Beach Reads Box Set

by Madden-Mills, Ilsa

  “Oh no you fucking don’t.” I shake her and her eyes open.

  “Don’t use that kind of language, Hayes, especially not in public,” she says weakly.

  “Well don’t you fucking close your eyes after you’ve been shot!” I shout at her.

  She laughs weakly. Now I can see how much I look like her.

  “God, Gigi.” I shake my head in denial that this is happening.

  “Listen to me, Hayes. I know I wasn’t your mother in your heart, but in mine, it’s all I’ve ever been. You have been my every prayer, every dream, every hope. All of my love has always been yours. All I want is for you to be the man you were born to be,” she says.

  “Don’t talk like you’re going to die. I’m still pissed at you,” I say.

  She reaches up to pat my cheek. Her bloody hand is sticky against my face. “Of course you are. You’re a Rivers.” And then her eyes close.

  Epilogue

  Gigi

  “Just rest, Gigi,” Hayes whispers down at me. His big hand smooths the hair off my face and I have to stop myself from nestling into his touch. I haven’t earned that. It’s too soon. I know that what happened outside his office is why he’s here. I hope it means that I’ll be able to persuade him to stay. To give me a chance to earn it.

  “I—” My throat is parched. I had a tube inserted while I was in surgery and the words I want to say are caught there.

  “Save your voice, we’ll have time to talk when you’re better,” he says in a voice that’s more soothing than I can stand.

  His eyes, so like mine, search my face, and I know he’s looking for clues that he missed. That downward tilt on my right eye that mirrors his. The way my ears curve close and then pull away from my head. Maybe he’s even imagining how he’ll age. Will his jawline hold as firmly as mine? I lift my free hand and circle his wrist. I want to tell him that he gets this loving tenderness from his father. I want to tell him that he’s the greatest love of my life. That I only let them have him because I wanted more for him than I thought myself capable of giving. Instead, I just hold onto my son’s arm and let him look into his mother’s face properly, for the first time.

  The creak of the door opening behind us startles both of us. He turns and from the way his posture changes, I know it’s Confidence. He deflates a little because he knows that he can lean on her. I love that he’s found someone strong enough to help him carry the burden of holding our family together. I think that together, they’ll do a better job than my generation did.

  She comes to stand beside Hayes and wraps an arm around his waist. She squeezes him and he wraps an arm around her and holds her close. If I died, this would go down as one of the happiest moments of my life. My son is grown up, and even though I didn’t do everything right, I’ve helped him grow into a man who is capable of love and who’s not afraid to stake a claim on something he wants and then do the hard work it takes to make it his.

  “Gigi, how are you feeling?” she asks.

  I nod.

  “Remi’s here,” she says. My heart plunges to my toes and my lungs constrict. But I nod.

  “Are you sure you want to give it to him?” she asks. I let go of Hayes and pick up the letter I have tucked into my side of the bed. I rub the worn paper in between my fingers and nod again.

  She smiles, a pained but encouraging smile. “I’ll send him in. We’ll be outside.”

  She takes Hayes’s hand and they turn to leave. Just before they step through the door, Hayes looks back over his shoulder and says, “I love you, Gigi.” Then he’s gone.

  I watch the door. My heart threatens to burst out of my chest so that everyone can see what a cowardly muscle it is. I clutch the letter that Lucas wrote Remi a few days before he disappeared. I know that this will change everything. That peace will probably never be my companion, but it’s time.

  Epilogue 2

  Confidence

  My phone buzzes from its perch on my bedside table. I fling an arm out in the dark and fumble for it. A text message from Hayes flashes and I open it.

  “Press Play” And then the next message is a video.

  “Where are you?” I type back.

  “Press Play” is his response.

  “Not exactly how I imagined our wedding night,” I grumble and sit up. I’ve been waiting in our room for an hour.

  By myself.

  Hayes left to get something he forgot downstairs. I spent the first half an hour getting myself ready. When I draped myself across the bed, I looked like everything I knew Hayes loved. My lingerie is a confection of ice blue lace and satin. My hair smelled like roses and my lips were smeared with cherry flavored lip balm. Now, my hair is a tangled mess, I have sleep in my eyes and I’ll probably want to brush my teeth again before I kiss Hayes.

  If I ever kiss Hayes again

  “You haven’t pressed play, have you? Stop being mad and watch.” His text says and so I push aside my annoyance and comply.

  The video starts and my heart lodges in my throat. I clutch my chest and every drop of irritation I felt seconds of ago disappears.

  On my screen, my mother and I are dancing at the wedding. We’re wrapped in each other’s arms. Our heads resting on each other’s shoulders. The look on my mother’s face steals my breath. She’s smiling. Her eyes are closed and she looks like she’s having the very best dream. We’ve been fine since Daddy and Fortune left. But she hasn’t smiled like this since long before that horrific night. We’d held each other then, too. But we’d been fused together by terror. Tonight, it had been nothing but pure love.

  The song, “The Rose'' by Bette Midler was her choice. And the slow, repetitive melody on piano and the gently joyous strains of the violins wrap me in the same tender embrace my mother’s arms gave me while we danced. The camera zooms onto our faces for the last ninety seconds of the song and I watch as the tears run down her face and drop onto my shoulder. I hadn’t felt her tears then and I watch as she composes her face and a bright smile spreads just as the song ends. The scene cuts to a white wall and I blink to clear my vision at the abrupt change in background.

  Then Hayes sits down in front of the camera. “So, this is where I’ve been,” he says into the camera. He sweeps his hand over the parts of himself that are visible in the camera. His hair is tamed into waves of chocolate silk again. The broad, bold angles of his cheekbones are more prominent than normal because he’s completely freshly shaven. His tuxedo looks crisp and stiff again. When we’d stumbled up to our room after the reception, we’d been sweaty from dancing, and his collar had several smudges of my lipstick on it.

  “I was watching that video while you were in the bathroom and it finally hit me what I should give you for a wedding gift. I wanted it to be something that money couldn’t buy.” He gives me one of his closed mouth, sexy as fuck smiles. His intelligent, oh so beautiful hazel eyes search my face as if he knew exactly where it would be when he was making the video.

  “The two of you are what every mother and child should be.” He runs a hand through his hair and exhales a breath. “The gesture of you dancing with your mother on what would normally be the father daughter dance is everything I love about you. Your loyalty, your pride, you love, the respect you have for where you come from and your refusal to let anyone dictate what’s possible. I can’t believe that you’re my fucking wife. And I wanted to make you something that you could want to watch over and over again, too. Especially in the moments when I’ve pissed you off and you’re wondering how I talked you into spending the rest of your life with me. I’m not the best with words. Especially not soft ones. But for today, I want to record some. Especially since I’m about to fuck you until you can’t walk for a week.” He grins mischievously.

  “You are more than my little treasure, Tesoro, you are my big magic. My forever wonder. The Russian doll that never stops surprising me with the depth of your brilliance. And you’re the reason I’ll never doubt that love is power.” His eyes pierce through the screen and wra
p themselves around me.

  I clutch my chest as my heart riots against it and my throat constricts against the tears that are blooming.

  “Your love has changed me. You’ve rewritten my future. Because of you, I know that my legacy will be whatever I chose. If people look at me and see a king, it’s because I’m standing next to a queen.” His firm, full lips purse around the last word.

  “You are my reason,” he says with a fierce conviction that feels like wind beneath my wings. His eyes soften and his shoulders relax. “The baby that’s growing inside of you is just the first of many masterpieces we’ll make together. You are my river. You’ve been the making of me. And I hope that one day I’ll feel like I’ve earned the gift of your love. It’s my privilege and honor to be your husband. I love you so much. More than I’ll ever be capable of expressing. Now, lay back and get ready for me. I’m walking in now.”

  The door opens and the screen goes blank at the same time. Hayes walks into the room. His bow tie is gone, his shirt unbuttoned completely, and his lightly-haired chest and smooth tanned skin of his muscle carved torso peek out between the gap in the stark white fabric.

  “Hey, wife.” His eyes are alight with a heat that singe every part of me it lands on. His eyes drag up my body and he pulls his shirt off completely. The flex of the muscles in his powerful shoulders and arms distracted me. When I look back at his face, he’s standing right in front of me

  “Hey, husband,” I mimic him. I sit up on my knees so I can slip my arms around his neck. His warm hands slide along the swell of my abdomen before the slip behind my waist. He pulls me into his chest and presses his forehead to mine. He closes his eyes and hums low in his throat.

  “That was so beautiful,” I whisper against his lips and his eyes open and his gaze tangles with mine.

  “You like it?” he asks with a satisfied smile.

  I nod my answer when I find that my throat won’t release my answer.

  “Good,” he says gruffly and squeezes me close. He buries his face in my neck and nuzzles it with his lips. I tighten my hold on his neck and think I might die from the intensity of the love that I feel for him. And what a way to go. I kiss the side of his face.

  “I’ll watch it again. Forever. And not just when you’ve managed to piss me off.” I peck his mouth with a quick kiss to stop him from interrupting me. “I love it. And I love you. I’m the lucky one. I’m the one whose future has been rewritten. I hope you never regret letting me stand next to you. I hope you’re always proud of me.”

  “Until my last breath,” he whispers before he kisses me.

  Finally.

  And what a kiss it is.

  His lips are impatient, his tongue insistent, and I open for him. Warmth rushes through me when his tongue sweeps my mouth and I press into him as tightly as my protruding belly will let me.

  We get lost in the current of love, triumph and togetherness that has become the river of our life.

  Read Remi’s story next:The Legend

  I hope you loved that. I have written a bonus scene, set a few years in the future. If you’d like to read it, click here.

  About the Author

  Wall Street Journal and USA Today Bestselling Author, Dylan Allen is a Texas girl with a serious case of wanderlust.

  A self-proclaimed happily ever junkie, she loves creating stories where her characters find a love worth fighting for. When she isn’t writing or reading, eating, or cooking, Dylan enjoys planning her next globe-trotting adventure.

  A reformed lawyer, Dylan lives in Texas with her amazing husband and two sons.

  Also by Dylan Allen

  Rivers Wilde Series of Standalones:

  Steamy, fast paced, swoonworthy, and addictive - welcome to your new favorite fictional world.

  The Legacy

  The Legend

  The Jezebel

  The Rivals

  The Daredevil - A 1001 Nights Novella (Pre Order)

  Complete Standalones: These are angstier, more high stakes and longer than my series standalones!

  The Sun and Her Star

  Thicker Than Water

  The Sound of Temptation

  Symbols of Love Series of Standalones: These are my first books and they are sensual, angsty, real and unforgettable.

  Then Came You

  Still The One

  Best For Last

  I love to hear from readers! Email me at dylan@dylanallenbooks.com

  Are you on Facebook? Come join my private reader group, Dylan’s Day Dreamer. It’s where I spend most of my time online and it’s a lot of fun! Click here.

  Flirting with the Frenemy

  Pippa Grant

  A Single Dad/Brother’s Best Friend/Fake Relationship/Enemies-to-Lovers Romantic Comedy

  Mission: Survive my best friend's wedding, where I must play nice with my ex and his perfect new girlfriend.

  Strategy: Bring the hottest fake boyfriend on the planet.

  Target: Grady Rock. Master Baker. Dimples. Muscles. The unicorn of fake boyfriends.

  Complication: Wyatt Morgan. My brother's best friend. My sworn enemy. Military man. Sexy as hell single dad. The man I let into my panties for one night of hot hate sex after my ex dumped me before my life fell apart.

  And the man who just scared off that perfect fake boyfriend.

  By pretending to be my real boyfriend.

  I can roll with this though. What’s the harm in Flirting with the Frenemy if it helps me get the job done?

  Complete my mission and move on.

  Or so I thought.

  Until Wyatt kisses me again and I start feeling things I shouldn't.

  The thing about weddings...nothing ever goes as planned.

  Flirting with the Frenemy is a rollicking fun romantic comedy featuring a single dad military man, an irritatingly attractive blast from his past, pirates, cursing parrots, and a wedding gone wild. It stands alone with no cheating or cliffhangers.

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2019

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Chapter One

  Ellie Ryder, aka a woman in need of more than ice cream to fill the hole in her heart

  When I rule the world, peppermint crunch ice cream will be available all year long, because assholes who break people’s hearts don’t restrict their assholery and heart-breaking to Christmas.

  Unless, apparently, they’re my asshole.

  Check that.

  My former asshole.

  I stab my spoon straight into the cold carton that I grabbed at the store on the way here and ignore the twinkling holiday cheer on my parents’ gigantic tree in the living room. It’s late, so I didn’t tell them I was coming over, but I don’t want to spend one more night at my house this week.

  Alone.

  Sleeping in the bed where Patrick screwed me—and then screwed me over—just two nights ago.

  Merry Christmas, Ellie. I’m in love with my neighbor.

  I leave them a note taped to the coffee pot to let them know I’m here, then stomp down the stairs—softly, so I don’t wake them—and turn the corner into the rec room, where I pound the light switch up.

  And then almost scream.

  There’s a lump of a man sprawled on the couch watching a black-and-white movie, and as soon as the lights go on, he winces and throws his arm over his eyes. “Christ,” he snarls.

  My heart backpedals from the precipice where it was about to leap, then surges into a furious beat all over again. “What are you doing here?”

  Wyatt Morgan drops his arm and squints at m
e. “Oh, good. It’s Ellie. Drop in to rub some salt in the wound?”

  I inhale another bite of ice cream while I glare at him, because I didn’t ask him to be here, and he’s scowling just as hard as I’m glaring. “Beck’s place is downtown. Go get drunk there.” Even as the words leave my mouth, guilt stabs me in the lung.

  Not the heart, because first, I’d have to like my brother’s best friend for my heart to be affected, and second, because I’m not sure I have a heart left.

  I’m in a shit-tastic mood—who dumps their girlfriend on Christmas Eve?—but even in the midst of my own pity party, I know why Wyatt’s sitting in my parents’ basement, stewing himself in beer and watching It’s a Wonderful Life.

  He doesn’t even roll his eyes at my order to get out.

  “Beck’s having a party,” he informs me. “Didn’t want to go. Guess you weren’t invited. Or you prefer to add to the shit pile here.”

  He tips back his beer, and another guilt knife attacks me, this time in the liver.

  It’s entirely possible he has bigger problems than I do. I lost a boyfriend that I’ll probably acknowledge soon enough—for real, not just in a fit of anger—that I’m better off without.

  The courts just handed Wyatt a final divorce decree that means he only gets to see his kid once a month.

  If he travels five hundred miles to do it every time.

  “Shove it, Morgan,” I tell him. “I don’t kick a man when he’s down.”

  “Since when?”

  “Oh, please. Like you can talk.”