Hamptons Heartbreak: A Sizzling Summer Romance (A New York City Romance Book 4)

by Tara Leigh

  “Is that why you didn’t cash my second check? Why you donated the clothesI bought?”

  I reach into my purse and pull out the contract I was planning to mail. I wait as he looks it over quickly then returns his gaze to me. “I didn’t want your money, Lance. I just wanted you. The guy who looked at me like I was a beauty queen even when I an absolute mess, digging in the dirt in your backyard. The guy who picked up a toilet brush and a bottle of Windex when I asked for your help. The guy who lit up every time I walked through the door, like I was just the person he wanted to see.

  “You are a great guy, Lance Welles. Not because of your money. But because you treat your Maserati like a secondhand Honda. Because you made sure Seth got everyone in the house another place—even though it was in Quogue. Because you didn’t just swing that mallet at the carnival, you made sure it actually worked first.

  “As far as expectations and responsibilities go, I expect to be treated like your equal, not the hired help. I expect honest and open lines of communication. And I need to know that you will be responsible for my heart. Because it won’t survive being thrown away a second time.”

  A few seconds tick by, my anxiety spiking as Lance remains silent.

  “Are you . . . Are you going to say anything?”

  “Are you done talking?”

  A laugh skates from my throat, leaving my chest feeling hollow and fragile. “Yes. I think I’ve said enough.”

  Lance pushes his chair back and rounds the table, pulling me to my feet. Our bodies connect as his fingers entwine at the base of my spine, my head falling back to maintain eye contact. “I used my money like insulation, Red. Because I was falling hard for the girl who wouldn’t let me stay inside my own house until you were sure I wasn’t some vagrant. Who lit a tree on fire one minute and looked just as fierce scrubbing a toilet the next.

  “I like how you’re honest about your body and curious about mine. I like how you submit without being submissive and demand without being demanding.

  “Vivienne Radcliffe, there’s nothing about you I don’t like. Until I realized that I didn’t just like you. I love you. I’m fucking crazy for you. And I didn’t know what to do with that. How to handle it.”

  I swallow heavily, nerves going off in my stomach like firecrackers on the Fourth of July. “But you do now?”

  “I do. I’m going to make that girl my wife.”

  Just like that, the firecrackers stop, leaving just a plume of smoke, heavy enough to choke on. “So, those expectations and responsibilities—you’re good with that?

  He chuckles. “So good.”

  There’s a stillness that follows the silence after his words. Because we’re both holding our breath. It feels like the traffic a few hundred feet below us have come to a sudden stop, like the sun has halted in the sky, like the whole world is waiting for my answer.

  But it’s a foregone conclusion.

  “Then, yes.” The word is a soft gust of breath as I rise up on my toes and grab Lance’s face between my hands, pulling his lips down to meet mine. “Yes,” I say again, “to all of it. But most of all, to you.”

  And as Lance slides his ring onto my finger, his tongue slides into my mouth. I suck on it, savoring the silken taste of him. There’s a giddiness inside of me that pushes bright, happy bubbles of contentment into all those places that have felt dull and empty. Vacant.

  Waiting for this man, this moment.

  Lance’s love is a kind of energy that has taken up residence inside my body. Shoring up the cells and muscles and bones. Strengthening my own defenses.

  And it’s almost too good to be true.

  But it is true.

  This man is mine. This life is mine.

  And I am his.

  EPILOGUE 1

  LANCE

  99 DAYS AFTER LABOR DAY

  Tonight is the opening night of the Holiday Designer Showcase and Vivienne’s room, the gentleman’s study, is particularly popular. I still don’t know how my fiancée takes a plain-looking box of a room and infuses it with life, but she’s done it yet again.

  Christmas carols play from hidden speakers, a Christmas tree glistens with hand-blown glass ornaments, and the furniture is cozy and welcoming. And a self-serve, make-your-own eggnog bar is set up in the corner, stocked with a variety of syrups and spices, along with a tray piled high with gingerbread cookies and peppermint bark.

  All of our friends have stopped by to show their support at some point tonight, and I’m so proud of Vivienne I’m practically bursting with it. As is Savannah, who arrived a few minutes ago, and Vivienne’s parents who were the first ones to walk though the door.

  It’s impossible not to love Vivienne. Impossible not to want to be near her.

  Eva catches sight of what I’m sure must be a love-drunk look on my face (I’ve been wearing a lot of those lately) and rolls her eyes. “You owe me,” she says, doctoring her eggnog with cinnamon and taking a sip.

  “You’re not kidding,” I admit, my gaze firmly on the other side of the room where Vivienne is talking to a woman who, from the looks of it, is about to become her newest client. I owe Eva a debt no amount of money could ever pay. I needed her help to win back the love of my life after an epic fuck-up. Vivienne Radcliffe is priceless.

  She nudges me with an elbow to my ribs. “Of course, I’m kidding . . . Though,” she positions herself so she’s standing in my shadow, “if you can hide me from Jolie, I’ll consider us even.”

  I pull my eyes away from Vivienne to glance at Eva. “Is she on another matchmaking kick?”

  “Is she ever. Do you know she suggested I go on a date with Holt? I mean, the guy lives out of a suitcase, jet-setting from one hotel to another. How exactly would me and my two kids ever fit into his life?”

  I smirk. “It could be worse, she could try setting you up with Bryce.”

  Her eyes grow wide with horror. “You know, one of these days, I’d actually like to meet him. But as for dating a hockey-playing, panty-chasing playboy . . . no, thanks.”

  Savannah grabs a cookie from the tray and joins us. “What’s this about a hockey player? Sign me up.”

  “I’ll introduce you to Jolie. I’m sure she’ll love having someone appreciate her matchmaking efforts.”

  Vivienne comes up beside me, slipping her arm through mine. “What are you three chatting about?”

  “Nothing important,” Eva says. “Besides, I’d much rather talk about this room. It’s amazing. I wandered around the whole place and this one is my absolute favorite.”

  Vivienne flushes with pleasure, the ring on her finger glinting as she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “Thank you. It’s been an incredible experience.”

  “And the wedding—I hear you’ve officially set a date.”

  I squeeze Vivienne’s waist, dropping a quick kiss on the top of her head. “Labor Day.”

  “Of course, I should have guessed. Let me guess—Southampton?”

  Vivienne nods. “Something simple in the garden. Or maybe on the beach.”

  Savannah pipes up. “She can do simple for her wedding. But as maid of honor, for her bachelorette party, I’m pulling out all the stops.”

  Vivienne tugs at my collar and whispers, “Save me.”

  My heart swells inside my chest. “Always.”

  EPILOGUE 2

  VIVIENNE

  FIVE YEARS LATER

  LABOR DAY

  “Happy anniversary.” Lance’s gruff whisper ripples down my spine as his lips land on my neck, his tongue swirling over my pulse. I moan in pleasure, shifting my knee higher on the sheets and angling my hips back as my husband slides inside me.

  I give a quick glance at the baby monitor perched on our nightstand, my heart clenching with happiness. Piper is lying flat on her back, tiny hands clasped like fists on either side of her perfect little face. Nearly six months old, she’s finally starting to sleep past sunrise.

  I melt into Lance’s embrace, bliss stealing over my bones. We fit
so well together, both in bed and in life. He is my husband, my greatest love, my best friend, and my biggest cheerleader. It hasn’t been easy juggling a growing business, a new baby, and a bi-coastal lifestyle, but Lance is always right beside me, through it all.

  His arm winds around my belly, flexing as his hand dives between my legs, finding the right spot, right away. The man is blessed with perfect aim. And I am blessed, too. In more ways than I can count.

  “Happy anniversary,” I echo, already breathless as we move in sync with each other, riding waves as powerful and wild as the ones crashing onto shore just a few yards away.

  My toes curl, my hips roll, my breasts tingle. Lance holds me close as the tension spirals inside me, into a tight, twisted knot that finally snaps entirely, my whole body shuddering in relief. As I cry out, Lance buries his face in the damp hollow of my neck, muffling his own bellow of satisfaction.

  I’m just catching my breath when Piper’s tiny wail erupts through the speaker of the baby monitor.

  Lance presses a kiss to my cheek. “I’ve got her. You go back to sleep.”

  I nestle back beneath the covers. “Best husband ever.”

  “You know it,” he murmurs, throwing on sweatpants and a T-shirt and padding across the hall into our daughter’s room. Her cry immediately becomes a great, cackling laugh as Lance blows raspberries on her belly.

  He’s right, I do. I definitely do.

  If you enjoyed Lance and Vivienne’s sizzling summer romance in HAMPTONS HEARTBREAK, please take a moment to leave a review—I would be so grateful!

  Have you read Tripp & Jolie’s epic romance? You can! Find out what happens when two star-crossed lovers become ruined, embattled rivals. One secret baby. Two devastating lies. Three lives torn apart.

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  If you’d like to read an excerpt first . . .

  Our eyes meet in an electrified clash, the air between us sizzling with unspent energy. I suck in a quick inhale, sending those words back into the churning pit of my stomach. But as I do, the taste of her rushes into my mouth. Filling my lungs, buzzing inside my brain.

  There’s an inch between our faces, maybe two. And then there is none. It melts away, leaving only the plush softness of Jolie’s lips beneath mine, the wet slide of our tongues tangling together, the vibration of her moan filling my mouth.

  And that vibration. Fucking hell. It travels through my joints and muscles and sinews, its rapid pulse echoing inside my bones, swelling beneath my skin.

  Lust is a live wire, firing synapses in my brain that have lain dormant for a decade. All the cravings I’ve managed to shove aside and ignore for years liquefy, leaching from the marrow of my bones into my bloodstream, making me want to devour this girl whole. Greedily, I plunge my tongue into her mouth, exploring the delicious cavern. Staking my claim.

  As we kiss, time and hurt and shame fall away. There is only Jolie. Only us.

  This doesn’t feel like revenge.

  This feels . . . right.

  Jolie’s palms slide up my chest to curve around my shoulders, her hands kneading the muscles cording my neck. This isn’t just a kiss. It’s so much more—a case of one plus one equals fucking infinity. Every lick of our tongues wipes at a slate I’ve long thought stained forever. Each low moan pulls us backward through time to the couple we once were, sloughing off layers of remorse and regret, replacing them with longing and need.

  The air in the studio is cool but Jolie’s skin is hot beneath my touch, searing at every point of contact. I cup one hand around the curve of her skull, the other pressing against her corseted waist, our bodies a two-piece puzzle that have finally been rejoined.

  In the back of my mind, I know we aren’t alone, that we’re surrounded by people, but every sense is so filled with the woman in my arms we could be stranded at the edge of the world.

  It’s the flash of a camera that finally brings me back to my senses. I pull away, wait as Jolie blinks her eyes into focus. “Tripp,” she breathes.

  I hesitate, not sure how to sum up the explosion that’s rocked our worlds. “Jolie. Long time, no see.”

  “What the hell is going on?” An irate voice interrupts our reverie. I swing my head to glare at the short man wearing a blue velvet jacket and plaid pants standing beside a taller man holding a camera.

  “Lucian, can you give me a minute please?” Jolie asks.

  Before he can answer, the photographer says, “We got the shot, we’re good.”

  I turn back to Jolie as the others give us our space. Tension is now wrapped around her shoulders, a scowl pulling at her lips. “What are you doing here?” Her voice has sharpened, words like bullets aimed my way.

  At this point, I don’t have a goddamned clue. “I live here.”

  “Here, in New York?”

  “As of a week ago. Your face is on a billboard right outside my apartment.”

  She backs away, in the opposite direction of the open ledge, putting several feet between us. A lock of hair falls over her cheek, briefly shielding her expression from view. When Jolie turns my way again, any trace of vulnerability is gone. “And you decided to . . . what? Maul me, for old times sake?”

  “Not sure that’s the word I would have used.”

  “Really? What would you call it then?”

  My gut twists even as my brain spits out an answer. Mistake. It didn’t feel like one when she was in my arms, but it sure as shit does now.

  I don’t realize I’ve said it aloud until Jolie chimes in, her lips curving into a counterfeit smile. “We can agree on that, at least.”

  To keep reading,

  One-click PARK AVENUE PRINCESS now!

  If you’ve already read my New York City Romance series, how about a walk on the darker side of romance with my Wages of Sin series. Also set in New York City, Aislinn and Damon (who you met in Manhattan Mogul), will set your screens on fire! Yes, I need CRUEL SANCTUARY in my life right now!

  BOOKS BY TARA LEIGH

  NEW YORK CITY ROMANCE

  Throne of Lies

  Park Avenue Princess

  Penthouse Prince

  Manhattan Mogul

  Hamptons Heartbreak

  Trust Fund Titan

  WAGES OF SIN DUET

  Cruel Sanctuary

  Corrupt Savior

  SUSPENSEFUL & EMOTIONAL STANDALONE

  We Are Us

  NOTHING BUT TROUBLE

  Rock King

  Rock Legend

  Rock Rebel

  For more information on Tara Leigh’s books, visit:

  www.taraleighbooks.com

  About the Author

  Tara Leigh is a multi-published author of steamy contemporary romance. A former banker on Wall Street, she graduated from Washington University and holds an MBA from Columbia Business School, but she much prefers spending her days with fictional boyfriends than analyzing financial spreadsheets. Tara currently lives in Fairfield County, Connecticut with her husband, children, and fur-baby, Pixie. She is represented by Jessica Alvarez, of Bookends Literary Agency.

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  Copyright © 2021 by TARA LEIGH

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  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of th
e author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  www.taraleighbooks.com

  Cover Design: Danielle Leigh

  Editing:

  Rebecca, Fairest Reviews Editing

  Marla, ProofingStyle, Inc.

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-955659-06-2

  Print ISBN: 978-1-955659-07-9

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