On her thirty-ninth birthday, Lainie gets a completely unexpected "present." Divorce papers. Certain that her heart is irretrievably broken, she cries herself to sleep -- and wakes up, even more unexpectedly, in Belize. At a resort. With three of the most gorgeous pool boys she's ever set eyes on.
Rutger. Jamar. Paolo. Each more edibly handsome than the last. For Lainie, absolute, unendurable heartbreak is looking better all the time!
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Reviews
4 1/2 Nymphs! "Sierra Dafoe shows how extreme sizzle can be done in a short scene." -- Literary Nymphs
4 Angels! "Wow, what a titillating glimpse into a fantasy escape!" -- Fallen Angel Reviews
"A great summer read!" -- ParaNormal Romance
Pool Boys M/F menage
Publisher: Changeling
Format: eBook
Length: Hot Flash
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I'm not watching them. Really, I'm not. Anyone could see that what I'm really doing is lying here on the lounger with my sun hat tilted down over my nose, innocently reading my book.
Just don't ask me the title.
What I want to know is what sick joker put a romance novel in my bag anyway. It wasn't me -- that'd be like treating pneumonia with a good shot of the plague. There's nothing quite like getting your divorce papers on your thirty-ninth birthday. I'd think it was intentional, but in twelve years of marriage the bastard never once remembered my birthday.
Actually, what I really want to know is what I’m doing here, because I sure didn't decide to come to Belize. All I did was fall asleep crying. And woke up here, on a terrace beside a pool with tropical sunlight pouring down around me like honey.
But somehow, I can't seem to care. Hell, I can't even summon enough motivation to spread on sunblock. Instead, my gaze is drawn, over and over, to the resort's pool boys.
Jesus, they're gorgeous.
Rutger dives into the pool, his muscles bunching and flexing as he glides through the water. He's a college student from Uzbekistan. I asked him when he brought me my first G-and-T, while trying desperately to keep my gaze on his face -- it kept wanting to wander down to the vicinity of his crotch. He's also the one who told me I'm in Belize, which was nice of him, because I had no idea.
And then there's Jamar, in the lifeguard's chair. I'd feel significantly more panicked about the entire situation, except that it's impossible to feel much of anything but awe when looking at him. Teenage girls flock around him, tilting their pert little sunscreen-coated noses up to giggle and admire his beaded dreadlocks. I don't blame them -- his abs are so taut they ripple when he laughs, and his skin glows like polished mahogany across his broad, rolling shoulders.
Jamar's eyes flick toward me, and I hastily drop my gaze back to my book.
The story's right in the middle of a hot scene, too, which doesn't help at all. Against my better judgment I get sucked in, skimming along quickly as the heroine wraps her hand around the hero’s raging erection, making him groan deep in his throat as her fingers brush the hard, velvety tip...
"Good book?"
I sit up abruptly, blushing. Closing the book (and trying to ignore the pulsing in my crotch), I look up at Paolo.
Paolo's my favorite. He's Portuguese, and his accent is just like the air here; soft, sultry, way too much like sex. He's standing over me -- looming, more like, he's got to be six foot two at least -- in nothing but those tight white shorts they all wear. His hair is a mass of black ringlets that falls almost to his shoulders, his chin has this wicked cute cleft in it, and his eyes are surrounded by the thickest lashes I've ever seen on a man.
"You seemed to be enjoying it." He picks up my glass -- it's way too easy to imagine those strong deft fingers curving around my calf, or cupping my ass -- and raises a questioning eyebrow. I nod, uncomfortably aware of the trickle of moisture between my thighs.
I'm almost relieved when he walks away to fetch me a refill.
Besides, it gives me a chance to watch that hard, round soccer player's butt flex beneath those white shorts. Guiltily, I tear my gaze away, and find Jamar studying me from across the pool. His full lips pull back in a brief, brilliant smile, and he nods slightly as if telling me to relax, enjoy myself -- it's Belize, after all.
