Heat seems to be the hot topic right now (sorry, I couldn’t resist). I know, all you have to do is look out at the thermometer to know why. Or enter our kitchen. It’s jam season! Most of our berries get put up in freezer bags so that we can have year-round smoothies, but my wife and I like having the jam too. And the canned cherries. And… well, we really wish we had an air-conditioner at the moment, but it’s the Pacific NW and it doesn’t get this hot that often.
The heat’s also on for other reasons. My latest book is launching on August 1st (yay!) and that is just too much fun. Holding a new book is one of those “I get money for doing this?!” moments. Just makes my heart go all happy and mushy, which shouldn’t be a surprise as I’m a romance author.
I Own the Dawn follows the second woman to ever fly for the Army’s secret helicopter regiment, the SOAR 160th, the Night Stalkers. (The first woman can be found in The Night is Mine.) These real life heroes were first over the horizon in Grenada, Panama, Somalia, bin Laden’s compound, and a thousand places we’ll never hear about. The more I read about them, the more fascinated I became. These are modern day, real life heroes. Makes me look at the world a little differently knowing that they’re out there. I kept looking for a way to tell their story.
Then I thought, what if a woman showed up? Someone who was just so good that they couldn’t turn her away. Sergeant Kee Smith grew up on the wrong side of the streets and is in your face, no holds barred, plain and simple unstoppable. She can run right over anyone. At least until she runs headlong into Lieutenant Archie Stevenson III. After that, being different ranks is the least of their problems.
“Sergeant Kee Smith. Best damn gunner you ever met. I want on your ship, sir.”
The pilot peeled off his helmet, revealing blue-green eyes and an unruly wave of soft brown hair that she’d bet never stayed under control, no matter how long a woman played with it. He opened the front of his flight suit to reveal a sweaty tee on a slender frame.
“First Lieutenant Archibald Jeffrey Stevenson III at your service. And it’s not my ship. You’ll be wanting to converse with the Major.” His voice so slow and smooth and refined, like a radio announcer on those classical stations.
Then he grinned at her, a saucy, funny grin. Started in his eyes and wandered down to his lips, ending up kind of lopsided. Not Mr. Too-Perfect Handsome, but real damn cute. She couldn’t help but notice that his long and lean had some nice muscle underneath, you’d expect no less from a SOAR flyer.
The Lieutenant, however, didn’t even have the decency to rake his eyes down her body. Either gay or self-control of steel-like strength. Came down to it, she’d be betting on the latter. What happened when that much self-control let go? Now that could be worth the price of the ticket to find out.
He moved off to her right, passing so close they almost brushed shoulders. He leaned in and whispered, “Good luck. You are going to need it. More than that nice chest, Sergeant.”
“But it’s a damn nice chest, isn’t it, sir?” So he had noticed.
“Yes, ma’am, it is.” And even though she didn’t turn to look at him, she knew they were smiling together for that moment.
Then, I turn up the heat and watch the sizzle and pop as the battle in the field escalates almost as rapidly as their attraction for each other. When I’m writing this series, I forget all about the heat and just revel in the world on the page.
What’s your favorite way to escape the heat?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
M. L. Buchman has worked in fast food, theater, computers, publishing, and light manufacturing. It’s amazing what you can do with a degree in geophysics. At one point he sold everything and spent 18-months riding a bicycle around the world. In 11,000 miles, he touched 15 countries and hundreds of amazing people. Since then, he has acquired a loving lady, the coolest kid on the planet, and lives in Portland, Oregon. For more information about his romances, SF, & even a foodie thriller, please visit http://www.mlbuchman.com.