When a daring travel vlogger impersonates her lookalike to complete a bucket list task at an exclusive resort, she never expects to fall in love with the billionaire owner while hiding behind a web of lies in this twisty romance from USA Today’s bestselling author Cassie Verano.
Anyssa Kelley, a YouTube travel vlogger, is ticking off 30 items to complete before her 30th birthday in 90 days. The most elusive item on her thirty-before-thirty list is to fall in love. Yet, on her quest, she accumulates a string of meaningless affairs and an indiscriminate reputation.
Over dinner with a group of travelers at a resort, she meets vineyard owner Camila Martinez, who resembles her strikingly. The two become fast friends when Anyssa learns about Camila’s dilemma: tour the exclusive invitation-only resort Belle Baie in Mauritius for work research or return home for her father’s emergency surgery. Piqued by the intrigue of the resort, Anyssa suggests she should go to Mauritius as Camila, promising to complete Camila’s assignment. Armed with a fake ID, Anyssa heads to Belle Baie, ready to research and tick off the last item on her list...finding a forever love.
When she arrives, she meets and clicks with Belle Baie’s owner, wealthy Colombian real estate mogul, Nazário “Nazar” Rivas. As their attraction grows, Nazar is afraid to lose his heart to Anyssa because he trusts no woman after suffering a devastating loss years earlier. But Nazar can’t deny he’s falling for her. Only to him, she is Camila.
While Anyssa is fearful of revealing the truth, Nazar’s past comes back to haunt him and threatens to take him away from her forever. Can Anyssa and Nazar survive the damaging impact of their realities, and will their deceptive ways destroy their love connection?
Release date:
March 25, 2025
Publisher:
Black Odyssey Media
Print pages:
288
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View a sunrise from a place where you can see the horizon
Do something along the lines of exhibitionism
Find my father
Try kinky sex
Fall helplessly in love
“Elevator’s not working if you’re heading to the seventh floor,” the bored doorman says.
“Shit!” I mutter, turning in the opposite direction to head for the stairwell.
“We could take the elevator to five and the stairs from there,” Connor says, tugging my hand.
“Can I just be Jeannie for one minute?” I groan, following him.
“Jeannie?” he asks, looking over his shoulder at me with that winsome smile as a blond lock of hair falls into his eyes.
“Yeah, like that old show, I Dream of Jeannie, with the chick with the genie outfit on. She’d fold her arms, close her eyes, and blink to make some shit happen. That’s what I need right now.”
Connor laughs, looking at my legs. “Calf muscles sore, huh?”
“Hell yeah, they are!” I mumble as the elevator doors open.
Connor’s my tour guide here in Colorado. I’ve come to Estes Park for a hiking adventure in the Rocky Mountains. Since I’ve been here, I’ve ridden horses, gone kayaking, and seen a magic show in an underground speakeasy lounge underneath a carriage house. The last few days, I visited an aerial adventure park where I ziplined and navigated hanging chairs and even learned to throw axes.
Today, I rounded out my trip by hiking in the Rocky Mountains, and I thought I was fit . . . until I hiked that mountain. That venture alone kicked my ass. Every muscle in my body is sore.
“You’ll be good soon. We’ll get you to the seventh floor, get you tucked away, and I’ll read you a nighttime story.”
“A nighttime story?” I laugh as the elevator doors open on the fifth floor.
“Yep. Make sure you have good dreams tonight,” he says as his voice lowers slightly and his eyes flash with unbridled need.
“I’m already having one,” I reply.
It’s been this way with Connor and me all week, the back-and-forth easy banter of flirting. Surprisingly, I haven’t scratched my itch yet. Flings while traveling aren’t new to me. It’s what I do. It’s who I am.
Though I enjoy them, every now and then, I yearn for the comfort and security of a stable relationship.
“Stairwell’s this way,” he says, heading to the right.
Our tour group hung around for s’mores and beer over a campfire, but I was ready to return to the hotel. I’m the only one leaving tomorrow to prepare for my next destination.
“God!” I groan when we step into the stairwell, and I look up at my floor.
“Come on,” he goads. “You can easily navigate this.”
“Or . . . You could carry me,” I challenge.
He winks and kneels with his back to me. “Hop on, ma’am. Your chariot awaits.”
He ain’t said nothing but a word. I quickly climb on his back, and he moves me up to his shoulders with a few quick shifts. My legs wrap around him, and he clutches my calves. As he takes the first few steps, his fingers gently massage the swollen, tired muscles, relieving my aches and pain but stirring up something far more potent.
There’s a throbbing growing deep between my legs, and the swell of ecstasy that’s taken over won’t be contained. By the time we reach the fifth step on the first flight, I find myself shifting uncomfortably, trying to control the throbbing.
Yet, as I shift and my core rubs against his neck while the cloth of my cotton shorts rubs against me, I find I’m even more turned on. I’m so close to an orgasm that it’s a damn shame. The man hasn’t said boo, and I’m ready to drop my panties and bend over here in the stairwell.
“Anyssa?” Connor says.
“Hmm,” I barely moan.
“Are you okay?”
“Mm-mm,” I mutter.
He stops on the landing and slides me down from his shoulders and off his back.
“What’s up?” he asks.
My eyelids are heavy like I’ve just smoked, and my breathing is erratic. A knowing smile crosses Connor’s face, and he steps closer to me, backing me up against the wall.
Tilting my chin, he dips his head and kisses me. The sweet cherry and spicy aroma of the cigar he’d been chewing earlier comes to me, tempting me to want more. His slow kiss and the way he weaves his tongue into my mouth seduce me, making me feel light and at ease.
Connor’s hands smooth down my shoulders, resting on my hips, but I grab one and shove it underneath my T-shirt. He pinches my nipple through my bra before pushing it aside as I jerk my T-shirt over my breasts.
“Fuck!” I cry when his lips take my budded nipple between them, and his tongue works it over.
My fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, holding him in place all the while my hips jerk forward, pressing against him, begging for the hardness that I feel pushing through his cargo shorts.
Our heavy breathing echoes through the stairwell, and I hope no one else needs to take the stairs to the seventh floor. It’s the last goddamned floor in this hotel, but hopefully, everyone who needs to get there is either safe and secure in their rooms or settled somewhere else for the evening. At least temporarily.
Connor lifts his head, kissing me once again as his fingers torture my nipples, tugging, pinching, and massaging them.
Boldly, I grab one of his hands and shove it into my cotton shorts. Connor moves his hand around in my shorts before satisfying himself by slicking his hand across my wetness.
“No panties?” he breathes heavily against my lips.
“None.”
“Shit!”
I reach for his zipper, knowing that if it’s about to happen here, we need not waste any time. His hands move away from my pussy and nipple to unzip the fanny pack at my waist.
“Reach inside,” I mumble.
“Huh?”
“Protection inside,” I say just as he’s preparing to throw the fanny pack to the floor.
Within a minute, Connor is wrapped up and pushing inside me.
Disappointment floods me at his size, but he makes up for it with his movements. My back is flattened against the wall, and my legs are hiked up and pressed between us as he shoves inside me.
In this position, I’m wide open for his taking, and he takes and takes and takes, leaving me breathless. His dick stirring up my juices as he pumps echoes louder than our moans in the stairwell.
No way in hell could anyone enter the stairwell and not know what was happening. I don’t care if they’re down on the first landing; they’ll hear Connor and me fucking.
I shift my legs slightly downward to wrap around his waist, and he bounces me up and down on his dick while sucking my breast.
“Connor!” I cry out, loving how it feels: so free, wild, and primal.
I’ve had sex in some crazy places but never in the hotel’s stairwell. And just to think, that wasn’t even on my “Thirty-Before-Thirty” List.
I’ll explain that later.
Connor’s panting harder than before, and I know he’s on the verge of an orgasm, but that’s okay because I’m about to come myself. Wrapping my legs tighter around him, I kiss his lips, sucking at his bottom and then the top before I open my mouth to let his tongue inside again.
I hear a door banging closed somewhere a few floors down. I don’t care; I keep going, hoping they don’t see us, but if they do, I hope they’re inspired too. I hear their footsteps growing closer, but their voices are softer.
No kids are at this hotel, so I’m not worried about scarring some poor kid for life.
“Nys,” Connor groans throatily. “Aww, fuck!”
I whimper a few “Ahhhs” and “Mmms” of my own, and the footsteps I’d heard before slow up before someone snickers.
Clenching tightly around Connor, I gyrate hard, working him over slowly as his thrusts grow harder, slower, more intentional, and controlled.
He releases my mouth, takes one of my breasts in his mouth, and bites it.
“Oh shit!” I cry out just as I release all around him.
He’s not finished yet. Connor’s pumps increase in intensity and speed as he rocks upward, giving me everything he’s got to give, and he finally releases as a whimper escapes his throat. He buries his face in my neck, biting down and stifling his groan.
“That was good,” he gushes between deep breaths.
“Mm-hmm,” is all I mutter between my labored breaths.
Clapping fills the stairwell with a couple of hoots and cheers.
I clap my hand over my mouth with wide eyes, staring at Connor, who’s growing red. We both sputter with laughter as we adjust our clothes. I grab my fanny pack off the floor, and we jet for the final set of stairs.
The earlier pain in my calves is long forgotten, along with the abandoned condom wrapper. I think the actual condom may still be on Connor.
ANNY’S ANNALS
Aloha!
Hey, it’s me again . . .
Today, I crossed off number two on my list. Hike the Rocky Mountains.
We took the shuttle to the eastern trailhead and started at Spring Lake. I swear that must be the most peaceful place on earth. For a while, I just wanted to sit there and soak up the beauty of nature. It was still serene despite seeing a few people fishing in the lake.
Connor and Emily, our tour guides, led Tyler, Lisa, Gage, some others, and me around Bear Lake. Towering aspen, lodgepole pine, and fluffy spruce trees created an enchanted shoreline. When I say it was the stuff that fairy tales are made of . . .! There’s nothing as magnificent and beautiful as this little haven in our backyard.
We followed the trail up to the little gorge, and I took some great pictures of Nymph and Dream Lakes for my channel. It was a perfect reflection of the beauty all around the lake as it mirrored the images of the trees, mountains, and skies. After we passed Emerald Lake, we took a more challenging hike, and I took pictures by Alberta Falls with my group.
I probably should have opted out for the more strenuous hike because I promise I’m paying for it now. Yet, as the ache in my body eases, I won’t regret doing it.
The higher we climbed, the more we caught sight of beautiful elk grazing. Our travels brought us to this imposing granite barrier, which Connor said was Timberline Falls. I took pictures there, as well. It was a breathtaking scene.
We turned around at the base of the falls and headed back. Lisa and Gage wanted to go further, but it was a one-hundred-foot chute, and Connor said it was best that we not try to hike it. Although it wasn’t raining or snowing, he said hiking the chute was too dangerous for people like Tyler and me, who aren’t experienced hikers.
I must admit the hike put some things in perspective for me. Made me think about all that I’ve taken for granted. It was like getting a glimpse of God in action. This was His handiwork.
With all my travels worldwide, who knew one of the most beautiful and peaceful places was here? I almost don’t want to leave.
On another note, I left the group when they decided to stay behind for s’mores and beer. I’m leaving tomorrow morning and heading home for a few days before my next stop in Curaçao. I can’t wait for that trip.
Anyhoo, Connor followed me back to the hotel because he didn’t want me traveling alone. All our flirting this week finally led to some hot and heavy sex in the hotel’s stairwell between floors six and seven!
Although his size wasn’t impressive, he had some moves that made it worth it. We almost got caught, or maybe you can say we did get caught. We heard some people in the stairwell, but we didn’t stop. We kept going like we were behind closed doors. The people were laughing, and they even fucking cheered us when it was over!
Can you believe it?
Connor and I died laughing when we got to my room. He returned to his room, and we planned to hook up again tonight after dinner. I should be sleeping and getting ready to travel again, but hell, that was the first time I had sex on this entire trip. I have to make it worth it.
After all, how can I find true love unless I test out what each destination offers?
Until next time, Anny!
Nys 💋
2
NAZÁR
“You should visit home more often,” my mother says, patting my cheek.
“He’s a man who has to find his way in the world, Maria José,” my father says. “He’s almost forty. No reason you should still be treating him like a boy.”
“He’s found his way, Papá. He owns a resort, a vineyard, and properties around the world,” my older brother, Gabriel, says, speaking up for me as he’s done since our youth.
“The amount of money or properties he can amass does not speak to his success, Gabriel. You should know this. What matters is the size of his family and how well he can protect and provide for them.”
“He’s got the provision down, Papá,” my younger brother, Matias, says.
“I’m talking family. The man needs children,” my father argues.
“Yes. I need grandchildren, Nazár,” my mother says.
“You have grandchildren, Mamá,” I point out. “Matias has two kids, and Gabriel has five.”
“That is not enough. I need more. I need your children, little Nazários, to run around here that I can spoil.”
“Mamá, even if I were to have children, they wouldn’t be here. I’d still have to bring them to visit just like I visit twice a year now.”
“But if you were to find a good Colombian girl, that might change, no?” she argues.
I smile and scoop some more ajiaco onto my spoon and into my mouth. I close my eyes, savoring the flavors of creamy, delectable corn, potato, and chicken soup.
“It’s good, no?” she asks.
“Yes, Mamá. Excellent as always.”
“That is why you need a good Colombian girl. Someone I can pass my recipe down to.”
I chuckle despite myself because I know this is an argument I won’t win.
“Your mother’s right. Stay away from those American girls. They’re too worldly and mean you no good. You see what happened with the last one that you married. Disgraced our name.”
“God rest her soul,” Mamá says, making the sign of the cross, although I know she didn’t like my late wife, Bella.
“Bella wasn’t American, Papá. She was French!”
“Dios mío! That’s even worse!” Mamá says, shaking her head and pushing her bowl away.
She does the same theatrics every time Bella’s name and nationality arise, as though she’s just learning that Bella was French.
“What’s worse about French women versus American women?” Gabriel asks, starting an argument that I want no part of.
“Women from both are shameless, but at least the American women try to have some discretion.”
“No, they don’t! I remember—” Matais speaks, ready to tell an oft-repeated story about some woman he had an affair with during college.
“Can we just stop?” I bellow, looking around the table at my parents and brothers and my brothers’ wives, Salome and Luciana.
It must be embarrassing to them to listen to my brothers’ tales of ex-lovers every time this argument arises. Not to mention, the conversation will become heated and grow louder before long. And though everyone will kiss and make up at the end, that doesn’t change the fact that their children are in the other room eating and listening to every word.
“What is wrong, Nazár?” Mamá asks.
“Every time Bella’s name comes up, there’s always a heated discussion, disrespect associated with my wife’s name—”
“Well, son, she disrespected you,” Papá points out.
“And an omission that we don’t speak ill of the dead. At least that’s what we believe, but somehow, when that comes to my late wife, it doesn’t matter,” I grunt over Papá.
I’m standing now with my fingertips gripping the table’s edge so tightly that if they grow any tighter, I might rip the tablecloth free, clattering all their dishes to the floor. I’m tired of the disrespect that is associated with Bella, tired of careless remarks, the innuendos, and the callous humor.
“Where are you going?” Mamá asks as I stalk toward the door.
“Away!” I thunder, slamming the door closed behind me.
I don’t care that they view it as disrespectful and rude. I’m beyond caring about the ways of our traditions when those traditions only extend to them when it’s convenient. The rules never seem to apply to me.
It’s the reason why I moved away from home. When I first became a real estate developer, I remained in Colombia, wanting to improve my town. I ventured out as my wealth, reputation, and business connections grew.
I bought my first property in Mauritius because Bella and I had visited on several occasions and loved the island. We met in America, but after I’d proposed, she’d agreed to return home to Colombia with me, excited about the opportunity to live in another new country.
Problems arose from the onset, from my family refusing to speak English in her presence when they very well could to them asking ignorant questions about her country and nationality. We tried to overlook them. As much time as I spent reassuring her that my family liked her, I spent that much time begging them to respect her and give her a chance.
When she had her miscarriage, my family began to suggest that she was cursed and our marriage was doomed. It was more than Bella could take. I knew I had to leave my family if I wanted my marriage to survive.
And so, we did. We bought the property in Mauritius because we loved it, and it was in neutral territory for us both. Now, here I am all these years later, and I still have the property, but I no longer have my beautiful Bella.
What’s worse is the guilt I hold for often reliving my parents’ words suggesting she was cursed. Looking back in time, it seems as if maybe she was.
“Hey, are you okay?” Gabriel asks, catching up with me as I walk down the street of our little town of Villa de Leyva.
“I’m never okay when I come back to this place,” I grumble, shoving my hands into my pockets.
The sun is high in the sky and a little hotter than usual for Villa de Leyva. Sweat trickles from my hairline down the back of my neck.
“You know they don’t mean any harm, don’t you? They just want you to find someone to love you, settle down, and marry like they did.”
“Yeah? Well, that didn’t work out for me too well, did it?” I ask, turning to glare at my older brother.
“Look, I know there are a lot of insinuations out there about what happened to Bella, but . . .”
“But what?” I seethe when he doesn’t say anything after several seconds.
Gabriel stops walking and shoves his hands into his pockets, mimicking my stance.
“But . . . You haven’t given anyone anything to go on. No one knows what happened to her or why. We know that she died in a fatal car accident, end of story. It makes no sense, Nazár. She was familiar with the terrain, the roads . . . None of it ever made sense.”
“So the family does what they always do, turn to their hodgepodge of superstitious beliefs about what happened to my wife, rather than respecting my privacy and decision not to discuss it? You all would rather believe the worst?”
“That’s not true, and you know it, Nazár. You’re angry right now.”
“As if I don’t have the right to be!”
“You do, but . . . Those same beliefs once guided you before you moved away.”
“They were never my guiding principles. I just didn’t argue with them out of respect for my parents. Never once did I expect they would turn on me.”
“No one has turned on you,” he says, reaching for my arm.
I jerk away from him, seeing the wounded expression in his eyes, but I’m beyond caring.
“It’s been five years, Nazár. Don’t you think that it’s time you moved on?”
“Moved on to what, Gabriel?”
“Found a good woman who loves, respects, and cares for you.”
“As opposed to what?”
“What you’re doing now. Becoming a recluse on that island.”
Shaking my head, I mutter, “It’s a damn shame. My own family doesn’t even know me.”
“We could if you’d let us in again.”
I start walking toward the bar once more, and Gabriel picks up the pace, catching up with me.
“I don’t live like a recluse on the island. I travel to other places, meet people, and have friends worldwide.”
“Not when you’re at the resort.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“For God’s sake, Nazár, no one is allowed to visit the fucking resort without a personal invitation from you! You won’t even allow your family to visit. Matias and I showed up unannounced and weren’t permitted entry beyond the gates. You actually met us down there and escorted us to another hotel. What the hell?”
“It was in your best interest, as well as my own. I have precautions in place for a reason, Gabriel. If you can’t respect that, then I’m sorry.”
“We wouldn’t have had to show up unannounced if you’d invited or allowed us to visit once. You don’t even share pictures of that place. If it weren’t for the beauty I could see from the road, I’d question if you’d let it go to the dumps.”
“Never that.”
“Then you’re just in a prison of your own making behind guarded walls?”
“No. That’s you thinking that.”
My brother is trying to pilfer information about my private resort. I won’t disclose anything because my family isn’t good at keeping secrets and are judgmental assholes.
I open the door to La Cava de Juan Carlos and bask in the cool air flowing through the bar. Dim lighting, walnut overhead beams, orange walls, and liquor bottles hanging from strings overhead set the tone of the bar.
On the wall leading up the stairway to the second level are album covers from old bands of the seventies and eighties. Salsa music and the low hum of lively and hushed conversations create a laid-back atmosphere.
Gabriel and I sit at the rear, giving us a full view of the door.
“So, tell me this, at least. Is there anyone meaningful in your life?”
“That depends on what you mean by meaningful.”
“A potential love interest who has the possibility of turning into a wife, turning into a mother,” he says as he waves a finger at a server.
The woman smiles flirtatiously at us and winks at me as she takes our orders.
“Daniela, this is my younger brother, Nazár.”
“Hello, Nazár. Are you visiting or coming to stay?”
“Visiting.”
“Maybe I can show you around in your downtime.”
“This is home for him, Daniela. He moved away, but he’s very familiar with our town.”
“There are a few changes that I’m sure you’re not acclimated to. Maybe I can help out in those areas,” she flirts, leaning a little too close for my comfort and overwhelming me with the scent of cheap perfume.
She leans so close I can see the tip of her nipples pointed upward in her blouse.
“Don’t think you’re into what I’m into, my love.”
“Oh . . .” she says, looking between my brother and me.
I know that she’s assuming that I’m commenting on my sexuality. Many people make that mistake when I say that, but it’s fine by me. They can think whatever the hell they’d like. I’m secure in my masculinity and owe no one explanations. Besides, their assumptions keep them from the truth. Only those who delve into the world that I prefer catch my meaning.
“Um, what will you have?” she asks.
We order and return . . .
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