Debbie Macomber: Debbie Macomber Navy Series Box Set

Fall in love with the Navy!

And with Debbie Macomber’s series of Navy romances… These popular stories, most of them published in the 1990s, are still relevant in today’s world. Maybe even more relevant. They salute the men and women in the U.S. Navy, and the families and friends who support them. Each is an emotional story, a dramatic romance featuring Debbie Macomber’s always-believable characters, as well as her trademark touches of humor. Each is highly enjoyable on its own, but together they create a memorable reading experience!

The six books, in chronological order, are:

NAVY WIFE

NAVY BLUES

NAVY BRAT

NAVY WOMAN

NAVY BABY

and NAVY HUSBAND.

Life and Love in the Navy. There’s nothing like it!

Debbie Macomber’s Navy Series Box Set

Navy Wife

Navy Blues

Navy Brat

Navy Woman

Navy Baby

Navy Husband

Debbie Macomber

www.mirabooks.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover

Back Cover Copy Fall in love with the Navy! And with Debbie Macomber’s series of Navy romances… These popular stories, most of them published in the 1990s, are still relevant in today’s world. Maybe even more relevant. They salute the men and women in the U.S. Navy, and the families and friends who support them. Each is an emotional story, a dramatic romance featuring Debbie Macomber’s always-believable characters, as well as her trademark touches of humor. Each is highly enjoyable on its own, but together they create a memorable reading experience! The six books, in chronological order, are: NAVY WIFE NAVY BLUES NAVY BRAT NAVY WOMAN NAVY BABY and NAVY HUSBAND. Life and Love in the Navy. There’s nothing like it!

Title Page Debbie Macomber’s Navy Series Box Set Navy Wife Navy Blues Navy Brat Navy Woman Navy Baby Navy Husband Debbie Macomber www.mirabooks.co.uk

Navy Wife Navy Wife New York Times Bestselling Author Debbie Macomber

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Navy Blues

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Navy Brat

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Epilogue

Navy Woman

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Epilogue

Navy Baby

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Navy Husband

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Copyright

Navy Wife

New York Times Bestselling Author

Debbie Macomber

Chapter 1

After walking over to the window in her brother’s empty apartment, Lindy Kyle paused and let her tired gaze rest on the view of downtown Seattle. Dusk was settling over the steel jungle, and giant shadows from the skyscrapers fell into the maze of concrete across the picturesque waterfront. In another mood Lindy would have been struck by the intricate beauty of what lay before her, but not now.

Seattle, as Steve had claimed, really was a lovely city. When she’d arrived, she’d been so preoccupied with trying to find the address of the apartment and the appropriate parking space for her Volkswagen Rabbit in the lot behind the building that she hadn’t taken the time to notice anything around her.

Now she sighed at the panorama that lay before her. “I’m actually here,” she said, mainly to hear herself speak. She’d come to expect a lot from one western city. She felt as an immigrant might have years ago, sailing into New York Harbor, seeking a new way of life and freedom from the shackles of the past. Lindy had been bound, too, in the chains of grief and unhappiness.

Dramatically she posed, pretending to be the Statue of Liberty, her right hand held high as if gripping a lighted torch, her left firmly clasping imaginary stone tablets. “Okay, Seattle, give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.” Lindy sucked in a shaky breath and battled back tears. “Seattle, calm my fears. Clear my head.” She dropped her arms and swallowed at the growing knot in her throat. “Heal my heart,” she added in a broken whisper. “Please, heal my heart….”

Exhaling raggedly, she dropped her arm and admitted it was too much to expect—even from a place that had once been honored as the most livable city in the United States. Far too much to ask.

Suddenly exhausted, Lindy picked up her suitcase and headed down the narrow hallway toward the two bedrooms. She opened the first door and stood in the doorway examining the room. The closet, which was partly open, displayed an organized row of civilian clothes hanging inside, crisp and neat. A framed picture or two rested on the dresser, but Lindy didn’t pay attention to those. This had to be the bedroom of Rush Callaghan, her brother’s roommate. Currently both men were at sea serving six-month tours of duty. Steve was an officer aboard the submarine Atlantis , somewhere in the Pacific upholding God, country and the American flag. Lindy had no idea where Rush was and didn’t particularly care. Men weren’t exactly her favorite subject at the moment.

She closed the bedroom door and moved on to the next room. A dresser drawer hung open, mismatched socks draped over its edge. Bulky-knit sweaters were carelessly tossed on the ledge above the closet and shoes were heaped in a pile on the floor.

“Home, sweet home,” Lindy said with a soft smile. She really was fond of her brother, and although he was nearly ten years older, her childhood had been marked with memories of his wit and warmth. She laid her suitcase across the unmade bed, opened it and reached for Steve’s letter. “Come to Seattle,” he’d written in his lazy, uneven scrawl. “Forget the past and make a new life for yourself.” Steve had had firsthand experience with pain, Lindy knew, and she respected his judgment. He’d survived the emotional trauma of divorce and seemed to have come out of it with a new maturity.

“You’ll know which bedroom is mine,” Steve’s letter continued. “I can’t remember the last time I changed the sheets so you might want to do that before you crash.”