Military Grade Mistletoe. Julie Miller

      

      She saved his life when everything was hopeless. He’s determined to return the favor.

      Not even Master Sergeant Harry Lockhart’s military expertise could stop the IED that killed his team and left him injured. Only Daisy Gunderson—a pen pal he’d never met—and her kind letters helped him survive. But Daisy in the flesh is the surly Marine’s polar opposite. She’s outgoing, talkative and putting his military training on high alert. A stalker named Secret Santa is targeting the kindhearted teacher…and the pranks are growing deadly.

      In Daisy, Harry’s finally found the safe haven he needs. And he’ll be damned if anyone is going to take her from him.

      The Precinct

       Daisy was in a deep, blank sleep when she startled awake to a man’s hand clamped over her mouth.

      Her muffled scream quickly fell silent when Harry’s face hovered into focus above hers. He pressed a finger to his lips in the universal sign of shushing and didn’t remove his hand until she nodded her understanding to remain quiet.

      Something was wrong. Even in her nearsighted haze, she could see Harry was strapping on his gun again. She pulled the sheet around her and sat up as he handed her the brown glasses they’d left in the living room.

      She slipped them on, hoping that bringing clarity to his grim expression would give her understanding. “What is it?” she whispered softly. She heard one of the dogs growling from the foot of the bed, and all the beautiful aftermath of making love and sleeping contentedly in his arms vanished in a clutch of fear. “Harry?”

      He pushed her phone into her hands. “Call 9-1-1. There’s someone outside.”

      That was when Daisy jumped at the pop, pop, pop of tiny explosions and shattering glass out on the back deck.

      Military Grade Mistletoe

      Julie Miller

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      JULIE MILLER is an award-winning USA TODAY bestselling author of breathtaking romantic suspense—with a National Readers’ Choice Award and a Daphne du Maurier Award, among other prizes. She has also earned an RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award. For a complete list of her books, monthly newsletter and more, go to www.juliemiller.org.

      In honor of the seventy-fifth anniversary of Camp Pendleton, home of the 1st Marine Battalion.

      My dad and brother were both once stationed there.

      For the real Muffy. Yes, that dog is a he. And yes, he’s in charge. Just ask him.

      Contents

       Cover

       Back Cover Text

       Introduction

       Title Page

       About the Author

       Dedication

       Prologue

       Chapter One

       Chapter Two

       Chapter Three

       Chapter Four

       Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Chapter Twelve

       Epilogue

       Extract

       Copyright

       Prologue

      “You’re not the first Marine this has happened to.”

      But it was the first time it had happened to him. Master Sergeant Harry Lockhart didn’t fail. When he was given a mission, he got the job done. No matter what it cost him. But this? All the doctors, all the physical training and rehab, all the therapy—hell, he’d talked about things nobody knew about him, and it had gutted him worse than that last firefight that had sent him stateside in the first place—and they were still going to give him the boot?

      Harry didn’t know who he was going to be if he couldn’t be part of the Corps, anymore.

      His given name was Henry Lockhart Jr., but nobody called him by his daddy’s name unless he or she outranked him or wanted a fist in his face. Henry Sr. was serving time in a prison in Jefferson City, Missouri for a variety of crimes, the worst of which was being a lousy excuse for a father. Between Henry’s drinking, neglect and natural affinity for violence, it was a miracle Harry and his older sister, Hope, had survived to adulthood. Hope wouldn’t have done that, even, if at the ripe old age of nine, Harry hadn’t picked up his daddy’s gun and shot one of the dogs that had attacked her when she tried to leave the house to get him food so he wouldn’t starve.

      A muscle ticked beside his right eye as a different memory tried to assert itself. But, with a mental fist, he shoved that particular nightmare into the tar pit of buried images from all the wars he’d fought, determined to keep it there.

      “How many years have you been in the Corps?” The doctor was talking again.

      If Dr. Biro hadn’t also been a lieutenant colonel, Harry might have blown him off. But Biro was not only in charge of his fitness assessments, he was a decent guy who didn’t deserve his disrespect. Harry met his superior’s gaze across the office desk. “Seventeen,