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New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Suzanne Brockmann has thrilled audiences with her Tall, Dark and Dangerous series. Experience it here with a hero who must face the most daring adventure of all—falling in love.
Once a hero, always a hero…
Melody Evans just wants to marry an ordinary, average man who doesn’t take risks. But when the foreign embassy where she works is taken over by terrorists and she’s rescued by a daring Navy SEAL, Melody blames the extreme circumstances for their ensuing passion. When it comes to ordinary, Harlan “Cowboy” Jones is anything but, and their encounter leaves Melody with a little more than just memories…
Seven months later, when Cowboy pays Melody a visit, he’s shocked to find her pregnant with his child. Now all he has to do is convince her they’re meant to be together—that he can be as ordinary as the next guy…
Everyday, Average Jones
Suzanne Brockmann
CONTENTS
Thanks to Candace Irvin, who helped clear up a great deal of confusion about rank and pay-grade and U.S. Navy life in general.
My eternal thanks to my tall, dark and dangerously funny friend Eric Ruben, who called me up one day and said, “Hey, Suz, I just read a great article about navy SEALs. You should check it out.” (I did, and the rest, as they say, is history.)
Thanks, also, to the EAJ Project volunteers from the Team Ten list (http://groups.yahoo.com/group/teamten) for their proofreading skills: Group Captain Rebecca Chappell, Jolene Birum, Joan Detzner, Nancy Fecca, Ginny Ann Jakob, Annie Lewis, Leah Long, Gail Reddin, Vivian L. Weaver and Deborah Wooley.
Special thanks to the Frisco’s Kid Project volunteers, who got left out of the acknowledgments for that book: Cocaptains Rebecca Chappell and Agnes Brach, Miriam Caraway, Maureen Cleator, Nicole Ione Cottles, Anne Dierkes, Melody Jacobson, Leah Long, Kelly Ludwig, Nadine Mayhew and Lauri Uzee. Hooyah, gang! Thanks so much to all of you for helping out.
Thanks to the real teams of SEALs, and to all of the courageous men and women in the U.S. military who sacrifice so much to keep America the land of the free and the home of the brave. And last but not least, a heartfelt thank-you to the wives, husbands, children and families of these real-life military heroes and heroines. Your sacrifice is deeply appreciated!
Any mistakes I’ve made or liberties I’ve taken in writing this book are completely my own.
For my big sister, Carolee Brockmann.
And for my mom, Lee Brockmann,
who even likes the ones that never sell.
It was extremely likely that she was going to die.
And with every hour that passed, her chance of making it out of this godforsaken country any way other than inside a body bag was slipping from slim to none.
Melody Evans sat quietly in the corner of the little windowless office that had become her prison, writing what she hoped would not be her final words in a letter to her sister.
Dear Brittany, I’m scared to death of dying….
She was terrified of the finality of a single bullet to the head. But she was even more afraid of the other sort of death that possibly awaited her. She’d heard of the kinds of torture that were far too prevalent in this part of the world. Torture, and other archaic, monstrous practices. God help her if they found out she was a woman….
Melody felt her pulse kick into overdrive, and she took slow, deep breaths, trying to calm herself.
Remember the time you took me sledding up at the apple orchards? Remember how you got on the sled behind me, and told me in that supertheatrical voice you sometimes used that we were either going to steer a straight course down the hill through the rows of trees—or die trying?
Her older sister had always been the adventurous one. Yet it was Brittany who was still at home in Appleton, living in the same four-story Godzilla of a Victorian house that they’d grown up in. And it was Melody who, in a moment of sheer insanity, had accepted the job of administrative assistant to the American ambassador and had moved overseas to a country she hadn’t even known existed until six months ago.
I remember thinking as we plunged down the hill—God, I couldn’t have been more than six years old, but I remember thinking—at least we’ll die together.
I wish to God I didn’t feel so alone….
“You