Me? I'm the misfit single mom who never wanted to fit in...
Small Town Hero, an all-new must-read small town billionaire romance full of heat from bestselling author Olivia Hayle, is available now!
Parker Marchand was a star athlete and professional sailor who never looked at me twice. He’s strong and steady, everything my abusive ex wasn't, but I'm a struggling single mom and professional screw-up. What could we possibly have in common?
The man I’ve always wanted is within reach, but I've been burned too many times to trust again. Parker has a brilliant future and I’m running from my past.
Everyone knows knights in shining armor aren't real, and I’m too old to believe in fairy tales. Even if Parker is making it hard not to…
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Excerpt
“Do I have to go first again?”
He smiles, slow and wide, and lowers his head. “No,” he says, and then he kisses me. It’s salty and warm and water drips from his hair onto my temple, cold against my flushed skin.
My eyes are still closed when he pulls away. “There,” he murmurs. “Not too little, not too much. We did it right this time.”
“Don’t Goldilocks this, Marchand.”
He chuckles hoarsely and then doesn’t make another sound, not as I reach up on my tiptoes and kiss him again. It’s intoxicating being this close to him.
And just like last time, he becomes a stranger under my lips. Familiar and yet novel, an entirely new landscape to explore. Parker and yet not Parker.
“Jamie,” he murmurs, his hands finding my waist beneath the towel.
My hands settle against his chest. His bare chest. He’s warm and hard under my hands, skin deceptively soft over the strong muscle beneath.
“Jamie,” he murmurs again, moving his lips to my ear. He laughs softly. “We’re in the middle of the boardwalk.”
“Oh,” I whisper against his chest.
“I don’t mind, but I have a feeling you might. You know how this town talks.”
“Yes.” I turn my head and peek past his shoulder. An SUV drives by us on Ocean Drive. “What do we do?”
He rubs a large hand up and down my arms, as if to warm me. It sends a shiver down my back. “We’ll go home,” he says, “and start our days, and do this again. When we’re alone.”
“I like that plan,” I say. My voice doesn’t sound like my own.
He smiles, small and crooked. “Come on, James. You’re getting cold, and I’m in danger of overheating.”
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