BOOK INFORMATION
Wicked
Nights
Men of
Discovery Island #2
By: Anne Marsh
Releasing October 1st, 2014
Harlequin
BOOK SUMMARY
Winner takes it all…off
Former
diving champion Piper Clark never loses. Unfortunately, if she doesn't land
this lucrative contract, her diving business will fail. Worse still, it will be
at the hands of her childhood nemesis, Cal Brennan—six feet of hard, rugged
former Navy SEAL. So Piper proposes a wager: whoever loses the diving contract
must take orders from the winner…in bed.
Cal needs
this contract for his own reasons. A former rescue swimmer, he may be having a
few issues with diving since his last mission ended, but Piper doesn't need to
know that. Something about her impulsive nature makes Cal rise to the bait, and
there's nothing he'd like more than to show Piper exactly what rules are good
for.
All bets are on. And someone's about to start
playing dirty….
TBR/BUY LINKS
EXCERPT
Piper Clark cut
hard right, the prow of her motorboat slicing through the clear blue water,
yards in front of his. He’d have recognized that impish, take-no-prisoners grin
anywhere.
Plus, she flipped
him the bird as her wake hit his deck, soaking both him and his gear.
Definitely Piper.
Good thing for her
he’d grown up in the past twenty years. Cal Brennan’s ten-year-old self would
have gunned his motor and gotten even, racing her for Discovery Island’s marina
until he’d swamped her deck every bit as much as she’d swamped his. Tit for tat—those
were the rules of engagement they’d always competed by. Still, he picked up
speed, hugging her wake—and was just in time to watch as she maneuvered her
boat into the last decent slip. Mentally, he readjusted his assessment of his
maturity. Score one for Piper. He forced his fingers to unclench from the
wheel, counted to ten and concentrated on searching out an empty slip. She
waved jauntily as he motored past her, close enough to read the name painted on
the boat’s side. What kind of name was The Feelin’ Free anyhow?
She’d always named
things badly. He distinctly recalled being hit over the head with a stuffed
teddy bear named Grand Poo-bah. There had also been a rescue puppy named Mr.
Cuddles. Mr. Cuddles had been a mostly deaf white Boxer with a severe drool
problem. Mr. Cuddles had moved on to the Happy Hunting grounds some years
before, but apparently Piper’s lack of naming skills had stuck.
Not that the other
four thousand full-time residents on Discovery Island would mind. Twenty-two
miles long and eight miles wide, the island’s main selling point was its
horseshoe-shaped bay with postcard-perfect deep blue water, dotted by boats and
two piers. The pier for the cruise ships stretched out into deeper water, but
the shorter pier was pure pleasure and clear at the other end of town. The good
folks of Discovery Island had named that pier Pleasure Pier and the broad strip
of creamy, palm-tree studded sand fronting an old-fashioned boardwalk was
Primrose Path. The hotels, shops and restaurants lining the street sported even
worse names in Cal’s opinion. Good Time, Please Your Eye, Wine, Women and Song.
The daily influx of tourists who ferried over from the California coastline to
explore the boardwalk loved the names. Or they simply loved diving, fishing,
zip lining or doing any one of the hundreds of activities on offer. Discovery
Island was big on keeping busy.
Grabbing his sodden
gear bag and his deck shoes, he padded barefoot along the dock, enjoying the
heat from the sun-warmed boards soaking into his feet. He and Piper had
business, more so than usual. The familiar, soothing noises of the marina
washed over him as he fielded greetings from the occasional other boaters and
closed in on his target. Discovery Island’s marina was a hopping place, but the
blue water with its glint of fish and kelp were an invitation to take it easy,
as was the familiar bouquet of sea salt, motor oil and Neoprene rubber filling
the air. Lazy waves broke against the docks, slapping fiberglass hulls, and he
could just make out the beach boardwalk. On a summer day like today, the place
bustled with tourists looking for the quintessential California dream. It was
also an ideal day for diving, but he’d stuck to the surface. He hadn’t strapped
on a tank or even free dived. Not him. He’d had a nice swim, stuck his head
under water and promptly panicked.
Just like
yesterday.
And every other day
since his last dive as a U.S. Navy rescue swimmer. The dive boats he passed,
loading and unloading, were an unwelcome reminder of what he’d lost.
Temporarily. Somehow, he’d get his head on straight, would figure out how to
get back in the game and back in the water. He’d never failed before; he
wouldn’t start now. He had too much riding on his ability to dive.
Turning the corner
and spotting Piper’s boat was almost a relief. The sighting was definitely a
welcome distraction from the panicked voice in his head asking, What if you
don’t get back in the game? What if you never dive again? Hearing voices was
never a good sign.
“Piper Clark,” he
bit out, relieved to have something to do. Setting his gear bag down on the
dock, he moved to the edge where she’d tied up.
Retreat the inner
voice demanded. Stand your ground, sailor, his body urged.
Piper was naked.
Okay, so, she
wasn’t totally naked, but a man could dream.
Somehow, he’d timed
his arrival at her slip for the precise moment she grabbed the zipper running
up the back of her wet suit. Undeterred by his presence—because surely she’d
heard him snap her name—she pulled, the Neoprene suit parting slow and steady
beneath her touch.
Hello.
Each new inch of
sun-kissed skin she revealed made certain parts of him spring to life.
If someone had
asked him what the over-under was on his seeing Piper naked, he’d have bet
heavily against his spotting so much as a sliver of her bare flesh. If he’d
expressed an interest, Piper would have shot him down, hard and fast. After
all, she didn’t like him any more than he liked her. Their shared past was
proof of that.
Even as he reminded
himself she’d spent most of their early days trying to either torment or kill
him, his eyes were busy. Piper’s arms were spectacular, strong and toned from
hour after hour of pulling herself through the water and then back up into the
boat. Diving wasn’t for the weak, and she’d had a professional platform-diving
career long before the accidental collision five years ago between his boat and
her Jet Ski had destroyed her right knee. After she’d rehabbed on the mainland,
she’d up and moved full-time to Discovery Island. Island gossip hadn’t shared
with him the reasons behind the move, but since he’d come back himself, he had
to assume she simply loved the place as much as he did. Now she was looking
sexier than any stripper, uncovering skin tanned a rich golden brown from time
outdoors. The way she’d braided her water-slicked hair in a severe plait only
drew his attention to the deceptively vulnerable curve of her neck.
But this was Piper.
So dragging his
tongue over her skin and tasting all the places where she was still damp from
her dive should have been the last thing on his mind. He’d read her the riot
act about her careless driving and say his piece about tomorrow’s business
meeting. Then he’d go his way and she’d go hers. After all, he’d been back on
the island for almost six months and had managed to avoid all but the briefest
of interactions with her. They said hello, goodbye (he suspected she preferred
the latter) and nodded tersely at each other from across the street. Life was
much quieter that way, because Piper invariably did plenty of yelling when she
spent too much time around him.
The wet suit hit
her waist.
Neither short nor
tall, Piper had medium brown hair, brown eyes and a slim build. Those
cut-and-dried facts didn’t begin to do the woman in front of him justice,
however. They certainly didn’t begin to explain why he unexpectedly found her
so appealing or why he wanted to wrap an arm around her and take her down to
the deck for a kiss. Or seven. He didn’t like Piper. He never had. She’d also
made it plenty clear he irritated her on a regular basis.
So why was he
staring at her like a drowning man?
And…score another
point for Piper. Like many divers, she hadn’t bothered with a bikini top
beneath the three-millimeter wet suit. His kiss quota rocketed up to double
digits.
“Piper.” His voice
sounded hoarse to his own ears. Focus. Adrenaline rushed through him, sweat
dampening his skin. He forced himself to breathe in, slow and easy. To push his
heartbeat down and make the sudden energy pumping through his veins work for
him. This wasn’t a rapid rappel down to a crash site to search for survivors or
a midnight recon of a hostile-infested beach. Nope. This was Discovery Island,
a good place with good people. He was home.
Without
acknowledging his greeting, she bent over, shoving the heavy suit down her legs
and his throat went dry. Game over. Silver earbuds, which explained why she
hadn’t answered him, flashed as she shimmied, working the suit off. Like
always, Piper was off in her own world, marching to her own beat. Ignorant of
his presence, she gave him ample opportunity to admire the longest, sleekest
legs he’d ever seen. Her blue-and-white striped bikini bottom was all
practicality, although the conservative cut still clung to her butt. Her
water-darkened braid slid over her shoulder, and he wanted to fist her hair,
holding her in place as he ran his hands up those legs and parted her for his
kiss. Which made him a first-class bastard, even if he kept those thoughts to
himself.
Yeah. But she
clearly had more than one advantage on her own side.
He didn’t
negotiate, he reminded himself. He acted. Decided, he approached the boat,
knocking on the side to draw her attention.
She jumped, her
head swinging around toward him. “If it isn’t my favorite SEAL.” She flashed
him a grin as she popped the earbuds out, taking in his soaking-wet jeans and
damp T-shirt. “Had a mishap?”
She knew precisely
what had happened.
He dropped down off
the dock, onto her boat. Deliberately, he let his feet hit the deck hard,
savoring her little flinch. She wasn’t as off balance as she’d made him, but it
was something. He’d take every advantage he could get because, Christ, she
still wasn’t wearing a bikini top. Instead of covering her breasts or grabbing
for a towel, she glared at him as if this whole situation was his fault. She
was lucky her slip put her out of the line of sight of the other boaters in the
marina and he was the only one who could see her. Piper flashed him, and any
thoughts he’d had of being a gentleman flew out of his head. He imagined
cupping her soft curves in his palms, rubbing his thumbs over the tips. He’d
just bet she was a moaner, and—
He jerked his gaze
back up to her face. “We’ve got to talk.”
CAT'S REVIEW
"Wicked Nights" by Anne Marsh. This story tells the tale of Cal and Piper - two childhood friends that antagonize each other constantly. Now, as adults, while competing for a business contract, they find a sexual chemistry brewing. Piper is an extremely independent and daring woman - I have to say, at first I didn't think I would care for her. While I like my heroines to be strong, I don't always care for them to be alpha, which, to me, Piper is. However, Piper is funny and caring and emotionally strong. She has overcome a lot with a determination to succeed and she never backs down from a dare! Certainly someone to be admired. Cal is an ex-Navy SEAL, so of course, he is sexy and alpha to the core! He cares for Piper, despite their bickering. Despite the fact they "don't like each other", they complement each other - she's carefree and he's a bit more serious. Since they are both divers, there are many dive scenes. These were well written and beautifully described. Discovery Island is a place anyone would love to visit or live. I enjoyed this book - it was a fairly quick read and light. There was humor and adventure and powerful love shown among the characters - secondary included. (Received copy for honest review)
★★★★
AUTHOR BIO
I live in Northern California with my husband,
two kids and six cats. After ten years of graduate school and too many degrees,
I escaped to become a technical writer. When not planted firmly in front of the
laptop translating Engineer into English, I enjoy gardening, running (even if
it’s just to the 7-11 for slurpees), and reading books curled up with my kids.
The best part of writing romance, however, is finally being able to answer the
question: “So… what do you do with a PhD in Slavic Languages and Literatures?”
You can visit me online at www.anne-marsh.com
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