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    Break Rank: Coogan's Break Series, #4
    Break Rank: Coogan's Break Series, #4
    Break Rank: Coogan's Break Series, #4
    Ebook77 pages1 hourCoogan's Break Series

    Break Rank: Coogan's Break Series, #4

    By Hope Malone

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    About this ebook

    She's never gotten over that first love, instead devoting herself to her business. Meanwhile, his career is over, although not through any fault of his own.

    BRIDGET
    I've always had green thumbs, to the point I've now made a business out of it. The only thing I don't seem to be able to nurture, is love.

    It wasn't always this way. Back in high school I'd had my pick of the boys, although there'd only ever been one for me, Jason Adams. Sadly he chose the army over us, something I've never forgiven him for. On bumping into him again after all these years, the wounds are as fresh as day.

    JASON
    I've been trained to hurt, but those days are over for me. Budget cuts have me leaving the army sooner than I'd have liked, sooner than I'd have thought possible.

     

    Growing up an army brat, it was a given I'd enlist, and yet my baby brother beat me to it. Okay, so baby is a misnomer with Seth only the baby by half-an-hour and half-an-inch. It didn't matter that I was in love at the time; it had been my duty to protect him. I guess we all make mistakes, right?

    If you're short on time but long for romance, you'll love this series of steamy, curvy girl, opposites attract romances. They can be read in any order you choose, there's a guaranteed HEA with no cheating, and no cliffhangers.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBad Birds
    Release dateAug 16, 2023
    ISBN9798223858607
    Break Rank: Coogan's Break Series, #4
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      Book preview

      Break Rank - Hope Malone

      ONE

      JASON

      After standing, I shake hands with Roscoe, my caseworker at the Coogan's Break Job Center. My hand engulfs his.

      He's assessed my skills, aptitudes, and abilities. Some of the shadier talents I'd picked up during my time in the military had given him pause, despite him also being a veteran.

      I'm officially on the job market after working for Uncle Sam for the past nine years. And I don't like it.

      I didn't want to leave the army, but budgetary restraints said otherwise. Well, those and that asshat Mike Dawson, my commanding officer.

      It didn't matter that I'd never openly challenged his authority, always doing exactly as he'd ordered. And hell, if that hadn't been asinine.

      But when it came down to it, he knew. He knew I thought he was an idiot who shouldn't be in charge of running a bath.

      While Roscoe is confident of finding me the right job, I'm not hoping. I doubt there's much call for military-grade thugs in the seaside community I'd grown up in.

      His promise to call if anything comes up still ringing in my ears; I cross an expanse of sand colored carpet. This has me back in Afghanistan and still part of a team, still making a difference.

      The odds of finding something like that locally are slim, and for the first time in my life, I feel adrift. I don't belong here. I don't belong anywhere anymore.

      It's for this reason I've put the word out that I'd be interested in private contracts. There are plenty of jobs on the worldwide market where they're happy to pay good money to someone with my training.

      There's also a feeling of being a sell-out if I did. I signed up and trained hard all those years to fight for my country, not someone else's. Here's hoping my desperation to belong to something—anything—doesn't cloud my judgement.

      My emotions about Coogan's Break, a town I'd loved as a teenager, are also all over the place. It had been here that I'd enlisted at seventeen. The timing hadn't been great, but when Seth, my twin brother, informed me he had signed up, I had no option but to enlist.

      We were a team. It was my job to protect my little brother. Okay, not so little at six-foot-four, and only younger by half-an-hour, but still shorter and younger than me.

      I'd been wrong about him needing—or even wanting—my protection. His exact words at the time had been, Sheesh, Jason, haven't you screwed my life up enough already? Unfortunately, I knew exactly what he was talking about.

      The other thing I'd screwed up was how I'd left town. Ten years later and memories of Bridget Myers' tears can still crush my heart like an empty soda can.

      I never meant to hurt her. And even though I didn't feel like I had an option, leaving had come close to destroying me, too.

      I wonder what she's up to these days.

      Married with a couple of kids would be my guess. On this depressing thought, I march out onto the sidewalk and smash straight into a woman.

      Only by wrapping my arms tight around her do I stop her from ending up in a heap on the sidewalk. On looking down into her upturned face, the years roll back. The woman I'm holding onto like my life depends on it is none other than Bridget.

      It's as if my memories have somehow conjured her up. However, the woman in my arms differs from the teenager I'd left behind. My body doesn't care though, reacting as it always did.

      Nope, that's not right. It's reacting way more than it ever did, because Bridget is way more than she ever was. Hell, if those womanly curves aren't doing it for me in a big way. I'd always wondered what sort of woman she'd become.

      It's only when she gasps I become aware my hands are moving of their own volition. They're checking out places they really shouldn't. But hell, I'm only human and her new curves are out of this world.

      The bright orange, figure-hugging dress brings attention to bits that would have been just fine on their own. Meanwhile, her full breasts squished tight against my chest have my cock twitching.

      This has my head full of images of me caressing those gorgeous breasts to the point I'm close to drooling. Eventually I come to my senses, and drop my hands from where they've settled just beneath these magnificent orbs.

      I then put a little distance between us despite my body screaming out that it wants me to do the exact opposite. I'll bet her nipples would be tight little buds with the merest brush of my thumb … or my tongue…

      I'm immediately racked by guilt at my dirty thoughts until I notice there's no ring on her left hand. Then the guilt is back because anything happening between us is a no-no. I'd left her once; I'm not going there again, all part of

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