Harlequin Desire January 2021--Box Set 1 of 2 Maisey Yates (sad books to read .txt) 📖

For more about my upcoming releases, visit www.nadine-gonzalez.com and follow on Instagram and Twitter, @_nadinegonzalez. Need more Miami modern love? Check out the Miami Dreams series with Harlequin Kimani Romance.

Until the next one!

Nadine

Scandal in the VIP Suite

Nadine Gonzalez

Nadine Gonzalez is the daughter of Haitian immigrants, born in New York City. She was raised both in New York and Port-au-Prince, Haiti. A lawyer by profession, she lives in Miami, Florida, and shares her home with her Cuban American husband and their beautiful son.

Nadine writes joyous contemporary romance featuring a diverse cast of characters, American, Caribbean and Latinx. She networks on Twitter but lives on Instagram! Check out @_nadinegonzalez.

For more information, visit her website, nadine-gonzalez.com.

Books by Nadine Gonzalez

Harlequin Desire

Miami Famous

Scandal in the VIP Suite

Harlequin Kimani Romance

Exclusively Yours

Unconditionally Mine

Visit her Author Profile page at Harlequin.com, or nadine-gonzalez.com, for more titles.

You can also find Nadine Gonzalez on Facebook, along with other Harlequin Desire authors, at Facebook.com/harlequindesireauthors.

Sincere thanks to my editor, Errin Toma. It has been a pleasure working with you. Here’s to a long, productive relationship!

Shout-out to Roxanna Elden, best writing buddy, and the Miami Book Fair and Writers Institute for their unwavering support.

With regards to craft, I would first like to thank my husband, Ariel. You are always my first story editor. Special thanks to my sister Martine for the unlimited brainstorming sessions that resulted in the perfect meet-cute. To my “creative consultants,” Ian Midgley and Julia Taylor, you have breathed life into my first Jamaican British hero.

To my sisters Martine and Murielle: your support means everything to me.

A special shout-out to TEAM 12! You are the best #bookstagram helpers a budding author could have.

Finally to Ariel and Nathaniel, let’s dream on!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Epilogue

CHAPTER ONE

It seemed to Nina Taylor that she’d been traveling forever. Her flight was delayed at JFK, and the plane had spent an eternity in the queue at Miami International Airport before reaching its gate. Outside, she slipped on dark sunglasses to block out Miami’s Technicolor brightness and settled into the back of a cab. It was unreasonably hot—even for July—and the fake leather seat stuck to her bare arms. The driver loaded her bags into the trunk and slipped behind the wheel. “Where to?”

“Fifteen ten Ocean Drive.”

“Sand Castle? Good choice.” He adjusted the rearview mirror. “What brings you to Miami?”

A simple enough question. Most people wouldn’t have to lie. “Meeting a friend.”

“Nice! Nice!” The driver nodded. A bald spot on the back of his head revealed a patch of shiny brown skin. He eased into traffic. “I tell my grandkids to have fun! Take chances! Enjoy their youth!”

“Sounds like you’re a good grandpa.”

He glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “You look like my granddaughter. Which island are you from?”

The question didn’t surprise Nina. People from the islands had a sixth sense for this stuff. But Nina’s Caribbean roots were so deeply buried, Manhattan was the only island she could legitimately claim as her own. Just then, a massive SUV sped past them, cutting them off. A honking match ensued. The driver returned his attention to the road, saving her from having to answer his question. It was better this way; her family tree was more of a twisted, brittle vine.

As the AC kicked in, Nina got comfortable. This was not her first trip to Miami, but the memory of the last trip was blurred in a Jell-O shot glaze. She was twenty-three at the time and on assignment for Belle, a women’s magazine. She was thirty-one now, and her taste in cocktails had greatly evolved.

Nina lost herself in the view. Miami was one big, bloated suburb. One strip of highway connected to the next with a few well-placed palm trees to maintain the illusion of paradise. Soon enough they reached a causeway soaring above the dazzling bay, and everything changed. Suburban sprawl gave way to waterfront mansions and glass condo towers. Traffic was at a crawl when they inched past the iconic Welcome to Miami Beach sign. Nina snapped a photo with her phone, excitement bubbling inside her. By the time they veered onto Ocean Drive and pulled up to the hotel’s glossy black gates, Nina’s outlook on life shifted. Maybe this solo trip wasn’t the worst idea she’d ever had.

The mansion-turned-private boutique hotel stood proud in the sun. It had all the trappings of classic Mediterranean style: chalk-white walls and an angled terra-cotta tile roof, randomly placed windows—some arched, some not—and French doors opening to Juliet balconies. But it wasn’t until she entered the courtyard that Nina hit all-time Zen. The villa soared three stories above an interior garden complete with a fountain, each floor opening onto balconies with iron rails as fine as lace.

Mom would have loved this. The thought escaped her like a leaf caught in a breeze. But it assured her that she was in the right place.

* * *

Nina approached the front desk, gave her information and helped herself to a complimentary mint.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Taylor. There’s an issue with your reservation.”

The words no weary traveler ever wanted to hear.

“What’s the issue?” Nina asked. “I booked my stay a month ago.”

“Not sure. The manager will tell you more.”

The clerk offered her a mini-bottle of water, but Nina would not be placated. The sharp click-clack of high heels on tile announced the arrival of the manager. Nina readied herself for a fight.

“Welcome to Sand Castle, Ms. Taylor! I’m the general manager, Grace Guzman.”

Despite the circumstances, Nina winced at the hotel’s generic name. It wasn’t suited to a Mediterranean-style mansion, and Nina had half a mind to let this Guzman woman know.

“Come with me. Let’s get you sorted.”

Nina followed the manager along a cloistered walkway to a small office that might have been a butler’s pantry in another era. A nameplate read simply, “Graciela Guzman.” The stark white