According to the people who designate holidays, we
have now entered the “unofficial beginning” of summer. You know what that
means, right? Loading up your Kindles with beach and poolside reads! To
celebrate, I’d like to feature one of my summer scorchers, “The Last Sunset.”
This is part of Extasy Books’ Summer Shorts series, with all stories centering
around a vacation theme. It’s also the first installment in my Key West Heat
series, and has been followed by three others to date, all with different
characters.
“A jilted bride runs away to Key West after being
abandoned at the altar, intending to let herself be washed out to sea. Her
attempt at ending it all is thwarted by a rugged beachcomber she encounters who
has a unique outlook on life. Is he on the level or hiding something sinister?
Will she decide to give life and love another chance?”
This book is one of the rom/com breaks I like to take
on occasion, to get away from mystery/thrillers and indulge in something
lightweight. I also did something different with this one—I told the story
primarily from the woman’s POV. Apparently, I got it right, because no one has
complained—yet! It’s a short fun read, with a little bit of everything—tropical
location, interesting characters, some laughs, a little drama, and just enough
sex to raise the temperature a few degrees. It also introduced the lead characters
in an unusual way, as you can see in this excerpt:
She kicked off her sandals and unwrapped her sarong,
pulling it from her lithe frame. She folded it neatly, then set it on her
sandals, followed by her small handbag resting on top. She faced the ocean
naked for a minute, finally wading into the white foamy surf. She stopped and
stared ahead at the sea that stretched to infinity. The water pulled back to
gain strength for another run at the shore. She took a deep breath then slowly
exhaled. I decided this was the best way,
so let’s just do it.
She waded tentatively into the surging surf but
stopped when it was up to her knees. She let the warm water splash against her
skin and choked back a sob. Before she could proceed, she was startled by a
gruff male voice that called out from behind her.
“If you really want to kill yourself, I can show you a
half-dozen great ways that are a helluva lot more fun.”
She spun around and gasped when she saw a lone figure,
thirty feet away, sitting against the trunk of a palm tree with one leg drawn
up toward his hips, the other stretched in front of him, his hands resting in
his lap. She quickly gathered up her sarong, holding it protectively in front
of her.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
The man tilted up the brim of his Panama Jack hat and
looked at her. “Last I heard, it was still a public beach.”
Tess quickly put on the sarong and tied it tightly
around her waist. She picked up her sandals and handbag then began to make a
fast, barefoot retreat along the white sands. She looked at the stranger, but
he didn’t move. She stopped to stare at him for a few moments then took
cautious steps in his direction. When she was within ten feet, she stopped to
examine him more closely. He was probably in his late thirties or early
forties, but in the dimming light, it was hard to tell. He wore a sleeveless
t-shirt that had once been white with a faded sunset adorning the front, along
with a pair of black cargo shorts and no shoes. His lean, tanned face sported
at least a day’s growth of beard. She found herself involuntarily intrigued and
slowly took a few more steps. He looked at her through slate gray eyes and
offered a small smile.
“Do you…uh…live here on the beach?” she asked.
He laughed. “Not everyone in Key West sleeps in a
hammock beneath the palms. I come here to enjoy the sunsets and the solitude.”
“Are you a native?”
He shook his head while looking at her. “I’m what
you’d call an expatriate northerner who got tired of freezing my ass off every
winter.”
She looked at him for a moment while deciding if she
should stay or run like hell in the opposite direction. The man didn’t make a
move, so she decided to stay.
“What’s your name?”
He shrugged. “Mack, Jack, Larry, Moe, Curly—pick one.”
She grinned. “Since you’re wearing a Panama Jack, why
don’t I call you Panama?”
“Better than some of the things I’ve been called. What
would you like me to call you?”
“Tess.”
“Very pretty. I always liked that name.” He gestured
at a nearby stump. “Sit down. I won’t bite.”
Tess hesitated then sat. She kept her knees tightly
together and her hands folded in her lap, ready to make a hasty exit. She
glanced down. “How did you know…”
“That you wanted to end it all? A couple of things.
For one, you kept hesitating when you hit the water. If you were planning a
sunset skinny-dip, you would’ve dived in. The other was that monument you built
to yourself, leaving your bag on top so someone would find it and know you were
here.”
She raised her gaze. “What makes you such an expert?”
He hesitated while staring into her blue eyes.
“Because I contemplated the same thing myself once.”
“Who stopped you?”
“Me, myself and I. I decided she just wasn’t worth
it.” He shrugged. “We all have personal baggage. How far you want to carry it
and for how long is up to you.”
“The Last Sunset (Key West Heat Book One)” is
available at Amazon Kindle, and anywhere well-written erotic romance is sold.
Enjoy!
Tim Smith is an award-winning, bestselling author of romantic mystery/thrillers and contemporary erotic romance. He is also a freelance writer, blogger, editor, and photographer. When he isn’t pursuing those interests, he can be found in the Florida Keys, indulging his passion for parasailing between doing research and seeking out the perfect Mojito. His website is Tim Smith--AllAuthor.com
2 comments:
Love the blurb for The Last Sunset, Tim. Poor jilted bride. She should have kicked her fiancé where it hurts. That'd teach him to play with a woman's heart and dignity. :)
Agreed, Tina, but then...there wouldn't be this great story about The Bride's Revenge! Thanks for the like.
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