One of New York Times bestselling author Samantha Young"s most beloved couples returns for the first time in a brand new novella set ten years after her blockbuster bestseller Before Jamaica Lane"
Nate and Liv have a great life together but they miss the spontaneity and freedom they enjoyed early on in their romance. Careers and their children have inevitably kept them busy, so when Nate discovers Liv is feeling disconnected from him, he plans an anniversary trip to the idyllic seaside town of Hartwell, Delaware. There he hopes they will have the opportunity they"ve been craving"a chance to reinvent themselves and fall in love all over again.
With each new day comes a new adventure, from wedding crashing at the five-star boardwalk hotel to pretending they are two strangers having a chance encounter at the boardwalk bar. In the midst of this daring, sexually charged game of romantic rediscovery, Nate and Liv discover the only constant they need is each other.Books in Series:Hart’s Boardwalk Series by Samantha YoungBooks by Author:Samantha Young Books
This scene wasn"t me. If it had ever been me, it had been the me of yesteryear.
The trendy bar. The low lighting. The sexy dress.
Maybe six months ago I would have felt uncomfortable at Germaine"s, a bar I was visiting for the first time, because most people around me were in their twenties and early thirties. But, at that moment, it was difficult to feel anything but hot and needy.
The man across the bar was currently eye-fucking me.
Yes, eye-fucking me.
I could be ladylike and come up with a far sweeter descriptor, but really no other word could describe the heat in the stranger"s eyes as he looked at me.
I felt more than a pang of guilt that this stranger was the one making me feel this way: like the dress I was wearing was too tight, too everything, and I couldn"t wait to be naked. Naked and slick with sweat as my body writhed under the scrutiny of the man who was staring at me like I was the very embodiment of sex.
Staring at me in a way Nate hadn"t looked at me in so long.
At the reminder of the disconnect between me and my husband, I threw away my guilt and finally gave the stranger the small smile of encouragement he"d been waiting on.
He crossed the room with his drink in hand and gave me the sexiest smile as he settled on the stool next to me. Our fingers grazed as he put his glass on the little round table, and I felt the hair at the nape of my neck stand on end.
Our eyes met and locked.
Suddenly it felt difficult to breathe. There was so much tension coiling around my body. The only man who had ever made me feel this needy was my husband, and this stranger had the same magnetic, sexual ability.
"I haven"t seen you around here before," the stranger said, his eyes dipping to my mouth and then to my chest, visible in my low-cut dress.
When his gaze came back to mine, I raised an eyebrow as if to say, Are you done"
The stranger laughed softly, and the husky sound elicited tingles between my legs.
"I"m not from around here," I replied.
He cocked his head to study me. "Your accent . . . it"s hard to place. East coast, though, right""
What he was hearing was the little Scottish inflection I"d picked up in my American accent over the years. I"d always had it because my dad was Scottish, but living in Edinburgh for years had made the inflection more pronounced.
"I would never have guessed that."
I gave a little insouciant shrug and he grinned, his eyes roaming my face.
Years ago I would have squirmed under his perusal, geeking out and stumbling over my words. Nate had changed me.
Doubt stopped me from returning the man"s smile.
My husband had done a lot for me. No, he wasn"t perfect, and he"d hurt my feelings deeply of late . . . but I knew I should be giving my come-hither smiles to him and not to this guy. Pretending might not be what was best for me right now.
"God, you"re sexy as fuck," the stranger said. "I"ve been fantasizing about you since the moment you walked into Germaine"s."
And as shallow as that was, the hoarse sincerity in his words gave me pause. Nate wasn"t here. It wasn"t Nate who wanted me like this. It was this stranger.
Stop thinking so much. I actually heard Nate"s voice in my head. Play a little, Liv.
At the perverse imaginary encouragement of my husband, I leaned farther over the table, giving the stranger a better look down my dress. "Tell me."
"About this fantasy of yours."
And so he did.
Until my hands were trembling with want, until my nipples were tight and my breasts swollen, and I was seconds away from tearing off my dress and throwing myself at this potent man.
"What do you think"" the stranger said. "Sound like something you might want to make a reality""
The part that was warring within me, full of guilt and worry, I shoved to the back of my mind. "Yes."
The stranger"s eyes darkened with pleasure and he slowly, gracefully stood up from the stool and held his hand out to me.
All the reasons I shouldn"t do this swirled in my head.
I was married, for one.
I had two kids depending on my acting sensibly.
And I was in another country, far from home, where no one knew me.
This was irresponsible.
I should feel guilty as hell.
And yet somehow I still slid off that stool, put my hand in the stranger"s, and let him lead me out of the bar . . .
One month earlier
You would think that after almost ten years of marriage and fourteen years together I might have lost those magical tingles in my lady places when I looked at my husband.