Harlequin KISS August 2014 Bundle Read online

  Harlequin KISS August 2014 Bundle

  The Heat of the Night

  Dare She Kiss & Tell?

  Here Comes the Bridesmaid

  How to Bag a Billionaire

  Amy Andrews

  Aimee Carson

  Avril Tremayne

  Nina Milne

  This month, experience the true art of flirtation that Harlequin KISS brings with four original stories in one, fun and sexy bundle! Titles include The Heat of the Night by Amy Andrews, Dare She Kiss & Tell? by Aimee Carson, Here Comes the Bridesmaid by Avril Tremayne and How to Bag a Billionaire by Nina Milne.

  Look for 4 compelling new stories every month from Harlequin KISS!

  Table of Contents

  The Heat of the Night

  By Amy Andrews

  Dare She Kiss & Tell?

  By Aimee Carson

  Here Comes the Bridesmaid

  By Avril Tremayne

  How to Bag a Billionaire

  By Nina Milne

  It’s supposed to be all hands on deck…not on each other!

  To Claudia Davis, her Australian beach hotel is paradise. To her business partner, Luke Hargreaves, it’s a burden he’s desperate to shake off! Then a cyclone hits, and it’s down to them both to rebuild the resort. But keeping their minds on the job proves impossible with all those scorching-hot nights alone together….

  Agreeing to a fling seems risk-free—Luke’s leaving for London soon, and surely their chemistry will have self-combusted by then? Except with time running out it’s just getting hotter…like a fireball burning out of control….

  Those Summer Nights

  In Crescent Cove find sun, sea and steamy nights….

  SNEAK PEEK EXCERPT FROM

  The Heat of the Night

  How many times had she fantasized about kissing that mouth? Too many to count.

  And there it was, right in front of her.

  Her pulse kicked up another notch as the devil whispered, Kiss him, and she contemplated doing just that.

  That would definitely wake him up.

  But what if he rejected her advances? It would be embarrassing and awkward. For a very long time. It would probably even kill her. She’d probably die of mortification on the spot.

  It would certainly be hard to come back from.

  Another sinful whisper. But what if he doesn’t?

  In a few short months Luke would be heading back to London, and the thought that she might never get another opportunity to show him how she felt suddenly scared her a hell of a lot more.

  Screw it.

  And the devil smiled.

  The Heat

  of the Night

  Amy Andrews

  Dear Reader,

  When my editor approached me with the idea of doing a duet with Ally Blake last February my first reaction was “Hell, yeah!” I adore Ally’s writing, and she’s just all-around fun to work with! Throw in some glorious Australian sunshine, a tropical resort and some bikinis, and how could I resist? But let me tell you Ally got the raw end of the deal. I had a hectic schedule last year, and while she was planning her book for the duet—which is, OMG, knock-you-out-of-the-park fabulous!—I still had another three books to finish….

  But her enthusiasm for the project and her love affair with Pinterest kept drawing me into the world of the Tropicana. When I’d finally cleared my decks I was all fired up to start.

  I absolutely adored creating the world of the Tropicana Nights—an old-fashioned resort from yesteryear, when families holidayed together and entertainment was simple—with Ally. Creating Luke and Claudia was fabulous also. Two people who grew up together with the Tropicana as their playground, who both love the resort in their own ways but who clash over their polar opposite visions for its future.

  I love the title of this book. The Heat of the Night is very apt because—trust me—things soon get pretty fired up between these two childhood friends. They might not be able to agree on what’s good for the Tropicana, but their bodies are perilously in sync.

  Ahh…those summer nights…

  I hope you enjoy their tumultuous tumble into love. And if you haven’t read Ally Blake’s Her Hottest Summer Yet then run out and get it! You won’t be sorry!

  Love,

  Amy

  Those Summer Nights

  In Crescent Cove find sun, sea and steamy nights…

  About Amy Andrews

  Amy Andrews has always loved writing and still can’t quite believe that she gets to do it for a living. Creating wonderful heroines and gorgeous heroes and telling their stories is an amazing way to pass the day. Sometimes they don’t always act as she’d like them to—but then neither do her kids, so she’s kind of used to it. Amy lives in the very beautiful Samford Valley with her husband and aforementioned children, along with six brown chooks and two black dogs.

  She loves to hear from her readers. Drop her a line at www.amyandrews.com.au.

  Other Harlequin® KISS™ titles by Amy Andrews:

  The Most Expensive Night of Her Life

  Girl Least Likely to Marry

  These and other titles by Amy Andrews are available in ebook format from www.Harlequin.com.

  To Ally Blake for her indefatigable enthusiasm

  and getting this duet off to an incredible start

  with two wonderful characters in Jonah and Avery.

  And for getting me hooked on Pinterest.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  Excerpt

  ONE

  Luke Hargreaves had never seen such an unholy mess in all his life. Uprooted trees competed for space amidst the smashed and splintered building debris. Dangerous electrical and glass hazards lay strewn everywhere. Only one out of the dozen buildings that made up the five-acre property where the Tropicana Nights had sprawled for forty years had survived intact.

  Holy crap. The resort was never going to recover from this.

  It was hard to believe standing underneath the perfect untainted blue of a tropical north Queensland sky, listening to the gentle kiss of waves as they lapped at the crescent beach fringing this idyllic tourist spot, that weather could be responsible for such violence.

  That the light breeze could build to cyclonic, that the cloudless sky could blacken with ominous intent and the calm ocean could rage and pound.

  Sure, cyclones were one of the hazards of living on the northern Australian coastline and the resort had sustained damage in the past from such events that regularly stalked the coast from November to March.

  But never like this.

  This one had been a monster and Crescent Cove’s number had been up.

  A decade in the UK had anaesthetised him
to the dangers of tropical storms, but, looking at the destruction now, it was a miracle no one had been killed.

  All thanks to Claudia.

  Luke’s gaze trekked from the devastated resort to the devastated figure standing on the beach, her back to the ocean as she surveyed the damage. Avery had told him Claudia was taking it all in her stride. But he knew Claudia Davis well. Too well. And her look of hopeless despair was evident even from this distance.

  Somehow inside his head, despite the march of time, she’d always been a skinny six-year-old with blonde pigtails and skinned knees. And there was something just as gut-wrenchingly innocent about her today. Her ponytail fluttering in the gentle breeze, her petite frame encased in the God-awful polyester Tropicana uniform that hadn’t changed since the seventies, that damn stupid clipboard she always carried around clutched to her chest.

  The intense little wrinkle of her brow as if she was trying to wish it all better from the power of her mind alone.

  He sighed. He was not looking forward to this.

  He shucked off his shoes and stripped off his socks leaving them at the row of lopsided palm trees that formed a natural demarcation between beach and land. Or what was left of them anyway.

  Crescent Cove’s beloved palm-tree avenue, which hugged the long curve of beach, was looking equally devastated. Whole trees had been ripped out by the roots, plucked clean from the ground and thrown around as if they’d been mere matchsticks, some still lying on the path or beach wherever they’d been hurled.

  It would take a lot of years to build it back to its former glory.

  The hot sun beat down on Luke’s neck, a far cry from chilly London, and he shrugged out of his jacket too. He undid his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves on his business shirt. He turned his phone to silent and slipped it in his back pocket. He didn’t want to be disturbed when he spoke to her and he’d already had three urgent texts from the office.

  Taking a deep, fortifying breath, he stepped onto the beach and headed towards the woman he’d known nearly all his life, his footsteps squeaking in the powdery sand.

  * * *

  Claudia stared at the wreck before her, a sense of helplessness and despair overwhelming her. She should have known that only a cyclone named Luke could cause this much damage.

  She refused to give into the harsh burn of tears scalding her eye sockets.

  She would not cry.

  Crying was for wimps and she was not a wimp. She’d spent a year of her life renovating her beloved family resort and just because it lay in a shambled ruin in front of her didn’t mean it was time to give into a fit of girly histrionics.

  She held tight to the comfort of her clipboard. They would recover from this. They had to.

  But how? a little voice asked somewhere in the back of her brain, bleating away in time to the distant drone of generators that had filled the air for days now. The same voice she’d been hearing every time she stood on the beach and was confronted by the true horror of the destruction of the only home she’d ever known.

  Well, there was the main resort building—the original structure—for a start. Even now its white stucco façade gleamed beneath the full morning sun like a beacon amidst the rubble, its sturdy stone construction having somehow miraculously survived Mother Nature’s fury with only minimal damage.

  How, Claudia had no idea.

  How had the dinosaur—or White Elephant as Luke had coined it—managed to survive when the newer edition bungalows, made to the highest ever cyclone specifications, had perished?

  It didn’t make any sense. It had been four days since Cyclone Luke, a huge category-five juggernaut, had crossed the coast right on top of them, and it still didn’t make any sense.

  None of it did.

  Tears threatened again and Claudia blinked them back. She refused to cry as Avery had done. Tears wouldn’t get the Tropicana back on its feet and Claudia was determined to hold it all together if it killed her. She’d been doing that since Luke had deserted her to run the place by herself, since their respective parents had handed the keys over to them and entrusted twenty years of their life’s work to their children.

  She would not be cowed by the mammoth task ahead of her just as she’d refused to be cowed by Luke’s ultimatum this time last year to have the resort turned around in twelve months—or else!

  She hadn’t needed him to elaborate on his threat—and it really hadn’t been an issue because she had turned it around. They’d had a bumper summer, there was money in the bank and they’d been poised to welcome their best ever winter season in over a decade.

  And then along came Cyclone Luke. As determined as the other Luke in her life to take away everything she’d ever known and loved.

  ‘Bloody hell, Claude. You’re never going to recover from this.’

  Claudia blinked as the eerily familiar voice behind her caused everything inside her—her heartbeat, her breath, the metabolism in her cells—to come to a standstill.

  Luke?

  She turned and there he was. Standing right there. Every tall, lean, clean-shaven inch of him. Close enough to touch. Close enough to feel a very familiar pull down deep and low.

  Luke.

  The boy she’d hero-worshipped, the teenager she’d crushed on, the man who’d disappointed her more than she’d ever thought possible when he’d turned his back on their legacy.

  You’re never going to recover from this?

  His words were like a jolt to the chest from a defibrillator and then everything surged back to life. Her lungs dragged in a swift harsh breath, her heart kicked her in the ribcage with all the power of a mule, her cells started metabolising again at warp speed.

  You’re never going to recover from this?

  Oh, no! He had to be kidding. This had to be a monumental joke. A very bad one.

  But no, here he was, in a freaking business shirt and trousers. On the beach. Gloating. A tsunami of emotion Claudia had been stuffing down for four days—hell, for the last year—rose in her chest and demanded to be expressed.

  ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

  Luke’s eyes widened at the distinct lack of welcome turning her normally chirpy voice deeper. Darker. He shrugged. ‘I saw it on the tele...I just...came.’

  And he had. As much as he’d resented the weird pull this place still had over him, he couldn’t not put in an appearance. Escaping to the other side of the world a decade ago, immersing himself in a completely different life had dulled the pull, but one look at the devastation and it had roared back to life.

  Claudia blinked at his explanation, then let loose a laugh that bordered on hysteria. But if she didn’t laugh she was going to cry. And it wasn’t going to be dainty little London tears he was no doubt used to from his bevy of gorgeous sophisticated Brits, it was going to be a cyclonic, north Queensland snot fest.

  And she’d be damned if she’d break down in front of Luke.

  ‘How’d you even get here?’ she demanded. ‘The road is still cut in both directions.’

  ‘Jonah picked me up in his chopper from Cairns airport.’

  Claudia vaguely remembered hearing the chopper a little while ago and she silently cursed Jonah for being so damned handy. She made a mental note to tell Avery to withhold sex from him as his punishment for fraternising with the enemy. Because as far as she was concerned, Luke Hargreaves was public enemy number one.

  Not that Avery would—those two were still so loved up it was sickening.

  ‘Well, you came, you saw,’ she snapped. ‘Now you can leave. Everything’s fine and dandy here.’

  Fine and dandy? Luke looked at the unholy wreck in front of him. It was the complete antithesis of fine and dandy. He shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘I’m not going to do that, Claude.’

  Claudia gave an inelegant snort. ‘Why
not? Isn’t that what you do? Leave?’

  ‘I thought I could...’ Luke flicked his gaze to the flattened resort ‘...help.’

  ‘Help?’ Her voice sounded high even to her own ears. ‘Now you want to help?’

  ‘Claude...’ Luke sighed, unsurprised she was still carrying a grudge that he hadn’t wanted anything to do with their parents’ giant folly when they’d decided to retire and pass on the management to their children last year. ‘I can help with the clean-up. And there will be partnership decisions that need to be made.’

  A sudden surge of anger burned white-hot in Claudia’s chest. Partnership decisions? What the hell? Did he think she’d be too distraught to not understand the true meaning behind such a casual announcement?

  She drew herself up to her full five feet one inch, and jammed a hand on her hip. ‘You think you have the right to waltz in here—’

  Claudia broke off as a pressure—rage and something more primitive—built in her sinuses and behind her eyes. It threatened to explode and robbed her momentarily of the ability to form a coherent sentence.

  ‘To just...sweep in when everything is such a bloody mess...and think you have a right to any decisions? You forfeited any rights when you walked away from the Tropicana last year.’

  Luke tried to stay calm in the face of her anger. But Claudia always had driven him more nuts than any woman in the history of the world. She’d always been a firecracker where the resort was concerned, her petite, perennially cheerful disposition slipping quickly to growly Mummy bear when her precious Tropicana was threatened.

  He kept his hands firmly buried in his pockets lest he succumb to the urge to shake her. Part of the reason she was in this mess was because she’d refused to listen to reason. If they’d gone the way he’d wanted to go with the resort they’d have been making money hand over fist as part of a bigger chain and therefore sheltered financially from such a monumental disaster.

  But no. Claudia had wanted to keep the resort completely independent. Run it the way their parents had in some grand vision of yesteryear.