Friday, April 14, 2017

Invaluable (The Trident Code #2) by Alana Albertson: Blog Tour Excerpt & Giveaway


I’ll be honest with you—I’m no saint. Sure, I turned down my 9.6-million-dollar football contract to join the Teams but I’ll never tell you the real reason why. The media has anointed me a selfless, patriotic American hero. But it isn’t that deep—I just want some action.

A one-night stand with a San Diego coed. I picked her out of a steamy nightclub—sexy blonde hair, full breasts, nice ass. I savored her warm touch, the scent of her perfume, and the sound of her laughter. After she rode me all night, I took in the ocean view from my condo, thankful for the blissful memories she gave me to get me through my long deployment.

I cross paths with Miss San Diego again halfway across the world in Afghanistan. Turns out she is a professional cheerleader on a patriotic tour sent to entertain my Team.

I gaze into her beautiful blue eyes and give her my word that she’s safe with me. And my word is my bond.

Then she is kidnapped.

Whoever took her, took the wrong girl. Because I will tear this country apart to find her.

I’ll never win MVP, never get a championship ring, but some heroes don’t play games. 

Click to Buy The Trident Code Series on Amazon:


About the Author:

Alana Albertson is an award winning Latina author, the former President of Romance Writers of America’s Contemporary Romance, Chick Lit, and Young Adult chapters. She holds a Masters of Education from Harvard and a Bachelor of Arts in English from Stanford. A recovering professional ballroom dancer, Alana currently writes new adult romantic suspense, young adult, and contemporary romance. She lives in San Diego, California, with her husband, two sons, and five dogs. When she’s not spending her time needlepointing, dancing, or saving dogs from high kill shelters through her rescue Pugs N Roses, she can be found watching episodes of House Hunters, Homeland, or Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders: Making the Team.

Social Media Links:

 photo facebook_128.png photo twitter_128.png photo goodreads_128.png photo WebsiteIcon.png


When I was in college, winter had always been my favorite time of the year. Spring breaks always sucked because I’d been deep into a grueling spring training schedule, while summer vacations I’d spent preparing for the upcoming season. But winter breaks were the one time each year I could escape, party, and hook up without a care in the world.

Not anymore. Most of the time I could barely tell what season it was. In Afghanistan, the long, frigid days and nights blended together. Nowadays, I was checking out terrorists instead of sexy coeds. And strangely enough, I was fulfilled.

Today, I’d get a reprieve from my smelly men. Our SEAL team was the first stop on the much appreciated Christmas USO tour. Kept the morale high. The first plane had arrived yesterday, and the second one had just landed now.

Pat, Vic, and I were on our way to greet the planes. No idea who was on the tour—usually it was a mix of professional athletes, cheerleaders, comedians, and movie stars. I’d done a USO tour myself when I’d played professional ball. Hanging out with the SEALs during Christmastime was what had convinced me to leave my career behind and join the Teams. My father was a retired Marine, and I’d always wanted to serve my country. It was the best decision I’d ever made.

I handed Vic the big “Welcome to Afghanistan” sign, and the three of us walked to the runway to welcome the USO company. Yup, I was right—a few huge guys walked down the jet way. I immediately recognized one of them, a top quarterback. I was about to shake his hand when Pat whispered in my ear, “Hey, bro, isn’t that Omelet Girl?”

I looked up. Fuck my life. Sara, the girl I’d met in Pacific Beach one night last summer while hanging out with Vic walked down the jet way in a skintight sweat suit emblazoned with a flame on the jacket. Pat had nicknamed her Omelet Girl because he’d stopped by my place the morning after I’d met her, and she’d cooked us omelets. They were damn good omelets, too. Vic had bitched those eggs should have technically been his since he’d been my wingman the night before. That only caused Pat to fuck with him some more. But besides being a good cook, I knew next to nothing about the girl. She’d never told me she was a professional cheerleader. A fucking San Diego Wildfire Girl—part of the hottest dance team in the league. Then again, I’d never told her I was a Navy SEAL. I guess we were even.

My eyes traced her body, her incredible curves hiding beneath her clothes. I flashed and remembered her legs spread on the rim of my hot tub as I ate her for all I was worth.

“Hi, Sara.” I grinned. “Welcome to Afghanistan, beautiful.”

Her mouth flew open and closed, her lips twisting as if temporarily lost in thought. And I wondered if she’d call me out on what I’d done. After a beat, she gave me the same unabashed grin I’d given her. Though hers was more of a smirk. “Kyle! What are you doing here? Wait, you’re on the USO tour, too?” she asked excitedly, fluttering her lashes in a dramatic fashion. It was clear she was giving me a hard time. I excepted as much.

She stared at my uniform, realization settling across her face. “Why are you in cammies? Were you on the other plane? Are you playing again? Which team do you play for?”

Whoa, she should’ve been an interrogator. She could probably do a better job than I could. I laughed and pulled her to my side as she noticeably cringed at the barrage of questions. “SEAL Team Seven, sweetheart—I don’t play ball anymore. You just flew thirty-six hours to entertain me. And I’m ready. Come here, baby. Give me a kiss.” I hugged her and kissed her cheek, pressing her tight little body up against me.

No comments:

Post a Comment