There are few things I enjoy more than messing with Taylor Palmer. She’s such a priss with her tight, corporate skirts and her high heels. Someone’s got to bring her down to Earth.
She glares at me and parades her dates into my bar like she thinks it’ll bother me. She’s on the hunt for a husband, but she’s doing it all wrong. She’s never going to be into one of these nerds. She really wants a man like me, but I’m not on the market.
I can help her find a guy she can stomach. And if she decides to break her celibacy streak with me in the meantime, good for her…and me. But she better not get attached. She also needs to quit making me feel things I don’t understand.
Taylor
I’ll never forgive John Chapman for what he did to my best friend. I don’t care that she’s forgiven him, is close friends with him now, and even seems to be pushing me toward him. It’s because he and I are the last two single people in our friend group. All will be right in the world if he and I just connect. Forget it.
He fancies himself some kind of dating coach. He says he can find me the right guy. He certainly couldn’t do worse than I’ve been doing. I guess it won’t hurt to let him help.
The only problem is he won’t quit making his own moves on me, and they are working, impressively. I can’t fall for him. He’s made that crystal clear. But as we grow closer, I have to wonder if I’m chipping away at his cement walls, just a little bit.
Welcome to Destiny Dunes, where the only thing hotter than the Florida sun is the romance between this resort’s employees. Each book in this steamy series focuses on your favorite romance tropes. Once you enter the gates of Destiny Dunes, you’ll never want to leave!
“Are you watching this at all, or are you just eating my ice cream?” Chapman asks.
“I thought it was my ice cream.”
We both stick our spoons in at the same time and they clatter together. “Back off,” he says, tapping my spoon with his.
“I was in here first,” I say.
He gets a spoonful. “Fine, take it,” he says, putting it in my mouth. It happens so fast that I accept it without argument. He stares at me, and I can feel the moment moving into something more intimate. I search for a delay tactic while I figure out where I want this to go with him tonight.
I put my palm to my forehead. “Oh no, brain freeze,” I say through my mouthful of ice cream.
“Amateur,” he says, getting a bite. He watches me, and then wraps his arm around my head, covering my forehead with his giant hand. “I’ll warm you up.”
I slide my gaze over to him, unable to control my draw to him, and he gives me that mischievous look. I can feel him coming in for a kiss. His lips meet mine, and I’m about to sink in, when my senses slap me across my face. I pull away. “What are you doing?”
“I’m healing you from your brain freeze.”
“With your lips?”
“My kiss doesn’t make you hot?”
If he only knew. “I thought we weren’t allowed to kiss again.”
“We’ve already broken the seal. We can kiss all we want.”
“You’re not afraid I’ll try to slide a ring on your finger while you’re not looking?”
“We’ll be fine as long as you make sure you’re not falling for me.”
“What makes you think your kisses are so electric that I’m going to fall all over myself to be with you?”
“It might not even necessarily be just me. Let’s face it, you’re a modest girl. I doubt you sleep around very much. I doubt you even kiss guys often.”
I glare at him.
“Am I wrong?”
I don’t answer. I’m not giving him the satisfaction.
“All these guys you’ve been going on these dates with, have you been kissing them good night?”
I remain silent.
He raises his eyebrows. “Taylor, come on. You have the worst poker face I’ve ever seen.”
“Why are you so interested in this?”
“Because I think you don’t kiss guys often. And I don’t want you to get the wrong idea that since we’ve kissed a couple of times now, that means we’re some kind of thing. Because we’re not anything.”
I take the ice cream and stand up. “You have made that so clear, especially when you kissed me just now. Crystal clear.” I walk to the kitchen and shove the carton in the freezer.
He follows me in there. “I thought it might be a good idea for you to get a little practice in.”
“You arrogant asshole. I’ve kissed plenty of guys.”
“Who’s the last one you kissed before me? Easton?”
I give him a rueful smile. “It eats you up that he and I lived together, doesn’t it?”
“I’m not buying that you weren’t with him.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m not selling anything.”
He takes a step toward me, and I take one backward, finding my butt against the counter and my heart pounding.
“Admit you’re lying,” he says.
“Admit you’re jealous.”
“Why would I be jealous?”
“You really want me to answer that?”
“I’m setting you up with other guys. If I were jealous, I wouldn’t be doing that.”
“Why are you doing that, by the way?”
“I’m scratching your back and you’re scratching mine.”
I shake my head at him.
“We could help each other out in other ways,” he says.
“Oh yeah?”
He runs his knuckle up my arm, sending a shimmer through my chest. “We could satisfy a certain need for each another.”
Melissa Chambers writes contemporary novels for young, new, and actual adults. A Nashville native, she spends her days working in the music industry and her nights tapping away at her keyboard. While she’s slightly obsessed with alt rock, she leaves the guitar playing to her husband and kid. She never misses a chance to play a tennis match, listen to an audiobook, or eat a bowl of ice cream. (Rocky road, please!) She has served as president for the Music City Romance Writers and is the author of the Love Along Hwy 30A series, the Before Forever series (YA), and Courting Carlyn (YA).
Cooper Cruz knows what it means to be surrounded and bound by family.
Loyalty, brotherhood, and protection are all learned, earned, and respected by him and the Ravage Motorcycle Club family he grew up in. At the same, he’s a man, having fun and living the life he has always envisioned, until a trip to Florida spins his world on his axis.
Bristyl Daniels knows what it means to be smothered and bound by family.
Bonds run deep with her father and all the members of the Sinister Sons Motorcycle Club she has grown up in. But now she’s all woman and wishes they would see she isn’t a little girl anymore. Then one phone call gives her a chance meeting with a biker like no other. One she can’t get off her mind.
When her favorite band comes to play at a motorcycle rally in her hometown, Bristyl decides it’s worth the risk to sneak off for a little fun. When a situation gets heated, Cooper and the Ravage MC step in, setting off a chain of events, both good and bad in both their lives.
As the dust settles, Bristyl will have to come to some very hard decisions. Meanwhile, Cooper knows exactly what he wants and now needs to convince his woman it’s worth the risk.
Ryan Michele is the Wall Street Journal and USA Today Bestselling author of over 40 romantic suspense novels. She found her passion bringing fictional characters to life, being in an imaginative world where anything is possible. Her knack for the unexpected twists and turns will have you on the edge of your seat with each page. She is best known for her alpha, bad boy bikers and strong, independent heroines who refuse to back down. When she’s not writing, you can find her on her swing, watching the water ripple in the pond and plotting her next book.
What happens when a romance author agrees to test romance tropes in virtual reality?
Following divorce number two, Zoe Woods is jaded, bitter, and unable to write her latest novel. For an author whose brand is all about finding true love, that’s kind of a problem.
Desperate to revive her romantic optimism, Zoe accepts an offer from an unlikely place to beta test virtual reality romance tropes. Unfortunately, Zoe jumps in too fast, and instead of a fun romp in virtual Romancelandia to rekindle her creativity, she finds one debacle after another.
Regretting her choices, Zoe realizes nothing is ever what it seems when it comes to love and romance and fantasy vs real world. The only thing she does know for sure is that virtual reality definitely bites.
“Xander?” I called. “Do I get any kind of directions or do I just go …” The rest of my sentence was swallowed as a man on a horse galloped up a nearby hill, heading straight for me. He wasn’t close enough that I could make out his expression yet, but I could see that he had long, dark hair that swept away from his face … and he was massive. Like Conan the Barbarian massive.
I gulped, my first instinct to run. As the horse’s hooves thundered closer, I could no longer sublimate my flight response, despite knowing I was in a fantasy world. Spinning on my heels, I took off at a dead sprint in the opposite direction. I made it only about a few yards when my feet tangled in my annoyingly cumbersome skirt, and I fell to my hands and knees.
“Shit,” I muttered, glancing frantically over my shoulder at my pursuer.
“Clara, lass, why are you runnin’ from me?” The man’s deep voice, dipped in a delightful Scottish brogue, washed over me as he pulled the horse to a halt, bewilderment playing across his chiseled features.
“Do I know you?” Hmmm … interesting. I also sound Scottish.
The man’s full lips turned down into a scowl as he dismounted and made his way to me. Before I could utter another word, he’d lifted me to my feet, resting his warm hands on my shoulders. “Are you all right, Clara? Did you hit your head?”
Nice touch. He sounded Scottish but not ridiculously so. It wasn’t historically accurate, but who needs perfection when it comes to fantasy? Besides, I hated when other authors wrote too much of an accent into their books, making it almost as difficult to decipher on the page as it would be out loud. Of course, I often got criticized for doing the opposite. To each their own, I supposed … Although, I probably should mention to Xander that it might be a good idea to let the client choose that particular detail. It isn’t one size fits all when it comes to fantasies. Or, maybe it already is a choice and this is just mine? Yeah, it would have been really helpful if I had more information going into this. Thanks a lot, Xander.
“Clara? Tell me what’s goin’ on with you, lass. You have me worried.”
I wasn’t exactly sure how to play this one. “Umm … maybe I hit my head? I can’t be sure.”
The man blinked a few times as if processing my response. “What do you mean by you can’t be sure? Do you not remember?”
I nibbled on my bottom lip. “No?” Now that I was no longer being motivated by fear, all I could do was stare at the perfection of man-candy being offered up to me. Where had the image for him come from? My mind? Algorithms? Bah. Guess it doesn’t matter. He’s here, and he’s beautiful.
Scooping me up in his arms, the man hopped back onto his horse with no effort, as if I weighed less than nothing. “I told you not to go wanderin’ off by yourself. Now you’ve gone and hit yer head, knocking Lord knows what out of it. What am I gonna do with you, Clara? You’re the most stubborn woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
“What’s your name?”
“Och, I have a full day of training, but I can see yer goona be needin’ a doctor immediately.” He swept some of my hair off my forehead, gazing down at me tenderly as he cradled me closer. “Don’t worry, Clara, I’ll take care of you.” Butterflies divebombed my stomach. “Okay,” I managed on a breathy sigh, much to my horror. Oh, get a hold of yourself. This guy doesn’t actually exist. He’s made up of pixels and … other techy stuff. Whatever.
Ava Wixx escaped into books at a young age and decided to stay there. It was only a matter of time before she was driven to create her own fantasy worlds from fear of running out of places to explore. Reader, writer, dreamer … Ava only toils in reality when absolutely necessary. She lives in North Carolina with her husband, and spoiled mini-poodle.
