I love writing about SEALs. They are so alpha, so sexy and so heroic.  I know you’ve been hearing about my latest release, RIDE THE MUSTANG, and I’m giving you just a taste again to remind you of what a make animal he is. But I also thought I’d give you a peek at my earlier release, COYOTE HEAT.


Miguel “Coyote” Cruz is happy to join his SEAL Team Arapaho teammates for a wild weekend at Key West. After all, they just came off a particularly tough mission and Coyote is ready to let it all hang out. The love ’em and leave ’em Cruz sees the female population of the tourist town as a veritable banquet for him. The last thing he expects is to meet a woman who gives new meaning to hot sex but who also singes his heart. What’s a no-commitment SEAL to do?


The pier was jammed, both the covered area and the pier where tables were shaded with colorful umbrellas.

“I’ll get us a couple of beers,” Zeus volunteered. “You see if you can find us some pretty ladies to sit with.”

Coyote nodded his head and turned, smacking his elbow into something soft but solid.

“Watch it, you troglodyte,” a sharp female voice spit at him.

He would have laughed if the woman standing next to him hadn’t looked so mad. He guessed her height at five foot four, her heart shaped face framed by a tumble of rich brown curls streaked with gold. Her eyes were the color of the Atlantic but right now they looked like they were spitting electric blue fire at him.

His gaze dropped lower, taking in her navy and white dress, a simple thing with narrow straps with a bodice that hugged her lovingly. Now it was hugging her even more, since he’d apparently knocked into her and made her spill her drink all over herself. Holy shit! This was better than a wet t-shirt contest. He couldn’t take his eyes from the way the material clung to her breasts, nipple outlined in detail. Nor could he do anything about his cock which immediately stood at attention and begged to salute. He could only hope she was too distracted to catch the bulge at his crotch.

“Well?” she demanded. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Apologize? Help?” He reached his arm between two bodies at the bar, grabbed a handful of small paper napkins and started blotting her dress.

“Not that, you jackass.” She used her free hand to smack his away. “Keep your paws off of me.”

Coyote stepped back an inch, all the space allowed, and held his hands up in front of him. “Okay, okay. I said I’m sorry.” He flashed her what he thought of as his unbeatable smile. “How about if I buy you a drink?”

If she was outraged before, she looked to be at the screaming stage now.

“A drink? A drink? Are you crazy? Look at what you did to me.” She dumped what was left in the glass over his head. “Maybe that will teach you some manners.” She turned to the girl standing beside her taming it all in with unconcealed humor. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Leave? But Cori, we just got here.”

“So? Big deal. If all we’re going to find are jerks like that then it isn’t worth staying. Besides, I’ve got to get out of these wet clothes. Damn.” She groaned. “And I was really looking forward to tonight, too.”

She turned on her heel and shoved her way through the crowd, leaving her friend to hustle to keep up with her.

“Here.” Zeus shoved a handful of material at him.

Coyote looked down at it. “What’s this?”

“Sunset Pier t-shirt. I figured you’d need something to wipe that egg off your face.” He slapped Coyote on the back. “Go change. It was worth the price of the shirt just to watch.”

Grumbling to himself, he pushed and shoved his way to the men’s room, stripped off the soaked shirt and exchanged it for the dry one. In a spurt of anger he tossed the wet garment into the trash and dusted his hands, as if erasing any trace of the spitfire who’d doused him. What was with her, anyway? It wasn’t as if he’d done it on purpose.


Fletcher “Mustang” Call is a dedicated SEAL and a committed Dom. The one thing he isn’t is relationship material. A tragedy in his past killed his desire for more than a good time on leave and a little D/s play. Until April Coe walked into his life, a woman unlike any he’s known. Problem is, she’s as vanilla as they come.

April was warned about Mustang, a man as wild and free as his call sign, so she doesn’t expect him to stick around for long. That’s okay, she’ll enjoy the great sex while she can. At least, she thought it was great. When she senses her sexy bronco is holding back, she has to decide whether to ride the mustang a little harder or set him free.


Mustang checked the time on his watch. They’d be coming up on the jump area pretty soon. His brain automatically clicked back into mission mode, and he blanked out everything else. Across the cabin, the other members of this four-man team—Jimmy “Casino” Fong and Alvaro “Bandit” Diaz—were checking their gear. Mustang and Iceman would jump, the other two would stay in the helo to help rope them and the rescued hostage back up and lay down covering fire if they needed it.

As with the team in the other chopper as well as others at the base at Dam Neck, they had all gone through BUD/S together. When you survived that hell as a group, it bonded you forever. He never doubted they would have each other’s backs. It was what made their missions so successful.

His breathing slowed, and his mind blanked everything but the jump ahead and the landing spot. Once again, he called up the visual of the map, the images of the jungle, its thickness of trees and foliage, and the one spot they could target for the extraction. The other team’s mission was to get the hostage there. That was it. By whatever means. Mustang’s team would retrieve and extract.

The pilot turned and shouted back into the cabin.  “Five minutes, guys. Get ready.”

HALO jumps—High Altitude, Low Opening—were always tricky. They had to estimate exactly when to deploy the chute or they were in a world of hurt. He had done them more times than he could count but he could never take anything for granted.

At the pilot’s signal, he and his teammates moved to the cabin door and slid it open, pushing against the force of the air outside. And began the countdown.

One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi.

Iceman leaped and disappeared into the dark of the night sky, Mustang right on his heels.

Extending his arms and legs to balance himself, he let his body fall through the air currents, waiting until the last minute to open his chute. They landed in the small clearing he had memorized from the map and pulled in their chutes. Both of them stared into the jungle, listening for the sound of running feet.

Come on, come on. We need to hurry the fuck up.

Five minutes. That was what they agreed based on the time of the other HALO drop. Otherwise, he and Iceman would have to go hunting in the jungle. He alternated between checking his watch and scanning the area. High above, the chopper hovered, waiting for the signal to extract them.

At the four minute count, his ears picked up the sound of feet rushing through the jungle, disrupting the foliage, and then they were there, Cliff “Falcon” Schrader from the other team and the rescued captive. Mustang pressed the button on his radio.

“Come and get us. Now.”

The helo flew lower until it hovered scant inches above the ground.

“Get your ass in gear,” Bandit shouted.

Falcon dragged the pale, bedraggled man to the chopper and practically threw him into the cabin. Falcon heaved himself in as Casino and Bandit took up positions in the open doorway, feet braced on the skids. Mustang and Iceman backed toward the helo, guns at the ready, watching for the enemy. The two of them had just reached the chopper and were being hauled inside when Mustang heard the heavy pounding of footsteps headed in their direction and loud voices shouting. He and Iceman paused and sprayed bullets into the foliage as men emerged.

“Haul ass,” Bandit yelled. He and Casino began laying down cover fire with their HK MP5N 9mm NATO assault weapons. Mustang and his teammates lovedthe compact MP5s, developed specifically for the SEALs. The heavy artillery certainly gave pause to the rebels who burst into the clearing. The two SEALs never took their fingers off the triggers as the chopper lifted into the air, only scrambling back inside once they were safely in the sky.

Mustang sprawled on the cabin floor with his teammates, taking deep breaths, weapons by their sides. Mission executed as planned. Falcon looked over their rescued hostage, handing him a bottle of water, checking his body for injuries.

“Just another day at the office,” Bandit joked. “Right?”

“Without a doubt,” Mustang agreed. “Didn’t miss a step.”

Would he be able to say the same about his relationship with April?