by Vivian Arend
Paige stuck out her tongue at him. He retaliated by sticking his fingers in his mouth and tugging on his cheeks as he crossed his eyes.
“I want to know if the offer still stands…” Trent interrupted their oh-so-grownup argument.
Paige giggled. “Mason, you win—you were uglier to start.”
“Hey—”
She turned to Trent. “What offer?”
Trent rose and approached her. “The one where you planned on making all our fantasies come true.”
“Oh…”
Trent guided her toward the stairs leading to the deck. “Because I have this one fantasy that’s just begging to be fulfilled.”
Mason followed closely, intrigued. There were still many questions to deal with, but at least they’d be moving forward together. Unified. Not trying to spare one another’s feelings and stupidly hurting the others more in the end.
The harbor was silent—deserted. Kylie must have heard from the boat captain they’d retrieved Paige, and was giving them time to deal with the situation. Sunset had long ago faded from the sky, and the light from the silver crescent overhead splashed across the deck.
Trent took Paige by the hand and pulled her against him for a long, slow kiss. Mason watched contentedly, the shimmering moonlight turning the display into something of unearthly beauty. Trent opened her buttons as their tongues tangled, and Mason stepped closer, needing to be a part of them. Then it was his turn to kiss her, and Paige slipped her fingers into his hair as always, and his heart thumped with pleasure as he realized how many more times they’d be able to do this.
Daily, for months.
Years.
There in the moonlight they made love. The three of them. Trent, touching and caressing her. Mason, caring and soothing. Paige, accepting and thrilling under their combined touch. The way it should be, the way it was meant to be. As if heaven had opened its gates and let them in. They’d been given the access key, and they were going to spend the rest of their lives finding a way to remain exactly where they were.
With each other.
Paradise, found.
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About the Author
With over 2 million books sold, Vivian Arend is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over 50 contemporary and paranormal romance books, including the Six Pack Ranch and Granite Lake Wolves.
Her books are all standalone reads with no cliffhangers. They’re humorous yet emotional, with sexy-times and happily-ever-afters. Vivian pretty much thinks she’s got the best job in the world, and she’s looking forward to giving readers more HEAs. She lives in B.C. Canada with her husband of many years and a fluffy attack Shitzu named Luna who ignores everyone except when treats are deployed.
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For more, please visit her web site for a full list of contemporary and paranormal titles.
Other Books by Vivian Arend
Rocky Mountain Heat
Ride Baby Ride
All Fired Up (with Elle Kennedy)
Discover the rest of the Bandicoot Cove series…
Tropical Sin
by Lexxie Couper
Part 1
Paradise Found
by Vivian Arend
Part 2
Island Idyll
by Jess Dee
Part 3
Sunlit Surrender
by Jess Dee
Part 4
Sunset Heat
by Lexxie Couper
Part 5
Moonlight Mirage
by Sami Lee
Part 6
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Folks in town say he’s dangerous. But I know him as Elijah Hays, the quiet, gentle giant who works with the horses on my ranch. I feel him watching me, making me burn in a way that both frightens and thrills me. All I can think about is exposing the dark desire I see deep inside him—that low, gritty voice rasping orders in my ear, those huge, rough hands holding me down. I want his surrender, his control. I want to break him…and have him break me…
Only for You
a Lick novella by Naima Simone
It’s been five years since Gabriella James damn near destroyed me with her betrayal, sending me to hell in a cage. I’ve crawled free and continue to battle my demons through underground fighting and sex. But now Gabriella’s back, begging for forgiveness. All I want is what she’s denied me for all these years—her body. I don’t trust her, and I’ll never forgive her. But that won’t stop me from taking her. Over and Over…
Shameless
a Playboys in Love novel by Gina L. Maxwell
People say I’m shameless. They’re right. I like my sex dirty. It takes a hell of a lot to tilt my moral compass, and I always follow when it’s pointing at something I want. Especially when it points straight at the one girl in all of Chicago who’s not dying for a piece of me. She’s all I can think about, and that’s a problem, because she wants nothing to do with me. But I’ve seen her deepest secrets, her darkest fantasies. Now I just need to show her how good it can feel…to be shameless.
Desiring Red
a Dark and Dirty tale by Kristin Miller
Choosing a werewolf mate who’ll be with me until I croak? Pardon me while I take some time to think on it. But a steamy encounter before the final ceremony changes everything. Reaper, the Omega’s eldest grandson, is fiercely loyal, scorching hot, and built for pleasure. I’ve only just met him, but I need him like no other. By pack law, Reaper can’t have me until the Alpha makes his choice…but Reaper’s never been one to follow the rules.
Continue the Bandicoot Cove series
by reading Chater One of....
Island Idyll
Bandicoot Cove Series: a Novella
Jess Dee
Chapter One
You Are Personally and Cordially Invited to Attend the Soft Opening of Australia’s Newest FIVE-STAR Luxury Resort
BANDICOOT COVE on Bilby Island.
Bring a plus one if you desire.
All expenses and needs will be catered for as we test our customer services in preparation for the
Grand Opening.
(P.S. Can you believe I got this job, guys? Wow!!
See you soon,
Love, Kylie
XXXX)
(P.P.S.—Si! Wait ’til you see who installed our computer network. Your eyes are gonna pop.)
Sienna James drew her arm back, took aim and flung a flattish oyster-colored shell with as much gusto as she could manage. It sailed a good five meters in the air, landed with a muffled plop and sank beneath the pristine water surrounding the tropical and oh-so-beautiful Bilby Island.
With a satisfied grin, Sienna buried her feet in the wet sand, the sludgy grains squishing between her toes and leaned down to get another shell. Taking careful aim, she tossed it as far as before. This time however, as she released the shell, she let out a mighty whoop.
Why the hell had she never considered tossing out her troubles before? So far, it was working a treat. With every shell that landed in the ocean, the shackles of her grief loosened, and throw-by-throw, step-by-step, she walked free of them.
Before lobbing the next shell as far as it could go, she brought it up to face level, glared at it with one eye and named it.
“Ben Cowley,” she said and let it fly.
Ben sank gratifyingly fast.
“Dead-end engagement,” she said to another shell and watched it disappear beneath the surface—the way her ex-upcoming wedding had. Witho
ut even a splutter of breath. Both the shell and the wedding were gone. Never to resurface.
She held up a multi-hued shell, complete with intricate twirls and whorls. “Eight freaking years of my life,” she yelled at it. “Eight!” This one flew even farther than the rest, and she had to shake the tension from her wrist as it plopped into the sea.
With every shell that vanished from sight, the burden of her break-up with Ben, which had been weighing down on her shoulders like rotting seaweed, seemed to ease. Tossing her woes aside was exactly what Sienna needed. A kind of ceremonial reawakening. Three months of mourning a dying relationship was long enough. It was time to live again.
Hurling her ex-mother-in-law-to-be into the ocean felt surprisingly good. So damn good, she tossed her in again, just for the hell of it.
The freedom of her actions sang to her. God, she hadn’t felt this positive, this liberated, in months. If the water could drown her sorrows so effectively, what could it do to her body?
She was about to find out.
Checking up and down the deserted beach for any possible sign of life—and finding none—she stripped down to her underwear. With one more cautionary glance to her left and right, she ditched her bra and panties.
Whooping again, she rushed at the water. The welcoming sapphire sea engulfed her. Warm, briny water closed around her legs, then her waist, drawing her into its crystal-clear depths. With a gulp of air, she ducked beneath the surface, submerging herself completely. Silence swam around her. Salt burned her eyes. Peace descended.
When her lungs groaned, voicing their urgency for oxygen, she kicked off from the sandy bottom and exploded into the air. Water splattered in a million different directions.
Throwing her troubles away had been a fantastic idea. Washing them away in this glorious island sea, with only brightly colored fish for company, was the single best idea she’d had in years.
Josh Lye stopped to catch his breath before sprinting back to the hotel. The lack of physical distance on the island bothered him not at all. Laps of four-hundred-meter sprints across an island beach under the tropical Queensland sun beat city-bound traffic-laden jogs hands-down, any day.
One minute to get his heart rate back to normal and he’d head back.
He rested his hands on his knees, leaned forward and took mighty mouthfuls of air.
Four, breathe. Three, breathe. Two, breathe. One and…
What the—?
Was that a dolphin?
Uh, not likely, unless the dolphins living in this water were white, and Josh knew for a fact they weren’t. He’d swum out to a pod frolicking off the island yesterday afternoon, and their sleek skins had been obviously grey. Varying shades of grey, yes, but still grey.
He blinked, looked again, and this time focused properly.
Ah, person. Not dolphin.
Woman, to be more specific.
Wha—? Wait. Naked woman!
Naked woman, wading through the water and…whooping?
One-minute time limit forgotten, Josh stood right where he was and stared, entranced.
Of course she was swimming naked. Anyone with a body quite so bountiful and beautiful should swim naked. It should be written into Australian federal law. She should have the political right to display that body to every red-blooded male in the country.
Er, hell, no. She shouldn’t.
She should only display that body to him. And only ever in private, away from the prying eyes of any other hot-blooded male anywhere on earth.
Okay, so he wasn’t so close he could make out details like cup size and freckles, but his view was clear enough that his dick stood up for a look as well.
“Down boy,” he growled quietly. “No way I can run with a woody.”
The mermaid rose, facing away from him, and threw her hair back so that glorious, silver droplets cascaded in a shower around her. She let out a gleeful laugh.
Guilt filled Josh. What kind of a perv was he, watching her like this, when she had no idea he was there? He guessed if she did know she’d plunge back down beneath the water and not resurface until he left.
Time to go.
Marching himself and his stiff-as-steel dick down the beach, he hesitated only when he saw the pile of clothes strewn on the shore.
A pair of white shorts—short, white shorts—a black, singlet-type top and a thong so tiny he almost missed it. A matching bra—a black lacy number—lay alongside the clothing.
So, 36C.
If she’d been any closer, he’d have called it easily without the help of the bra.
With a broad grin and the details of her clothing tucked away in his mind, he took a deep breath and sprinted back down the beach, safe in the knowledge that his little mermaid remained completely unaware of his presence.
