Craving Her Soldier's Touch. Wendy S. Marcus

      

      About the Author

      WENDY S. MARCUS is not a lifelong reader. As a child she never burrowed under her covers with a flashlight and a good book. In senior English she skimmed the classics, reading the bare minimum required to pass the class. Wendy found her love of reading later in life, in a box of old paperbacks at a school fundraiser where she was introduced to the romance genre in the form of a Harlequin Superromance. Since that first book she’s been a voracious reader of romance—oftentimes staying up way too late in order to reach the happy ending before letting herself go to sleep.

      Wendy lives in the beautiful Hudson Valley region of New York, with her husband, two of their three children, and their beloved dog Buddy. A nurse by trade, Wendy has a Master’s degree in healthcare administration. After years of working in the medical profession she’s taken a radical turn to write hot, contemporary romances with strong heroes, feisty heroines, and lots of laughs. Wendy loves hearing from readers. Please visit her blog at www.WendySMarcus.com

      Craving Her Soldier’s Touch

      Wendy S. Marcus

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

       BEYOND THE SPOTLIGHT

       Uncovering the real Piermont sisters …

      Identical twin nurses Jaci and Jena Piermont grew up in society’s limelight but their glittering lifestyle hides dark secrets—money has never bought them love.

      What these reluctant socialites want are men who can see past their wealth to the real women beneath … but they’ll have to be very special to deserve these sisters!

      In CRAVING HER SOLDIER’S TOUCH feisty Jaci comes face to face with a man from her past—and he’s as dangerously delicious as ever!

      Shy Jena is reunited with the father of her twins in SECRETS OF A SHY SOCIALITE … but what will happen when he discovers her greatest secret of all?

      Sexy, glamorous and emotionally powerful—don’t miss this thrilling new duet by Wendy S. Marcus!

       Dear Reader

      After spending so many months writing the three books in my Madrin Memorial Hospital series, it was difficult to move on from the familiar characters I’d grown to love like family—especially with reader requests for books on Dr Starzi and Polly. Maybe some day. For those of you who know me, you know I am not a fan of change. Yet I make every effort to embrace it because I realise with change comes new opportunities, growth and—dare I admit?—a bit of excitement in trying something new.

      So, with an encouraging nudge from my lovely editor, Flo Nicoll, I set out to create two new stories surrounding Jaci and Jena Piermont, identical twin nurses and members of New York’s social elite. With Jaci’s story I delved into home healthcare, abused women, and PTSD—post-traumatic stress disorder. With Jena’s story I explored BRCA genetic testing for breast cancer, treatment options for those positive for the genetic mutation, and the impact of both on a single mother determined to live for her daughters.

      As I began to write it didn’t take long for me to fall in love with Jaci and Jena—two strong women who, each in their own way, overcome family tragedy to triumph as adults. And now they are both a welcome addition to the family of characters already established in my mind.

      I hope you enjoy reading Jaci and Jena’s stories as much as I enjoyed writing them.

      To learn more about me, or my Madrin Memorial Hospital series, please visit my website: http://WendySMarcus.com

      Wishing you all good things

       Wendy S. Marcus

      PROLOGUE

      IAN CALVIN EDDELTON, aka Ice to his army ranger buddies, looked up at the vision of blonde-haired, blue-eyed, bare-skinned loveliness now straddling his naked thighs, her palms pushing down on his pecs, forcing his back into the plush sheets of her bed. As if a tiny thing like her could hold him down if he didn’t want to be held down.

      “You don’t have to do this.” He forced out the words despite his brain’s best rationalizations to suppress them. A fun bout of banter turned sexual challenge had never resulted in either of them shedding their clothes before. He needed her to be sure.

      Beautiful, determined eyes met his. “Yes. I do.”

      Looked like the woman who didn’t want sex to ruin their friendship, and the man who didn’t want friendship to ruin their sex, were both about to get screwed. Literally.

      He caressed the smooth skin of her perfect ass, usually hidden by a pair of skimpy running shorts or some fitted designer duds, and eased her closer to Ian junior who stood tall, sheathed, and eager to explore her internal terrain. To learn the secrets of what gave her pleasure and exploit them until she screamed his name over and over. Like he’d bragged he could on their many long runs rife with blatant flirtation and sexual innuendo.

      But, “Why?” Why tonight, of all nights, when he’d been trying to lure her into bed for months, when by this time tomorrow he’d be on a plane headed back to the war in Iraq?

      She smiled. Damn she was beautiful. “Consider it my bit to support our troops.”

      Tease.

      Ian ran his fingers along the outside of her firm thighs. “There are thousands of us.” Rounded her hips, followed the curve of her narrow waist, up to her ribs. “You do this sort of thing often?” He slid his thumbs across her taut nipples.

      She trembled.

      “You,” she lowered her luscious breasts to his chest and leaned close to his ear, “are lucky number one.” She rocked her hips until she had him poised at her entrance.

      The urge to tell her there’d better not be a number two, that she should mail out brownies and holiday cards instead, came out of nowhere. Because she could do whatever the hell she wanted. They weren’t going together, would never be anything more than friends—although an ongoing friends with benefits type deal was looking mighty appealing from where he lay. Hooah.

      He tilted his pelvis, gave her a small taste of what was to come. “So it turns out you’re a sucker for a man in uniform after all.”

      “I’m a sucker for you, Staff Sergeant,” she whispered, circling the perimeter of his inner ear with her tongue, sending rippling waves of arousal throughout his body. “And when you’re lying on your cot in the dead of night, exhausted, your mind reeling from the events of the day, I want to be your oasis in the desert, the calm that relaxes you before you drift off to sleep.” She lifted her upper body, shifted her hips, and took him deep. “I want you to think about us. Like this.”

      Getting himself to stop thinking about them like this was going to be the problem.

      She rode him slowly, their eyes locked, their bodies in total sync. “I want you to fight hard and stay safe and look forward to the day I will welcome you home. Just. Like. This.” She punctuated each of her last three words with a swift thrust of her hips before collapsing onto his chest, sliding her hands around his sides and hugging him. “I’m going to miss you.”

      An odd sensation squeezed his heart. At the same time, an unsettling concoction churned in his gut.

      Could it be guilt? Because, to avoid a protracted, teary goodbye, he would slip away as soon as she fell asleep.

      Maybe remorse? Because he’d gone overseas and returned home enough times over the past ten years to know nothing ever remained the same. By the time he came home she’d probably be settled on one of the well-bred, successful business associates her brother seemed hell-bent on fixing her up with.

      Or a hint of longing