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Sinfully Summer
Aimée Duffy
A division of HarperCollinsPublishers
www.harpercollins.co.uk
Contents
Aimée Duffy
All my life I’ve been dreaming up stories. My mum said when I was little I used to make all the My Little Pony figurines talk to each other and even fall in love. Later, it was Barbie and Ken. In my teens, I played matchmaker with my friends at school.
When I wasn’t creating imaginary scenarios, I had my nose stuck in books, reading across genres and there was one thing I loved more than the escapism—the fact a story could touch me so deeply, like I was experiencing everything along with my characters. I knew from early on this was something I wanted to do for others.
Fast forward a few years and the dream almost got lost in real life, but I still couldn’t shake it completely. Now I write sizzling romance with the hope of making my readers’ hearts race as if they are falling in love for the first time.
I would like to dedicate this to Michelle Smart, Incy Black and Amalie Berlin. If not for you three wonderfully talented ladies, I would have thrown in the towel with this story. Thank you for your unending patience and support.
Alexa Green poked her head out of the hotel room door. She darted a glance left, then right and exhaled when she saw the corridor was empty.
‘One lap,’ she threw over her shoulder to her best friends, Sarah and Jenna. ‘And don’t you dare think about locking this door.’
If she was lucky, she guestimated she’d get all the way around her floor without seeing a soul. Nice underwear or not, getting caught in her knickers running down the halls of the most exclusive hotel in Marbella was sure to paint her cheeks pink for the first time ever. With shaky hands and a jittering belly, she took a step into the hallway. Out of all the crazy things she’d done, this topped them all. A muffled thump sounded from along the corridor and she hesitated.
‘Chickening out, Lex?’ Jenna asked.
Alexa gritted her teeth at the god-awful nickname. She swore they only used it to wind her up. ‘Not a chance.’
Tiny gymnasts in her stomach flipped and twirled, contradicting her cool façade. She stepped further into the hall. Adrenaline ripped through her body, making her heart pound hard against her chest. She felt alive, alert and exposed in a way that was more thrilling than terrifying. She turned back to her friends, a huge smile on her face. ‘See ya in a few.’
The marble floor felt cool on her bare feet as she bolted down the light, airy hall. Doors leading to other suites whirred by in a flash as she pushed herself faster; elation and a sense of freedom making her laugh breathlessly. She couldn’t deny the craziness of the dare, this was one of the wildest things she’d ever done, but she couldn’t say that she wasn’t enjoying the thrill.
She reached the end of the long corridor and made to turn left just as the main lift doors opened and two men stepped out. Her heart stopped and, for the beat of a second, time seemed to freeze.
Oh God.
She turned and scampered in the opposite direction – away from the English rock star and his publicist. She recognised them from more than a few wild parties back in London.
There were no doors down this strip of the hotel and she wondered where on earth she was running to, but the sound of two wolf-whistles kept her feet moving.
If she was the kind of girl to blush, she’d have been scarlet from head to toe.
Panting, she reached the end of the corridor and sprinted down the hall to her right. She couldn’t hear the men’s footsteps over the blood pounding in her ears, so couldn’t be sure if they’d followed. But she was sure that she wasn’t going to give anyone the opportunity to perv on her up close. What kind of idiots wolf-whistled in this day and age?
Shiny brushed steel doors came into sight at the end of the corridor. When she reached
