Bull (Red, Hot, & Blue) by Cat Johnson Page B

Vicki with more questions than answers. Why won’t Ryan let her anywhere near the local women she wants to interview? Who is the mysterious, red-headed Lt. Wales everyone treats with such deference? Worst of all, why is watching Ryan run toward danger, instead of away from it, enough to stop her heart?
    This book has been previously published.
    Warning:Contains super-hot sexual encounters in the war zone.
     
    Enjoy the following excerpt for A Prince Among Men:
    It appeared the press conference would be starting late. Again. In spite of the fact that the overly warm room had long ago filled with reporters, the British Prime Minister had yet to appear to answer their questions.
    Meanwhile, Vicki Vanover had already checked her email on her shiny new phone, organized her notes and had even cleaned all the old crumpled gum wrappers out of the bottom of her oversized bag.
    With an impatient huff, Vicki placed her camera gently on the floor and pulled her cell phone back out of her weathered—okay, perhaps beaten-up was a better description—leather satchel.
    Moments of free time were already too few and far between. Since Vicki was unwillingly experiencing one right now, she might as well use the time to surf over to her newest favorite online pastime, reading military blogs.
    Actually, one milblog in particular. And it was rapidly becoming more than a pastime. Her interest in one specific blog had become a downright obsession.
    She hated to admit it, but she had a little bit of a crush on one of the bloggers. She tried to excuse the attraction to a soldier she’d never met as professional respect for his writing ability. The only problem with that was she rarely found herself all tingly on the inside from reading impressive articles in say… The New York Times .
    Vicki dismissed the feeling of shame her arousal at corresponding with this guy caused. Chances were she’d never meet him, so what harm could a little online crush do? Besides, she figured since her next assignment would have her heading into war-torn Afghanistan, she couldn’t be prepared enough. Milblogs were about as real a taste of what to expect as she could get for now.
    As usual, the milblog’s author, screen name Groundpounder, had responded to her blog comment with one of his own. Vicki felt the warmth grow and spread throughout her belly as she read it.
    My dear Vicki V,
    So glad you liked the last post. As you can see by my newest blog entry, I’ve been buried deep, and not in a good way.
    Enjoy.
    Groundpounder
    After reading his brief but suggestive reply twice, and growing warmer with each reading, she moved on to the new blog post he had alluded to. He had named this installment “The Weather is Here, Wish You Were Beautiful.”
    Vicki smiled, appreciating yet another one of Groundpounder’s frequent Jimmy Buffet song references, and began to scroll through the post she’d anxiously been awaiting on her cell’s small screen.
     
    The next time our B-team leader acts like the sky is falling, I guess I will have to listen to him, because the sky actually fell. Or at least, it rained enough to cave in the roof of one of our mud huts, nearly crushing eleven sleeping men and successfully burying all the equipment in the operations center that couldn’t be thrown out the door before the collapse. That was almost two weeks ago and, forgive me, but it’s been that long since my last blog post. Here’s a rundown of what happened during that time…
    After a few hours of digging that morning—and let us not forget I had just gotten off twenty-four hours of guard duty when the shit, or shall we say the mud, started to fly—we found a few more of the guys’ personal items and cleared a small portion of the rubble. We finally called it quits, at which time the now displaced Joes had to be packed into rooms with the rest of us. So now Sergeant Wallace is sharing our already too small quarters with the squad leader and me.
    It took until yesterday to