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Hidden Gems
Carrie Alexander
Dear Reader,
Welcome to Book 2 of THE WHITE STAR mini-series, where romantic legend and the battle between good and evil meet the contemporary sizzle of a Blaze® love story. What a treat it’s been for me to work with the group of talented authors and editors who were involved in this project. I’m thrilled you’re sharing the adventure with us!
My story is a light caper with a friends-to-lovers theme. I like a strong heroine, and Marissa Suarez is that: bold, confident and mouthy. Usually I’d match her up with an equally bold hero, but Marissa needed someone to trust. Someone like Jamie Wilson, the “boy next door.” When a powerful amulet comes into their lives, along with threats and danger from all directions, Marissa learns that Jamie has been her hero all along.
Please enjoy their story. You can follow the twists and turns the amulet takes through the subsequent White Star books from Kristin Hardy, Jeanie London, Shannon Hollis and Lori Wilde. Visit my website at www. CarrieAlexander.com for contests, excerpts and more.
Best wishes,
Carrie Alexander
MILLS & BOON
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To Jennifer for being in my corner
With thanks to Kathryn for trusting me
with her baby
Table of Contents
1
“I HAVE NOTHING to declare,” Marissa Suarez told the customs agent in a voice like broken glass, “except that my boyfriend’s a swine.”
A snicker rose from the crowded line behind her.
The bored official merely stamped her customs declaration form without looking up. “You can’t bring pork products into the country, ma’am.”
Marissa squinted. “Oh, don’t worry. I left his bacon miles behind.”
Paul Beckwith, forthwith known as Cheating Slime, was still in the Cayman Islands hobnobbing with his clients. If he’d missed Marissa it was only because she wasn’t there to slather sunscreen on his perfectly trapezoid shoulders and back. But any bunny off the beach could handle that duty. Paul would have no objections. When he hadn’t been ditching her for “vital” meetings, he’d been drooling over every pair of bouncing breast implants on Seven Mile beach.
Marissa Suarez was not a woman who put up with that kind of bullshit.
She was, unfortunately, a woman who chose the kind of man who shoveled it.
Every…damn…time.
With a clenched-teeth smile, she took the card from the customs official and tucked it into her passport. She truly had nothing to declare. Returning five days early from a supposedly romantic getaway, she was not only sans boyfriend, but minus the promised toasty tan and post-coital bliss, too.
However, she had acquired a resolution during the flight into JFK: no more bad choices, no more mistakes.
Next time—because,
