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Overview
Discover the magic of New York Times bestseller Melissa Foster's writing, and see why millions of readers have fallen in love with the Love in Bloom series.
In SEASIDE EMBRACE...
After working hard all day, creating his beautiful metal sculptures, sinfully sexy Hunter Lacroux likes to unwind with a hot, sexy babe--or two. But after spending a handful of naughty nights with seductive and beautiful Jana Garner, the woman who challenges everything he does and says, Hunter wants more.
As a dancer, boxer, actress, and waitress, Jana is tough, organized, and as dedicated as she is committed. She has to be to maintain her crazy schedule. But when it comes to men, Jana's had a string of bad relationships, and there's only one thing she'll commit to--not committing.
White-hot passion ignites every time Jana and Hunter are together, but the closer Hunter gets, the faster Jana runs. When Hunter lays on the charm, Jana throws out a challenge she's sure he can't meet, and Hunter steps up to the plate, forcing her to face her hurtful past or let go of him forever.
WANT MORE SEASIDE SUMMERS? All Seaside books can be read as stand-alone novels or as part of the series.
SEASIDE SUMMERS
Seaside Dreams (Bella)
Seaside Hearts (Jenna)
Seaside Sunsets (Jamie)
Seaside Secrets (Amy)
Seaside Nights (Sky)
Seaside Embrace (Hunter)
Seaside Lovers (Grayson)
Seaside Whispers (Matt)
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781941480281 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | World Literary Press |
| Publication date: | 02/17/2016 |
| Series: | Love in Bloom: Seaside Summers Series , #6 |
| Pages: | 348 |
| Product dimensions: | 5.50(w) x 8.40(h) x 0.90(d) |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
THE SCENT OF patchouli and sex hung in the air as Jana Garner slid silently from the sheets in the unfamiliar room. A thin glow from the streetlights seeped between the heavy curtains, cutting a path across Hunter Lacroux’s bare ass. God, he had a perfect ass: firm and squeezable at once. The kind of butt that Jana knew would defy gravity and still be pure perfection well into his graying years. She couldn’t help but admire his powerful physique one last time. Something to draw upon later when she would surely berate herself for hooking up yet again with the unfairly irresistible pigheaded man.
One beautifully sculpted arm arched across his forehead, and the other stretched across the pillow on which she’d slept, revealing the tattoo of the four essential life elements wrapping around his bicep. She’d asked him about it once, and he’d said he was an earthy guy. She didn’t linger on his tattoo for long. His broad chest was too tantalizing, and it led to ripped abs. Abs that, even when he was sleeping, were perfectly defined and lickable. And oh so delicious. Her gaze drifted lower, to hips that held the secrets of perfect thrusts, and—lucky for her—never seemed to tire. The sheets were bunched across his danger zone, which was an ideal location for them, because there were two things about Hunter Lacroux that drove Jana wild: his wickedly dark eyes that made her forget all the reasons why she should never touch him and that trouser snake of his that brought such immense pleasure, it kept her coming back for more.
Hunter was the one man on the planet she should stay away from and the only one she seemed unable to deny. She tiptoed around the bed and picked up her miniskirt and top, searching for her bra and panties and wondering how she’d ended up here again. She’d been out with her sister, Harper, her friend Sky, and Sky’s fiancée, Sawyer, at a bar in Provincetown, when Sky’s brothers Hunter and Grayson and their friend Clark had shown up. She vaguely remembered getting into a heated debate with Hunter. Don’t we always? Hunter knew Jana had been training under her brother Brock, a local boxing champ, for almost three years, and he’d been intent on giving her shit about women infiltrating a man’s sport.
Asshole.
The next thing she knew they were several shots of tequila to the wind and stumbling along Commercial Street to…? She looked around the room. This place, wherever that was. It looked like a motel bedroom, but in reality, knowing Hunter, it could have been a friend’s house where they’d crashed for the night.
Tequila. It was always her undoing. She should know better than to do shots of it anytime—but especially when he was around. She momentarily wondered why her sister hadn’t dragged her ass away from him. Harper knew she had fallen into bed with him before and had sworn off him. Damn her.
She glanced at her reflection in the mirror above the dresser. Her long blond hair was knotted and tangled, and her eyes were bloodshot. She definitely had that recently fucked look. I really need to stop doing this. Her eyes dropped to the reflection of Hunter. Especially with you.
If she were honest with herself, she’d admit that she needed to stop blaming Harper, too, and take some responsibility for her actions. She was twenty-five, for goodness’ sake, not sixteen.
She stole another glance at Hunter, remembering the way he’d fisted his hands in her hair, tugging until her scalp stung, and nearly growled her name as he found his release. The man was an animal in the sack, better than any man she’d ever been with. She didn’t do relationships, not after a string of horrible breakups and hurt feelings. She’d sampled enough men over the years to be certain of two things. Men as talented in bed as Hunter were hard to come by—although, she mused, easy to come with—and if she were looking to settle into a monogamous relationship, which she definitely wasn’t, it wouldn’t be with a player like him.