JAMIE RAE is a New Adult and Young Adult author. She writes with one goal in mind - to create stories with a positive message that will stay with the reader long after they've finished reading.
Jamie is an avid reader and loves discovering stories with a great hook! She will not eat, sleep, or speak until she reaches the end. The Harry Potter years weren't pretty!! Convinced that her Hogwarts letter was lost in the mail, she keeps a watchful eye for owls hoping her children will have better luck!
In her other life, Jamie Rae creates smiles to last a lifetime as an orthodontist, keeps her heart overflowing with love as a mother of three and has perfected the art of nomadic living as a military spouse and Air Force veteran. Jamie has a passion for critters of all shapes and sizes and you can often find her sneaking them into her own home or volunteering for rescues. passion for critters of all shapes and sizes and you can often find her sneaking them into her own home or volunteering for rescues.
Hey there! I’m Tink. Yep, you heard me right. I’m a blonde haired, blue-eyed fighter pilot, named Tink. We can all agree that my mom pretty much screwed me with that one. But today, my name is only the beginning of my troubles. Today is my first day of F-35 “school”. I’m the first female chosen to fly the Air Forces newest jet, not to mention doing it right out of pilot training. All that glory, on top of the fact that my head is screwed up over my brother’s death in the same jet, scares the shit out of me.
Still, I’m going to plaster a smile on my face and tell everyone I’m ‘fine.’ I have tits in a testosterone world and showing any sign of weakness is not an option. I’ll. Be.Fine.
Holy Hell. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Just wait until you see what happens…
Love in the no-fly zone…Distraught over the loss of her brother in a fighter jet accident, Tinklee Pinkerton decides to follow in his footsteps and prove the tragedy wasn’t his fault. But when she’s chosen as the first woman to fly the Air Force’s F-35, her plan for a life that revolves around work is thrown off course by a handsome, mysterious stranger…Thanks to Locke’s seductive British accent, sweet nature, and one too many beers, Tink is soon inspired to throw caution to the wind and herself into his arms. She thinks maybe love can heal after all—until she discovers Locke is her superior officer. Tink has no problem risking her life in the air, but with everything on the line, is she brave enough to risk her heart on the ground?
I twirled my pencil around on the desk and tried to keep from dozing off. My stomach growled desperately in need of food. My lack of sleep and too many beers was catching up with me. The pencil spun off the table and hit the floor. I bent down to pick it up when I noticed my boot string tied to the table. What were we in, kindergarten? Stupid fighter guys. They were all the same. I pulled on the lace, but it was knotted.
The door opened and two sets of boots came into the room. One was the Director of Operations, Major Rex, or T-Rex. I recognized his voice without looking up. His scruffy tone was one that a person wouldn’t forget. I’d spoken to him on the phone during the selection process.
I tugged on the knot, but it was too tight. I wiggled the tip of the pencil into the tangled mess. I didn’t want to cut the stupid lace. Freaking boys.
“The Joint Strike Fighter will not only be flown by our guys, but some Allied Forces are joining the fight as well. Flight Lieutenant Sinclair has flown over five hundred hours in the Eurofighter and two hundred hours in the F-35. He has flown in combat with RAF Corningsby and has an extraordinary record with the Brits,” T-Rex said as I continued to work on freeing my damn boot. “We are fortunate to have him here and look forward to his expertise. Flight Lieutenant Sinclair. Call sign, Duke.”
I tugged on my string almost freeing the knot so I could sit back up and see. I gave it another jerk.
“Thank you Major Rex. It’s awesome to be here,” said a male voice laced with a British accent.
A too familiar British accent. It couldn’t be the toe-curling, heart-flipping, cause-me-to-lose-all-good-sense, British freaking accent.
My heart skipped a beat or twenty.
“No,” I mouthed silently to myself as my eyes widened. It couldn’t be....
I lifted my head up to see if my ears had deceived me, prepared to drop and army crawl the hell out of here.
I sucked back a breath and instinctively jerked up. My head cracked on the bottom of the table. Shooting stars clouded my visions.
“Holy shit,” I muttered and grabbed for my head.
Through the haze, I could see well enough to recognize my perfect stranger standing in Flight Lieutenant Sinclair’s boots. All six-foot-two of him. Hot, gorgeous, and neatly packaged in a well-fitted flight suit.
I needed to get out of here. Now. He was staring directly at me, ghastly white and shell-shocked. I knew the feeling.
I gulped and jumped to my feet, forgetting that my foot was still tied to the table.
“Shit!” I cursed and fell backwards.
My head cracked against the ground. I lay flat on my back with my eyes closed, head pounding, foot tied to a desk and very vivid images of my instructor, naked in my bed. The calendar was right. It was doomsday.
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