Life is hard. I learned that at an early age growing up on the South Side of Chicago. I accepted it, even came to expect it. With a sister who was a constant source of worry, and a track record of losing anyone even remotely close to me, trouble seemed to follow me no matter where I turned.
Some people were born lucky. I was just born.
That’s what I used to believe, anyway, until GQ. The gorgeous guy in the fancy clothes who for some reason decided to look twice at me. He gave me a place to call my own, a space to feel safe, and he made me believe in the impossible—that love was more than just a four-letter word.
Ryan
Life is unexpected. I learned that just recently when I walked into a bar on the South Side and found the love of my life—Jameson Clarke.
He’s everything I’ve always wanted, and yet somehow even better than I imagined. He’s brave, brash, protective of those he loves, and under all that bravado is a vulnerability that calls to my very soul.
Jameson’s a storm cloud, but he thinks I’m the sun. If that’s true, then I’m determined to break through the shadows of his past and steal his heart the way he’s stolen mine.
Ella Frank is the USA Today Bestselling Author of the Temptation series, including Try, Take, and Trust and is the co-author of the fan-favorite erotic serial, Sex Addict. Her Exquisite series has been praised as “scorching hot!” and “enticingly sexy!”
A life-long fan of the romance genre, Ella writes contemporary and erotic fiction.
Some of her favorite authors include Tiffany Reisz, Kresley Cole, Riley Hart, J.R. Ward, Erika Wilde, Gena Showalter, and Carly Philips.
Fun-loving Isla Waterstone loves her laid-back life on Mariposa Island. She has everything she could ever want…a great job as a journalist for the local paper, amazing friends, and pink sand beaches with stunning tropical sunsets.
The only problem with tiny tropical islands? There are more sea turtles than single men.
So when British billionaire Declan Fox and his aristocratic friend arrive, Isla’s friends know this can mean only one thing.
Marriage.
After all, it’s a truth universally acknowledged, when a single billionaire travels to a tropical island, he must be in want of a wife.
But Isla isn’t convinced. Especially because Declan is the most rude, arrogant, prideful man she’s ever met.
Or is he?
From tropical Mariposa to England and back again, this playful summer romcom finds that first impressions don’t always tell the whole story.
Jimmy starts the propeller and the noise fills the cabin. Percy and Arya lean closer together to continue their conversation. When Jimmy starts moving the plane forward I close my eyes, but unfortunately, my head spins so much that I have to open them again.
When I do, I notice Declan staring at me.
“Yes?” I ask.
He scowls. “You made a noise.”
I probably did. In fact, I imagine it was a noise like “please, oh please, please fly okay.”
“I’m fine,” I say.
Declan looks down at my hands and makes a disbelieving noise. I look down too. I’m gripping the seats and my knuckles have turned white.
The plane bumps down the runway and my stomach flips with each little bump.
“Are you afraid to fly?” asks Declan. He has a judgy look on his face. “How can you live on an island and be afraid of flying? Don’t you have to fly to go anywhere else in the world?”
I glare at him. His people skills are terrible. “I’m not afraid of flying.”
He makes another disbelieving noise.
“I’m not,” I say.
“Just like you don’t eat balls very often,” he says. Then he smirks at me.
I gasp and my back goes poker straight. I wasn’t one hundred percent sure he remembered me, or recognized me from the Valentine’s Day Brunch, but I am now.
“It’s none of your business how often I eat balls,” I hiss at him. Then I flush. “And I’m talking about chocolate, you…you…man.” My insult falls flat. It’s hard to be eloquent when you’re drugged up and terrified of flying.
“I know what you’re up to,” he says, and his lip curls in a villain-ish sort of way.
What’s he talking about?
“You don’t know anything,” I say. Because…comebacks.
He shakes his head and looks at me like I’m the larva of a slug. “I heard your friends talking in the terminal. ‘Land the white whale. Nab a billionaire. Blah blah blah.’ Trust me, La-La. I’ve had enough gold diggers after me to recognize one from a mile away. I’m not interested.”
My mouth drops open and I try to formulate a comeback. Instead, all I manage are little choking noises of outrage. Finally, I say, “I’m not a dold gigger…” I shake my head. That wasn’t right. Darn prescription. “Gold digger,” I correct.
Declan snorts and turns back to his phone, effectively dismissing me.
However, I’m a person, not a dog he can dismiss or beckon at his convenience. So I lean over and forcefully poke his arm with my pointer finger.
He glances up and gives me an affronted look. “Yes?”
“I’m not a gold digger,” I say again.
“Methinks thou protesteth too much.”
I shake my fuddled head. “I just want to set the record straight. I wouldn’t chase you, lust after you, date you, or marry you, even if you and I were stranded on a deserted island together, or if you were the last man on earth. Billionaire or bankrupt, I don’t care. Because I don’t like you. Got it? I don’t like you.”
Declan gives me a tight-lipped smile. “The feeling’s mutual,” he says. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have important things to do.”
Implying that I’m not important.
Well.
“So do I,” I say.
I resist the urge to stick out my tongue.
What a jerk.
I turn away from him, my head spinning. When I look out the little oval window next to my seat, I see with surprise that we’re high in the sky, soaring over the azure-colored sea. I was so distracted by Declan that I forgot about my terror over take-off, and my fear of flying.
I look down and make out the white sail of a sailboat, the dark greenish-black smudges of a reef, and a tiny uninhabited island.
I glance over at Declan. It’s amazing. It seems that my complete and utter loathing and fear of flying was finally wiped out. I don’t need anti-anxiety medication, therapy, or any other tricks. I just need to replace it with an even greater loathing – that of Declan Fox.
I grin gleefully. At that moment he looks up, sees my expression and scowls at me.
Amazing. Wonderful.
“It’s not going to work. You’re not pretty enough to tempt me. Nor are you eloquent or smart enough. Or friendly enough for that matter. Even when you smile. You can stop trying,” he says grumpily.
This makes me smile even more.
He’s awful, and that’s wonderful.
“You’re the worst person I’ve ever met,” I say with the biggest grin on my face.
“And you’re the most vulgar, greediest, average-looking gold digger I’ve ever met.” “Perfect,” I say with a smile.
Author Sarah Ready writes contemporary romance and romantic comedy. Her books have been described as “euphoric”, “heartwarming” and “laugh out loud”. Her debut novel The Fall in Love Checklist was hailed as “the unicorn read of 2020”. She loves to write fast-paced, emotionally compelling romances about quirky, smart women and the men who love them.
Before writing romance full-time Sarah had lots of fun teaching at an Ivy League. Then she realized she could have even more fun writing romance. Her favorite things after writing are adventuring and travel. You’ll frequently find her using her degree at a dino dig site, crawling into a cave, snorkeling, or on horseback riding through the jungle – all fodder for her next book. She’s lived in Scotland, Norway, Portugal, Switzerland and NYC. She currently lives in the Caribbean with her water-obsessed pup and her awesome family.
Especially when the player is the sinfully handsome, foul-mouthed Holden Sanders… my new library assistant.
The benched bad boy needed an image makeover, I needed to save my job, and his star status was just what the library ordered to raise awareness for our fundraising campaign. The press can’t get enough of Mr. Growly reading to kids.
It’s win-win and completely platonic.
Until I need a shoulder to cry on after drowning my heartbreak in too many margaritas. I only typed that invitation to his brawny biceps and perfect pectorals for fun–I never meant to hit send. Holden isn’t the kind of guy to care about tears and feelings, least of all mine. He’s made it clear good girls aren’t his type.
But he shows up–with his strapping shoulder, a box of tissues and a supersized bag of Doritos.
That’s when I realize there’s more to him than meets the eye.
One soulful, smoldering mistake of a kiss has me craving more, and the heat between us quickly builds to a blaze neither of us can control.
But I’m not the only one guarding secrets, and Holden’s might push us to the breaking point.
Even if I’m surrounded by books, I know better than to believe in storybook endings. And yet, I want to believe… Because I know he’s a keeper
“Mare, I had no idea what I was in for when you stormed out of the library that day, looking to kill me for skirting my parental responsibilities.”
She squints, then her expression turns wry. “I’d never kill a person.” She tilts her head from side to side, considering. “Well, unless you burned a book.”
Nodding, I kiss her softly. “I respect that. And I want you to know you can trust me. I know people have left you behind in your past, but I hope you believe me when I tell you I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for you.” As I say the words, I believe they’re true. If I move to England, I hope she loves me enough to come with me. Even if she hasn’t said the words.
I don’t know what I’m expecting. Maybe relief or acknowledgment that she’s not going anywhere either. I want to believe she feels the same way.
I don’t expect her forehead to crease and her eyes to glisten with tears, which swell until they can no longer be contained and roll down her cheeks before she buries her face in my shoulder.
Turning us to the side, I wrap her in my arms, as the flow of tears turns to quiet sobs. I smooth her hair and give her the outlet she needs, even though I feel guilty for making her cry.
With a sniff, she leans her head away and meets my gaze. Her wet eyes glisten above pink cheeks. I wipe a remaining tear away with the pad of my thumb and rub her back gently.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“You didn’t,” she whispers, wiping her eyes. A moment later she laughs at the lie. “It was stuck inside me. You just let it out.” She exhales, tucking the emotions away.
“You okay?” I want to tread carefully until I know where she is in her head.
Nodding, she reaches for my cheek and cups the side of my face. “Thank you for saying that. I’d never ask that of you, but thank you. I love you. So much.”
I’ve been waiting to hear those words. For a moment, I’m convinced that everything between us can stay this easy. We’re both cautious, but we can cross each new line together. It feels powerful to be able to do that with her.
“I know you’d never ask. That’s why I said it. I wanted you to know.”
“I’m not going anywhere either.”
I’m struck by a foreign but welcome feeling, a realization that I can’t go backward now. I can’t be okay without her in my world. I need to tell her about the Premier League, but it can wait another day. She likes to live in the present.
She loves me.
Everything between us is still so fragile and new and good. I don’t want anything to change us. One more day won’t hurt.
It’s a rough world out there, and we all sometimes need a good, romantic beach read, even if we can’t make it to the beach. I’ve spent many lazy days walking the streets of Paris and other gorgeous European cities, and if I’m doing it right, I’m bringing you a dash of romance and a vacay fantasy.
I can’t sit still, so when I’m not hiking, biking or running, I’m playing a very average game of tennis. Background music for writing undoubtedly features some U2, Lizzo, Billy Joel, Pink, Taylor Swift, and Led Zeppelin. Not necessarily in that order. And if I could only eat one food group, it would be cheese. Or wine. Or bread. Are those food groups? Whatever.
