Undercover GroomHot SEALs
Maryann Jordan
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Also by Maryann Jordan
About the Author
Undercover Groom (Hot SEALs: SEALs in Paradise) Copyright 2020
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.
If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, then you are reading an illegal pirated copy. If you would be concerned about working for no pay, then please respect the author’s work! Make sure that you are only reading a copy that has been officially released by the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
ISBN ebook: 978-1-947214-62-0
ISBN print: 978-1-947214-63-7
Created with Vellum
1
“Which door will you choose for the grand prize?”
Game show. Are those still on? Click.
“Oh, my God, me dating my co-star is just a rumor, although… giggle, giggle… he’s just a friend!”
Talk show with the newest Hollywood starlet. Who the hell is she and why does she look like she weighs about eighty pounds dripping wet with too-white veneers and fake boobs? Click.
“Never overcook for the perfect texture.”
Food show. Cooking with eel? What happened in the cupcake bake-off? Sigh. Click.
“Painting contrast colors gives an old room new life.”
Home show. An orange kitchen? Click.
Nolan Bell, “Ringer” to his SEAL team, was stuck in mind-numbing, soul-sucking, boring-as-ass recuperation. He wasn’t sure which was worse, not being with his team or being stuck in his mom’s house with nothing for entertainment other than two hundred channels of ridiculous TV.
His team was based out of Coronado, California, where he shared an apartment with several SEAL buddies. He just needed a place to lay his head between missions and hanging out with his buds was easy and cheap. But not a place to recuperate when he needed some assistance. Plus, he didn’t want them to see him as weak as a newborn kitten.
Sidelined by a fuckin’ ruptured appendix.
He had taken a weekend of leave to be the best man for his cousin. Just a weekend. Fly into Knoxville on Friday morning, rehearsal dinner Friday night, and wedding on Saturday. His plans for Saturday night at the reception were to drink, dance, and perhaps get lucky with one of the single bridesmaids. A perfect plan… or should have been.
But, after the vows were spoken and the group pictures were taken, nausea set in. Surely, nothing a little food and drink wouldn’t cure. But, walking past the reception buffet, his stomach clenched, and the nausea increased. Breaking out in a sweat, he hurried away to step outside, terrified of throwing up in front of the bridesmaid who had been making it obvious a little horizontal activity with her would be easily obtained. Sucking in the fresh evening air in an attempt to quell the blinding pain, he grimaced.
He should have known his mother would sniff out one of her children not feeling well. Rita Bell showed up at his side, her face etched in concern.
“Nolan, honey, you look terrible. How much have you had to drink?”
“None.” He barely kept the growl from his voice.
Hands planted on her hips, she said, “Don’t you take that tone with me. You look positively green!”
By now, the pain was making it hard to breathe, and he dropped into a chair before he fell to the floor. Jesus, I’m a fuckin’ SEAL! I’m used to pain! So what the hell is going on?
That was the last he remembered before the floor rushed toward his face. When he awoke, he was in the hospital. In a pale blue hospital gown. Nothing says ‘I’m not in control’ like a barely-covering-your-ass hospital gown. The only good thought that hit him was being glad his team wasn’t around. The teasing would have been unmerciful.
Ruptured appendix. Two days later, when he should have been discharged, infection set in, complicating matters. Three more days in the hospital on IV fluids and antibiotics, and he suffered the final indignation when they rolled him out of the hospital, weak and grouchy. And, to top it off, he was told he could not go back to work for two months. Two fuckin’ months… I’m supposed to be with my team, and I can’t get off medical leave for another month.
Tossing the TV remote to the side, he shifted his body around and stood. Walking into the bathroom, he took care of his business and then stared at his reflection in the mirror. Six-feet three-inches tall, he was built. Ten years in the military, the last six as a SEAL, had sculpted his muscles into a powerful body. Taking after his dad with dark hair and whiskey-colored eyes, he knew he turned female gazes into sighs when he walked into a bar. As he rubbed his hand over his whiskers, he grinned. Those sighs turned into moans of pleasure if he happened to take one of them back to the apartment.
He wasn’t stupid. Frog hogs just want a SEAL to bang. But considering he had no time or inclination for a relationship—and as long as he kept it wrapped up—the one-nighters worked for him. His shoulders slumped and he sighed. At least they used to. It seemed a lot of his team members were falling for the idea of forever love.
Now, staring into the mirror, he noticed his complexion was still a little pale and dark circles remained underneath his eyes. Certain movements continued to cause dull pain in his abdomen. It’s been four weeks. I should be stronger by now.
Frustrated with his slow
