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    Man the Guns, My Mate: The Night Stalkers Short Stories, #2
    Man the Guns, My Mate: The Night Stalkers Short Stories, #2
    Man the Guns, My Mate: The Night Stalkers Short Stories, #2
    Ebook54 pages43 minutes

    Man the Guns, My Mate: The Night Stalkers Short Stories, #2

    By M. L. Buchman

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    About this ebook

    -a Night Stalkers romance story-
    Navy Commander Deborah Reynolds pissed off Night Stalker Trisha  O’Malley in Light Up the Night. As she begins her own two-year tour in command of the USS Constitution she knows her dream assignment in Boston is temporary.

    Roy Wilkinson, professor of marine engineering at MIT has loved ships his whole life. Especially the day he wins a trip on the oldest commissioned ship in the U.S. Navy, Old Ironsides.

    He thinks the trip is the prize, until their hearts set full sail and they both prepare to Man the Guns!

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBuchman Bookworks, Inc.
    Release dateSep 9, 2014
    ISBN9781507037850
    Man the Guns, My Mate: The Night Stalkers Short Stories, #2
    Author

    M. L. Buchman

    USA Today and Amazon #1 Bestseller M. L. "Matt" Buchman has 70+ action-adventure thriller and military romance novels, 100 short stories, and lotsa audiobooks. PW says: “Tom Clancy fans open to a strong female lead will clamor for more.” Booklist declared: “3X Top 10 of the Year.” A project manager with a geophysics degree, he’s designed and built houses, flown and jumped out of planes, solo-sailed a 50’ sailboat, and bicycled solo around the world…and he quilts.

    Read more from M. L. Buchman

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      Book preview

      Man the Guns, My Mate - M. L. Buchman

      Man the Guns, my mate

      a Night Stalkers romance story

      by M. L. Buchman

      1

      Roy Wilkinson won the lottery.

      Finally!

      For a decade he’d entered the drawing to board the USS Constitution for her yearly Turnaround Cruise—the one time each year that the majestic sailing ship left dock and crisscrossed Boston Harbor. At the midpoint, she’d fire off a cannonade in salute to old Fort Independence that had guarded the harbor during the Revolution and the War of 1812. At the end, she’d be docked facing the opposite direction—turned around—so that the sides of the old wooden ship would weather evenly.

      Ten long years he’d had to eat his growing disappointment at not making it through the drawing for a ride on Old Ironsides, the greatest of the U.S. Navy’s sailing ships. He’d always brought along some of his marine engineering students to watch the event from a tour boat—the tall majestic three-master, gliding out under tow across a Boston that had looked so different when she’d leapt to her city’s defense in the War of 1812. She lost none of her nobility for moving through a harbor transformed by buildings of glass and steel rather than brick and stone.

      The Constitution was scheduled into dry dock for the next couple of years and he’d been dreading that deeply if he missed the lottery this year. But he hadn’t.

      Roy had certainly walked her decks enough times, but that was far different from riding aboard as she crossed the harbor, even if it was only under tow. She’d only raised her sails twice in the last century.

      But now he had his Golden Ticket, his E-coupon, his season pass—actually, his friendly little email with a code. He was allowed one guest.

      A colleague? Most of them already thought him a little off center, he really didn’t need to prove that hypothesis for them.

      His sister? She was in Seattle married to a Microsoft engineer.

      No, he’d go himself and simply enjoy his three-hour tour. Maybe they’d get marooned on some desert island…in Boston Harbor. He really had to get a life one of these days. Soon! Maybe he’d meet somebody there. A pretty, intelligent woman who lived in the Back Bay or Beacon Hill, was interested in old sailing ships, and ran a small but highly successful catering business.

      Or maybe he’d win a free trip to the moon. The latter was far more likely.

      There were certainly strings he could have pulled to get on the Turnaround Cruise sooner, but it didn’t feel right. While he wasn’t in the Navy, but rather was a professor of naval architecture, he worked with the Navy. That connection had left him with a feeling of duty to follow the honorable path to finding his own way aboard. Taking advantage of his friendships in the Navy or his MIT professorship had simply not been an ethical course.

      But ten years had been a long time to wait.

      That the email of his success arrived on the same day his taxes were due only made it all the sweeter. This year, some small portion of his taxes would be taking him on a cruise around Boston Harbor aboard the country’s oldest Naval vessel; only the third ever commissioned—this one by old George Washington himself.

      With a heavy black marker he’d

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