I'd like to welcome romance author Jeanette (Kat) Murray to Over Coffee. She's written the first book in her Semper Fi military romance series, The Officer Says I Do. It's a fun romantic read and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I like the fact her story accurately depicts military life of family members. You can read my four star review HERE.
But today she's covering a serious topic—women who steal men's clothes, lol! I, of course, never stole, I mean wore, any of my husband's clothes when he was deployed. Oops, was that lightning? Busted.
Thanks to the Sia McKye for having me! I’m so excited
about my first paperback release, The Officer Says “I Do.” I might
actually do a dance. Though really, nobody wants me to do that…it’s not pretty.
So instead I thought I would talk about a very serious
topic. It’s something that my husband has been battling for months, nay years,
and has yet to manage to come out victorious.
The Clothing Stealer.
Oh, that’s me, by the way. *waves* Hey! I steal
clothes. But not just any clothes. My husband’s clothes. And only to wear
around the house. See, he works nights sometimes, or he’s gone for drill over
the weekend, or he’s gone for seven months on a deployment. And while I never
suffer too greatly—hey, I’m a lady who likes the bed to myself—one thing I tend
to catch myself doing a whole long more than I do when he’s home is wear his
clothes.
It starts out innocently enough. A pair of his mesh
basketball shorts to mow the lawn in. Mine are all in the wash, so it’s just
practical. Then the house is freezing and I’m being cheap and don’t want to
turn the heat on, so I use one of his oversized sweatshirts. Then it’s a
t-shirt to sleep in, and another sweatshirt to cuddle with…
Before you know it, I’m using his side of the closet more
than mine. But why? It’s not like these things make me look good. No. It’s the
comfort factor. Despite the fact that I’m an independent woman and can handle
myself for months at a time, I subconsciously seek out something familiar. The
texture of his shirts, the smell of his sweatshirt, the warmth of layers (since
he’s a furnace and I am always freezing).
It was this that prompted me to write about Skye stealing
Tim’s sweatshirt and wearing it when he wasn’t looking.
- Ladies, do you ever steal, um, borrow your guy’s clothing?
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The Officer
Says I Do
He’s a Marine…she grew up on a
commune.
He always puts duty first…she’s a free spirit with an unshakable belief in Fate.
He loves routine and order…she brings chaos and creativity wherever she goes.
They’re going to balance each other perfectly—or drive each other completely,
utterly insane…
Here’s another short excerpt from when
Tim found The Sweatshirt Stealer…
Tim paused, dresser drawer half open. Wait, part of the fun was never knowing? When had he adopted that line of thinking? Consistency. Consistency was his favorite. He liked rules, schedules, stability. He lived his life by it. He breathed reliability.
He shook out a pair of basketball shorts and an old Academy t-shirt and slipped on the comfortable outfit. A night snuggling on the couch with Skye seemed like a great way to end a shitty day.
Maybe he’d even cop a feel, straight out of a middle school handbook.
But when he jogged back down the stairs, hitting second base was the last thing on his mind.
Skye stood with her back to him, debating the DVDs in the entertainment center. As usual, she swayed from side to side as if she couldn’t stand still, as if some song in her head compelled her to move and dance.
She’d twisted her hair into a knot, though a few tendrils had already escaped and were flowing down around her neck. What he could see of her legs were encased in black leggings, though her feet were bare. But he’d recognize that top anywhere.
That was his favorite sweatshirt from college. The soft gray material was always a comfort on chilly days. The N with a star on the front was starting to crack and peel off. A size too big on him, it swallowed Skye’s torso whole, falling almost to her knees. He’d lost it weeks ago. Or so he thought.
She must have had it for a while now. How long had she been wearing it?
And why did the thought of her in his clothing turn him on so much?
“Where did you get that?”
She whipped around, her knot of hair bobbing. Following his gaze, she glanced down at the sleeves that dangled over her hands, too long for her arms by half.
"Oh. Um.” Her teeth caught her bottom lip like they always did when she was worried.
“I’m not mad. Just, where did you find it? I thought it was lost.”
“It was in the laundry basket one day.” Skye crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself. “I was cold with the AC on so high, but I didn’t want to turn it down, since you’re always so warm when you get home. And it smelled like you…” Her voice trailed off as if she just realized what she’d said. Then she shrugged. “I wear it to bed a lot. I get cold at night.”
The sweatshirt was like a brand. His mark. His woman. Whatever tentative hold he’d had on his urges, his cravings collapsed faster than an untrained platoon of privates. He took the three steps across the room and grabbed her by the shoulders, hauling her into his body. She grunted but didn’t resist.
And when he lowered his lips to hers, she rose up to meet him.
~*~*~*~*~
Kat
(or Jeanette!) spends her days surrounded by hunky alpha men…at least in her
imagination. In real life, she’s a wife and a mother, keeping tabs on her
husband of six years, her three year old daughter and the family dog, a lovable
(but completely stupid) Goldendoodle. Hang around long enough and you’re
guaranteed to hear at least one or two stories about these three…
What’s
with the two names? Great question. Kat (or Jeanette) writes for a few
different publishers. And due to the timing of some releases, two names just
seemed like the right option. But Jeanette (or Kat!) can assure you, no matter
which pen name you’re reading, you’re going to get sexy contemporary love.
You can find her:
Facebook, Goodreads, and Twitter.
You can find her:
Facebook, Goodreads, and Twitter.
