Red Hot Lovers: 18 Contemporary Romance Books of Love, Passion, and Sexy Heroes by Your Favorite Top-Selling Authors

by Milly Taiden

  ***

  Olivia Margot is torn between following her head and following her heart. But she got a taste of Devon, and she knows she wants more.

  Devon Stone is on his own mission, and his secrets and deceptions may be catching up to him.

  Truth. Risk. Second chances. These two are getting far more than they bargained for.

  SECOND CHANCES

  (The Lust List: Devon Stone)

  See SECOND CHANCES at:

  Amazon

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  About Mira Bailee

  Mira Bailee, a beer-brewing librarian, has been writing leisurely, scholarly, and professionally for the past twenty years. Her storytelling balances humor and pleasure with sincerity and conflict, providing a wild ride of human emotions. In the past she studied filmmaking and screenwriting and determines what goes on behind the scenes is just as tantalizing as what's seen in front of the camera. This revelation is the basis for her inspiration for The Lust List.

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  Table of Contents

  Their Second Chance by Milly Taiden

  Forever Sheltered by Deanna Roy

  Kiss of Memory by V. M. Black

  The Cowgirl Ropes A Billionaire by Cora Seton

  What a Girl Wants (Rock Stars in Disguise: Rhiannon) by Blair Babylon

  Beyond Love and Hate by Zoe York

  Ripped by Olivia Rigal

  Ready to Fall by Daisy Prescott

  My First, My Last by Lacey Silks

  Azure by Chrystalla Thoma

  Wicked Little Sins by Holly Hood

  The Royal Elite: Ahsan by Danielle Bourdon

  All for Hope by Olivia Hardin

  High Risk Love by S.J. Mayer

  Rush by Violet Vaughn

  First Taste by Mira Bailee

  The Perfect Someday by Beverly Preston

  St. Charles at Dusk by Sarah M. Cradit

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  THE PERFECT SOMEDAY

  by Beverly Preston

  THE PERFECT SOMEDAY

  by Beverly Preston

  THE PERFECT SOMEDAY © Beverly Preston 2015

  Tracy Mathews lives life by the perfect moral code.

  After graduating magna cum laude in Marketing, she travels to the fabled churches of Santorini to capture the picturesque sunset, only to find a masquerade wedding about to begin. Tracy is persuaded by her younger sister to crash the ceremony. While donning a mask in Greece, she encounters a magnetically charming, handsome Italian, who entices her deepest desires.

  After a brief and mysterious rendezvous with future promises made, she returns home only to realize her dreams of the perfect man have been shattered—until an unexpected job opportunity presents itself in Italy.

  Vincent is a fifth generation winemaker in the rolling hills of Tuscany. On the verge of losing his family’s estate, will Tracy Mathews, an up and coming marketing entrepreneur, be exactly what he needs to save his family heritage and his broken heart?

  CHAPTER ONE

  The back of Tracy’s thighs burned as she neared the top of the cobbled street. “Okay, I admit it. You were right. Are you happy?”

  “I told you we should’ve taken a taxi,” her sister JC grumbled through labored breaths. “We could’ve taken a donkey. Anything would be better than climbing this damn hill.”

  “Yeah, and I warned you not to wear wedges.” Tracy paused grasping the stitch in her side. The summer sun beat down on her shoulders. She waved her hand in the air, peering between two buildings at the stunning view of the Aegean Sea. “Look at all the timeless beauty we would’ve missed.”

  JC rolled her eyes contemptuously. “Timeless beauty my ass!”

  “The donkey would’ve made for an ass-tastic photo.” Tracy pulled her camera from her bag. Lifting her lens toward the balcony of a terracotta home along the alleyway, she captured a shot of rustic blue shutters missing a few louvers.

  “All I can say is, this cathedral better be worth it.” JC leaned into the steep grade of the hill and started walking. “I don’t understand how we can work out at the gym for hours and one hill is kicking our ass. Please tell me we’re almost there.”

  “I’ll find you a hot guy to walk behind. Would that make the trek easier for you?” Tracy teased, tucking the camera back into her bag. “It’s not much farther and the cathedral is going to be perfect.”

  Enthusiasm hummed in her voice as she caught a glimpse of the bell tower rising above the rooftops. Tracy had meticulously organized every detail of their annual European adventure, saving the fabled blue domed cathedrals of Greece for last. This church was the creme-de-la-creme of Kodak-moments and she had obsessed over it for weeks in anticipation of picture-perfect photos.

  A permanent grin covered her face as they weaved their way through the narrow labyrinth of stone streets. Tourists filled the privileged eastside cafes claiming stake to the stunning vantage points, preparing for a glorious sunset.

  Just as planned, they arrived precisely an hour and a half before sunset, only to find a wedding getting ready to take place. As the girls approached the historic whitewashed church, two ushers dressed in black tuxedos escorted the last of the guests inside and closed the massive weathered doors.

  “No!” Tracy gasped. Her shoulders dropped in absolute disappointment sending her leather tote to the pavement. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  JC threw her hands on her hips, scowling at her sister. “A wedding? Seriously, Tracy! You drug me all the way up here, without checking to make sure we could get into this church?”

  “No no no! This can not be happening right now.” Her fingers dragged through her long coppery brown hair, fisting it at her temples. Exasperated, she began to pace back and forth in a state of vexation.

  “We’ve spent all day getting here and my feet are killing me!” JC screeched. “We just wasted our last day in Greece!”

  Tracy rarely cried, but frustration rose to the surface. Months’ worth of precise planning flew out the window along with high expectations. Tears pooled in her big blue eyes.

  JC kicked a rock on the ground. She turned toward her sister and her mouth dropped wide open. “Oh man! Are you crying?”

  “I’m fine. This just…sucks. I’ve been waiting for an entire year to come here and take pictures with my new camera.” Tracy blotted her cheeks. “I’ll just have to wait until we come back.”

  JC let out a loose of breath half full of pity. Her eyes swept over Tracy, taking quick examination of her cream strapless eyelet dress. She grabbed Tracy’s hand and hauled her around the corner toward a bench in the adjacent corridor.

  Tracy watched as JC unscrewed her water bottle and drizzled it over her fingertips. Dampening the sides of her shoulder length caramel hair, she slicked back the sides and pulled it into a posh high-ponytail. She sat, working the small clasp of her heels, handing Tracy one shoe at a time. “Switch shoes.”

  Tracy slumped beside her sister on the slotted bench. “What? Why?”

  “Trust me. Just do it.”

  Attempting to hide her disappointment, Tracy kicked out of her sandals and slipped into the strappy metallic gold platform wedges. She bent to fasten the buckles at her ankles as JC pulled on Tracy’s thick mane, teasing the hair at her crown with her fingers. She tugged and combed the long strands into loose waves around her shoulders.

  “There will be absolutely NO tears on this trip!” Digging through her purse, JC retrieved a compact and blush brush. She lifted Tracy’s chin applying the soft pink powder in a circular motion to the apple of her cheeks before dusting the brush across her own cheeks.

  “You’re right. It’s no big deal.” Tracy sounded unconvincing even to her own ears. She mechanically applied the lip g
loss her sister shoved in her hand. “There’s always next year.”

  “Next year?” JC scoffed.

  Tracy frowned in confusion as she watched her sister dismantle her purse by unclasping the wide brown strap with gold chains at both ends. JC spun her finger in a circle ordering Tracy to do an about face.

  “Lift your arms.”

  “What are you doing?” Tracy asked glancing over her shoulder.

  “You need a belt.” JC insisted, slipping the strap around her waist and clasping the swivel snap hooks together at her spine. “Voila! Perfect fit!”

  Tracy glanced down her front adjusting the belt slightly. “That’s genius.”

  “I know. Now, let’s go,” JC snickered complacently. She clutched Tracy by the hand and started toward the church.

  Tracy squirmed free of her sister’s grip taking two steps back. “We can’t go in there.”

  “Like hell we can’t.”

  “JC this is someone’s wedding. Not a random party in LA.”

  JC narrowed her gaze, biting through her teeth, “For once in your life can you just try to bend the rules? One time?”

  “We’ll get caught.” Paranoia began to creep across her skin like a shadow in the setting sun. Her stare darted from side to side.

  “Step outside your damn box of perfection and take a little walk on the wild side. We’re not robbing a bank for crying out loud, we’re crashing a wedding. What’s the worst they can do? Kick us out? We’re already out.”

  Nerves fluttered through her stomach. Wrong doing of any kind pushed her moral limits outside the parameters of acceptable. She rubbed the lobe of her ear in a nervous fashion, a habit of hers she picked up as a little girl. Her daddy used to rub her ears and hum a little rhyme to her when she got tense or nervous.

  “Look. I’ve been listening to you go on and on about this place for weeks.” JC leaned forward, inches from Tracy’s face. “You want pictures?”

  Tracy nodded.

  “Then get your ass over here!” JC pointed her finger at the ground assertively, commanding her sister to stand at her side. “We are crashing this wedding!”

  Tracy warily grabbed hold of her sister’s hand.

  JC grinned and held out her pinky. “Ready?”

  “Ready.” Tracy curled her pinky around her little sister’s, nodding her head in confirmation. A rush of guilt spread over her skin and she let out a small giggle. “Wait! Why did we have to switch shoes?”

  “Umm hello. We’re less conspicuous like this. I’m over six foot tall in those.”

  “Right.”

  JC gripped the brass handle.

  “Wait!” Stalling and half praying it would be locked, she rested her hand on the door. “Have you really done this before?”

  “Dear God. How do we come from the same genes? How do you think I made so many friends in LA?” JC wiggled her brow and pushed opened the heavy rustic door.

  A ray of daylight cast across the entry hall and beyond, illuminating the center aisle. Her nose was immediately greeted with the faint smell of incense mixed with that of an old book as they entered the chapel and slid into the last pew.

  Wedding guests turned to gape and the coolness of the room prickled over her bare arms. Tracy squinted and bowed her head, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting inside the church. Her heart began to race and she squeezed her sister’s fingers in a death grip. Every single one of the guests wore colorful masks.

  Hysteria filled Tracy’s whisper, “They’re all wearing masks.”

  “It must be a masquerade wedding.” JC’s hushed voice brimmed with excitement. She inconspicuously lifted her palm for a high five. “Perfect.”

  Ignoring the gesture, Tracy’s eyes popped wide, fretfully pointing to her face. She grumbled through clenched jaw, “We don’t have masks.”

  JC’s gape fixed beyond Tracy’s shoulder. A smirk curled at the corner of her mouth. “We do now.”

  An usher appeared at the end of the pew wordlessly offering a selection of gorgeous masks displayed on a silver tray. Tracy reached for two, smiling appreciatively at the handsome man. Keeping the delicate black mask for herself, she handed JC the white mask with opalescent crystal-like sequins.

  Sheer ribbon tied to each side of the stunning mask. She ran the tip of her finger over the intricate lace pattern embedded with Swarovski crystals. “This is beautiful.”

  Molding the thin metal mask perfectly to the contours of her face, she tied the ribbon holding it secure.

  Every creak echoed off the stone walls and dark wood floor as she settled into her seat. Taking a deep breath, she inhaled the scent of moisture impregnated into the wooden pews. A small group of musicians dressed in white shirts and dark vests accompanied the bride as she stood at the end of the aisle.

  Tracy let out a tender gasp, taking in the magnificence. Light radiated in from the stained glass at all angles, creating a breathtaking moment in time. It took every ounce of self-control not to break out her camera and capture the shot, but she realized it was more than just the image before her, it was the love and energy filling the cathedral.

  As the bride marched slowly down the aisle, Tracy cinched JC’s fingers and whispered in awe, “Can you imagine getting married here someday?”

  JC tossed her an indignant scowl. “Hell no. I’m never getting married.”

  “I wish I could get married here someday. It would be perfect.”

  *

  The reception commenced on the terrace. Heat radiated off the lava rock wall as Tracy leaned her hips against it for support, aiming her lens at the glorious view. A light breeze swept through her coppery mane. She lifted her chin, taking in the late day sunshine and sweet scent of geraniums planted in large blue pots along the white terrace.

  Giggles from two American girls strolling along the flagstone sidewalk two stories below caught Tracy’s attention. Their interest shifted from the vast caldera jutting up from the sea, to three gorgeous Greek men in suits meandering outside the chapel near an overlook. One of the young women let out a catcall and the men turned to take notice, but the girls dashed out of sight. A warm smile of remembrance etched across her face. She lifted her lens to capture the endearing moment.

  JC appeared at her side with two tall thin glasses of clear liquid.

  Tracy pointed to the girls saying softly, “Those girls remind me of you on our first trip to Greece.”

  Glancing at the men, JC released a sigh of appreciation. “I’ve wasted the last few summers wandering the streets of Greece searching for hot men. I should’ve been crashing weddings! All the gorgeous men congregated in one spot…it’s like a buffet of yumminess just for me.”

  Tracy and JC started traveling to Europe after JC graduated high school and they spent the last several summers there. JC had a serious weak spot for handsome Europeans and mastered the art of flirtation, especially when it came to Italian men.

  Italian men flirt like other men breathe, regularly and naturally, as if it’s part of their DNA. Their charm surpassed even the most charismatic American and could heat up women ages twenty to seventy with just a smile or merely opening a door.

  Watching JC flirt was like taking a summer semester of theater. Unfortunately, the art of seduction of any kind was not Tracy’s strong suit. Socially interacting with men didn’t come easily for Tracy. She enjoyed the challenge of studying for an exam far more than testing the waters of a relationship. However, she did enjoy watching JC’s harmless flirting from the sidelines.

  Clearing her throat, JC playfully bumped her sister’s hip and handed her a long narrow shot glass.

  “What is this?”

  “Ouzo. Otherwise known as liquid courage. You’re gonna need it tonight. The hottest guy in all of fucking Greece has been staring at you for twenty minutes. Well, maybe not all of you, but definitely your ass. And…he’s Italian.”

  “Doubtful dear sista. I’m sure he’s eyeing you, not me.”

  JC’s height and beauty captu
red most everyone’s attention when she entered a room. Not that Tracy wasn’t striking. She mirrored the subtle timeless beauty of their mother, with azure blue eyes and more curves than Lombard Street in San Francisco.

  “Not tonight. Now look, when he comes over—“

  “He’s not coming over here.” Tracy casually peered over her shoulder, drinking in a set of broad shoulders adorned in a charcoal grey suite standing at the outdoor bar. She set the glass on the rock wall. Peering through her camera’s lens, she zoomed in on his backside to get a better look.

  “How can someone who is so smart be completely oblivious to her surroundings? Seriously? Your IQ ranges in the highly gifted category, but your hot male sensors border on nonexistent.”

  “I’m pretty sure you inherited the gorgeous men receptors.” Tracy inspected the man’s dark trimmed hair, buzzed tight at his nape.

  “How can you be twenty-three and so naïve? You probably don’t even realize you’ve been dancing to the music.”

  Giving her sister a sideways glance, she scoffed. “I have not been dancing.”

  “Oh yes you have. Well, kind of. You’re swaying.” JC provoked with a sensual drawl.

  “I think you’ve been at the bar too long.” She paused, admitting with a small chuckle, “After so many years of dance classes, it’s hard not to dance to the music.”

  “When he comes over here just pretend he’s a professor coming over here to teach you Italian,” she directed. “Scratch that. Don’t talk about college the whole time. You’ll sound like the brainiac that you are.”

  Vaguely listening to her sister’s tactics on how to talk to a guy, she took notice of his shirt collar lying crooked over his jacket exposing the scruff on his jaw. Lowering her aim, she studied his trim fit frame. True to his heritage, the man oozed fundamental appreciation of fashion and style, all the way down to his bare ankles and formal footwear. His ruffled appearance gave the impression of a casual demeanor but his monk strap shoes with burnished patina and gunmetal hardware suggested a precise aura of sophistication.