THE WATCHERS: 6 Military Romance Bundle
THE WATCHERS
6 ex-Military Romance Books
KRISTINA WEAVER
Copyright © 2017
All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. All characters appearing in this work are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to events, businesses, companies, institutions, and real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
WHAT’s INSIDE:
SEDUCING THE STORM
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
BRINGING DOWN JERICHO
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
FLIRTING WITH FIRE
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
LANDING KING
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
ALL SHOOK UP
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
OWNING TRACE
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
SEDUCING THE STORM
Chapter One
Lenny
Maybe one day I’ll wake up and not feel like I’m perpetrating a fraud.
Hey, world! It’s me, Leonora Coleman, sassy, totally sexy, thirty-year-old badass doctor, who talks to her dog Chaser and pretends that life doesn’t suck.
For today’s holy hell jaunt into the delusional, I’m thoroughly convinced that I could be happy with Chaser for company and my vibe as a bed partner. Ooooor…I could pretend that I’m into girls and—maybe if I find one hot enough—I could pull that off.
Although…
As I run down the last stretch of pavement with Chaser loping beside me, I catch sight of a hunk with a lot of junk in his shorts and arms that make my hotbox go wild.
Who the heck am I kidding? I can’t forego men forever, not even if I think they’re all rat bastards with their brains dangling beneath their dicks. Or maybe their brains are their dicks.
Whatever! The point is that, as I pass the hotalicious specimen checking me out, I know for certain that the four-year fast I’ve been on is starting to cloud my mind. Because, damn, I don’t even get hot under the collar when he checks me out and then proceeds to eye bang the chick who overtakes him, his eyes going straight to her ass and other jiggling parts. How pathetic is it that I’m totally satisfied with being checked out in the first place?
And how gross am I that I’d so totally lick—
Stop that, Lenny, you pervert. Remember what happened the last time you let a pretty face fool you, huh.
Uh, yeah, I so totally got caught in a trap with a man whose idea of “let’s be happy and in love” included mediocre sex and then blaming me for that shit when he confessed that he was into bi threesomes.
I’m adventurous. Well, sort of, but even I took one look at that situation and ran like a gold medalist. No offense to the hot-chick-loving chicks and dude-loving dudes out there, but I’m straighter than the ruler my teacher used to whip her desk with.
So yeah, my history includes one college boyfriend, who turned out to be an ass, and one very under-loved vibe that only does it for me when I’ve been drinking with my “book club.”
“Hey! You look…great.”
I come to a stop beside Jillie, the ho I jog with and pretend not to adore, and throw her a look.
“I just got off a sixteen-hour shift at the hospital, you hag. Give me a break. I haven’t even had the chance to shower yet. I just went home and threw on some tights and a tank before Chaser and I made it out.”
My friends, if I can even call these crazies that, are all wine drinkers, who pretend to exercise, because, well, because at least if we pretend, we’ll be doing something. It beats the hell out of confessing that, besides frantic work pace, we just sit on our asses and gripe about men.
Hey. What can I say? We’re modern singles with a chip on our shoulders and a whole lot of baggage.
“You see that meatball checking you out?” Kelly yells, her “stretching” nothing more than a cursory toe wiggle, as she stretches out on the grass and waves me over. I adore Kelly, in an I-hate-that-you’re-a-gorgeous-mocha-beauty-with-an-ass-that-I’d-have-to-have-surgery-to-get kind of way.
Don’t judge me. She’s gorgeous, strong, and blessed with genes that automatically give her a juicy ass. Me, I might as well sign up for Flat Asses of America.
“Giiirl, of course I saw him. He was pretty damned unavoidable, considering he basically licked my nipples, he got so personal.” I laugh, falling to the grass beside her with a huff.
I’m so damned tired, I could literally just fall asleep where I’m at and not give a rat’s tiny ass if a dog used me as a pseudo-hydrant. But this is “exercise” with the girls so, instead of slacking, I pretend to do faux-cursory stretches and sit-ups before rolling over and checking them all out.
Jill, Kelly, Tina,
Fay, and Farrah all chuckle and turn to me for this week’s latest hospital gossip, as Chaser runs around barking and trying to chase off his tail.
“Sooo…Dr. Fineass?”
Dr. Bates, aka Dr. Fineass, is the resident lothario and all-around disgustoid. I hate the guy enough that, a week ago, I contemplated spitting in his coffee after he slapped my ass in passing. I say contemplated because I really, truly thought about it before nixing the idea in lieu of dumping a packet of laxatives in it instead. Best afternoon of my life, standing outside the staff bathrooms, listening to him groan and cry.
Anyway, the man is like the biggest hound on the planet, and I’ve watched him screw everything in pink scrubs for the last two years. Thus far, I’ve been able to keep the girl updated on “Wards of Our Lives” on a weekly basis, and trust me, it’s always good.
“He was screwing Nurse Two in the supply closet just yesterday and poor Nurse One just happened to walk by at the very moment he let off one of his trademark groans. Someone may or may not have sent poor Nurse One on an errand past the closet.”
“Ooooh, you bad girl.”
“Why, thank you, Fay. I do try.” I preen, whipping out a candy bar along with the others, now that we’ve stopped pretending and are settling in for a good session.
“She must have been pissed. I hear those Latina chicks are fiery when their tempers are riled.”
“Hey!” Tina yells, laughing when we all start ribbing her.
“It’s not true. Who’s the gorgeous Latina who attacked the hotdog vendor four weeks ago when he skimped on the onions?”
“Fiiine, so we may be a little fiery. It was his fault though! I specifically said, ‘No mustard, heavy on the onions.’”
“Girl, you threatened to scalp him and deliver his meat wig to his mama!” I splutter through a mouthful of chocolatey deliciousness.
“Whatevah. Back to Dr. Fineass. Sooo, she heard them?”
“Weeeeell, she heard something and, being the completely caring and concerned lady that she is—wink, wink—she opened the door.”
“He didn’t lock it?”
“Ooooh! I bet she got the claws out.”
“Tell me they weren’t done yet! It would be so much funnier if they were still going for gold only to be stopped midway.”
Heh. See why I jog my butt a mile from home once a week to meet these bitches? They just get me.
“Weelll. They were indeed midway. Nurse Two was moaning like she just found the cure to menstruation, and Fineass was grunting worthy of a barnyard when the ruckus started. And by ruckus I mean the dirty birdy took one look at them and started slapping Fineass, who—by the way—did not bother to stop working those hips.”
“Noooo.”
“Yes.”
“Nooooo.”
“Yeah, bitch! He kept going, looked back at Nurse One, and shrugged like this was just a little whoopsie.”
“Oh God! Stop dragging it out! Tell me she kicked his ass!”
“Naw. Turns out Nurses One and Two are nasty chicas.” I laugh, grabbing my phone for show and tell.
What! You thought I’d just orchestrate that whole mess and not take pictures? Come oooon! Of course I snapped a few shots of the continuing saga…and boy am I glad I did.
“No, she di’int!”
“Oh, lordie. Tell me what that man has coming out of his skin, so I can get inoculated.”
Yuuuup. Turns out the dear nursies are so in loooove with that festering toe wart, they’d do anything to keep him. I got to listen to ten whole minutes of moaning, yells, and totally thrilling threesome sex. By the time the show was over, I was on the road to thinking about what that would be like.
Not for long though. I’m lazy. I can’t be bothered to do sex right with one guy at the moment, never mind an add-on.
“Beats me, since all I feel when I see the man is distaste and the overwhelming need to acid-bathe my skin.”
“They went for it?” Fay asks again, her eyes stretched so huge she looks like Rodney Dangerfield.
“As unlikely as it seems, yeah. The three of them walked out of that closet looking like they just hit the lottery. Nurse One even gave Nurse Two an ass tap, and then they were off to business as usual. So freaking disappointing,” I say with a sigh, hating the fact that my dastardly plans of hospital love wars and intrigues bombed on me.
I keep telling myself not to sweat it, since I couldn’t have predicted the outcome. But hell, who’d have guessed the man was good enough to inspire that kind of worship?
“Aaaaw, don’t look so sad, babe. Shit happens. Anyway, you have next week to implement some new plans for Fineass. We could always introduce Nurse Three into the mix. You said he was into Nurse Four as well?”
“Tina, the man is into anything with boobs and the hint of a clam pot. But no, that won’t work either. Four got herself some common sense and hooked up with that hot-blooded guy on floor two. They’re in loooove, the idiots.”
I know I sound bitter and totally horrible…but give me a break. My ex was into threesomes—the exact thing that thwarted my plot this week—and I no longer believe in that toady thing called love. It’s easier, and believe me, I am happier…most days.
“What a disappointment. Trust Four to go and get herself a brain.”
“Brain, Farrah? You call falling in love getting a brain? That’s more like losing your senses altogether.”
“I call treason!” Kelly yells, glaring at Farrah with enough heat to scorch her pubes off.
See, we, this group of cackling, candy bar eating, workout-un-enthusiasts, are more like a man-bashing club than anything. We’ve got ourselves believing we don’t need love, men, or anything that smacks of a committed relationship, since each of us have been screwed over at least once before.
I know it’s all a crock, trust me. I feel the delusion when I fall into bed at night and stare at the cold, empty side of the bed before snuggling into Chaser.
We’re lying to ourselves and to each other, but heck, what’s a girl to do when all she’s kissed are toads and not one prince in sight?
“Hey, now. No need for that. I’m just saying that I’m happy for her is all. She gets to be with that hot hunkalicious slice of man pie, and she’s not looking at herpes à la Fineass in the future.”
I do a mental grunt here because I totally agree, but I am not looking for a she-cat attack any time soon if I say so. Let’s just say that some of my group are not so into man bashing at all times, while others have taken it to a level that is oft times quite scary.
Kelly, for example. She’s got a standing Tuesday night date with a very hot guy named Jamal. The purpose is purely sexual—though exclusive—since—as she puts it—she’s not looking for a venereal disease, as of yet. Not unless she’s intending to afflict some asshole, who deserves a good case of genital warts.
The point is that, should I in any way agree with Farrah, I’ll be looking at least at a black eye…after I get a scolding for daring to go soft on these jackals.
“Whatever, dude. So you’re not too upset about Dr. Fineass getting his groove thing on with the hot nurses?”
“Nope, Tina, not at all. I’ll just have to keep on top of this and see what I can do with the other nurses sniffing after him and a wedding ring he has no intentions of giving any of them. Change of subject. Anyone seen that new feminist play yet?”
They all start cooing about the topic while I listen, not paying much attention as Chaser comes over and starts licking my face, giving me all the kisses I haven’t had from a man in four years.
How sad is it that the only love I have in my life is from a dog and a vibrator that demands batteries so rarely it’s pathetic to admit how little love I give the poor thing?
“Anyway. Back to the topic at hand. Men!” Fay barks, her eyes narrowing as if she’s seeing a target in her mind’s eye as we speak. “Are we all still going strong with the one-and-done pact, barring Kelly’s usual Tuesday hookup, seeing as that’s basically a continuous
one-and-done anyway?”
Eh. What you have to know right here is that the lot of us have had this hit-it-once-and-bounce pact for the last year, give or take a week or two. It stipulates very clearly that, if at any time, one of us should start seeing roses and hearts floating around a man’s head, we’ll reconvene the council of dick-hating hags and discuss the pros and cons of getting all sappy about the guy.
At present, none have stepped forward with this dilemma, though I myself will admit that just the thought of telling Tina or Fay that I’m in love with a guy shuts down my gooey side right quick.
“All in.”
“Yeppers.”
“Totally.”
“Not a dick in sight,” I mutter, plastering on a fake smile.
The fact is that we’re all lonely and fooling ourselves here. But hell, it’s better than having a slew of failed hookups where our hearts get smashed to pieces.
Right?
By the time we’re all ready to leave and arrange next week’s meeting, I’ve subbed my jog with a candy bar and enough chit chat to keep me going. I’ve also got a firm plan for this next week’s instalment of “Wards of Our Lives.”
“Come on, Chase, old buddy, old pal. Let’s get this show on the road and make today count, huh.”
The dog barks and nips at my heels as I start the jog home, my mind running with the ideas and shortcomings I feel weighing me down by the minute.
I don’t want to be alone anymore. And yet, it scares the hell out of me even to contemplate letting another man into my life. Chaser, at least, makes no qualms about using me for shelter and sustenance. He also licks his balls on the regular, unapologetically.
Having a man in my life, one who’s theoretically no better than Chaser, and holding down a job that takes sometimes sixteen hours of my day?
Looks like the pact will go strong another week, at least.
Chapter Two
Lenny
Another day in hell, and I’m dragging ass with yet another eight hours to go before I can even contemplate going home and falling into a coma. The hospital has been short-staffed for the last month and just guess whom the chief turned to and asked to fill in for the maternity leave squad and the other hopeless assholes who are just too burned out not to get a break.
You guessed it.