

  He lowered his hand and stepped into her foyer. The roomy area shrank. She’d expected tall and well-built, but the degree of just how brawny he was registered with a clunk upside her head.

  Taking a step back, she gestured with her martini glass. “I’m having a drink. Can I fix you something?”

  “A cold beer, if you have one.”

  “Sure. Have a seat.” She flipped her hand toward the living room.

  Beer in her refrigerator wasn’t the norm. She wasn’t much of a beer drinker, but since she hadn’t known much about Nicholas Falcone’s drink preferences—or anything at all about him really—she’d stocked a six-pack of beer as well as red wine, white wine, and the makings for any mixed drink imaginable. Always prepared, was her motto.

  She would have made a hell of a boy scout.

  She pulled out a cold bottle, cracked off the top, and got a chilled beer stein from her freezer. While she was there, she also poured herself a fresh vodka martini. Realizing she had too many items and not enough hands, she loaded everything on a tray and went back to the living room.

  “I brought you a glass,” she said, setting the tray on the glass coffee table in front of him. She lifted her martini and took the chair across from him.

  “Bottle’s fine,” he said and took a long draw off the bottle.

  She hid her discomfort with his drinking beer straight from the bottle. The people at the destination wedding they would be attending ran in high-society circles. Beer from bottles had been fine back in college, but now that they were all in their thirties, she was sure her friends, like her, had progressed to more sophisticated drinks and glasses.

  Mentally, she made a note to talk with him about appearances.

  He leaned back on her white sofa, stretched his arm across the back, and crossed an ankle over his knee. That’s when she saw a tattoo peeking out from where the sleeve of his white oxford had been rolled up. From this distance, she could make out tines. A trident? As a doctor, she knew all about the infections that went with tattoos, and she wanted to disapprove. Instead, she got a little turned on. She didn’t like that, or she shouldn’t like that.

  Damn. He had her all confused.

  “So,” she said, trying to gather her wits and the reins to the conversation. “What did Robert tell you?”

  “In a nutshell, you had a fiancé. A big-time corporate lawyer. Said legal-eagle dirtbag got his secretary pregnant. Married her. Dumped you when he got back from his honeymoon. That about right?”

  She winced. “In a nutshell.”

  He lifted the bottle to his lips—which she couldn’t help notice were full and soft. Of course she noticed. She was a doctor. She always observed the human body…especially one like this.

  He swallowed. His Adam’s apple rose and fell with the action.

  She had to get her air conditioning fixed. This room was too warm.

  Hot SEAL, Black Coffee

  A Dallas Debutante/SEALs in Paradise/McCool Trilogy (Book 1)

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  Dealing with a sexy ex-girlfriend, a jewel heist, and a murder-for-hire can make an ex-SEAL bodyguard a tad cranky.

  Trevor Mason accepts what should be a simple job…protect the jewels his ex-girlfriend will wear to a breast cancer fundraiser. As founder and owner of Eye Spy International, he should send one of his guys, but he needs to get his ex out of his system and this is the perfect opportunity to remind himself that she is a spoiled, rich debutante who dumped him with a Dear John letter during his SEAL training.

  Respected breast cancer doctor Dr. Risa McCool hates being in the limelight for her personal life. Her life’s work is breast cancer treatment and research, which she’d rather be known for than for her carefree, partying debutante years. She agrees to be the chairperson for the annual breast cancer fundraiser even though it means doing publicity appearances and interviews, all while wearing the famous pink Breast Cancer Diamond for each public event. The multi-million dollar value of the pink stone requires an armed bodyguard at all times.

  Past attractions flame, proving to be a distraction to the serious reality of the situation. When Risa and the millions in diamonds go missing, nothing will stop Trevor from bringing her home, with or without the jewels.

  Copyright © 2018 Cynthia D’Alba

  All rights reserved — Riante, Inc.

  At two-thirty Monday afternoon, Dr. Risa McCool’s world shifted on its axis. He was back. She wasn’t ready. Bu
t then, would she ever be ready?

  Four hours passed before she was able to disengage from work and go home. As she pulled under the portico of her high-rise building and the condo valet hurried out to park her eight-year-old sedan, her stomach roiled at the realization that Trevor Mason—high school and college boyfriend and almost fiancé—would be waiting for her in her condo, or at least should be. She pressed a shaking hand to her abdomen and inhaled a deep, calming breath. It didn’t work. There was still a slight quiver to her hands as she grabbed her purse and briefcase from the passenger seat.

  She paused to look in the mirror. A tired brunette looked back at her. Dark circles under her eyes. Limp hair pulled into a ponytail at the back of her head. Pale lips. Paler cheeks. Not one of her better looks.

  Would he be the same? Tall with sun-kissed hair and mesmerizing azure-blue eyes?

  Tall, sure. That was a given.

  Eye color would have to be the same, but his sun-bleached hair? His muscular physique? In high school and college, he’d played on the offense for their high school and college football teams, but she had never really understood what he did. Sometimes he ran and sometimes he hit other guys. What she remembered were strong arms and a wide chest. Would those be the same?

  Almost fifteen years had passed since she’d last seen him. He hadn’t come back for their tenth nor their fifteenth high school reunions. The explanation for his absences involved SEAL missions to who knew where. Risa had wondered if she’d ever see him again, whether he’d make it through all his deployments and secret ops.

  Well, he had and now she had to work with him.

  She took a deep breath and slid from the car.

  “Good Evening, Dr. McCool,” the valet said.

  “Evening, John. Do you know if my guest arrived?”

  “Yes, ma’am. About four hours ago.”

  “Do you know if the groceries were delivered?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Cleaning service has also been in.”

  “Thank you. Have a nice evening.”

  “You, too.”

  She acknowledged the guard on duty at the desk with a nod and continued to the private residents-only elevator that opened to a back-door entrance to her condo. After putting her key in the slot, she pressed the button for the forty-first floor and then leaned against the wall for the ride.

  Her anxiety at seeing Trevor climbed as the elevator dinged past each floor. It was possible, even probable, that she had made a mistake following her mother’s advice to employ his company. She was required to have a bodyguard for every public event since the announcement of the pink Breast Cancer Diamond. Her insurance company insisted on it. The jewelry designer demanded it. And worse, her mother was adamant on a guard. How did one say no to her mother?

  Plus, as head of the Dallas Area Breast Cancer Research Center, she’d been tasked with wearing that gaudy necklace with a pink diamond big enough to choke a horse for the annual fundraising gala. The damn thing was worth close to fifteen or twenty million and was heavy as hell. Who’d want it?

  The elevator dinged one last time and the doors slid open. She stepped into a small vestibule and let herself into her place expecting to see Trevor.

  Only, she didn’t.

  Instead there was music—jazz to be specific. She followed the sounds of Stan Getz to her balcony, her heart in her throat.

  A man sat in a recliner facing the night lights of Dallas, a highball in one hand, a cigar in the other.

  “I’m glad to see you stock the good bourbon,” he said, lifting the glass, but not turning to face her. “And my brand, too. Should I be impressed?”

  Her jaw clenched. Their fights had always been about money—what she had and what he didn’t.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Are you impressed?”

  He took a drag off the cigar and chased the smoke down his throat with a gulp of hundred-dollar bourbon. “Naw. You can afford it.”

  “Are you going to look at me or will my first conversation with you in fifteen years be with the back of your head?”

  After stabbing out the cigar, he finished his drink, sat it on the tile floor, and rose. Lord, he was still as towering and overwhelming as she remembered him. At five-feet-ten-inches, Risa was tall, but Trevor’s height made her feel positively petite. As he turned, every muscle in her body tensed as she stood unsure whether she was preparing to fight him, flee from him or fuck him.

  “Hello, Risa.”

  Hot SEAL, Alaskan Nights

  A SEALs in Paradise Novel

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  From NYT and USA Today Best Selling Author comes a beach read that isn’t the typical sun-drenched location. Homer, Alaska. A Navy SEAL on leave. A nurse practitioner in seclusion. A jealous ex-lover looking for redemption…or is it revenge?

  Navy SEAL Levi Van der Hayden, aka Dutch, returns to his family home in Homer, AK for the three Rs…rest, relaxation and recovery. As the only SEAL injured during his team’s last mission, the last thing he wants to do is show his bullet wound to friends…it’s in his left gluteus maximus and he’s tired of being the butt of all the jokes (his own included.)

  After a violent confrontation with a controlling, narcissistic ex-lover, nurse practitioner Bailey Brown flees Texas for Alaska. A maternal grandmother still in residence provides her with the ideal sanctuary…still in the U.S. but far enough away to escape her ex’s reach.

  Attracted to the cute nurse from his welcome home beach party, Levi insists on showing her the real Alaska experience. When her safety is threatened, he must use all his SEAL skills to protect her and eliminate the risk, even if it means putting his own life on the line.

  Copyright © 2019 Cynthia D’Alba

  All rights reserved — Riante, Inc.

  Levi Van der Hayden’s left butt cheek was on fire. He shifted uncomfortably in the back seat of the sub-compact car masquerading as their Uber ride. As soon as he moved, the stitches in his left thigh reminded him that pushing off with that leg was also mistake.

  “We should try to get upgraded when we get to the airport,” Compass said.

  Compass, also known as Levi’s best friend Rio North, was going way out of his way to help Levi get home leave, but at this moment, Levi gritted his teeth at the ridiculous suggestion.

  “I don’t have the money for that and you know it.” Levi, aka Dutch to his SEAL team buds, knew he shouldn’t be so grumpy what with all Compass was doing for him but damn it! Why did he have to be shot in the ass? The guys would never let him live it down.

  He repositioned his hips so most of the weight was on his uninjured right butt cheek.

  “You bring anything for the pain, Dutch?”

  “Took something about an hour ago, which right now seems like last week.”

  The car stopped at the Departure gates of San Diego International Airport. Dutch climbed from the back seat of the way-too-tiny car with a few choice cuss words and stood on the sidewalk. Compass paid the driver and then hefted out two duffle bags. After slinging both onto his shoulders, he gestured toward the airport with his chin.

  Once inside, Compass said, “Seriously Dutch, you need to upgrade. There is no way you are going to be able to stretch out and you know what the doctor said about pulling those stitches.”

  Levi glared at his friend and answered him with a one-finger response.

  Compass grinned back him. “All joking aside, I’ll pay for your upgrade. Your ass literally needs to be in first class.” The asshole then leaned back and glanced down at Levi’s ass…well actually the cheek where he’d been shot coming back from their last fucking mission.

  “No, damn it, Compass, I already told you I can’t afford it and I’m not accepting charity.” Levi knew his friend could afford to upgrade Levi to a big, roomy, first-class seat, but he was already taking Compass way out of his way with this trip. When his friend opened his mouth to speak, Levi held up a hand to stop him. “Not even from you. I appreciate it, man, I really do, but no.” Levi shook his head e
mphatically. “I fucking hate being such a pain in your ass, har har har.”

  To say Levi had been the target of his SEAL team buddies’ relentless butt jokes would be an understatement. They’d been brutal in the way only people who love you can. Levi knew that. Understood that. And would have been there throwing out the butt and ass jokes if it’d been anyone else who’d gotten shot in the ass, but it wasn’t. It was him and he was tired of it. He lowered himself carefully onto a bench.

  Compass looked around and then back to Levi. “Okay, look, I’m going to go talk to the agent over there. I’m not spending a dime, but sometimes they let active duty get upgrades. Let me see what I can do. Okay?”

  Levi followed Compass’s gaze to an attractive brunette behind the Delta service counter. He chuckled. “Damn man, you could pick up a woman anywhere, couldn’t you?”

  Compass shrugged, but his grin said he knew exactly what Levi was talking about. “It’s a God-given talent. But that’s not what this is about. Give me your military ID.”

  Levi pulled out his card, but hesitated. Compass had more money than God, Dropping an thousand or so dollars to change a plane ticket was probably pocket change to him, but not to Levi.

  Compass jerked Levi’s military card out his hand with a snort. “Shit that damaged ass muscle has fucked up your reflexes.”

  “Fuck you, man. It’s the pain meds.” Levi narrowed his eyes at his best friend. “Not a penny, Compass, not a fucking penny. Got it?”

  “Loud and clear.” Compass pointed to him. “Stay here and look pathetic.”

  Compass had only taken a few steps before Levi heard him laugh. God damn asshole.