A Few Good Men

A Red Hot & Blue Novel

"reminds me of Suzanne Brockmann’s Navy Seals” Joyfully Reviewed

Army Staff Sergeant John Blake is happy to ignore the romance novel he's seen his tank crew passing around, until he becomes the author’s accidental pen pal, and her emails make him look forward to checking his inbox.

Maureen, aka Summer Winters, erotic romance author, has given up finding the last decent man on earth, until she finds him—halfway around the world.

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A Few Good Men was previously published. It has been reedited, recovered and rereleased without any substantial changes to the story or text.


Jazzy had been unconscious but alive when the medevac helicopter took him away.

In the military hospital, he regained consciousness and was able to talk, but after hearing what he had to say, John was pretty sure he wanted to kill him.

John ran his hands over his face. “Why can’t you wait to email her when you get out of here?”

“Because the docs say I can’t leave this hospital bed for almost a week, and then I have to go straight to my bunk and not move for another week except to go to the head. So you have to do it. I can’t be wandering around the MWR. I might collapse and injure myself.” Jazzy held a hand to his ribcage and looked pitiful, no doubt to coerce John into doing what he obviously didn’t want to do by playing on his sympathies.


“Look. I have no problem calling your wife for you. Hell, I’ll even contact your grandmother and dear old aunt if you want, but I am not emailing your sex-writer pen pal Summer Winters.” John stuck to his resolution even as Jazzy looked at him with hurt puppy eyes.

The areas covered with white gauze bandages outnumbered those without, making the concussion and contusions seem worse. But John was well aware that with explosions it was the internal injuries that could kill you, no matter how good or bad the exterior looked.

“That’s okay.” The man in the bed before him shrugged and then winced in spite of the large number of painkillers John knew was coursing through his veins. “It’s not like I got injured following an order you, my tank commander, gave me or anything—oh wait. It is exactly that.”

Jazzy didn't bother to suppress the grin that crossed his lips.

He was trying guilt now? Dammit, though, it was the truth. Jazzy had been out of that tank and in harm’s way following his order.

John growled, a low rumbling sound of frustration and defeat. “I really hate you right about now. You do know that, don’t you?”

Jazzy smiled wider. “Yup. And might I add you’re not the first commander I’ve had say that. So her email address is summer at summer winters dot com. Do you want me to write that down?”

Jazzy picked up the pad of paper and pen he kept on his bed so he could write his wife daily.

“No, thank you. I believe I can remember that very complicated email address.” John rolled his eyes.

“What are you going to say in the email to her?”

Now Jazzy was going to try and tell him what to say too? Although, what exactly did one say to a granny sex novelist?

He desperately did not want to do this. John sighed, defeated. “What would you like me to say?”

“You should probably thank her for the coffee since you liked drinking it as much as the rest of us. But I think first you should introduce yourself. She knows who you are because I talk about you.”

“You talk about me? To her?” John frowned. “Why?”

“Because I love and respect you so much. Of course.” Jazzy smirked and John seriously considered smacking him and adding more damage to what the car bomb had accomplished. “And if you could email her today I would appreciate it. I’ve been in here for three days already, and she tends to get worried when I don’t respond to her for a while. She always assumes I got blown up.”

The guy never did know when to leave well enough alone.

“Yeah, well, this time you did get blown up,” John reminded him, feeling mean.

Jazzy hung his head dramatically. “Yes, I did. But I got blown up happy in the knowledge that my fellow crew members and my commander were safely inside the tank.”

Another growl followed that comment. “Damn you, Jazzy.”

He had the nerve to laugh, and John decided he would have far rather been the one blown up than the one having to email Jazzy’s do-gooder porn-penning pal.

Reviews:on Romance Junkies:

“A story full of red-hot passion, fascinating characters and thrilling situations”

on Joyfully Reviewed:

“A Few Good Men made me want more stories about Task Force Zeta and reminds me of Suzanne Brockman’s Navy Seals.”

on Smart Bitches, Trashy Books:

"I loved the scenes between John and the soldiers in his command... Johnson writes some very tense action in this book."