A new release and a FREEBIE!

By DL Jackson

Hi, everyone! I’m stopping by today to share my latest release, Beauty and the Brigadier and a freebie.

First the Freebie. Being Prince Charming will be available for 5 days, until Wednesday, January 15th. Here’s the link to snag your copy:

Being Prince Charming--Free for Kindle

Now the new release. In the spirit of Cinderella Wore Combat Boots and Being Prince Charming, Beauty and the Brigadier brings you another story of romantic challenges faced by those in the military. Eli is a Major General, Anya a supermodel on her way out of the industry. Eli needs a date to an important event, but he’s having a hard time reaching out and asking someone, feeling guilty about dating another woman after his wife passed more than two years before. He’s lonely. He’s cranky.

Madame Eve to the rescue.

Beauty and the Brigadier

Come help me celebrate a new release and get your free copy for Prince Charming rides off into the sunset.

Blurb:

When the Cold War meets apple pie, sparks fly.

Brigadier General Eli Wells needs a date, but he’s not been out socially since his wife passed two years before. The lack of a personal life is making him unbearable to be around and the staff has even begun to call him the beast behind his back.

When he asks his Aide-De Camp to find him a date for a special party, his best friend and post commander, overhears the conversation and sees an opening to help Eli out of his slump. Together, the lieutenant and major general enlist the help of Madam Eve in hopes that Eli will agree to the setup. Heaven knows, someone needs to get him to relax.

Anya Volkov’s modeling days are over. At the suggestion of her former agent and only friend, she elects to try an internet dating service called 1Night Stand. The first time she meets General Eli Wells, she knows he’s everything she asked for and more, but he also seems to be holding back and testing her. Can she get him to loosen up and take a chance, or will the date be over before it starts?

Excerpt:

Eli saluted back. “We have a special visitor today, Sergeant Major Danners. Would you put the troops at parade rest while I retrieve her?”

“My pleasure, sir.” He saluted again.

Eli returned it and headed for Anya.

Danners did another about face. “Parade rest!”

Off to the left, beside Lieutenant Winters, stood his date, dressed in gray shorts and a standard issue Army T-shirt. A size too small with the way it stretched over her breasts, but he wouldn’t complain. Her legs practically stretched to the sky. Anya wore her curves with confidence, demonstrating she couldn’t care less about looking like the typical, bag-of-bones model. She sported an hourglass figure, with softness where it belonged, and her face—her face could be an angel’s.

She didn’t appear the least out of place. He strode over to her, taking her hand. “Ms. Volkov.” He kissed her knuckles. “I’m General Eli Wells, your date.”

“Nice to meet you, Eli.”

He tucked her hand through the crook of his arm and walked her in front of the formation.

“Attention,” Danners commanded and did an about face. They exchanged salutes again and the sergeant major turned the formation over, taking his place on Eli’s left.

“This is Ms. Volkov, a celebrity. She is my guest for the day and will be running PT with us this morning.”

“Hu-ah,” the troops barked back. He smiled. They sure as hell were showing a lot of enthusiasm today, but who could blame them. Even at fifty, the woman was drop-dead beautiful and eye candy.

“Treat her with courtesy, but show her how we do this in the Army.”

“Yes, sir!”

He turned to the old non-com. “They’re all yours, Sergeant Major.” He saluted and Eli returned it one last time. While Danners began to lead the unit through stretches, Eli turned to Anya. “You ready to run four miles?”

“Excellent. I thought I’d miss out on it this morning.”

“You run?”

“You could say so, General Wells. Try to keep up.”

He raised a brow. “Why, Ms. Volkov, a challenge?”

“You bet your combat boots it was. Please, call me Anya.”

“Right face,” Danners called and the unit turned. “Forward—march! Your left, your left, your left right left.”

“You better be sure of yourself, Anya. Last chance to drop out before we set the pace for this unit.”

“I never back away when I want something.” She winked and gave him a hip bump. A freaking hip bump. God—not what he’d expected at all. Maybe he’d enjoy this date after all.

“Double time—march!”

Meet a real Cinderella!

Buy Cinderella Wore Combat Boots HERE

Hi everyone! You may notice that I’m not Bunny. No, she’s decided to chase after one of the sexy Pararescuemen that Bobby introduced her to back in March. And while I’m not a sexy Demon, my author does like to refer to me as a bunny. The Energizer Bunny, that is. Hey, I can’t help it that I never run out of ideas. Might as well get them down before I do run out one day, right? So, today, I’m interviewing retired First Sergeant Cori Valentine from Cinderella Wore Combat Boots.

Cori: Good Morning. And what name do you go by?

My author has many names for me, but I prefer to be called Élan. I have to tell you, Cori,  we have a lot in common. We just keep going and going until the job is done. But recently you were told you had to stop, that you had to retire. How did you react to that?

All my life I’ve been in the Corps. My Marines are my family. I wasn’t just faced with saying goodbye to my career, but my family. Unless you’ve been there, it’s hard to understand the bond you have with your brothers and sisters in arms. I was ready to show them I could do it, but the military is cutting back, and those who had medical issues, had to go.

I would fight them all the way, too. But they did plan an extravagant retirement party for you, complete with some surprises. Like a date, perhaps?

Yeah, about that. I didn’t want it. I didn’t want to be reminded of that ticking clock. It really felt like my life was over, that everything I had worked for was being taken from me. Then my good buddy, Gunny, convinced me to get onboard. A photo, a new dress, even though I’d wanted to wear my uniform, and boots, something I could walk in without landing flat on my ass in front of everyone. My old injury wasn’t having any of the high heels.

And I heard your unit took you shopping. That in itself is a situation jammed packed with plot bunnies. I mean imagine all those sexy, young men and who they could meet. My author is going to kill me. Okay, so how was the shopping trip?

Okay, there is a reason you shouldn’t take men shopping. I think I tried on every dress in that shop before I had one foisted on me at the last second, to replace a strip of fabric one of the guys tried to pass off as a gown. Surprise. It turned out to be the right dress. Nothing to trip on, and my color—red. Then Gunny slid a pair of patent leather combat boots under the door, the same kind the USO used for some of their dancers. I couldn’t say no. They were perfect.

They would be my preference, too. And your date? I mean, I heard you got all hot and bothered just by looking at his picture. What did you think when you actually met Sol in person?

Well, it was kind of hard not to. He’s that kind of man when you walk by him, you risk getting whip-lash from the double-take. Meeting him in person.... Much more than I expected.

Oh, I’d love to meet him. Can you explain to us what your role in the Marines was before retirement?

I was a First Sgt. I worked as an MP before that, and encountered an IED at a checkpoint. The shrapnel from the explosion destroyed my hip. The surgeons weren’t sure they could put me back together, and I was told point blank, I’d likely never walk again. But I showed them. I walked, with a limp, but I walked, so when they told me I had to retire or be medically discharged, you can understand how it wrecked my world.

Good for you for proving them wrong. Though it still sucks that you had to retire. And how do you fill your days now? I can’t see you just sitting down and accepting retirement.

I work for Sol at his company Serve and Protect. We make protective equipment for the military and for police and fire departments. We also have a lab that develops bionic prosthesis, eyes, limbs, hearing and we’re even working on devices that pick up where severed spines leave off. Our hopes are that someday, individuals with spinal injuries will be able to walk again.

A great goal! And I look forward to seeing the company in the news when that goal is reached. Okay, now for the quickies. You do, do quickies, don’t you? Splendid. *Claps hands together*

How tall does he have to be to take you for a ride? At least six foot. I’m tiny, but I love a man that I can look up to.

Chocolate or Vanilla? Both.

Boxers or briefs? Commando

Beer or champagne? Beer

Mustache or clean-shaved? Clean-shaved

Skin art or unaltered canvas? Depends on what’s on their skin. Another woman’s name—turnoff. His trident—hot.

Does size matter? *Raises brow*

And I’m pretty sure I know the answer to this, but heels or flats? Boots.

Thanks for stopping by, Cori, and giving us the scoop on your date. I understand you have a tell-all book out about your night called, Cinderella Wore Combat Boots. Do you have the link where readers can buy it? Cinderella Wore Combat Boots

Okay, keep your eyes open next month when Bunny will be back to interview.

Bye, bye for now!

Thanks for having me, Elan.

Cinderella Wore Combat Boots

Release day is the day I normally show you the cuts that didn’t make it into the final story, but for Cinderella Wore Combat Boots, I can’t do that.

Okay, not what you think. This is the first story that went so smoothly while I was writing it, I honestly didn’t have any big chunks to cut. Really. Every word I penned was a joy. I pounded away at the keyboard, laughing my ass off while I captured the personalities of my reluctant Cinderella on paper.

Since this is a military story, I’m dipping into my journal from my Army days, and I’m going to give you a little taste of life while I was enlisted. One of these entries actually made it into a story I’m currently working on.

The reason I originally kept a journal wasn’t because I was a writer, it was to keep my sanity. I still can remember the day I wrote this piece twenty-two years ago, sitting on the floor, leaning against the washing machine in the barracks on a Sunday afternoon during basic training. Because we couldn’t sit on our bunks, nor did we have any other free time to write, and you just didn’t leave your laundry unattended unless you wanted someone to steal it, I sat down with my notebook and scrawled my experiences down.

Bear in mind, this was written right after it happened and the notes here are just that, notes. It’s not an edited story, but a simple journal entry tweaked to make it reader-friendly, and recently copied from a notebook found stuffed under the bed—if that tells you anything. 

Here’s the first excerpt:

“Get off the bus!”  A man poked his head in the pale green Army bus.  His brown felt hat shadowed his eyes.  “I didn’t stutter.  I said move it.”

We jumped to life in mass confusion, grabbing for duffle bags, suitcases and other belongings.

“If I have to tell you one more time, it’s going to be a very long night.  Move it!”

The passengers panicked some dropping things in the rush to get off.  Two other Drill Sergeants in brown hats waited outside, yelling orders, lining everyone up on a painted yellow line that ran across the pavement in front of us.

I looked down at my luggage, which sat on the ground beside me.  Damn.  I’d left my hat on the bus.

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”  The voice hit me like a wall of concrete.

“I left my…,” I spluttered

“Whatever you left, forget it.  You ain’t gonna need it now.”

“But…”

“You heard me!   I didn’t ask you anything.  If I don’t ask you anything, you don’t talk.  Do you understand?”

I felt tears well up in my eyes and I nodded, looking down.

“I asked you a question,” Smokey the Bear barked.  “Let’s try this again.  Do you understand?”  He dipped down and looked up into my face.  “What are you doing?  Look at me when I talk to you,” the drill instructor’s voice pounded at me.  “You ain’t nothing.”

“Yes, sir,”I mumbled.

“What!  What?  I ain’t no sirrrr.  I’m a sergeant.  From here on out you will address me as drill sergeant.  Do you understand?  Nod that head one more time and you’ll be holding up earth all night.”  His breath was in my face, so close I could taste what had been on the menu that night.

“Yes drill sergeant.”

“Yesss drill sergeant,” he mimicked me in a whiney female voice.  “Grab some balls when you answer me.”

I didn’t have balls so I wasn’t quite sure what the hell it was he wanted.  “Yes, sir I mean drill sergeant,” I said a little louder and glanced toward the end of the line where someone had snickered.

Okay, some of you may wonder what a First Sergeant is. Cori Valentine in Cinderella Wore Combat Boots is of that rank. In the Army and Marines they are an E-8, enlisted rank—non-commissioned officer. They usually have combat experience and are tough as they come. First Sergeants have three chevrons on the top, three rockers on the bottom and a diamond in the middle of their rank. They are the highest ranking non-com in the company and represent the commander when he isn’t present. Your First Sergeant can be your best ally, or worst enemy. They don’t take shit from anyone, and they’ve earned the right. Here’s a bit from a WIP I’m working on where you meet one of my favorite First Sergeants from my Army days. The real deal was really a big teddy bear, but he did have that eye thing going.

Here’s an Excerpt from One Shot, a WIP:

“Good morning, Charlie Company,” the first sergeant barked.

“Good morning, first sergeant.”

“As you’ve noticed we have females in the ranks.” He paced along the front of the formation and stopped in front of Smitty, giving her an up and down appraisal. “The Army in its infinite wisdom has decided to train them to be snipers and quarter them with infantry.” He turned and continued back the other way. “You will treat them with respect as you would any male soldier. There will be no fraternization with the female trainees. They’re here to become snipers and to infantry soldiers, not get dates. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, first sergeant,” the formation yelled out.

“Parade rest.” We stepped out, spreading our legs and placing our arms behind us.

“We have three instructors who will be in charge of our female trainees and will be with them every step of the way. I don’t care that our instructors are here for the specialized training, if they tell you to do something, do it.”

“Yes first Sergeant.”

As he began to introduce them, my heart leapt into my throat. There he stood. Tall, dark, dangerous—and off limits.

Off Limits’s eyes swept over the formation and stopped to rest on me. The corner of his mouth curled. I could swear heat sparked in their depths, sending my stomach tumbling.

This time his jaw was clean-shaven, his hair cut short. He wore it well. It was hard not to stand there and drool like an idiot. Somehow I managed to keep it off my chin.

There was no mistaking he was a soldier today. In the daylight, he looked twice as lethal. He raised a brow and then had the nerve to wink. The last thing I heard the first sergeant say was his name, “Staff Sergeant. Perez.” 

“Shit,” I muttered. An instructor, Rachel?

“Do you have something to say, Sergeant Davis?” The first sergeant homed in on me like a laser-guided missile. Damn, the man had excellent hearing. Not good. First day, bad impression. Oops.

“No, first sergeant.”

“In the infantry, we don’t talk in formation unless we’re addressed.”

“Yes, first sergeant.”

“Do you think you’re special, Sergeant Davis?”

“No, first sergeant.”

 The next words from his mouth seemed to blast across the post. “Seems we’ve got a celebrity in our company.” 

My heart skipped several beats. How’d he know my secret? Not even my prior unit, or my best friend Smitty knew. 

The first sergeant bulldozed his way through the ranks to get to me, not bothering to go around. He went nose to nose, an inch from my face. His breath smelt like a mixture of Copenhagen and toothpaste. One eye looked forward, spearing straight through me, the other drifted off, looking somewhere to the right, almost skyward. Any other time and I might have been distracted and stared, it was hard not to, but the fact that the man scared the piss out of me, seemed to be enough. Still, it took all my strength not to shift my gaze to the ground. Instead, I fixed my attention on an object in the distance and prayed he didn’t notice. 

So now you know where the inspiration for Cinderella Wore Combat Boots came from. I hope you enjoyed my post and don’t forget to purchase a copy to help wounded warriors. All the proceeds I earn from the sale of this story will go to The Wounded Warrior Project. 

Stop by my website, http://authordljackson.com to check out the book trailer for Cinderella Wore Combat Boots and also take a sneak peek at my future release with Decadent, This Endris Night.

Carry on.

D L Jackson.