xmlns:og='http://ogp.me/ns#' Kryssie Fortune: Why is a SEAL's Badge Sometimes Called a Budweiser? #Seal #spanking #erotic #excerpt #amreading

Wednesday, 18 January 2017

Why is a SEAL's Badge Sometimes Called a Budweiser? #Seal #spanking #erotic #excerpt #amreading

Everyone knows Navy SEALS are special. It’s no surprise their badge is too. The badge’s formal title is Special Warfare Insignia, but mostly it’s known as a SEALS Trident, or even better a Budweiser. Apparently the eagle looks a lot like the eagle on the famous beer bottle so the name isn’t a hint on Seals celebrating finishing the 24-week  Basic Underwater Demolition / Seal’s training—usually referred to as BUDS.
The Special Warfare insignia consists of a golden eagle clutching a U.S. Navy anchor, trident, and flintlock style pistol. 
It’s full of symbolism, but to me, the best thing is it used to come in two grades, silver for enlisted men, gold for officers.  Due to the the combined training that officers and enlisted men undergo, the silver badge was dropped. Now any would-be SEAL gets a gold badge on completion of BUDS training whatever his rank.

In my novella Sex Scandal, and the Sheriff, Sean Mathews is a former Seal turned sheriff of Westhorpe Ridge. Although it’s a stand-alone romance, it’s number two in my Heroes of Westhorpe Ridge Trilogy.

Sean took a bullet in the thigh and it cost him his speed in the water. Unfortunately, when foreign agents kidnap the woman he loves, he needs all his SEAL prowess to save her. 

Jasmine Stewart (Jazz to her friends) falls for the blond stranger when he spanks and seduces her at a Washington soiree. Later, when she discovers her flatmate is trying to draw her into a spy ring, she goes to the authorities. The ensuing publicity costs her her job, her security, and her future. Starting over in Westhorpe Ridge is her only option.

Sean Mathews, former SEAL and Westhorpe Ridge’s sheriff, can’t forget the woman he spanked when he visited Washington, but he thinks she’s a spy. When she turns up in Westhorpe Ridge, he tries everything to make her leave town. Despite their misunderstandings, though, they can’t keep their hands off each other.

As Year’s Eve looms, the spy ring resurfaces. Jazz will need all of Sean’s SEAL prowess to survive. But because his wounded leg cost him his speed in the water, will it be enough?

Buy links

Loose id                    http://www.loose-id.com/sex-scandal-and-the-sheriff.html?_
Amazon UK              http://amzn.to/2inBoBE
Amazon US              http://amzn.to/2iOBqn1
Kobo                        http://bit.ly/2igip8T
Barnes and Noble    http://bit.ly/2iGigfP

ADULT Excerpt
Jasmine Stewart, Jazz to her friends, stood back and watched couples pair off. The room with its crystal chandelier and beautifully laid-out buffet was everything she’d expect from a high-class Washington soiree, not that she’d ever attended one before. The ladies in their long evening dresses and slightly overdone makeup looked like they’d stepped off a film set. Maybe it was the fancy up-do the hairdresser had twisted her hair into, but Jazz’s head hurt. The men, supposedly the capital city’s movers and shakers, stalked the room like sexual predators.
That last glass of champagne had been so bitter she couldn’t finish it, but it had set her libido blazing. Not usually jealous, she wanted to thrust the women aside and fight for her man. Any man would do. This sexual hunger wasn’t her, but right now she craved a hard, masculine body to grind her pussy against as she stripped off his clothes. Once she’d freed his cock, he’d pump it inside her until she came so many times she begged him to stop. If the musky smell of sex percolating through the room meant anything, the women here had gone into collective heat. Jazz’s breasts ached, and her pussy dampened with need. If she didn’t come soon, she’d explode.
Earlier, she’d hated the way the men leched over the female guests—all knowing smiles and smutty asides. Jazz’s roommate had taken her for a free manicure and had a hairdresser style her hair. “Perks of my job in the fashion industry,” Natasha had told her.
Then, Natasha had tossed Jazz a designer dress, told her to put it on, and dragged her to the sort of evening Jazz had only ever seen in the movies. Now she stood in the corner, fascinated by the sexual preferences of the rich and famous. She even recognized some of the guests from the newspapers. She stood, her back against the wall, and wondered what a schoolteacher like her was doing there. If she hadn’t promised Natasha she wouldn’t leave without her, Jazz would have hit the road an hour ago. They’d booked a taxi for midnight, so she couldn’t leave Asshole Central until then.
Now she craved a man’s hands on her body and his cock in her mouth. Multiple partners sounded amazing as did being tied down and spanked. Rough sex would make her night. She needed to be stroked, caressed, and screwed, not necessarily in that order.
She wished she’d paired up when the men were sniffing around women like dogs looking for the biggest bone, but the monkey-suited guys who thought they were God’s gift to women had made her flesh crawl. Well, the blond had been okay. The worst had been the dark-haired one who’d run one hand along her arm and the other over his crotch. In return, she’d rammed her three-inch heel into his foot. Pierced it, she hoped.
He’d sworn, raised his fist, and hopped around like a drunken kangaroo while she’d skedaddled across the room, but his glare had promised retribution. The encounter had left her shaken and distressed, eager to go home. No way would she lower her standards and make out with a creep like him. The blond she’d seen earlier, though, him she’d happily strip off for and screw, but he’d probably found another woman by now. If she hadn’t been so picky, he could be fucking her now. Regret made her frown.
In her imagination, a sexy stranger pulled her into a private room, tugged off her panties, and spanked her until she begged them to stop. Afterward, he’d fuck her hard. This cat-in-heat thing wasn’t her usual modus operandi, but the need boiling through her blood pushed her common sense aside.
If she hadn’t been such a prude earlier, she could be spreading her legs and begging some man to use her body any way he wanted. Sharing her secret desires with a stranger didn’t usually figure on her to-do list, but tonight she’d do almost anything for sex.
Every night as she rubbed her clit until she drifted off to sleep, she conjured up images of her dream lover. She’d never pictured his face, but he’d be well over six feet tall, blond-haired, and his chest would be so broad she could lose herself when she leaned against it. His abs would be defined, more an eight pack than a six, and his cock would be thick, broad, and lickably solid. She imagined a faceless man putting her over his knee and spanking her bare butt. Afterward, he’d hold her close and cuddle her as though she rocked his world. In her dreams, when he sank his cock into her, they shared a passion so intense it felt like a sensual earthquake.
Nearby, a woman Jazz didn’t know pulled off her panties and twirled them around on her finger. Her partner laughed and lifted up her dress so he could stare at her exposed pussy. Even as Jazz lurked in the shadows, she saw the woman’s juices gleaming on her clit. God, Jazz wanted to be as bold as that woman, but despite the unbridled need flowing through her body, she lacked the courage to do anything so desperate or so sexy.

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