Punch the dough down. Separate it into eight equal pieces and roll them into balls. Lightly press them flat. Place them on a greased cookie sheet and let rise about thirty minutes, then turn the oven on and let them continue to rise as the oven preheats.

Bake at 350° F (180° C) for 25 minutes.

Remove the bread from the pan and place on a cooling rack. Slice in half and serve with the Ultimate Hamburger. Top with your favorite toppings.

Homemade Potato Chips

Wash your potatoes really well. No need to peel them!

Put about two inches of oil in a pan. Heat to 375° F (190° C).

While the oil is heating, use a mandolin or sharp knife and slice your potatoes thin—about ₁⁄₈ inch.

Gently slide the potatoes into the oil one slice at a time. Don’t overload your oil—just do 6 to 8 slices at a time. The oil will immediately bubble all around the slices. As they cook, they will curl up and start to crisp.

Once the slices curl up, turn them over (some don’t make it over—that’s fine) and keep cooking until they start to brown.

Remove slices from the oil with a slotted spoon and place on a paper towel. Sprinkle with sea salt.

Sneak Peek of the next book in the series, Word of Honor

Chapter
One

ANCHORAGE, ALASKA
MAY 27

Even in the late-spring night with the hint of light still in the sky, the headlights did little to cut through the fog. Lynda Culter used a penlight to try to read the paper map, something she hadn’t had to do since field-training exercises at Quantico. The mobile signal had disappeared about two miles back, so the GPS offered no help.

“You turned the wrong way back there,” she said.

“Nope. Turned right like you said,” her partner, Jack, said.

“No, I said turn left. You asked left, and I confirmed.”

“With the word ‘right’!” Jack pulled over to the side of the mountain road. “Give me that,” he said as he snatched the map out of her hands.

Frustrated, she tossed the penlight at him. It hit the steering wheel and bounced, dinging him above his right eye. She slapped her hand over her mouth. “Jack!” she said on a breath. “I’m so sorry.”

He hit the overhead light, then rubbed his eyebrow and turned to glare at her. Soon, though, the glare turned to mirth, and he beckoned her with the crook of his finger. “Come here,” he said.

She slipped her seat belt off and shifted her body.

“Kiss it better.”

“Jack!” she said again, laughing, then pressed her lips to his eyebrow. She breathed in the familiar scent of his aftershave and then sat back, running her fingers through his soft brown hair. “All better?”