RELEASE DAY: June 9
After losing his best friend to another guy, the notoriously too-confident Max Emory suddenly feels lost. He may have devastatingly good looks, an abundance of charm, and a claim to one of the biggest hotel empires around, but he has no ambition anymore. So when his fed-up friends decide they’ve had enough of his moping, they sign him up to be the next bachelor on the reality series Love Island. And between his pride and his forged signature on an ironclad contract, Max just can’t say no.

Now he’s stranded in paradise with twenty-four women, one terrifying goat, and Becca, the breathtaking barista who already turned him down back home. The closer Max gets to Becca, the more determined he becomes to win her over. As she gets to know him better, things start heating up. But is Becca really after Max’s heart—or is she after the cash prize she could claim once the cameras stop rolling?


  • Publisher: Skyscape 
  • Language: English



About Rachel Van Dyken:

Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she's not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor.
She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband and their snoring Boxer, Sir Winston Churchill. She loves to hear from readers! You can follow her writing journey at www.rachelvandykenauthor.com


EXCERPT

Excerpt ONE: 

“Have you been sexually active in the past six months?” The doctor sniffed and started pulling out supplies, laying them across the table. I watched in horror as visions of getting abducted by aliens danced like sugarplums in my head.

People die from fear.

It could happen.

I read stories where people would just spontaneously combust.

And it was about to happen if the heat in my body and all-around shaking were any indicator.

“I have to—” Jason ran toward the door and slammed it behind him.

“Weak stomach?” The doctor chuckled.

“He’s afraid of my nakedness—makes him feel like less of a man.”

“O-okay.” The doctor laughed again and motioned for me to turn around. “Now, drop your pants to your knees.”

Let it be known that no man. NO MAN should ever hear those words from someone who could pass as his great-grandfather.

The cold air bit my ass as I turned and waited.

“Now, bend over.”

Shhiiitttttt.

I did as he said, cursing Jason and all his future children.

“Now, this may be cold.”

Just let it be small.

“And a bit painful, it’s totally normal to experience some discomfort.”

“Ha-ha.” I laughed dryly. “Guess we know what it means if it’s comfortable, am I right, Doc?”

And silence.

Worst thing to say when you have your pants at your ankles and the doctor’s about two seconds away from making you see stars. Where were the drugs?

“Now try not to tense up.”

Ha, seriously?

“Here we go.”

Oh. God. Did he need to count down?

“Turn your head and—cough.”

“Mother of God!” I shouted, hitting my hands against the metal table as the doctor made his intentions perfectly clear.

“Cough!” he shouted.

“Stop yelling at me!”

“I’m not yelling!”

“I want to go home now.”

“Almost done!” The doctor laughed uncomfortably.

I choked when he removed his digits from my special place. I had one of those moments, the kind where you feel so used you’re not sure whether you should cry or laugh.

“All right! You can put your pants back on.”

I felt ashamed. Like I’d just been screwed and not even offered dinner for my gallant efforts in the bedroom. Holy shit, was this what girls felt like after one-night stands?

Where the hell were my flowers?

At least give me a sucker or something . . . maybe a sticker? Saying I got . . . never mind. Those types of stickers were probably illegal.

“Now.” The doc took off his gloves and washed his hands.

Right. LIKE I WAS UNCLEAN!

He put on a new pair.

And the torture train just kept tooting.

Ha, tooting, see, it’s funny because . . . never mind.

“I’ll just need to draw some blood.” He pulled out a giant-ass needle and I had one of those moments that I’m sure every five-year-old experiences right before his mom holds him down while he gets a needle in the ass.

Terror.

“This won’t hurt a bit.” He laughed nervously.

HOLY SHIT, STOP LAUGHING!

I winced as he pricked my arm and started drawing blood. His lips were moving but I wasn’t really catching anything.

“All donnne.” His voice was low. Why was he talking so slow?

“Youuu cannn gooo noowww.”

I shook my head and tried to go to the door but was met with total blackness before I took two steps.

The last thought in my head?

I was trapped in a room with a man who’d just seen my Mighty Max. I hoped to God he hadn’t liked it.



Excerpt Two: 

Son of a possessed goat. I was screwed. Oh, wait, no, that’s what I would have been doing had my satanic brother not knocked on my door and barged in.

Becca moved slightly, her face planted against my stomach. Her breath hot on my skin. Shit, I was in a bad place, a very bad place. She would be the death of me and the last thing I needed was for Reid to think I was getting all hot and bothered because Hades had eaten another pair of my underwear.

“’Sup, Bro?” I tried to act casual as I placed my hands behind my head and exhaled.

Reid’s eyes narrowed. “You look funny.”

“I just woke up.” I faked a yawn. “You’re no perfect male specimen in the mornings either, my friend.”

“Right.” Reid looked around the room, his eyes wildly searching for something. “Have you seen Becca? I went to her hut to remind her about the morning confessional and also make sure she knew what time her date with you was, but she was gone.”

I shrugged. “Maybe she died.”

Becca pinched me in the ass.

My body jerked.

“Maybe. She. Died.” Reid repeated, his eyes narrowing more and more by the second.

“I was kidding!” I laughed nervously. “She’s probably just . . . swimming. You know.” My throat was drier than the desert. “With the fish.”

“Becca hates fish.”

“She hates sharks,” I corrected. “Fish aren’t sharks. Do you even watch the Discovery Channel when I turn it on?”

“Swimming, huh?”

“Yeah, she loves swimming, one of her favorite things to do, next to, you know . . .” Me, HA! “Art.”

“Art?” Reid looked confused. “What kind of art does she do?”

I can neither confirm nor deny that Becca was actively squeezing something that should never be squeezed in that way. Ever. And I do mean. Ever. Ever. Ever. “Er . . . she does nude art.”

And the squeeze just got worse. I kicked my feet, hoping to land one on her, but she kept squeezing.

“Nude art?” Reid laughed. “Wow, that’s kind of hot.”

“Everything about Becca’s hot.” I shrugged.

The squeezing stopped. Hey, I’d done something right!

“You really like her, don’t you?”

“Yeah, man, I really do. She’s . . . incredible.”

Was it wrong to be a bit sad at the loss of her hand?

“Hmm.” Reid scratched his head. “Hey, what’s Hades have in his mouth?”

I followed the direction of his gaze and felt my face pale. Becca’s dress. Hades had somehow grabbed it in the middle of the night and was now apparently trying to find the best way to deface it, if the way he was sitting on it was any indication.

“My dress!” I blurted. “I brought one just in case . . .”

“Dude!” Reid held up his hands. “What? Is there something you need to tell me? I mean you’ve always been sort of, like, metro, but . . .”

Damn it!

While trying to think of a great comeback . . . I nearly seized. As what had once been a hand was replaced by something a lot more inviting.

Damn that woman.

Damn that tongue!

I shuddered.

“You okay?” Reid got closer to the bed. “You look a little sick.”

“Stop!” I gasped. Holy shit, I didn’t know my name. What was my name?

Reid, most likely sensing my distress, chose that moment to sit, yes, SIT on my bed. The same bed that I planned to purchase and send home and put in the middle of my living room and stare at. I would refer to it as the miracle bed. Because what was taking place? Miracle.

I clenched the sheets in my hand and swallowed as sweat trickled down my face, “No, man, hell.” I trembled. “I’m just . . .” Breathing ragged, I licked my lips. “Not feeling, right . . . shit, right there.”

“What?” Reid’s concern quickly turned to suspicion.

“Er . . .” I shook my head. “I’m going to puke!”

Reid jolted off the bed. “Dude, you know how I feel about puke!”

“Then”—oh look, heaven!—“go away!” I clenched my teeth together, snapping them as my entire body went rigid.

“Fine!” Reid held up his hands. “Just don’t forget about your confessional.”

The door slammed behind him at the exact same time I saw a billion stars give birth to tiny planets. It was also the same time that I saw the secrets to the universe and waved at a unicorn as it floated by me.

I lifted up the sheet. Becca looked at me innocently, then shrugged.

“Can I keep you?” I asked.

“That depends . . .”

“I’ll sell Reid.”

“You don’t have to sell Reid.”

“Really, I don’t mind. He can go live in Alaska for all I care, just tell me I can keep you. I want to freaking wrap you up, put you in my pocket, and never let go. Don’t make me beg.”

“Yeah.” Becca laughed. “You can keep me, but we may have to do something about the goat.”

Hades stomped and then promptly peed on Becca’s dress.

“So naked art, huh?” She winked.


The Consequence of Loving Colton
It’s all fun and games…until someone’s heart is broken.

They’re not kids anymore, but Milo Caro is certain that Colton Mathews will only see her as his best friend’s little sister for the rest of their lives. After all, he made that clear the night before she left for college. But four years later, her brother is getting married and Colt’s the best man—and guess who is the best man’s last-minute date?

Milo vows to use the wedding to either claim the smoldering firefighter’s heart or douse this torch for good. When Max—her best friend from college, who may be carrying a torch of his own—crashes the party, they devise a plan to make Colt see what he’s missing. But after Colt catches on, he decides to cook up his own revenge.

Now it’s personal. Colt and Milo are at war, and between Max’s questionable acting methods, an unfortunate trip to jail, and a maniacal fiancée, what could possibly go right?



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