“’Course,” he said, “There’s no need to rough it completely. I mean, we could have basics. Like a tap.”
“And a barbecue,” I threw in.
“And there’s no need for total isolation. I mean, we could have internet.”
“How is that different to a holiday?” I asked. “Are you sure it’ll still work, without the hardship?”
“I’m pretty sure steamed fish isn’t what did it,” he told me, looking into my eyes. “Finding you did. That’s what the other two need. The love of a good woman.”
“Well you’re not sharing me,” I said, horrified. “I’m not that rock n’ roll.” I looked at him, narrowing my eyes. “That’d better not have come up in one of your drunken guy-chats, backstage.”
“No,” he said guiltily. “Never.”
“Good.”
He pulled me close. “We’ll just have to hope they find girls of their own.”
And then, on the shore of our private island, my billionaire rock star kissed me.
<<<< >>>>
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If you liked “Shipwrecked,” you may also like my “He Wanted Me Pregnant!” stories. They’re steamy romances with a touch of humor and the twist that the alpha hero wants more than just sex. I’ve included an extract from “He Wanted Me Pregnant - The Curvy Voice Coach and the Billionaire Actor” below.
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An Extract from
He Wanted Me Pregnant!
The Curvy Voice Coach and the Billionaire Actor
Curvy voice coach Charlotte is used to helping actors get their accents right...but this time she's way out of her depth. Hired to teach Hollywood hunk Tanner Cole a British accent in just one week, she makes a lasting first impression when she accidentally flashes him on webcam.
Dragged from her sheltered life in London, the posh Brit soon finds herself in the craziness of Beverly Hills...and living in Tanner's mansion. The billionaire actor turns out to be as blue collar--and as hot--as they come, and she needs every trick in her book to help him fake it as an English lord. Unhappy with her curves, Charlotte can't believe that he could possibly be interested in her. But when their rehearsals for romantic scenes keep getting out of control, she begins to see that the bad boy has hidden depths. Does he want more than a one-night stand? And can he overcome her own fears and insecurities to win her over?
If he can, their troubles may be just beginning. Charlotte's been hiding her entire life. Is she ready for the glare of the spotlight?
Tanner looked at my blouse and jeans. “Before we go any further…you have got to get changed. You’re going to get heatstroke.
I shook my head.
He tilted his head to one side as if trying to figure something out. “Let me at least get you into the shade,” he said. At the end of the orange grove, a stone bench faced back towards the mansion, and the trees behind sheltered it from the sun. Tanner pointed me to it and we sat down. I sighed quietly in relief at the cool touch of the stone.
The sunlight made dappled patterns on the ground and, looking back down the path, the white mansion was framed in front of us. The scent of oranges was thick in the air. It was movingly beautiful. And peaceful. And...secluded.
There is nothing weird about this, I told myself. There is nothing weird about sitting here alone, just the two of us, on a bench—
My fingers were unconsciously tracing the shape of a carving on the back of the bench. I looked. A heart.
A bench obviously meant for lovers in a very romantic spot at his private mansion.
“Could we try something else, now?” Tanner asked. “Instead of more ‘the rain in Spain’?”
I swallowed. What was he building up to? “Go on,” I said hesitantly.
He shifted just slightly closer on the bench, turning fully to face me. He put one arm along the back and his hand brushed mine. “Just say if you’re not okay with it,” he said.
“I will,” I croaked. Oh God...what’s he...he can’t be going to….
“Could we….”
The world held its breath.
“...read from the script?”
Everything started moving again. Relief slammed through me, quickly followed by anger at how stupid I’d been. What did you think? That he was going to kiss you? Get real! And on the heels of those two, a third emotion: disappointment.
“Of course,” I said without thinking. I just wanted to cover my embarrassment. “Actually, that’s a great idea.”
He beamed, and his smile made something inside me lift and soar. “Great,” he said. And passed me a script. “You get it easy. You already have the accent.”
I took the script and leafed through it until we got to the scene he wanted to do. This is a good idea, I told myself. He can practice the accent and learn his lines at the same time. But as I started to look at the words a sort of sick dread started to spread through me. My whole life, I’d stayed away from the stage. Voiceovers were different—no one could see you. Here, Tanner was sitting right next to me.
And he’d picked a romantic scene. He was telling the heroine how beautiful she was. I closed my eyes, trying not to panic. He couldn’t have picked anything that was less comfortable for me.
“Annabel,” he told me in his best attempt at an English accent. “I’ve thought about nothing else. I’ve neither slumbered nor eaten. You’re a beautiful, dangerous sickness in my heart, one I have no desire to cure, but you must tell me how you feel before it destroys me completely.”
I opened my mouth and closed it again. I knew, of course. I’m not completely stupid. I knew it was just a line from a costume drama. I knew it was aimed at Annabel, the slender, winsome young thing that Tanner’s character was in love with (even though he was meant to be marrying someone else). I knew that, but—
Just for a stupid, stupid second, it felt good. It felt really good. A gentleman was telling me he loved me. It was like all of my teenage dreams come true.
And then reality came crashing down and I coughed and said, “Good, but hit the des of ‘desire’ more.”
He nodded. And then he looked at me, and I realized he wanted me to read my line, too. I looked at the line. I looked at him. “Is that necessary?”
“I need it to respond to,” he said simply.
I swallowed. “Thomas,” I said haltingly. “You—You’re betrothed. Virtually a married man. We must ignore what our hearts tell us.” ANNABEL TURNS AWAY, the script said, so I turned away.
I read THOMAS MAKES HER FACE HIM at the same time Tanner grabbed my shoulder and spun me back to look at him. I found myself gaping up into his face.
“I love you, Annabel,” he told me. His eyes tracked down my body and then back up. “Your body is a thing of wonder. You are a goddess given form.”
I suddenly choked and turned away from him—for real, this time. It should have been a beautiful speech. But that part where he’d looked me up and down...it just made me feel ill inside. He was a good actor but I knew that, on the inside, he must be wincing at the mismatch between what he was saying and what he saw in front of him.
“Charlotte?”
Shit. He knew something was wrong. And getting wronger. Suddenly, there were tears in my eyes. I tried to blink them away because the last thing I wanted was him feeling sorry for the big girl, but just thinking that nearly sent me over the edge.
“Charlotte?”
“
I’m fine. I’m just—”
A hand on my shoulder, turning me around. I blinked away as many tears as I could before finally allowing him to see my face. He was watching me with genuine concern. “Charlotte?” he asked. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing. Sun in my eyes.”
He frowned. “Did I say something to upset you?”
“No.”
He looked at the script and then at me, his eyes narrowed with frustration. And then he looked me right in the eye and said, again, “Your body is a thing of wonder. You are a goddess given form.”
I took a shuddering breath in. “You see,” I said, “that’s not good enough. You weren’t even trying to do an English accent.”
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
Extract from The Curvy Voice Coach
Shipwrecked with the Billionaire Rock Star Page 15