Some Like It Hot

by Jodi Ellen Malpas, Meredith Wild, Shelly Bell, Cecilia Tan, Zara Cox

Genres: Women's Fiction; Romance Anthologies & Collections

Synopsis

Featuring extended excerpts from:

With This Man by Jodi Ellen Malpas
Hardwired by Meredith Wild
At His Mercy by Shelly Bell
Beautiful Liar by Zara Cox
Slow Surrender by Cecilia Tan
All He Wants by C.C. Gibbs

Release date: March 16, 2018

Publisher: Grand Central Publishing

Print pages: 384

Sample

 

I’m making coffee again, creating as much noise as I can to fill the silence, when Ava marches into the kitchen. I’m taken aback by the determination written all over her face. Then she stops, her eyes sparkling a bit at the sight of my bare chest. As her gaze moves down, the sparkle fades and she points to my stomach. Or the two scars marring it. “What happened?”

I look down. I don’t know why. “Nothing.” I shake my head and return my attention to Ava, not prepared to go there yet. Besides, I know she didn’t come stomping in here looking all resolute to talk about my scars. It’s the first time she’s seen them since the accident. “What’s up?”

After a little shake of her own head, she rights her softened body, standing tall and confident. “Tell me how we met. I want you to tell me everything.”

I cautiously lower my arse to a stool, torn between happiness that she’s asked, and dread from the pressure of having to answer. It was all so intense and a huge whirlwind of feelings and emotion; the thought of explaining it is suddenly very daunting. “I don’t know where to start, Ava,” I admit as she joins me at the island. “I’m worried I won’t do our story justice.”

She breathes in a little, thinking, as her gaze flits across my face. “Then show me.”

I laugh under my breath, but it’s nervous. “I’m not sure you’re ready for that.” I don’t want to freak her out when she’s in such a mind-warp. This isn’t like when we met. I can’t go steamrolling in like I did back then. She’s delicate now. Fragile. I feel like everything is hanging on my approach to this mess.

“Ready for what?”

I clench my eyes closed, swallowing. “My ways.”

“Your ways?”

“Yes, my ways.” I open my eyes and find hers. The mystification staring back at me only amplifies my worry.

She doesn’t know what to make of that. Or of me.

“That’s what you call it,” I tell her. “My ways.” I go on when she cocks a questioning head. “I’m unreasonable.” I shrug. “Apparently.” A deep breath helps me to go on. “A control freak.” Another lame shrug. “Apparently.” This is hard already, and I’ve not even skimmed the fucking surface. “I’m possessive and controlling and…” I press my lips together when her eyes widen a little. “Apparently,” I add quietly.

“You just said apparently an awful lot.”

“Apparently,” I mumble, looking away from her, struggling to express what she needs to know. “For fuck’s sake,” I breathe, frustrated.

“You swear a lot, too.”

I shoot my eyes to hers, finding a rather disapproving look. I could laugh, but I cough instead. “And you don’t, for the record. Hardly ever, in fact.” I refuse to feel guilty for telling her a barefaced lie. This could be the end of her potty mouth.

“I don’t?”

I shake my head. “Never.”

“Oh.” She falls into thought again for a few moments, swallowing repeatedly until she takes in so much air, I’m worried about what might come from her mouth that requires so much preparation. “I am ready,” she declares.

I’m lost. “Ready for what?”

“For you to show me.” She bites down on her lip a little, gazing at me as I try to comprehend what she’s asking me to do.

“I’m not sure, Ava.”

“I am sure.” She approaches me and lays her hands on my chest, forcing me to breathe deeply through the contact. “I have a huge, gaping hole in my head. It’s where you and the children should be, and it’s truly killing me that you’re not there.” She shoves me a little, bringing her face close to mine. “You’re here, in my life, but you’re not up here.” Releasing one hand, she taps the side of her temple softly, though she still winces a little. Her move is a reminder to both of us that she needs to take it easy. Her visible wounds haven’t healed yet, either. “And I just know that you should be. Seeing those photographs has only made that instinct stronger.” Her voice cracks again, and I quickly take her hand back down from her head, holding it firmly in my grasp. “I need you to do whatever it takes.”

Her fierce determination through her broken words staggers me. Then I remember who I’m faced with. I might be a stranger to her, but this is still my wife. The strongest woman I’ve ever met. She has to be, or I wouldn’t be in her life, or she in mine. She tackled me before, took everything I had to throw at her.

“Whatever it takes?” I counter, just to hear her say it again. Just so I know we’re on the same page.

“Whatever it takes,” she confirms, nodding at the same time. She’s giving me permission. Telling me it’s okay to be…all of me?

“No pressure, then?” I quip, wondering where to start. The answer comes to me quickly. “Go take a shower. We’re going on a little trip.”

*  *  *

As I look up at the imposing building, I conclude that this is just as weird for me as it must be for Ava. The Manor is still The Manor, except now it’s The Manor Golf Resort and Spa. The grounds are as spotless as they were when I sold the place, and the building as impressive.

“We met playing golf?” Ava asks, a little laughter in her tone. “How romantic.”

“There wasn’t much romantic about our first encounter, baby,” I say, guiding her up the steps to the open doors, checking for her limp. It’s there, if mild.

“There wasn’t?” She sounds so disappointed, her head dropped far back, taking in the extraordinary structure. “You know, this could be your perfect opportunity to change that.”

I skid to a stop, looking down at her, a little stunned. She remains quiet while I fish for a response to that. I have nothing, so I pull her on, my mind spinning into overdrive. Not about her hinting that maybe I should be romantic, but because she’s shown a suggestive side, and I like it a lot. I shouldn’t, however, take that subtle hint as a green light to ravage her. Not just yet, anyway.

“This way.” I lead her into the bar, pick her up, and place her on a stool, trying to ignore the fact that despite the exterior of The Manor remaining the same, the interior has changed dramatically. It looks utterly shit. I gaze around, caught between resentment and reminiscence. The general layout is the same, though the décor is very different.

“Why are you scowling?” Ava asks. This will probably do nothing to help her remember. How could it when I barely recognize it myself?

“It just isn’t how I remember,” I tell her, pointing to the barman, who’s kitted out in some green penguin suit that matches the rest of the décor. “Mario looked much better.”

“Who’s Mario?”

“My head barman.”

“Your head barman?” she blurts.

“Oh yeah.” I look down at her, smiling nervously. “I used to own this place.”

“You owned a golf resort?” Her mouth hangs open as she takes a look around her. “The house, your flash Aston, this place. Are we rich?”

“We’re comfortable,” I say nonchalantly, hoping that is the end of that, for now, at least. The complexity of The Manor and how I came to own it isn’t top of my priority lis. . .