Romantic Suspense, contemporary Romance
The One I Want
A series of love stories by JET & ELLIE MASTERS
Love is everywhere in this swoon-worthy, steamy series of combustible couple’s romance stories.
True Love, Soulmates
Happily Ever After
Second Chance Romance
You’ll find it all in The One I Want series
Stories about love at first sight. They’re heartfelt and true.
We believe that special spark exists, and we’re bringing it to you one story at a time.
If they want their happily ever after, they’ll have to fight Mother Nature for it…
Aiden Cole isn’t interested in love. Any romantic notions he ever had died with his wife. Besides, his sole focus needs to be on safely evacuating his crew before Hurricane Julian slams into their offshore oil rig. Then she arrives. The tough, gorgeous, rescue pilot is everything Aiden thought he’d never have—or want—again. He can’t lose her. Too bad the storm seems to have other plans for them…
Ariel Black has seen it all. As a decorated war veteran and medical evacuation expert, nothing usually surprises her. But her almost instant attraction to Aiden? Now that is a surprise. Their timing is all wrong. The sexy jerk isn’t even her type, and yet…none of that seems to matter when she’s in his arms.
Will the storm of the century destroy Aiden and Ariel’s chance at happily ever after? Or does fate have something else in store?
Aiden, a steamy, second chance, contemporary romantic suspense, is book 1 in the One I Want series about love at first sight. It features an arrogant alpha male hero, and the smart, feisty heroine who steals his heart. Get your copy today and let the binge reading begin.
“This is book one in new series and it’s Aiden and Ariel’s story of loss, love, and life. Book is powerfully written by co-authors and husband and wife team that have an amazing way of telling suspenseful and dramatic stories. I was swept right up in this one and very much looking forward to next one (featuring Brent and Brie).” ~ ShannaD
“Wow! I was blown away by Aiden and Ariel’s Story! (Book #1 in The One I want Series).
The premise was fresh and new. This book sucked me in and didn’t let go. If you are looking for a second chance romance with a HEA, this book is for you. I LOVED it!!!! I can’t wait to read the rest of this series!”~ Sue
“This was an exciting, scary, thrilling, steamy book that would have gotten even more than 5 stars if such things were allowed. The writing was terrific, and the characters really came to life.”~ Riley
“Sexy & Suspenseful…Wow! Talk about danger and suspense. This story has that plus all the feels! I loved Aiden and Ariel’s book and look forward to the whole alphabet!”~Lori
Escape inside your next great read!
A little peek inside…
Hurricane Julian would be the tenth storm of the season. The Category Five monster barreled down on the Gulf with the tenacity of a bull staring down a china shop. Chomping at the bit, Julian dug in, ready to destroy, and Ariel intended to fly directly into the maw of Julian’s fury. Metaphors aside, things were about to get ugly, and she loved every minute of it.
It had been far too long since adrenaline spiked in her veins. After leaving the military, she’d taken a job as a medevac pilot, flying her helicopter to any of the many oil rigs peppered throughout the Gulf. Dangerous work, injuries were an unfortunate occurrence, despite rigid safety protocols. Her crew answered the calls, heading out to ferry the sick and injured back to definitive medical care.
It wasn’t a kickass job steeped in death and glory, not like the military, but it had its moments. Most of the time it was a thankless job, but it paid the bills, and it kept her flying. She never felt more alive than with a stick in her hands and air beneath her feet.
This promised to be an interesting run because everyone was headed off the oil rigs rather than flying to them. They fled the storm she willingly flew into.
Pre-flight prep took most of her concentration, but she thought back to the last time she had braced for the worst. This was a cake walk compared to that. Her third combat tour in the desert was a shitstorm and ended her career in the Army.
It had been early morning on base when the call came in. A special ops team had injured men on the ground, were pinned down and had requested helicopter evacuation. The area was to be secured by the time her team arrived. After the briefing, she and her co-pilot, Reggie, aka Rocks, went to their helicopter.
They checked the exterior of the helicopter while the four special ops surgical team members loaded the crew area with their gear. Then, she and Rocks climbed on board to complete their pre-flight checks. They were in a hurry but didn’t skimp on safety. Rocks dusted off the gauges. The ever-present sand and grit permeated everything. While the team in back secured their gear, she and Rocks went over the flight plan. Once finished, they each squeezed the rabbit’s foot they hung in the cockpit for good luck. It began their tour gleaming white but was now a dusty brown from all the sand.
“You ready Angel?” Her call sign had been Battle Angel, or Angel for short, a play on a famous Manga character because she was small but packed a punch.
Their mission was to pick up two wounded near a forward operating base. A team had gone on patrol, ran into difficulty, and now battled insurgents.
They lifted off and headed into the desert. Perspiration beaded her brow and sweat trickled down her back and between her boobs. Fifty clicks out, she dropped down, using the rocky terrain to hide their radar signature.
As they approached their target, flashes of gunfire burst from the rocky scree. Pings sounded as bullets struck the outer shell of the helicopter.
“Shit!” The area was supposed to have been secured, but it was too hot to land. She piled on speed and began defensive maneuvers as Rocks radioed in a status update.
“They’re telling us to leave,” he said.
One of the worst parts of the job was aborting a mission and leaving men on the ground, but she couldn’t disobey orders. They would return, just as soon as it was safe.
As she angled away, a man stood up from behind a large group of rocks with an RPG propped on his shoulder. The man staggered as he fired. A smoke trail headed directly for her bringing a rocket grenade on a direct intercept.
“Evade! Evade! Evade!” She banked hard left, angling down to pick up speed.
Rocks gripped his seat as the helicopter shuddered under the impact. The rocket grenade exploded, taking out the tail section and putting her into a spin a hundred and fifty feet off the ground. Her entire instrument cluster lit up like a Christmas tree, lights flashing, alarms blaring.
She fought for control as they went down. They were going to crash; her job was to make sure they didn’t die on impact. With deafening alarms screeching in her ears and lights flashing on her display, she fought the deadly spiral.
The helicopter slammed into the ground, crunching and groaning as metal twisted and broke apart. The hard landing bounced them on the rocks and flipped the helicopter on its side.
When she came to, her head felt like it’d been split in two. An acrid smell burned the sensitive tissues of her nostrils. Smoke poured down her throat, making her cough. The coppery taint of blood coated her tongue, and she spit out the offensive substance. Blood blurred her vision, but not the macabre scene of Reggie and the shrapnel which speared him through the chest. His eyes stared back at her, filled with the terror of his death. She looked over her shoulder while pulling on the straps securing her to her seat. Two of the SOST team were dead. Two others were injured.
Only after unbuckling did she realize her left leg had been shattered. Smoke filled the air. They were on fire and moments from an explosion. She bit back a scream as she clutched her injured leg and breathed in fumes.
The whole thing was going to blow.
Crawling to the back, she dragged one of the wounded men out of the helicopter, then headed back to rescue the other. The dead could wait. A bullet ricocheted off a nearby rock, but she never once thought to stop. She grabbed the last survivor and dragged him toward safety. Bullets peppered the ground around her head, over her shoulders, and beside her hips and her feet. She gave hasty thanks for their terrible aim, at least until one of the shots scored a hit in her good leg.
Gritting her teeth, she dragged the last man behind a sheltering clump of rocks, getting the three of them to safety. Her last thought had been to grab for her sidearm, but blackness overcame her and she passed out.
Two years later, her shattered leg and lack of sufficient rehabilitation to make her combat ready again, found her sitting before a medical evaluation board. They could have kicked her out, but the Army awarded her a medal and a medical retirement instead.
Her military career was over. Her career in aviation hadn’t been ruined, but it had been sidelined.
They didn’t have hurricanes in the desert, but they had hostiles with guns, plenty of ammunition, itchy trigger fingers, and a fanatical will to kill infidels. She had battled sandstorms and survived getting shot down. Now, she was lucky to battle a sudden violent gust or maneuver around a localized storm.
Back then, she’d flown in hot, hand steady on the stick, with a crew of medics hanging on for dear life with clenched hands and puckered assholes. Landing in the midst of gunfire could make the cockiest pilot quake in their boots or shit their pants, but she faced those kinds of missions with steely determination and eerily cool composure.
She did that now.
A distinguished combat veteran, her hand remained steady as she lifted out of Mobile, Alabama with a critical care transport team strapped in the back of her helicopter.
Hurricane Julian churned a couple hundred miles offshore, flirting with the western coastline of Florida as it barreled directly toward Mobile. Instead of petering out, it looked to be picking up steam. Earlier, it had looked like any other gorgeous day on the Gulf; deep blue skies with barely any clouds and nearly mirror smooth waters. The calm before the storm lied about the hell to come.
There were no blue skies for this flight, however. The sun had set over an hour ago. She flew into the inky blackness and headed out to sea.
“It’s bumpy as shit back here,” Andrew, the flight nurse, called out through their integrated headsets.
“How’s Julian?” Larry, their medic, sounded concerned.
She didn’t blame him. It was going to be a rough flight, but they were still far ahead of the storm.
Ariel glanced at her weather radar. “Still on a direct course.”
“How much time?” Larry asked.
“Enough.” She tried to soothe him but was too busy flying to settle Larry’s nerves.
While devastating, hurricanes traveled at a relative snail’s pace. However, the winds were already kicking up and tossed the Gulf into a frenzy. Below them, the normally calm waters churned and the waves kicked up. Gusts would make her job harder, but she looked forward to the challenge.
“Lots of air traffic.” Andrew’s voice crackled through the headset.
A glance left confirmed Andrew’s statement, although it wasn’t a surprise. Lights from other helicopters dotted the night sky as they ferried crew off all active rigs in Julian’s path. Beneath them, tossing about in the waves, a steady stream of boat traffic lit up the dark waters.
Flights would continue until all crew members were evacuated from the fixed platforms. Per protocol, stationary rigs evacuated their entire crews, while drillships off-loaded only nonessential personnel. They would then disconnect from their wells, and steer the drillship away from the storm to wait things out.
Their patients were on the former, a stationary rig with a complete evacuation underway. Last man off would turn out the lights as it were. A glance at the clock and she gave a nod. They would have plenty of time to stabilize the wounded crew and make it back far in advance of the worst of the weather. Unfortunately, their helicopter would block the evacuation of the last crewmen remaining.
Hopefully, all non-essential personnel would be gone by the time her crew arrived. The rig she flew toward was located a little more than a hundred miles offshore. They had a relatively quick flight and would be there in thirty to forty-five minutes, depending on changes in wind speed as Julian approached.
She called the rig and confirmed her ETA and availability of the landing pad, which gave her twenty minutes to obsess over things she couldn’t control. It would be nice to have a little more action and pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist.
During the flight, the slow drizzle turned to rain and the wind kicked up. Hopefully, the heavy stuff was still some distance off. When they approached the rig, she called in and moved toward a helideck suspended two-hundred feet above a seething sea.
Weather in the Gulf was relatively calm compared to other places around the globe, but she held a healthy respect for it. Summers could be pristine without a breath of wind or turn into full-blown squalls within minutes. In the winter, cold fronts moved fast, bringing dramatic wind shifts and plummeting temperatures. Fog was more common than not, the result of the high humidity, and of course, there were the ever-present thunderstorms which cropped up with the worst timing, bringing high winds. More than one helicopter had been tossed off a helideck and plunged into the Gulf.
Her respect wasn’t healthy. It was profound.
She battled gusts with concerned not only about landing, but a takeoff that threatened to pitch her into the water below. It was getting sketchy out here. They wouldn’t be able to spend much time on deck, especially with the rain getting heavier. Julian wasn’t fooling around and had picked up speed. He came to enact a profound vengeance upon the world and the last thing she wanted was to be anywhere near the full brunt of his fury.
“Hang on,” she called to her passengers. “It’s going to be bumpy, and don’t unbuckle until I tell you.”
Understandably, the flight nurse and paramedic were eager to get to their patients, but if they got out before the skids were anchored, it could be the last thing they did. Before touching down, she armed the floats, a precaution in case she didn’t stick the landing. If the gusts bucked them off the platform, the floats would deploy giving them a chance of escaping the helicopter. Her motto was to plan for the worst and pray for the best.
Right now, she wished for a break in the sheets of rain pouring down. She couldn’t see crap.
A gust blew her off the helideck and she cursed. This was turning into a real goat rope. But she regained altitude and realigned for a second approach. Winds gusted from the southeast, Julian testing the waters. Okay, easy now. There was a flare boom to the right and a crane to the left she needed to avoid. She kicked the tail a little to the right after clearing a stairwell. One more check to make sure the floats were armed.
Holy crap! Where did that antenna come from?
Hands steady, she cleared the antenna and made a note to speak to their Offshore Installation Manager about putting stuff up above the deck level. The skids touched down and she radioed an update back to base. The whine of the engine powered down and the rotors came to a stop. In the back, Andrew and Larry gathered their gear, hefting packs to their backs and readying the stretcher. They waited for her to give the all clear.
Outside, three men waited. Shrouded in rain gear, their bulky yellow shapes flashed in the landing lights. Beneath their hoods, their faces fell into shadow.
Ariel spent eight years in the military. Alpha men were a dime a dozen in the Army, but they all had the same purpose, the same mission. The business of oil drilling attracted a similar breed, rough and rugged men, only these didn’t hold to a code she understood. With the military, everyone marched to the same drummer, followed the same orders, and could be trusted implicitly. Drillers? They were a rough lot.
They made her uncomfortable, and she didn’t trust them.
Gusts buffeted the helideck and the craft shuddered. As the whine of the engine disappeared another sound replaced it. A deep, thunderous booming, felt more than heard, joined the roar of the wind. Vibrations from waves crashing against the support pillars ripped through the super-structure. Nature’s power literally shook the world.
She popped open her door and signaled to the waiting crew it was safe to approach. They rushed forward and secured her skids, bracing the helicopter against the rising winds. They did the same to the rotors overhead.
Once the skids were locked securely to the helideck, she gave the signal for Andrew and Larry. The two men jumped out, packs strapped to their backs, and portable stretcher in tow. This wasn’t their first foray to one of the thousands of oil rigs distributed throughout the Gulf. The imposing structures never failed to inspire awe and she felt some of that now pounding in her blood. Or maybe that was adrenaline spiking along her nerves? It didn’t matter. Everything about this situation was intense.
Safety protocols had been drilled into her, as it had for her crew. Many of the walkways, stairwells, and ladders spanned vast distances with deadly drops beneath them. One hand on the rail at all times. It was a mantra they lived with. A fall here could be fatal. Drilling remained one of the most dangerous professions for a reason.
A thick arm braced her door as a gust tried to slam it shut on her leg.
“Careful!” a gruff voice shouted.
“What?” He pulled back, a look of surprise on his face. “You’re a chick.”
“All day. Every day.”
“Huh.” He held the door open against the wind. “Come with me.”
“I’ll stay here, thank you.”
“Not happening. Too dangerous.” His gruff features brooked no argument as he studied her face. An aura of authority surrounded him, rolled off him, and slammed into her with the absolute assurance she would do as he said.
Her entire career had been spent facing down dominant men and overcoming male and female stereotypes that defined who she could and couldn’t be. She earned her right to pilot the helicopter and wouldn’t let his overwhelming presence force her into feeling less because she happened to be a chick.
But that authoritative aura?
It did things; spun her thoughts, teased her mind, and drew forth a powerful need to cave to his demands. To dispel the effect he was having on her, she shook her head and gritted her teeth.
“I’m staying with the helicopter.”
“No. You’re not.” He propped open the door, leaned in, and pulled her out of her seat.