Dani Jace

This week on Cocky Confessions, we have Kristi Rose with her hero, Hank, from The Girl He Knows.

Hey Dani, thanks for the letting me showcase my hero, Hank. It’s a lot of fun hanging out with him. Hank is an intelligence Officer in the United States Navy which means he’s a part of special forces but he’ll tell you that sounds more glamorous than it is.

Hank’s the older brother to Gigi- who just so happens to be Paisley’s best friend. Paisley is the love of Hank’s life. He’ll tell you that he’s loved her since he was ten and watched her punch a boy out for being rude to her sister. They have a one night stand and Hank sees it as an opportunity to get Paisley to see him as something other than Gigi’s brother and to finally tell her how he feels. But Paisley’s changed since her divorce. Fear and poor decisions still rule her life. Hank can only hope it’s not too late and she’s still THE GIRL HE KNOWS.

Glad to have you, Hank. Let’s start with who’s your best buddy? What do you guys do when bromancing? I’d have to go with some of the guys I went to the Academy with. Surge Barkhouse is my man. We can both see something, look at each other and communicate our thoughts about what we just saw all without uttering a word. He’s had my back more than I can count and I hope he feels the same about me.

Tell us something no one would believe about you? Large or small. I’m not a thrill seeker. I don’t need to bungee off buildings or anything like that. I suppose having a job where I analyze risk all day has made me less of a daredevil.

Interesting. Is there a specific body type, hair, or eye color that attracts you? Does Paisley meet the criteria? Well, considering I like women in general- any type works for me. I want them to fit easily, meaning we have to be comparable in height. But honestly, Paisley has always set the bar. I love her long legs and her crazy red hair. I love her laugh and her loyalty. So yeah, she meets the criteria.

What’s the one thing you’d never tell her?

Holy shit- her hair is everywhere. She brushes it and gobs of lose strands float off into the stratosphere and likely affect aviation function, winding it’s way around jet engines. It’s clogging up my sinks, strands attach to my clothes and stay there forever, and it’s EVERYWHERE.

Yeah, but I bet you like grabbing a handful from time to time. *winks* What worries you the most? I going out of town a lot. It’s called TAD- Temporarily Assigned Duty- and when this job is over and I go back to being on a ship- I’ll deploy a fair amount. Some deployments last a year. That’s a lot to ask of the person you love. To wait, be patience, handle being lonely and scared with limited contact because that’s just how it goes sometimes. Then if you get married and you have children- well- that complicates things even more. The divorce rate is high.

What’s one your lover or potential lover can do to totally turn you off? Ha, not much. But cheating on me would pretty much do the trick.

Do you rely on your physical prowess or your intelligence to attract a lover? I rely on my sense of humor which is likely a product of my intelligence. I’m not knocking physical prowess but I have as fairly risky job where I could be seriously injured at any point when I’m deployed. If the girl goes for my physical prowess and I become physically handicapped- well- what then?

There is that. Where were you when you lost your virginity? A field on the north side of the town I grew up in. The girl’s parents owned land and a barn and we both gave up or virginity among the cows, a deer and on a bed of hay.

Having spent some summers on a farm, I know about sneaking off to the hayloft. What’s your method of travel, motor vehicle, motorcycle, horse, etc. And is that vehicle per say special to you. I have a Harley Davidson Fat Boy. That’s my preferred mode but my truck is my backup.

A Harley…nice. How do you stay fit? I run between 7-10 miles a day and I like to swim.

Whew, that’s a lot of running. Name a favorite piece of clothing to remove from your lover? All of her clothing. I love to remove it all. Okay, she can leave her shoes on, if they’re heels.

*smiles* Most interesting place you’ve taken your lover? Well, let’s see. I’ve taken her in my parent’s house. Her apartment, my house, in my backyard, in a park, in my truck, in a closet at a party. Hell, I take her any chance I can get. Wait―that’s not what you were asking was it 😉

*laughs* No, but I like your answer. What’s the hottest thing she’s ever said to you? Again, Hank, Again.

You’re my kink of hero, Hank! Thanks for having me Dani. I was a pleasure being here. If you want to get know what Hank looks like check out my Pinterest board: http://www.pinterest.com/krosewheeler/the-girl-he-knows/

Excerpt:

“Wanna get together again next weekend?” he asks.

I swivel my head to look at him. “Are you serious? No, I don’t want to get together next weekend. This”—I gesture in the space between us—“cannot happen again.”

“Why not?” He grins and wags his eyebrows.

“It’s a disaster in the making.”

“What do you mean?”

“Jeez, where do I start? This whole thing is wrong. My friendship with Gigi, our friendship. It could all go up in smoke. Is it worth it?” How does he not see this?

“I’m just talking about going out together.”

“Sure, you make it sound harmless. But the last time we got together it led to sex. When I get around you, my judgment gets out of whack and I might do something stupid.” OK, perhaps I should say I might continue to do something stupid. Stupid has already come and gone.

“As I see it, if you’re gonna do something stupid, who better with than your old pal Hank? I can think of a thousand stupid things to do together.” Does he really think it’s that simple? He turns toward me, rests his hand on the top of my seat, and gives me a toothy grin.

I want to laugh or shove his shoulder because he’s being flippant but he needs to know where I’m coming from, that I was once broken.

Author Bio:

Kristi Rose was raised in central Florida on boiled peanuts and iced tea. She’s lived by an active volcano, almost fallen off a mountain, and eloped in Arkansas. Today, as a proud military wife and mother of two, she’s been lucky enough to travel the world. No matter where she is, she enjoys watching people and wondering about their story? That’s what Kristi likes to write about: everyday people, the love that brings them together, and their journey getting there. Kristi is a member of RWA.

Social Media:

Website/Blog: http://kristirose.net

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Kristi-Rose/364071883695814?ref=hl

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Krosewrites

Goodreads Author: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8256034.Kristi_Rose

Goodreads book: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22268970-the-girl-he-knows

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/krosewheeler/

Google+: https://plus.google.com/u/0/103783595428165613010/posts

Hope you’ve enjoyed Hanks and Kristi’s visit and will check out The Girl he Knows

Buy Links:

Amazon book: http://www.amazon.com/The-Girl-Knows-Kristi-Rose-ebook/dp/B00KYUNEHM

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/s/?field-keywords=978-1-61650-560-8

Google Play: http://books.google.com/books?id=VyjOAwAAQBAJ&dq=the+girl+he+knows+kristi+rose&source=gbs_navlinks_s

Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/Search?Query=the+girl+he+knows+kristi+rose

Apple: http://www.apple.com/itunes/

Kensington: http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/book.aspx/30515

Nook: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/978-1-61650-560-8?keyword=978-1-61650-560-8&store=allproducts

Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-girl-he-knows-kristi-rose/1119847721?ean=9781616505608

Welcome to my stop on the First Page Review blog hop happening during the month of October and brought to you by wewriwa.com. Interested in receiving feedback on your first page/up to one thousand words of a WIP, a manuscript, or a novel, published or unpublished? Here’s my first thousand words of Trident Valor, a military romance. Comments appreciated. 🙂

Through shimmering waves of heat, Jax Taylor sighted his target. If he bit the big one today, his mom and brothers in arms would be his only mourners. But the latter would probably throw an epic party. After hours on watch, remnants of the crosshairs burned into his retina from the scope of his M14.

He shifted on his makeshift pallet, shielded from the window of a second story mud-brick apartment complex. On loan to the army for the last few weeks, he counted down the days when his team’s deployment ended. The chilly Pacific would offer a perfect respite from the heat of this stinking hellhole where the only water in quantity was the sweat soaking his desert cammies.

Cool mind. Cool body. He’d often reminisce of shrimping with his father in the Gulf of Mexico, off the coast of Texas where he grew up. On evening snipes, he imagined chowing on a two pound burger with an iced mug of endless beer. Visions of warm shapely thighs were left for rack time or whatever floor became his bed, if he had any energy left.

Building a relationship proved difficult when he spent more time away than home. He’d pretty much given up, although sometimes he wondered.

The insurgent finally scaled the low wall and sprinted for a building across the street with AK-47 in hand. The same building occupied by U.S. troops.

Game on, bastard.

His heart rate dropped as his breathing slowed. He increased pressure on the trigger, let out a long exhale and squeezed. A millisecond later, the target plowed head first into the dust before the bullet echoed.

Then all hell broke loose. Gunfire peppered the stagnant air from every direction. He scrambled to his feet and shouldered his WIN mag 310 sniper rifle and gear bag. With his standard issued Colt M4A1 assault weapon pointed, he crept down the stairs. At street level, he’d even the odds for the army boys.

Conforming to the doorway, he aimed and picked off a single gunman about to unload into the street filled with U.S. soldiers. He slipped outside with his back to the plastered wall, pinging targets like the metal ducks at a carnival.

Chatter in his ear bud alerted him the guys were bugging out. He caught up and joined the rear guard. Ground rescue ETA two minutes.

Long enough to die over one hundred and twenty times.

Sweat mixed with dirt as he blinked and filched an ammo clip from his vest. He punched it into his rifle, well aware of the pistol holstered to his thigh. The eight inch blade strapped to his other thigh waited silently for any close and cozy encounter.

Like an action movie, everything moved in slow motion. Dust swirled around them as orange tracers flared brightly, crisscrossing the street in sync with the rat-a-tat-tat of gunfire. The grinding tracks of an armored vehicle announced his ticket out. Army guys ahead of him raced inside.

He stumbled through last, exhaling in relief. A pinch forced his hand to the sting at the back of his thigh. Warm wetness bathed his pant leg.

Dark spots danced in his field of vision.

Fucking hell if he’d pass out.

***

Forty-eight hours later, Jax sat in the uncomfortable cargo bay of a C-130 cargo plane bound for the States. Medical refused to release him back to his team, so he put in for leave and caught a mail hop to the East Coast. Armed with a shit-load of antibiotics, the bullet wound chafed his ass more than his leg, metaphorically speaking.

At nearly six p.m., he landed in Little Creek and took a deep breath of the good old US of A. Salt air teased his nostrils. Compared to the dusty desert, the aroma smelled sweet. He’d always been a water dog.

He scanned his phone for his buddy, TJ’s number and pressed send. They’d completed BUD/S, Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL, training together.

“You’re here, now?” TJ answered.

“Yeah, without wheels, and I need a drink in the worst way.”

His friend fumed. “Shit, Jax. We’re packing out now. Halo practice. How about tomorrow?”

Of all the fucking luck. He ground his teeth. The bar on base would do, but he’d kill for a decent cheeseburger and to lay eyes on beautiful woman in the flesh. He’d never realized how wonderful American women smelled until humping through the shithole towns of Afghanistan. “Where do you usually hang?” he asked. “I’ll get a rental.”

After catching a ride from base, he made it to a car rental before they closed and let GPS direct him to the Trident, which sat at the end unit of a small shopping strip near Oceana Naval Base.

He climbed out of the small compact with a slight limp, but righted his gait before opening the heavy, oak door. In his bar experiences, such an entrance usually led to a man cave. Stepping inside, he felt right at home.

Dark. Like his mood. Pain meds and exhaustion made him irritable on top of being pissed about not rejoining his team. Then TJ had a training op. So much for buddy reunions.

Behind the bar, a tall, lean beauty glanced up from the taps. The gnawing ache in his leg disappeared under the scrutiny of wide, sea-green eyes. Her long, wavy hair surrounded her shoulders like a lion’s mane. His fingers itched to tangle in the wheat colored strands. More intimate fantasies flitted through his mind.

Months without a woman made him a sick bastard, in stark contrast to the public’s standard perception of a SEAL. The general population didn’t understand a special operator’s life. What they did for love of country and their brothers in arms. For him, the best remedy after a gruesome mission was down and dirty, gritty sex.

Before he readjusted his sour expression, she stepped in front of him. Her lovely eyes branded him with I got your number, sailor.