FALLING FOR YOU: My name is Justin Hauten. My friends call me Hotten. So do my enemies. I’m a staff sergeant in the U.S. Army and for the last few months I’ve been deployed to Afghanistan on a sensitive reconnaissance mission, along with my best friend—and troublemaker—Sean “Nebraska” Walker.
I’m not the smartest guy in the room and I’m certainly not a badass, but when the company commander puts a bullet in my shoulder and orders me to hand over the evidence, my life goes from boring to stupid in about five seconds. And guess what? Nebraska’s having the time of his life.
While all of this is troubling, something else has happened that’s throwing my life out of balance: I’ve been receiving love letters from an admirer. A male admirer. This is all new for me. My heart flips when I read his letters because, maybe, it is possible that I feel the same way.
Warning: this story contains hot men, jail cells, guns, hot men kissing, a funny sidekick who enjoys embellishing the truth, men in uniform, government conspiracies, hot men kissing, creeps wearing sunglasses at night, secret camera images, and hot men kissing.
HUNGRY FOR YOU: My name is Justin Hauten. My friends call me Hotten. So do my enemies. I’m a staff sergeant in the U.S. Army and I recently returned from Afghanistan after my company commander derailed a sensitive reconnaissance mission. My best friend and I may have uncovered a human trafficking operation and we’re thrust in the middle of a FUBAR situation that may cost us our lives. Naturally, my best friend, the troublemaking Sean “Nebraska” Walker can’t wait to get in the thick of it. I don’t think he understands that he actually makes things worse.
I’ve also made a mess of things with Lt. Aaron Parris. Sweet, perfect, gorgeous Aaron. Before I can plan my apology tour, a powerful woman named Mary Lovecross knocks on my door. Trust me when I say you do not want her knocking on your door. At some point I will make it back to Aaron, but first Nebraska and I have to deal with this pesky thing called being detained. Regular folks call it being kidnapped. Mary Lovecross is not regular folks.
Warning: this story contains hot men, secret agents, a crashed fancy Governor’s party, bruises and cuts and guns, the Texan Badlands, hot men in tuxedos, a surprise marriage proposal, a makeup artist named Hector, several more fistfights, a hysterical sidekick, minor badassery, a Buckaroo Banzai reference, and a really cool underground military bunker.
READY FOR YOU: My name is Justin Hauten. My friends call me Hotten. So do my enemies. I’m a staff sergeant in the U.S. Army and my friends and I recently returned from Afghanistan after unraveling the beginnings of a government conspiracy. That’s what my best friend, Sean “Nebraska” Walker calls it. I would rather be blissfully ignorant, but I’m not, and with knowledge comes responsibility. The responsibility to uncover the truth and maybe, just maybe, save a few lives and not die in the process. I’m pretty sure dying sucks and I haven’t had the chance to tell Aaron how I feel.
Because I’m hopelessly in love.
Warning: this story contains hot men, hot men in a shower, bomb threats, kick-ass moms, secret agents, an artful mention of doilies, Mary Lovecross, naked men, a hunchback named Geoff, badass Julia, even more fistfights, bruises and cuts and guns, a hysterical sidekick, a seedy bar called The Itchy Nail, a pirate hallucination, and a happily ever after.
