“I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“Dammit, I’m sick of you being angry with me. I haven’t ruined your family’s business. You lost a real estate deal. Move on.”
“Thank you for that advice.” She tried to wriggle out of his grip, but Beck held firm. The heat of touch scorched her flesh. “As a matter of fact, I’ve already secured a neighboring property that will be even better for Barrett Trucking.”
Once the words slipped past her lips, a fist of tension in her chest dissolved. She was capable and resilient. She had been down, but she’d dusted herself off and jumped back in the game. With her own skills and good timing, she’d secured a parcel of land for her father and turned a disappointment into a triumph.
Sam was right after all. She wasn’t a quitter. She could take a risk on love, and she might even win it all.
Beck studied her face and relief played across his face. “Good. I was beginning to think your hostility was going to ruin Christmas.”
“Please. You are so not invited.” Jami tried to scowl but scrunched her nose as laughter built in her belly.
“But we’re all one big happy family.” Beck smirked, but his eyes were merry. “Even Austin thinks I’m a good addition to the family.”
“You bribed him. With a beer. I saw you.” Jami tried to sound indignant, but a burble of laughter escaped between her lips.
“Guilty as charged.” Beck planted a second kiss on her other wrist, and longing burned its way through her core.
“You could go to jail for such deceitful behavior.”
“Cuff me.”
“You’d like that way too much.”
“The rough stuff with you, now that has me thinking.” Beck released her and in a quick movement was next to her and drew her up.
“Be serious.” Jami stood, inches from Beck. She twitched to run her fingers through his hair. She wanted so desperately to stay mad at him, but if he didn’t kiss her soon, she was going to explode.
Beck stroked her cheek. “I think I can’t live without you. I need you.”
“Is this the start of a negotiation?” Jami trembled as emotion surged through her veins.
“It is.” Beck wrapped his arms around her waist and hiked her up into his lap. “What do you think of my opening bid?”
Jami wiggled her hips and shivered as his arousal rubbed against her suddenly damp panties. She slid her tongue along her lower lip and resisted arching her back in response. “It’s promising. You seem to be a man of action. What else do you have to offer?”
Beck traced a line of slow, hot kisses down the column of Jami’s neck with his tongue tickling and teasing, finally pulling a reluctant, low moan from her.
“Will that be a point in my favor?”
“I will concede that you drive a hard bargain.”
Beck chuckled and rained kisses down the other side of her neck, along the delicate skin of her collarbone, and then to the top of the valley between her breasts. “I will claim you as mine.”
Jami ground into him and thrust her breasts close to his mouth. “Who is claiming whom?” She ran her fingers through his hair and rubbed a thumb across his lower lip. She let him suck her finger into his mouth for a moment before she languorously pulled it out and then slipped it between her smiling lips. “How do you like my negotiating techniques?”
“I’ve met my match.”
“I like the sounds of that. Equals.”
“That’s the best deal I’ve ever made, and to think it’s just dumb luck.”
“Who are you calling stupid?”
“No one, my beautiful, sexy, brilliant woman. You are my equal in every way.” Beck took her hands into his, kissed the back of each hand, then her palms, and then a lingering touch of the lips on each wrist. “You know it was a mere coin toss that led me to pick Barrett Ridge?”
“A fifty-fifty bet, huh? What other poor schmuck of a town almost bore the wrath of Beck Kavanagh?”
“I’m not telling. You’ll have to tease it out of me.”
“With kisses?”
“That won’t do it. You’ll have to try more advanced methods.”
Jami smirked and tugged on his belt and buckle. “We’d better lock the door.”
“And pull the blinds?”
“No need. There’s a couch upstairs for naps.”
“That’s convenient, but I’m afraid you won’t be sleeping.”
Jami grabbed Beck by the hand and led him up the staircase. “I’m feeling a little reckless. Maybe I’ll skip my afternoon nap.”
“Is that a dare?”
“I like the sound of that. A new competition. What are the stakes?”
Beck laughed, and his low, rumbly chuckled filled the small attic space. “You hold my heart in the balance.”
Jami turned, and Beck crushed her into his arms. The world spun, and sound roared in Jami’s ears. He kissed her until her lips throbbed and she ached with need.
“We’re two of a kind. I need you, and I’ve fallen head over heels in love with you.”
Jami froze and stared at Beck.
“Don’t look so surprised. I think you are perfection, and I’m not letting you get away from me again.”
“Say it again.”
“I love you.”
“That sounds divine.” Jami rained a shower of kisses on his lips.
“Not to be pushy, but I think this is where you add the part about your feelings?” Beck cradled her in his arms.
Jami snuggled close and hoped she wasn’t actually purring.
“You are too competitive. You are too bossy. You are too sexy. And I’m deliciously addicted to you.”
“Right back at ya.” Beck pushed her back onto the sofa and tore his shirt off over his head. Jami wriggled the buttons loose on her blouse as Beck lowered himself onto her. She twined a leg through his as he propped himself up on one arm.
“I think it’s my turn to straddle you.”
“You won’t get any complaints from me.”
With much wriggling and giggles, Jami twisted on top of Beck and managed to lose her bra in the battle.
“Come here, you sweet thing.”
“I think I could love a man who calls me that.”
“Done. The deal is sealed.”
Beck held her close, their lips met, and Jami whispered, “I love you.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you so much to Kerry Genova for her crack proofreading skills, to Ansley Blackstock, for her wonderful editorial input, and to Valerie Tibbs of Tibbs Design for a sexy and sassy cover. You guys are awesome!
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As a quick aside, I want to let my readers know that I have only a smidgeon of knowledge about zoning laws and county commissions. Therefore, any errors or oddities that I’ve created in Beck and Jami’s battle over property and zoning are solely my mistakes.
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Are you ready for Wescott Springs?
Come get a FREE E-COPY of Last Resort Love!
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…and find out how it all started with Nick and Krissa!
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www.HollyCortelyou.com/free-ebook-last-resort-love
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LAST RESORT LOVE
* * *
One daring whim leads to a whole lotta smokin’ hot temptation…
* * *
Bad luck be gone…Krissa Courtland whispers her vow and stabs a pin in the map. No more cheating exes or downsized jobs. With fingers crossed, she lands in Colorado, but right off, a storm flattens her dream cabin. But disaster turns delicious when smoking-hot Nick Olin saves the day. And now Vail’s sexiest resort developer is her landlord and next-door neighbor.
* * *
Nick’s silky brown curls and teasing smile are tempting, but Krissa can’t shake the ache in her soul and won’t trust in love. Too bad for Krissa, Nick has other ideas. With her luscious curve
s and vulnerable amber eyes, Nick is oh-so distracted from his empire building. Every time Nick makes a move, Krissa bolts. Can Nick prove he’s trustworthy and just the man to heal her heart? Or will Krissa run out on her chance at love?
BOOKS BY HOLLY CORTELYOU
Wescott Springs series
Last Resort Love
Last Sweet Surrender
Kiss Me at Last
Kiss Me, Trouble
(in the Second Time’s the Charm boxed set)
* * *
Timber Falls series
One Magic Kiss
* * *
Barret Ridge series
Two Reckless Hearts
(in the Tropical Tryst boxed set)
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Word of mouth is the best marketing any author can ask for…so please let your friends know if you enjoyed this book…and don’t forget to leave a review on your favorite social media site or wherever you purchased this story!!
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Thank You!
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Holly Cortelyou
…Always Dare to Love!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Holly Cortelyou is a romance author who pens sweet and spicy small town, contemporary romances as well as supernatural and paranormal historical romances.
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On any given day, Holly can be found sipping coffee and surfing Facebook for gossip on royals, college football (Go Ducks!), knitting, and ghosts!
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After trying on many hats as a meeting planner, political scientist, long-haul trucker, and financial services specialist, she’s finally found the perfect fit as a romance writer!
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Holly’s living her own Happily Ever After with an uber-handy and sexily broad-shouldered husband, and a fluffball kitty in sun-kissed Southern Oregon…and an exuberant lab puppy who rules our hearts!
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She has hazel eyes and a goofy sense of humor…all the rest is subject to change without notice.
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Of course, you can always find her at www.HollyCortelyou.com and [email protected]
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Happy Reading!
HIS DIAMOND IN THE ROUGH
A BILLIONAIRE TROPICAL ROMANCE
ROXY SINCLAIRE AND ZARA ZENIA
Samantha was on the verge of being kicked out of her apartment near her college not having enough for rent. But she just won a prize that she can’t sell—a non-transferable vacation to the exclusive resort of Diamond Cove in one of the Caribbean islands.
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She decides to go but she can’t relax during the first few days since she’s constantly worrying about her life. But then she finds a platinum and diamond studded money club filled with more cash than she’s ever seen in her life.
* * *
Lord Eric Godfrey, a British billionaire, playboy, and of royalty, came to unwind after a brutal breakup with his fiancé. He decides to forget about women and just relax, only to find his money clip go missing. He is intrigued by the woman who turns it in, Samantha, but he wonders how she got it. Or why she didn’t turn it in right away.
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Both are attracted to each other but suspicious as well. Eric doesn’t trust the poor, especially if he thinks someone is a gold digger. Samantha doesn’t trust the rich and powerful.
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But will they be able to put that all behind them and accept one another? Or will more accusations and hate come out of it?
* * *
His Diamond In The Rough is a standalone romance novella. There is NO cheating, NO cliffhanger, and a guaranteed happy ending!
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Cover by EmCat Designs
Edited by Teresa Banschbach
CHAPTER 1
SAMANTHA
The sleek, white catamaran sliced through the azure water as the sun sparkled off the waves folding away from in front of the boat. I leaned against the railing, and small droplets of sea water splashed across my face, cooling my warming cheeks.
I was just off the coast of Bridgetown, Barbados, on a ferry boat with only ten other passengers, headed towards Diamond Cove, one of the most exclusive private island resorts in the entire world. But it wasn’t not where I should have been. I should have been back home in Chicago, looking for a second job, selling my eggs, or looking for escort services to work for. I was so broke I couldn’t even afford ramen noodles.
Yet here I was, off to spend two luxurious weeks on the playground of the world’s richest and most famous. I must have been crazy to accept this trip. It had been a joke, really, entering the contest for a two-week, all expenses paid vacation to Diamond Cove. I just figured t the company who sponsored the contest used all those entry forms to collect addresses and phone numbers for sales pitches, but it had been fun to imagine winning. I’d been in downtown Chicago with friends at a deep-dish pizza joint, and the big fishbowl with the white slips of paper inside propped next to the cash register, a printed beach scene taped to the front. We’d giggled, fuzzy with cheap wine, and dropped our entry slips into the bowl, then promptly forgot about the contest. Three days later a bored intern with a local luxury car dealer called me and informed me I was their grand prize winner.
My immediate thought was to sell the trip. It was worth almost twenty-thousand dollars. I’d read over the paperwork and was giddy with the thought of selling the trip for about ten grand. I knew I’d be able to get at least that much, maybe more. It was December in Chicago and the weather was frigid. Everyone with the means to was ditching Illinois for a more southerly climate as soon as they could. And this was a luxury vacation at one of the most sought after resorts in the world. Exclusive didn’t even begin to describe it. I figured I was going to be able to pay my tuition and cover my books for the next year with what I could get for the trip.
But there, crammed onto the bottom of the paperwork in the smallest print I’d ever seen, was the word that dashed all my paid tuition hopes. Non-transferable.
Here I was, with my discount store sandals and thrift-store designer purse, on a ferry boat with the kind of people I’d only ever served drinks and appetizers to. I leaned further over the ferry’s rails and spotted a school of silver dolphins keeping pace with the boat. It was almost too perfect to be real. The warmth of the sun was tempered by the cool breezes off the ocean, a dolphin family frolicked nearby, and waitresses with exotic eyes and soft, lilting voices offered glasses of freshly squeezed fruit juices and local rums. This was not real life. Well, this was not my real life.
I turned, taking in my fellow ferry riders. Everyone looked…expensive. There was a young family with two small children, all with matching blonde hair, brightly embroidered shorts, and a nanny, who was also wearing embroidered shorts to match her charges. Two middle-aged couples, obviously, acquaintances, were catching up with each over their cocktail glasses. The husbands haw-hawed and back-slapped each other while the wives sucked in their Pilates-toned stomachs and gave each other thin-lipped smiles while their designer sunglasses hid what their eyes really thought about the other. The final passenger was a girl who looked close to my age. Her hair was that perfect platinum blonde that required salon visits every three weeks to maintain and I’m sure the tags inside her artfully draped sundress sported the name of a designer I’d only ever seen on the cover Vogue. She had one slim, bronzed leg propped on the bottom rail of the onboard bar as she cooed at the bartender and ran a manicured finger down the front of his shirt.
I sighed and turned back to the ocean view, losing myself in my own thoughts. These were exactly the kind of people I tried to avoid. The wealth
y, the well-to-do, the one percent. I don’t care what you called them, I didn’t want anything to do with them. I considered myself to be an intelligent girl, I was supposed to graduate from the University of Chicago with a degree in business administration, but I couldn’t figure out what good wealthy people actually did for anyone other than themselves. I read the news and all I saw was my nation’s most well-off citizens taking advantage of tax laws that leave them paying little and shifting the country’s financial burdens onto the least of its citizens. Pay-to-play politics, tax breaks, federal bailouts, people famous for being famous, never mind the thousands, tens of thousands, who went without food, medicine, and proper homes in the most prosperous country in the world; it was enough to make my blood boil. I had no use for the elite. But I’d agreed to sequester myself on an island with the most elite in the world for two weeks. Chicago winters must have frozen my brain cells. I snorted my disgust and went back to watching the capering dolphins.
It wasn’t much longer before a lush, green strip of land rose out of the sapphire blue waters. It was ringed with the whitest sand I’d ever seen, so purely white it glittered. The boat slipped through the waves, the colors changing from sapphire to azure to lightest cyan as we headed towards a small a cove with a dock that extended out into the waters. I looked over the edge and realized I could see all the way to the bottom of the ocean where colorful fish darted away from the ferry. A trio of smiling dockhands was waiting for the ferry to pull alongside. They helped guide the boat in, swiftly mooring the ferry and setting the bow. Like everything else on the trip, it happened quickly, smoothly, and without any inconvenience to the guests.
Tropical Tryst: 25 All New and Exclusive Sexy Reads Page 113
