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Big Daddy SEAL

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Big Daddy SEAL

  Big Daddy SEAL

  Jackson Kane

  Mickey Miller


  Big Daddy SEAL

  Jackson’s special thanks:

  Craving more?

  Stalk Jackson properly

  Big Daddy SEAL


  1. Genevieve

  2. Kade

  3. Genevieve

  4. Kade

  5. Kade

  6. Genevieve

  7. Kade

  8. Genevieve

  9. Kade

  10. Genevieve

  11. Kade

  12. Genevieve

  13. Kade

  14. Genevieve

  15. Kade


  About the Author

  About the Author

  Jackson Kane

  Craving more?

  Billionaire Takes All

































  About the Author

  Craving more?

  The Casanova Experience


  Part One













  Part Two




















  The End

  Also by Mickey Miller

  Coming Soon!

  Big Daddy SEAL

  A Holiday Romance

  Bestselling Authors

  Mickey Miller

  Jackson Kane

  Copyright © 2018 Jackson Kane

  Copyright © 2018 Mickey Miller

  All rights reserved.

  Big Daddy SEAL is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. They are not to be construed in any way. Resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.

  Cover design by

  Edited by Julie Ahern, Harlow Kane, Kim Byrd

  Jackson’s special thanks:

  To my beautiful PA- Harlow Kane

  To Pepper, Red, Tre, and the rest of my sexy Sugar Kanes.

  And to my kick ass Kandy Kanes.

  And to Genevieve Lattanzio for letting me use her beautiful name

  Craving more?

  Billionaire Takes All

  Bigger and Badder

  My Holiday Secret

  Mr. Lucky

  Breaking Autumn

  Billion Dollar Urge

  It’s Only Acting

  Stalk Jackson properly


  Jackson's Kandy Kanes (fan group)


  Email Newsletter



  Email- [email protected]

  Stalk Mickey’s Newsletter:

  Big Daddy SEAL

  A Second Chance Military Romance

  In the spirit of the holidays we’ve also included two free bonus novels for your reading enjoyment :)


  On Second Chances:

  “Sometimes, two people need to fall apart to realize how much they need to fall back together.”




  “Please fill this out as we arrive,” the stewardess said, in accented English, as she handed me the customs form.

  I eased back in my first-class seat, sipping the plastic cup of whiskey and letting it coat my throat. The lights of Lima, Peru grew brighter with every minute.

  As I fill out the customs form, I hesitated on question seven.

  How long is your stay? Are you visiting any family?

  I scrubbed a hand across my day-old beard and snort at the question. Every time the theme of family has come up, throughout my eight years in the military, my answer had always been the same.

  Family? What family?

  My estranged brother? My parents who disowned me for joining the military, and who died years ago?

  The closest thing I ever had to a family was joining the SEALs. I’d been through hell and back with them, and I would have taken a bullet for those guys. They’d have done the same for me. It was extreme but there was no other way to live, and if you didn’t have honor, what the fuck were you living for?

  Still, at twenty-six years old, I couldn’t help but hover over that question. When I told most people, it seemed like the weirdest thing in the world that I would jet out to some random world class city for the holidays. Every year was somewhere new - if I had the vacation hours. Since I’d done my time overseas, I worked on the base in Fort Polk for the last couple of years, pretending I was the enemy to train the new guys who would end up in the fight. When my re-enlistment came up this year, I’d briefly considered other options, but in the end, there was really only one option: keep doing what I was doing.

  Now, I just had to wait and see where they were going to station me for the next four years.

  I inked my answers to the rest of the questions, and a few minutes later we began our descent.

  I finished all of my whiskey in one swig, enjoying the burn as it went down. I wasn’t a big drinker, but a good one now and then helped me forget what I needed to. Even if I was in Middle of Nowhere, Louisiana, I wasn’t going back to Douglas, Texas. Nothing to go back for, anyway.

  After the flight landed, I went through customs, my mind racing on its own as I waited for my bag to come through. Lima was said to have some of the best food in the world and I was pumped for that, and for the surfing on the coast. It would be a light and fun week of no responsibility.

  Just the way I liked it.

  I pulled out my phone and took it off airplane mode. Did they have Uber in Lima? Probably not. It hadn’t been adopted by most South American cities yet. I found the airport WIFI and connected, thinking I would at least give it a shot. If not, I’d grab a taxi.

  Just then, I noticed a man walking around with a two-dollar sign that said Kade Houston on it. At the exact same time, my phone buzzed, what felt like two dozen times, in my pocket.

  Adrenaline pumped through me and I suddenly felt very awake, especially for having just been on an eight hour flight.

  I pretended not to notice the sign with my name on it for the moment. Who knew what kind of shady stuff someone might be trying to pull. I checked my phone and a dozen messages
popped up, both on my regular number and from my WhatsApp.

  When the U.S. Navy needed to get a hold of you, they did just that.

  I squinted at my texts, and the theme seemed to be the same.

  Some bad news, sergeant. Looks like your brother has passed away. Your presence is requested. Please report home. You’ve been given a leave of absence for two weeks.

  My stomach tumbled with anxiety. I hadn’t talked to my brother in years, and though I felt a little guilty about it, I didn’t much like assholes. Especially not assholes who left my family high and dry when I’d begged him not to.

  Now he was dead.

  I took a deep breath as I saw my bag creeping up toward me on the conveyor belt.

  I grabbed it and walked over to the man holding a sign with my name.

  He didn’t say much, and I wasn’t sure if he even spoke English. The man handed me an envelope with a new, printed ticket. It was for a flight that left in two hours.

  I nodded. “Gracias.”

  “De nada,” he said. “Lo siento por eso.”

  I gazed at the doors leading outside to the fresh air of Lima and the week of adventure I’d had ahead of me.

  Not anymore.

  I turned around, went through security again, and boarded the flight home.

  Texas, here we come.



  “It’s going to be cold tonight,” Mom said idly on the other end of the phone. A thousand mini-concerns made Mom’s voice distant as she clicked on the various technical weather readouts on her laptop.

  I was raised by an environmentally-minded family who made all natural, locally sourced, aloe vera-based bathing products.

  My parents were a bunch of hippies who made soap. Or rather, they were until they retired. Now, it was my turn. It had always been my dream to run the family business, and now that I was in control…

  I was terrified.

  “Yeah, I hear Florida is supposed to drop to a freezing eighty-one degrees. Has the governor issued a state of emergency yet?” I responded, equally distracted as I shuffled through various past-due notices on my desk. I organized the bills by date and general nastiness, then put them in the filing cabinet next to my computer.

  It was a lovely game I got to play every month called “How the hell is Genny going to get out of this mess?”. I was doing everything I could think of to keep us afloat, including branching out into new markets.

  “There’s a cold front coming in from Canada,” Mom said, missing my reply completely. She, of course, was talking about the weather here in Texas, not there in their Florida condo. “It’s supposed to drop eight degrees tonight. I know the shop isn’t insulated as well as it should be.”

  “Good thing one of the mixers caught fire then,” I replied, mustering up a sliver of a smile. “Warmed the place right up.”

  You’ll have to adjust the temperature on the melter tanks to make up for the difference. Have you done that yet?” Mom asked, again ignoring my reply.

  “The what now?” I asked, feigning ignorance. “Oh, you mean the water-jacketed oil and wax soap-melting, heater tanks? The most critical piece of equipment in the shop that I’ve been trained to use since before I got my braces off?” I briefly let the stale air of exasperation linger long enough to drive my point home. “Nah. Sold that for drugs.”

  It had been eight months since I inherited everything from my parents and it wasn’t until recently that I realized just how much trouble the family business was in. Forty years ago we had three buildings and ten employees. Dad had to sell everything, but this main warehouse, early last year just to pay off all of the mounting debt.

  They had kept a lot of the financial stress from my sister and me to protect us.

  I wish they hadn’t. Then maybe I could’ve helped, or at least been more prepared for when I took over. There were just too many options out there for soap now, we couldn’t compete anymore. Shepherd Soaps was in serious trouble.

  And that was before the fifty-thousand-dollar bank loan I took out in secret.

  December was going to make or break us.

  I checked Etsy and a few other sites where I had secretly listed a few products under a different company name. Soap might be dying, but the new stuff I listed was taking off like crazy! I checked the shipping manifest for the special gear I’d ordered with that bank loan. It was on its way.

  The sudden, unexpected success of our new line of products came with its own difficulties. To meet the demand and keep my seller rating up I needed different equipment, expensive equipment. Up until now I’d been making due with what we had here, but if orders picked up for the holiday season like I hoped they would, I’d be screwed if I didn’t have the right gear.

  “Genevieve…” Mom sighed, concern heavy in her voice. I knew they just wanted to help any way they could.

  “No. No more questions. Sorry, you’ve hit your daily allotment.” I protested, taking the moment to stand up and stretch my sore back. I’d spent too long hunched over my work desk agonizing over bills. “The thing about being retired is…you have to retire. Stop worrying. I got this.”

  I glanced around my cramped office looking for my coffee. It was going to be another long night and I needed to be about a hundred times less exhausted than I was. The office was actually a pretty good size, but it was currently crammed full of all my stuff from my old apartment. I spotted my mug which was resting on top of a Tetris stack of books on my entertainment center. I kicked my shoes off and stepped on the cot I’d been sleeping on to grab it.

  It didn’t make sense to keep my apartment when I spent so much time at work. But that might be changing too. My shipment of aloe vera was a few days late, and after tonight I’d be out of all the inventory I already had. Almost every product I sold had aloe in it; if I didn’t get more soon, I’d be sitting on my hands looking at orders I couldn’t fill.

  It would’ve been so much easier to just find another aloe farm, there were dozens, maybe even hundreds of them in the country. But none of them had a natural purple hue to them. I didn’t know how the Copas were growing their crops, but we’d built our brand around that signature color.

  Granted I could’ve dyed the product, but then I’d have to undergo a ton of additional state tests and would’ve had to make all new packaging for both the soap and the...other products.

  Between all the graphic design costs for the new labels, government testing fees, and higher shipping costs to import aloe from across the country, or world, it was still crazily cheaper to deal with Copa’s price gouging.

  And that wasn’t even mentioning the small town politics that would’ve sunk my business if I wasn’t careful.

  Why was everything always so stressful?

  “Genevieve,” Mom said, after a long pause. “I know we didn’t leave you the business in the best situation. The turn in the economy, and a few bad investments…”

  “Mom, it’s OK.” I tried lightening my tone. It was all I could do to shake off the dark mood that was falling over me.

  “We need you to know that if things get too bad you have our blessing to sell Shepherd Soaps. We don’t want you to start getting harassed by the bank, your father went through that and it was just horrible.”

  Hearing her say that was ice water down my throat.

  “Mom.” I struggled to swallow.

  “Your father and I talked about this at length. He agrees. You won’t get much for it, especially when you split the money with your sister, but it might be enough for you two to get started at college or whatever you want to do.”

  “NO.” I snapped harsher than I meant. “Mom, Shepherd Soaps has been in our family for three generations. It’s not dying with me.” Not to mention, the thought of my lazy sister getting half the payout from selling the business made my stomach turn. She was more concerned with her YouTube followers than our family legacy.

  “Everything is fine.” I laughed to keep the anxiety from my voice. “Great, in f
act! This could be our best season in years. We’re getting more orders in like crazy.”

  Just not orders for soap.

  I didn’t have the heart to tell them that our last soap distributor canceled their order with us earlier today, and I sure-as-hell didn’t have the courage to tell them what I was selling that was actually bringing money in.

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