#Military #RomanticSuspense #Romance #Suspense #MilitaryRomance #ProjectMorpheus #NewRelease #SilentComrade #HiddenComrade #FallenComrade #OnSale #99cents
A military dude who thinks ‘haute’ is a temperature setting must help a flighty fashionista create the fashion show of the decade … before it becomes the world’s most explosive catwalk!
Silent Comrade
Project Morpheus Book 3
by Jillian David
Genre: Military Romantic Suspense
The
Project Morpheus series: Military romance, steamy passion, and
heart-stopping suspense.
The Morpheus Squad: Ultimate soldiers
who hide in plain sight, fierce protectors risking their existence
for those they love ... and virally-altered, ticking time
bombs.
Ex-Special Forces soldier, Alfred “Red” Newman, never met a mission he couldn’t execute—with or without enhanced abilities. But protecting whirling dervish fashion student, Britt McNeill? The tough veteran will need combat pay and Excedrin. If he can’t shield her from Beau Lequire, a power-hungry CFO whose need for revenge has no limits, then Britt won’t be a pawn in Lequire’s sick game. She’ll be dead.
After battling anxiety and devastating losses in her personal life, Britt longs to make her family proud and accomplish her dream of becoming a fashion designer. Enter Red, a transfer student who can’t tell the difference between plaid and paisley, but whose unnaturally-quick reflexes … and scorching kisses … knock her off stride. When Red demands that she ditch her senior project to go into hiding? No way. The show must go on.
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Hidden Comrade
Project Morpheus Book 2
The Project Morpheus series: Military romance, steamy passion, and heart-stopping suspense.
The Morpheus Squad: Ultimate soldiers who hide in plain sight, fierce protectors risking their existence for those they love... and virally-altered, ticking time bombs.
Pele Tuitama’s Morpheus Squad mission infiltrating a Smoky Mountain children's camp is FUBAR. He might be a virally-enhanced military experiment, but augmented abilities won’t help him protect Reagan McNeill, the most unsecure-able target imaginable. Sweet Reagan’s kisses and the possibility of a future he should never consider, distracts his laser focus. If Pele can’t keep Reagan safe from an evil adversary bent on revenge against the entire McNeill family, then Reagan will die.
Fallen Comrade
Project Morpheus Book 1
**On Sale for Only .99cents 8/29 – 9/5!!**
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“Is relaxing under the stars part of the traditional meal?” Reagan’s face entered his field of vision.
A flash of her body above him shot a bolt of desire into his groin. The damned virus growled its demand for action.
He tugged on one of her braids. “It should be. What about S’mores?”
“They’re traditional campfire snacks here at Camp Foxfire.”
“Then teach me.”
With a nod, she handed him a stick. “Okay. You put two marshmallows on and roast them.”
He immediately thrust the white sugar puffs into the flame and they caught fire. “I don’t think that’s correct,” he said as the sugar turned to black carbon.
“Actually.” She blew out the flame. “Some people like the burnt flavor. Try it. Be careful, it’ll be like molten lava inside.”
He took a bite of the marshmallow, getting a smoky, thin crust and a hot, gooey sugary center. Not bad.
“Now, if you want to do it the expert way, ahem, then you must learn patience. The color you’re going for is light caramelized brown, which is the most perfect color for a roasted marshmallow.”
“I’m light caramelized brown, does that count as perfect?”
A snicker burst from her lips. “Sure, if paired with melted chocolate.” She clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh. Never mind.”
A flash of Reagan licking chocolate off of his body sent another inappropriate jolt straight to his throbbing pelvis. Focusing on the task at hand, he followed her lead and kept the marshmallows well above the heat until they were bubbled and brown.
“Hold our sticks.” She reached into the other packages. “Next step is turning them into S’mores.” She sandwiched the steaming marshmallow between a second graham cracker and chocolate combo and slid the stick out. “Okay, try it.”
He bit down and got a burst of warm sugar, semi-melted chocolate, and crunchy graham cracker. “This is really good.”
“I know.” She sat back down on the tarp. “Simple but fun.” She sighed. He followed the line of her neck as she swallowed a bite.
“What?” A furrow formed between her brows.
“You have marshmallow on your face.”
She swiped at her nose and cheek. “Got it?”
The tiny piece of white remained on her lower lip. “Not quite.”
He leaned forward and licked his lips. She froze.
Gently. He would be careful. Shoving aside the drive to consume her, mark her, take her, he concentrated on Reagan’s sweet face instead. “May I?”
“Okay,” she whispered.
He nipped her lower lip and a tiny shot of sugar combined with the taste of her lips burst on his tongue. Ti’o. Perfection. In a flash, his damned viral-driven lust infused every cell with a blinding wave of need. He wanted to possess her, here, under the stars and in front of the fire. Primitive and perfect.
“Mmm.” He nipped at her soft lips, tasting, and licking.
Angling his head, he slid his tongue along the seam of her mouth. His senses were overloaded with wood smoke, sugar, fresh air, and Reagan’s soft skin.
A faint warning alarm chimed.
Trailing his lips down one side of her face, he enjoyed the tiny sounds she made. He eased her back onto the tarp and exposed her smooth neck. With his finger, he traced the jumping pulse and dropped light kisses until she moaned.
She gripped his bare forearms. Then Reagan drew him down to meet her lips for a sizzling kiss that made every muscle in his torso clench.
Bracing his hands next to her head, he kept his lower body to one side. She’d be less likely to encounter the hidden knives and guns. Also, ti’o, the minute he got fully on top of her, all best intentions to take things slowly would fly out the window. As it was, the need to grind into her shifting hips was becoming a priority. A wave of desire, amplified by his virus, rushed over him until a buzzing sound traveled through his chest.
When she slid her hands under his shirt, he hissed his pleasure but couldn’t risk her finding the Sig. He eased her hands away and laced his fingers in hers above her head, trying to sell the move as part of the seduction.
Nudging her mouth open wider, he swept his tongue deep inside. He ran his hands down her sides and squeezed her hips through the denim until she whimpered. What would it feel like to hold on to her bare skin as he drove into her until he lost his mind?
He retained only the barest sliver of control.
When she lifted her head to brush her mouth against his, his leg vibrated.
Vibrations.
On his leg. Vibrating.
His leg?
The buzzing continued. Through the fog of lust, he registered the source and woke up in a hurry, like cold water thrown on hot stones.
Kefe. The motion detectors had activated. Cold sweat dried in the heat of the fire.
Now he positioned himself on all fours, but this time it was to shield her as he cursed the bright fire that knocked out his night vision.
He scanned the dark woods. Enemies? Where?
Award-winning and bestselling author Jillian David quickly writes then slowly edits paranormal, suspense and adventure romances. She loves to use medical situations and characters to drive drama in her books. Her favorite cell is the platelet and her least-favorite organ is the pancreas. She fully believes that curse words, when appropriately deployed during surgery, are hemostatic. Which also explains why no book of hers will ever bleed out...
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ReplyDeleteThank you! I hope you enjoy the series!
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DeleteThis sounds like a great military romantic suspense read. I like the cover and excerpt.
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