When up and coming designer Hannah Harrington's models wind
up in jail, with minutes to show time and her career hanging
in the balance, she leaves on a wing and a prayer hoping
that she finds someone, anyone with that virile, maleness
that will help her collection shine. When her eyes connect
with the tall, handsome Marine talking with his friend, she
knows that she has found the one. Playing the damsel in
distress card, she finagles them into following her into
unknown locales...the catwalk. A hit on the runway, the
honorable Will is swept into her world, enjoying the
reprieve from the darkness of war. Time spent with Hannah
is deliciously wonderful, captivating and memorable, but
when realities of military life intrude on their newly found
happiness, can love win out?
In a fun, light-hearted tale of behind-the-scenes fashion,
suspense and laced with a spicy romance, Havens adds a great
addition to the Blaze "Uniformly Hot" line. I throughly
enjoyed catching a glimpse of Hannah's world colliding with
Will's. Their near-instant chemistry is palatable, sweet
and a perfect foil for a cool Veteran's Day morning.
Tightly written with believable dialogue and realistic
imagery, MODEL MARINE left me with a sigh and a smile.
Current
Status: On assignment in NYC— suddenly recruited to shed the
uniform!
Mission: Serve as model, muse and man-toy
without running afoul of the general.
Obstacle: Hannah
Harrington, fashion world It girl.
Hannah narrowly
escapes Fashion Week disaster by hijacking gorgeous Will for
her runway show—after all, rock-hard abs are the ultimate
accessory. His good deed nearly lands him in the brig, but
he'll risk anything to get back into her bed….
Hannah
can't figure out how this model marine got under her
skin—they're complete opposites! But sexy Will not only
ignites her senses, he fuels her creativity: an irresistible
combination, even if it can't last. Can two steamy weeks
together satisfy their lust…or will they have to extend this
mission?
Excerpt
"The male models are in jail." Anne Marie whispered the
words so Hannah wasn't sure if she heard her correctly. They
were backstage working with the stylists to make sure the
hair was correct for each model, and the deafening noise
from the chatter made it difficult to converse without
screaming. Anne Marie, the assistant director of Hannah
Harrington Designs, had to be wrong. The fashion show
launched in exactly forty-seven minutes and Hannah had
planned everything down to the last stitch in the handbags
the models would carry. There was no way something like this
could happen.
Though it was freezing backstage, a small bead of sweat
dampened her brow. "Did you say they're in jail?" Hannah
tried to keep the panic from rising in her voice, but there
was a tiny squeak at the end. "Oh, Anne Marie— You— No—take
it back. I mean it. This is some kind of horrible joke. My
entire life for the last six years is about to walk down
that stage, and it has to be perfect. You know that. You
promised me you had the models covered," she squeaked.
Anne Marie's lips formed a straight line at Hannah's harsh tone.
"Sorry." She'd been on edge the past few weeks and had lost
her temper more than once. This was no time to make Annie
Marie her whipping girl.
"Don't you dare apologize, Hannah. I know I screwed up."
Anne Marie's jaw jutted out and her hands were in fists. "I
saw them at Jake's party last night and they were drinking.
I should have sent them home then. This sucks, and I've
totally failed you. I just don't know how to fix it in—"
Anne Marie glanced at her watch "—forty-three minutes."
Hannah glanced around the tent, searching for any man who
could fill out the jeans she'd designed. It had been a risky
venture to do male and female lines in her first collection,
but it had paid off. Before tonight's show she had received
great buzz in the fashion world from some of the magazine
editors who'd toured her collection early. Without the men,
the show wouldn't work. They were her big reveal.
The only men in a sea of six-foot female models were the
ones doing hair, and they were all too short, pasty and
waif-thin.
Are there any real men left in Manhattan?
She closed her eyes and lifted her head in a silent prayer.
I'm going to walk out the door, and I'm going to find two
of the most handsome men I've ever seen in my life who will
fit perfectly into my show.Yeah, right. Opening her eyes again she headed out.
"Where are you going?" Anne Marie cried.
"To find the men of my dreams," Hannah said determinedly.
"Check and make sure the girls have their belts right-side
up, and that Clara wears the pink cowboy boots. I'll be back
in ten minutes."
Hannah had almost convinced herself she would find the men
she needed just outside the tent, or in the crowd waiting to
get in. No such luck.
The good news was there was a crowd.
The bad news was that ninety-nine percent of it was women.
Any men she saw were either way too short, or a little thick
around the middle. She never cared about anyone's size, but
she needed a perfect fit for the jeans. Worried she might be
recognized, Hannah pulled her cowboy hat down low on her
eyes, and made her way around the crowd and out onto Columbus.
Shivering against the cold, she pulled her leather jacket
tighter, which did nothing for her legs, which were in
tights and a miniskirt.
As usual on Friday afternoon, the area was packed with
people. There were some teens in baggy jeans and shirts, but
they were all either too skinny or too short to fit in the
clothes.
She didn't want to think about the worst-case scenario, but
she had to.
Please. I haven't come this far to fail.
Everything she had was tied up in this show. If the editors
hadn't had a sneak peak she could get away with losing the
final two, but that was what most of the buzz had been about.
Glancing down at her watch she grimaced. Only thirty-two
minutes till go-time. Tears brimmed her eyes. She tried to
blink them back, but one errant drop of water slid down her
cheek. She shoved it away with the heel of her hand.
This is no time to cave. Get it together.
"Whoever he is, he isn't worth that tear," a deep,
whiskey-toned voice said from beside her.
Hannah lifted her head and met a pair of the most beautiful
green eyes she'd ever seen on a man. Then she stepped
back—stunned—to find the perfect male specimen attached to
those eyes. His blond hair was cut short, his shoulders
broad, and, dressed in his blues, he was the sexiest man
she'd ever seen.
She had to remind herself to breathe.
"Hello, Marine."
"Ma'am." He tipped his hat.
This couldn't be happening. She glanced down to his hips and
then up to his face. He was absolutely beautiful. But there
was also something about him. A presence, something that
symbolized a strength that had nothing to do with the
uniform he wore.
He smiled, seemingly amused by her appraisal.
"Hmm." She tapped her finger against her chin and then
grinned. "How do you feel about helping a damsel in distress?"
"It's what I do, ma'am. Did he hurt you? I can't stand a man
beating on a woman. That's one of the things that sends my
temper over the edge, and I have to warn you I do have one."
Charmed by his slight Southern accent, she'd lost what he
was saying. "You have one what?"
"A temper."
"Oh, no. This isn't about a man. But I need you like no
woman has ever needed you. In fact, my life depends on you
coming with me right now. And you would make me the happiest
woman in the world if you had a friend who is just as hot as
you."
The marine put two fingers in his mouth and whistled.
Hannah jumped slightly at the piercing volume.
There was a thud of running footsteps, and another man, this
one with dark hair and light caramel skin, joined them. He
stopped in front of the other marine, his hand flying up to
a salute.
"You whistled, Captain, sir." His voice was clipped, but
respectful. Hannah didn't know her marine ranks very well,
but she knew that a captain was up there. She was crazy to
ask these men to help her, but she didn't have much of a choice.
"Lieutenant, seems we have a damsel in distress."
The marine glanced down at Hannah, his dark eyes checking
her face for injuries. "Are you hurt?"
She smiled brightly. "No, but I need your help. Can you
gentlemen follow me? I promise, if you give me the next hour
of your life, you'll save mine. And I'll throw in the best
meal you've ever had."
She reached out her hands and wriggled her fingers, begging
them to follow.
Both men shrugged.
"Captain, sir, if there's food involved, I'm in."
"Then let's get to it." The captain took Hannah's hand.
"Fair damsel, lead the way," he said.
Hannah didn't have time to question her good fortune, or the
fact that the marine warmed her with his touch. She had a
show to put on and a career to save. With these two, she had
a feeling she was going to kill lincoln Center in a way that
had never been done before.
Captain Will Hughes had done dumb things in his life,
especially when it came to women, but this would go to the
top of his crazy list. In the past fifteen minutes he'd been
asked to strip, put on a pair of great-fitting jeans and a
shirt that forced him to keep his arms by his sides, and
while one woman messed with the shirt, another held out a
pair of cowboy boots for him to slip on.
"His chest is too damn big," the woman said through the pins
in her mouth. "I've never seen so many muscles in my life.
Hannah, what do you want me to do?"
Hannah stood there appraising him for a few seconds. The
desire in her eyes made his crotch uncomfortable. It had
been too damn long for him, and she was his idea of the
perfect woman. From that honey-blond hair piled on top of
her head in a mass of curls, to her pert breasts, down to
long legs ending in red cowboy boots she was nothing short
of gorgeous. Surrounded by models, none compared to her beauty.
"Leave the shirt open. Though, they probably won't be
looking at the clothes when he walks out." Hannah laughed,
and something tugged at Will's heart.
"One minute. Line up, people!" someone screeched.
The tension in the room was palpable and the noisy din died
down.
"What's wrong?" Will glanced around the tent to see what was
happening.
"Nothing. Show's about to begin and we need it quiet back
here so everyone can hear their cues." Hannah waved over
Rafael. As the models walked by, it looked as if his friend
was watching a tennis match. Rafe always had a way with
women. "All I need you guys to do is walk at a steady pace
to the end of the stage, pause about fifteen seconds and
walk back. You need to be prepared for the photographers'
flashes when you pause. It can be blinding at times.
"Just give them your best marine glare. You can watch what
the girls do on that screen right there." She pointed to a
flat-screen television. "Kayleigh is the stage manager and
she'll tell you when to go on. You'll enter here, and exit
the stage on the other side. I can't thank you guys enough.
And I'll owe you big if we can just get through the next
twenty minutes."
He was a marine, and would have helped her no matter what,
but Will liked the fact she felt she owed him. He could
think of at least thirty different ways she could pay him back.
Mind out of the gutter, Marine.
"We've got it covered," Will told her.
"That's right," Rafe said. "If there's one thing marines can
do, it's follow orders."
"You guys really are the best." She squeezed Will's arm.
Then she left to take her position near the other side of
the stage.
"Sir, we've been in some tough situations, but I never
thought I'd have to be a male model," Rafe whispered.
"Promise me none of the guys will ever hear about this.
Otherwise we'll never live it down. Though, I got to admit,
I love these damn jeans."
Will chuckled. "Mine could be a size bigger, but I like
them, too. And trust me, no one will ever hear a word out of
me. I appreciate you helping out."
Rafael shrugged. "It's what we do."
"Showtime!" The stage manager waved her hand.
"Sir?"
"Yeah, Rafe?" "Are you nervous?"
"We're marines. We don't have nerves." He winked at the man.
"But if I did, I'd tell you I'd rather be in the desert
fighting hostiles than walking out on that stage."
"Me, too, sir. Me, too."
Poor guy. They'd been looking forward to doing some
sightseeing before they had to report to the UN the next day
as part of a defense attache force. It would be Will's job
to coordinate the teams assigned to protect foreign
dignitaries for a global conference in town. Most of the
preliminary work had been done, so he and Rafe had been
kicking around the past twenty-four hours as tourists.
"You're up!" A woman touched his arm and gently shoved him
forward. Will hadn't even noticed he'd advanced to the
stage. He swallowed and walked up the few steps. He saw Rafe
exit the other side, and the stage manager told him to go.
The lights blinded him as he stepped out onto the
white-carpeted floor and walked to what he hoped was the
end. He couldn't really see until he damn near fell off the
thing. He stood there for a moment while the cameras
flashed, but couldn't figure out why everyone was screaming.
People were up on their feet clapping. He turned and walked
back, forcing himself not to run.
"Holy crap! They've gone ape out there." Hannah was there to
guide him off the stage. "You two were amazing." She stood
on her tiptoes and kissed Will full on the mouth. He wanted
it to last longer, but then she moved on to Rafe. The other
man received a hug, but not a kiss. That sat just fine with
Will.
She took them both by the hands. "Okay, you two, one more
time down and back and we are done."
"Again?" he and Rafe said at the same time.
Laughing, she pulled them up the steps and onto the stage.
The lights were different this time and he could see more of
the audience. They were giving Hannah a standing ovation. He
had no right to be proud of her, but he was. He held up her
hand as if she'd won a prizefight. They walked that way to
the end of the stage and back.
He helped her down the steps and then she wrapped her arms
around his neck.
"Marine, I have to do some press for a bit, and then we can
do anything you want. You name it!" She gave him another
quick peck and she was off.
"Why do I have the feeling you're going to tell me to get
lost?" Rafe chuckled behind him.
"As soon as I find my pants you're getting a hundred bucks,
and I'm giving you the night off to see the city," Will told
him.
"That's all right, sir. I think I might be kind of busy,
too." Rafe winked at a model with short pixie hair and blue
eyes. She blew him a kiss with her fingers.
"Guess this modeling thing isn't so bad after all."
Will chuckled.
And the woman of his dreams had promised him anything.
Luckily he knew exactly what he wanted.
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